SUMMARY: You didnât mean for it to turn into a betting competition. And yet, here you are on a mission to save that nerd from your calculus class that you've known from last semester before he gets dicked down.
PAIRINGS: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
GENRE: fluff, drama, comedy, angst, university au, smut
add tagsâŠïž: biker!wonwoo, nerd!wonwoo, mingyu is his best friend, friends to lovers, fake dating(?), reader majored in chemical engineering, winnie the pooh reference, ex!seungcheol, disgustingly in love, lil crack, green flag is sexy wdym, bestie!doremiz, sun x moon dynamics, chan as childhood twin fr, she fell first but he fell harder type of shii aye.
â€ïž part 1, part 2 â€ïž
A/N: woah, that turns dark and depressing real quick. im not that evil, chill. (i was doing charity work and at the mountain, apples. srry for the late update lollol)
Have you ever looked at someone and decided yeah, Iâm going to take care of their heart. That was Wonwooâs first thought when he looked at your face.
He was doomed from the start.
Sometimes the smallest things take up the most space in the room of our hearts. You added colour to his life. Every routine, every habit you occupied his mind so effortlessly. Every corner of his life carried a piece of you. Even when you didnât talk to him for a while, he found himself thinking about you.
Youâre probably laughing with Chan about something stupid again. Maybe youâre sleeping at this hour instead of finishing your assignment. Or maybe youâre rewatching Winnie the Pooh just to feel something because you once told him it gave you a fuzzy feeling.
Do you know how much he misses your presence?
The rain fell heavily, reflecting the way he felt inside. He already knew how much you hated driving on rainy days.
He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. The smoke lingered between his parted lips. He rarely smoked, but tonight felt overwhelming. His eyes drifted to his phone screen, the photobooth picture of you and him set as his lockscreen. He contemplated texting you. Just to ask if youâd eaten but deep down, he just wanted to see your face. Hear your voice.
âHey.â
Mingyu nudged him with a grin. âYouâve been out here alone. Sorry it was loudâyou know how it is inside.â He paused, then smirked. âYouâve been too busy lately. What, did you get yourself a girlfriend or something?â
Wonwoo chuckled.
It was meant to be a joke.
But when he answered with a simple, âYeah,â without even looking at him, Mingyuâs smile faltered.
Mingyu blinked. âWhoâwhen?? Why do I not know about this?â
Wonwoo couldnât blame him. From Mingyuâs perspective, he barely interacted with girls. In fact, Mingyu had probably already prepared himself to support him if he wasnât into women at all.
But then Wonwooâs eyes drifted toward a familiar figure in the distance.
Mingyuâs voice faded.
Even if his eyesight failed him, he would recognize you anywhere. From the way your hair fell to the way you walked. He left Mingyu mid-sentence, grabbing his helmet as he moved toward you.
He followed slowly behind, riding his bike at your pace as you walked along the sidewalk. Dressed in all black, face hidden under his helmet, he probably looked intimidating.
You slowed down, clearly creeped out by the unknown rider beside you.
When you stopped, he stopped too.
He didnât say anything. Letting you figure it out.
Your eyes brighten. âWonwoo?â
He chuckled, removing his helmet with a grin. "You donât even recognize your own boyfriend?â
You laughed, stepping closer as you always did, naturally occupying his space. âWhere did you come from?â
He smiled softly. His gloved fingers brushed your bangs aside. âJust somewhere. Mingyu dragged me to some party to loosen up.â
Oh.
You had a feeling it was probably one of Mingyuâs friends, you werenât close with them. The road looked familiar. It was probably Yugyeomâs party. And you swore youâd never go there again. That was where you met Seungcheol.
You never imagined Wonwoo being into that kind of scene. But he was friends with Mingyu.
The possibility that he knew Seungcheol wasnât impossible. You wondered if they were somehow connected.Â
You just simply nodded.
Your nose tingled slightly. There was a faint scent of smoke mixed with his cologne.
He noticed it quickly. âAh. Sorry,â he said quietly. âI donât usually smoke. I must reek of it. You shouldnât stand so close.â
You shook your head immediately. âNo⊠itâs fine. It doesnât smell that strong.â
He didnât like you seeing him like this. He always wanted to show you the better version of himself. Not someone smelling faintly of alcohol, cigarettes or maybe with a hint of sex there even though he was inside there for thirty minutes doing nothing.
He felt like he was tainting you. Like he was something impure standing too close to something sacred. He's an asshole, and sometimes he thinks heâs the one corrupting you.
âI figured you didnât drive today?â he said, watching the way you stood so close to him and his bike, slipping into his personal space like you always did.
You smiled, fingers absentmindedly tracing the plastic bag from your little convenience haul. âItâs raining, and my place isnât that far from the bus station.â
He smiled back. The small talk between you had always been like this so simple and easy.
âDo you want me to walk you home?â
âIs that okay? I thought you were at the party.â
Wonwoo shook his head. âIâm beat. I want to be with you.â
That made your heart flutter.
If you gave him a reason not to, he would argue back. Stand firm and insist. So you didnât question it.
He followed you home.
The rain softened into a quiet drizzle as you reached your apartment building. It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
He parked his bike, helmet resting against his hip while you waited for him.
This was probably where youâd say goodbye.
You never realized how hard it could feel not wanting to part from someone. Ever since you started seeing Wonwoo, doing everything together had become a habit. You were getting used to his presence.
Too used to it.
It scared you a little.
Maybe you did like him.
Even back then, in class you had told yourself you were just good friends. But maybe you had always thought of him fondly. There had always been a small piece of you that cared deeply for Wonwoo.
He noticed the reluctant look on your face, stepping closer. His gloved fingers gently traced your cheek. Every tiny expression you made he found adorable. Like you were holding something back.
He wished you wouldnât.
âWhatâs on your mind, baby?â he asked softly.
God. That tone. Always.
Why did he have to say it like that? Like he was babying you. Itâs no wonder Chan always teased that Wonwoo doted on you too much.
Flustered, you cleared your throat and gathered your courage. âUm⊠do you want to stay over?â
You instantly regretted it. You had a talent for embarrassing yourself. What if he took it the wrong way?
Or maybe you just wanted him close.
That day at the beach that kiss had meant something. Everything.
He blinked.
Then let out a low chuckle. He almost said yes. You had no idea how your innocence drove him insane. You shouldnât trust him like this. Not alone, especially suggesting to stay in the same space. He barely survived when you stayed at his place.
He wouldnât even trust himself.
Seeing your slight frown, he softened. âIâm sorryâitâs justâŠâ he was still grinning faintly. âAre you really okay with that?â
âOf course,â you said as if it were obvious. âYouâre my boyfriend. Arenât you allowed to?â
Something twisted inside him. You trusted him too much which you shouldnât. Heâs no different from other men, the only difference is restraint. And yet⊠it stroked his ego.
You were letting him.
His fingers brushed your hair back slowly, eyes lingering on the strawberry clip he gave you. The locket necklace around your neck and the soft curve of your face.
He almost sighed.
You have no idea. Youâre walking straight into a lionâs den.
First, it was Seungcheol. He didnât mind you being friends with Mingyu, he was decent. But if Mingyu ever introduced one of his reckless friends to you, he wouldnât forgive him.
Men are shit.
And he includes himself.
You felt his gaze lingering and it made you self-conscious, but also⊠somehow giddy.
He never looked at you like this before. There was something heavier in his stare. Never disrespectful but different. You were curious about what other parts of him never show to you.
He called your name softly.
You hummed.
âWhat do you like about me?â
You blinked. ââŠWell⊠youâre smart. And kind.â
He hummed. âIs that all?â
You shook your head. âThereâs more.â
âLike what?â
You thought for a moment. âYouâre handsomeâŠâ
He hummed again, stepping closer.
ââŠYou always show up when I need you. Youâre reliable. I can count on you.â
He took another step.
You stepped back.
ââŠYou have broad shoulders,â you added nervously. âI think thatâs attractive.â
His lips curved then another step. Now you were almost cornered.
ââŠYouâre a good listener. Youâre attentive to me. Youâre nice to me. Youâre just⊠my type. I like your style.â
âMhm,â he murmured, voice lower now. âIs that so?â
Your back met the wall.
He stood in front of you, taller, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Cornering you without actually touching you.
Wonwoo felt like a terrible person.
The way you avoided his gaze staring anywhere but at him as if the pavement suddenly fascinated you more than his face.
This was exactly why he never showed this side of himself.
He didnât want to scare you. Didnât want you to see how intense his love for you truly was how it consumed him, how it kept him awake at night.
Yet you didnât pull away, or run away. And that made it worse.
You could feel his breath against your forehead. The faint mix of cigarette and cologne lingered between you.
Of course you trusted him.
Itâs Wonwoo.
He never lets you down. The dependable Wonwoo youâve slowly fallen for.
His head dipped slightly lower.
You shouldâve been nervous. Maybe you were. But something about him made you greedy.
For more.
ââŠTell me you donât like this,â he murmured softly, almost strained. ââŠPush me away. Please.â
You finally looked up at him.
ââŠWhat if I donât want to?â Your voice was barely above a whisper. âI donât want to. Stay with me like this.â
Something inside him snapped.
He almost punched the wall beside your head just to ground himself. The way your lips trembled and looking at him like that. You make it impossible for him to say no.
Stubborn little thing.
He didnât hesitate as he captured your mouth. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up desire and longing he had been holding back, different from the beach. His lips moved roughly against yours, his tongue delving deep to taste you.
It was desperate.
His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you there as his lips pressed against you while the other slid down to grip your hip tightly pulling you flush against his. You melted into him, fingers gripping lightly at his jacket.
A small sound escaped you, barely there.
But he felt it.
And it nearly undid him.
Wonwooâs hips rocked forward, pinning you harder against the wall with his straining arousal. He had wanted this, wanted you to feel it, to know exactly what you did to him. How much he wanted you. His hands roamed greedily over your body, mapping out the contours he had been longing to explore.
For so long.
And now that he finally had you like this, he didnât want to stop.
âŠ
You barely made it past the entrance.
The door wasnât even fully closed when he pressed you back against the wall, his mouth tearing away from yours only to trail downward hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.
You felt overwhelmed, breath turning uneven as he pinned you there, your fingers clutching at his jacket. ââŠWonwoo⊠please stay with me tonight.â
He stilled for a second. Then he let out a low, strained sound against your skin, lifting his head just enough to look at you. His eyes were darker now. You had no idea what you were doing to him. You looked up at him with that needy expression, and it only made it worse.
He thinks you mean something soft like a sweet innocent sleepover. But his mind was anything but innocent.
âBabyâŠâ his voice dropped, rougher now. âThereâs nothing sweet about letting me stay here.â His thumb brushed under your chin, tilting your face up. âI hope you understand what youâre offering, darling.â
His lips grazed your skin again slower this time, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your throat. Sucking it hard, leaving a mark that would be visible for days, a badge of his claim. His mouth found your pulse point, and he bit down hard enough to make you gasp.
â...Tell me to stop, baby. Use your words and Iâll stop right here.â his voice is rough and heavy with lust. He wanted you to push him away before something inside him snapped.
He wanted to hear you say it, wanted to make sure you understood exactly what you were getting into. Because there was no going back now, no turning away from this, not when he was rocking hard between you and burning so hot now.
You shook your head, brows drawn together as you looked at him with those eyes. The ones that always undid him. ââŠNo,â you whispered. âI want you, Wonwoo.â
Your fist tightened in his jacket, pulling him closer as if you were afraid he might disappear the second he stepped away. Like the room would turn cold without him.
You missed him more than you realized.
And you did actually love him.
Wonwooâs heart clenched in his chest as he heard your breathless declaration, the way you clung to him with desperation that matched his own. He could see it in your eyesâthe longing, the desire and the love that had been growing for so long. It made something inside him snap completely.
With a low guttural groan, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. His mouth never left your skin, lips, teeth and tongue worshipping every inch of you as he moved. He wanted to taste you, to devour you, to make you his in every way possible.
He laid you down on the bed, his body covering yours as his hips nestling between your thighs. He could feel the heat of you, the way your body softened and yielded beneath his own. It made him ache with need that bordered on pain.
He softly called your name, his hand guided yours as he placed your palm against his hardened dick. Grunted slightly at the feeling of your palm there, giving a slow grind. âFeel that, baby? Iâm so fucking rock hard for you, look at what you did.â
Hand slid under your sweater, pushing the fabric up and over your head. He wanted to see you, to drink in the sight of your naked skin so that he could map out every curve and hollow. He wanted to remember this moment, to keep it permanent in his mind forever. Wonwooâs lips trailed down to your neck, over your collarbone between the soft swells of your breasts. He wanted to taste every part of you to make you feel pleasure so intense that you forgot your own name.
âTell me what you want, baby.â he urged, breathing hot against your skin. âTell me how you want me to take you, how you want to be claimed. Iâll give you anything, do anything to make you feel good.âÂ
You breathe out a small plea, your body grew hot at his every touch, â...please, Won. I need you.âÂ
Youâre about to reach down, but he already caught your wrist, stopping your hand just inches from your aching core. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the way your chest heaved with ragged breath. The desire was palpable hanging heavy in the air between you two.
âNo,â his voice was low and rough. âNot yet, baby. Let me take care of you first.â He wanted to be the one to touch you and bring you pleasure. His hand slid down your body, his fingers trailing teasingly over your skin. He circled your breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm, moving your bra aside as your tits fit perfectly in his hands. He could feel your nipple hardening against his touch, begging for more.
You swear you almost whimper at the small act, you shouldnât. Might as well your panties are soaking wet, maybe you had always been when youâre around him. Much to your embarrassment.
His hand slid lower, over your stomach and the sensitive skin of your hips. He could feel you trembling beneath his touch, feel the heat of the core radiating outwards. He could smell your arousal and the musky scent of your desire filling the air. When his fingers brushed against your clothed sex and groaned at the dampness he found there. It made you shift a little.
âFuck, baby. Youâre so wet already.â he said, voice rough with lust. It made your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. âIs this all for me, ____?â Are you this desperate for my touch?â
Before you could answer him, Wonwoo was already rubbing his fingers against your clothed slit. The heat of your body grows which you ache for more. When he heard your stifle moans, he wanted to give you everything, wanted to fill you up until you were dripping. As much as he wants to pound you like crazy, he needs to make sure to follow your pace. It pains him sometimes, but thatâs what heâs willing to do for you.
âTell me what you need babyâŠâ he urged, fingers pressing harder against your sex. âTell me how you want me to make you feel good.â
You only managed to let out a pathetic whine, grinding against his thick fingers against your clothed sex. â...please, just touch meâhowever you want.â
Wonwooâs heart raced as he heard our needy plea, feeling your hips rocking urgently against his hand. The desperation in your voice, the way youâre trembling and aching for his touch was almost making him come in his pants. âShh, Iâve got you baby.â he soothed, almost tender. âIâm going to touch you, taste you and make you feel so fucking good.â With that he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down to your legs tossing it somewhere carelessly. He took a moment to admire the sight of you, splayed out beneath him with your bare sex glistening and ready.
Just for him.
âLook at you, so fucking beautiful.â he murmured as he leaned against your pussy. âSo perfect and all mine.â Unable to resist any longer, he ran his tongue along your slitâgroaning at the taste of your arousal. You were sweet and heady, as if your flavour exploding on his tongue like a drug he was already addicted to.
Except that he doesnât take drugs.
Wonwoo focused his attention on your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves with hunger that bordered on feral. You moaned out again, fingers dangling in his hair. Desperate sounds spilling from your lips. Itâs like youâre almost at the verge of tears as he keeps eating you out. âF-fuck! WonwooâIâmââ you hiccuped in the middle of it, he could feel you clenching around his tongue and hear the way your breath hitched.
It spurred him on, making him want to push you harder to make you come undone completely. âFuck, you taste good,â he growled against your sex, breath hot and heavy against your skin. âI could eat this sweet little cunt for hours, baby.â
That made you even more turned on at the way he keeps talking dirty to you. He never spoke so filthyâvulgur, always remained respectful and gentle, but seeing this side of him made something inside you wanted to unleash him. You could feel your body tensing, thighs quivering around his head as he licked and suckled your clit.
Wonwoo could sense you were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of intense orgasm. So, he doubled his efforts, flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit as he plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt. âCome on, baby,â he encouraged you, fingers pumping in and out of you curling to hit that sensitive spot deep inside. âLet go for me. I want to feel you come all over my fingers, want to taste your cum on my tongue.â
Your walls flutter, gripping his fingers like a vice as your climax approaches. Wonwoo sucked your clit hard as he thrust his fingers deeper, harder, fucking you with his hand âDo it, baby. Give yourself to me.â he urged, voice rough and commanding. After a while, you were crying pathetically, your back arching off as your climax finally overtook you. A high keening cry tore from your throat, the sound of your pleasure that made his heart race.
His fingers curled inside you, rubbing against the sensitive spot that made you see stars. When he felt your own release finally there, your juices gushing out coating his hand and dripping down the sheet beneath you. The taste of your climax burst onto his tongue, and he groaned in satisfaction. âFuck yes!â he growled, feeling your cunt clamp down hard around his plunging fingers. Just when youâre about to calm down, thinking itâs already ended, you feel him working through your orgasm with single-minded focus, fingers pumping in and out of your clenching sex. You were writhing under him yet he kept his tongue laving over your spasming clit. Like he wanted to make this moment one you would never forget.
Wonwoo adores you so much like how he adores your pussy.
As your cries and trembles began to subside, Wonwoo slowed his movements as he gentled his touch. He placed soft kisses on your sensitive flesh, his fingers stroking tenderly over your mound as he eased you down from your high. âYou did so good, sweetheart.â he praised you softly, looking at you with satisfied eyes. âSo fucking beautiful when you come t me like that.â He pressed soft kisses along your trembling stomach, over the soft swells of your breasts. When he reached your face, his heart clenched at the sight of your tear-streaked face and the way you clung to him from the aftershocks of your intense climax. âShh, Iâve got you baby,â he soothed you, brushing your hair back gently, tucking the strands behind your ear as he peppered kisses across your forehead, down your cheek to the corner of your mouth.
Your chest heaving against his own breath coming in soft shuddering gasps as you tried to catch your breath. It was embarrassing to have him seeing you crying like a baby when he eats your pussy, but it was so good that it almost made you see the stars. Sex can be scary to you, as much as chatterbox you are but when it comes to real intimate feelings, you chickened out so quickly. But with Wonwoo, you feel like everything is guaranteed.
Your Wonwoo.
Wonwoo stayed still, holding you close as he let you bask in the afterglow of your pleasure. As he watched you, he could feel his own arousal pressing urgently against your thigh. It was hard and insistent. He could still taste of your climax on his tongue, the sound of your cries still ringing in his ears. It had only stoked the fire burning in his veins, the need to be inside you. But he held back, not wanting to overwhelm you, to push too hard too fast. He wanted to make sure you were ready, wanted to be certain that you still wanted this as much as he did.
He was hurting. Mentally, physically and carnally.
You could feel the way he was still hesitant. His hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, to rest on your thigh. He squeezed the soft flesh making you whimper, fingers sinking into your skin as he leaned close, his lips brushing against your ear. â...I want you butâI canât help it to feel like a bitch in heat when Iâm with you,â he panted, voice rough with barely restrained desire. âPlease, baby. Tell me you want to be mine, completely.â
Wonwoo wanted you to let him fuck you.
But as much as he wanted that, he knew he couldnât push you. He was ready for rejection. He figured out that, he had been too much that he had shown the full intensity of his devotion a little too openly.
You noticed the way he seemed desperate for your approval. It wasnât hard to see. The whole time he had been taking care of you, heâd been patient and kind. He had always been holding something back. Even though it wasnât what you expected, you found yourself hoping he wouldnât.
Maybe it was your fault for never questioning him, as if you were afraid that if you did, he might pull away. Or worse, that he might scare you away.
If anything, you were the one allowing this.
And you trusted him.
Cupping his face, you leaned in, kissing him softly. âWonâŠI want you.â you softly plead, eyes gazing at him sincerely. âI want you just as much as you want me. Donât hold back.â
Wonwoo groaned deeply as he heard your plea, feeling his cock throb almost painfully as the desperation in your hoarse voice. He couldnât hold back any longer, couldnât deny you or himself the pleasure of being one. Almost urgently, he sat back just long enough to yank his shirt over his head and toss it carelessly to the floor. You almost drooled at the way his muscles rippled as he moved, the definition of his chest and abs full on full display. Itâs not like youâd never seen his muscles, sometimes when you jokingly asked for bicep pictures, he willingly gave it when he was at the gym with Mingyu.
You keep your eyes watching him discarded his jeans, shaving it down over his hips along with his boxers until he could spring free, his thick cock jutting out hard and proud. He felt a surge of male pride when he noticed the way your eyes stared a little longer on his cock the whole time. He chuckled lowly, grinning, settled back over you with his naked body covering yours. âIf you keep staring at me like that, babygirl. I think I might just came right here and now.â his hips nestling between your thighs, feeling the heat of your sex, still slippery and swollen from your climax. You instinctively let out a small whine, impatient coming through as you want nothing than him to fuck you now.
âFuckâŠâ he grunted, voice strained with desire as he rocked his hips against yours. âFeel what you do to me, baby? How hard I am for you?â He reached down, taking his cock in hand and rubbing the swollen head through your slick folds. Groaning at the feeling of your wetness, the way your body welcomed him and drew him in.
You whined softly, nudging yourself closer on purpose with a hint of impatience. â....hurry up, Won. I canât take it anymore.âÂ
Wonwoo chuckled, way too attractive in your ears or maybe youâre just horny at this moment. âSlow down, Iâm all yours tonight.â he lined himself up in your entrance, the tip of his cock kissing your opening. âLast chance to back out, baby,â he said hoarsely, even his hips twitched with the urge to surge forward, buried deep inside you. âBeg me to fuck you, babygirl.â
You frowned, almost whined the way he kept teasing lightly. You just donât care anymore, and wrap your legs around him. âPlease, Wonwoo. Fuck me, I need you inside me.â You didnât meant to come out needy, but your cunt was already aching with so much need.
Wonwooâs heart raced at your desperate plea, without hesitation he gripped your hips and began to push forward. The thick head of his cock stretching your tight entrance. He had to grit his teeth at the incredible feeling of your slick heat enveloping him, inch by slow inch. âRelax, baby,â he murmured, âBreathe for me, ____. You can take it, youâre so fucking tight and perfect.â
You had to hold your breath, gasping at the way heâs stretching you well. Messy whimpers slipping as you meekly speak. âW-wonwooâŠâ His cock was too much for you, God, you almost feel like youâre about to die. He kept pushing, slowly sheathing himself inside you until he was buried to the hilt. Wonwoo paused there, giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch of his cock splitting you open. He let you try to accommodate his size, your walls fluttering around him.Â
âFuck, you feel amazing.â he groaned, hips rocking slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours. âSo fucking good, baby.â he started to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained inside before slamming in, burying himself to the balls once more. You were a moaning mess, fist gripping vice on the sheet as your back arched from the sensation. He set a steady rhythm, hips surging forward and pulling back. Fucking into you with deep powerful strokes making you scream. âTake it, angel," he growled, hands sliding underneath your ass to tilt your hips up, angling you to take his thrusts even deeper. âTake my cock like the good little girl you are. Fuck! You were made for this, made to be filled up by me.â
âYes! Fuckâkeep going, Iâmâahn!â you cried out, feeling your nails digging into his back which would leave marks there as he continued pounding into you. Your pussy was so tight, gripping his cock like a silken vice with every deep, powerful thrust. You couldnât think straight at the moment, too consumed with your need for himâall of him. It was too intoxicating and overwhelming for you.
His hips slamming forward with increasing force. You feel him hooking your leg over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to drive even deeper into your core. Wonwoo could feel your walls clenching around him, could tell you were getting close to another explosive orgasm. âThatâs it, baby. Come on my cock.â he urged, his voice strained with pleasure. His hand slid in between your bodies, finding your clit swollen and throbbing. Rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles, determined to make you fall apart in his arms.
âF-fuckâWon, Iâmââ you choked out finally, your release came. With a hoarse shout, Wonwoo followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing and twitching as he spilled hot and deep inside you. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, hips jerking and shuddering as spurt after spurt of his thick cum pumped into your spasming cunt. You naturally let out a satisfied whine, feeling him filling you up.
He collapsed onto the bed beside you, gathering your trembling form into his strong arms. He could feel his seed, hot and thick beginning to seep out around his still-hard cock, which was buried deep inside your fluttering walls. For a moment, the air grew peaceful and calm. It felt like the two of you were the only ones that mattered in the dark room.
He peppered your face with soft kisses, fingers brushing your hair back tenderly as he gazed down at you with pure adoration and something deeper. Satisfaction and relief.Â
âYouâre amazing, sweetheart,â he murmured against your skin. âIâm so fucking lucky to have you.â His forehead pressed against yours, eyes closing. He wanted to savor this moment, the way all his pent-up longing had finally settled, the years of yearning quieting in his chest.
He loved you so much it hurt.
ââŠI love you. So much, ____,â he whispered absentmindedly against you.
Your heart pounded at those three words.
It swelled with emotion at his soft confession. Wonwoo was never vocal about how he felt, but his actions had always screamed that he cared. That he loved you.
It had always been you who said it first. Casually and naturally. The same way you said it to your friends out of habit.
You know I love you, right?
Take care, love you!
Oh my God, I love you for this, Wonwoo!
Bye-bye, love you lots.
Made with love from your charismatic girlfriend <3
Wonwoo, you love me, right?
Come to think of it, you had always thrown those words at him so easily.
You wonder now how he took them. Maybe he had always held his own back, waiting to make sure you were certain of your feelings.
God, you wanted to cry at how overwhelmed you felt.
So you said it back.
Genuinely.
ââŠI love you too, Won.â
And with that, you sealed it with a kiss, tender and full of everything you had never properly said before.
To Wonwoo, yearning had always sounded delicate. But living through it was anything, whatever heâs going through is much more disgusting.
When you stopped talking to him after that semester ended, the same semester where everything had started and quietly ended. He tried to accept that maybe you were only meant to exist in that specific chapter of his life.
Just a crush.
An unrequited love that would never be returned.
He told himself he wouldâve been fine staying friends, even if it meant loving you quietly just to keep you close. But now that he thought about it, he had no reason to talk to you anymore.
You had only grown close because of that class.
That was the excuse.
Even when you shared it, everything between you had felt natural. After lectures ended, you would ask if he wanted to grab lunch because you skipped breakfast and he always agreed. Then it turned into shared study sessions. The same brunch spots. The same seats at the library. Everything at once felt like a routine.
Intimate.
Just never officially âhanging out.â
Except when you procrastinated, poking him at the library while he tried to work. He still remembered the paper ring. You had made it out of boredom while he was drowning in programming assignments. He had been stressed and you had a talent for appearing at the worst possible timing.
âHey, look. I made a paper ring,â you said sheepishly, despite the fact that you had been doing absolutely nothing beside him.
He turned to you, brows already furrowed from his assignments and now from you. Not because he was annoyed. You just had that light about you, the kind that made it impossible to stay irritated.
You smiled and slipped the paper ring onto his finger.
It looked ridiculous.
He raised a brow in amusement. He shouldâve told you to focus on your own deadlines, shouldâve scolded you by now.
But he didnât.
Because then you leaned your head on the table, cheek pressed against the surface as you stared up at him. âYou know, I prefer shiny things,â you mumbled. âBut would you marry me with paper rings?â
His fingers froze above the keyboard, eyes stayed glued to the screen. He didnât even dare look at you.
How could you say something like that so casually?
He almost said yes.
But you had confessed before that you liked someone else.
So he stayed silent.
He wanted to know if you were joking. But knowing you, even if he said yes, you wouldâve just laughed. Smiled it off, because you were always open with affection.
He wasnât.
He didnât say things like that lightly. He wasnât like you. He wasnât like Seungkwan or Chan. Not when he had real feelings for you. So he buried it deep inside his heart.
Exams passed. The semester ended.
And when he saw you again during break, he expected you to approach him first. To talk again like usual, but you didnât. And it broke him more than he expected.
You seemed fine without him. Laughing with your friends like always. Like he had never mattered.
Wonwoo wanted to get close to you again. He just didnât know how. The only reason you had ever been close was that shared class. And now it was gone.
Why couldnât it be simple?
Like the way you were with your friends. He couldnât force himself to be that easy.
Maybe you found him boring. Maybe he had only been convenient. So in the end, he gave up.
âŠ
He wasnât expecting to see you again.
Not like this.
He had only stopped by the convenience store to buy beer and cigarettes, a bad habit that had slowly returned after that semester. You never liked the lingering scent of smoke. You mentioned it once, wrinkling your nose, and he quit immediately. You never even knew he was a smoker. You didnât have to.
But after you both drifted apart, the habit crept back in.
He stepped out of the store in all black, helmet still on, mentally cursing Mingyu for asking him at the last minute to grab drinks. And thatâs when he noticed someone crouched by the sidewalk.
Crying.
Soft, stifled sobs in the quiet of the night.
 And of course it had to be Valentineâs Day. Not that he had anyone to spend it with. The only reason he stopped seeing anyone at all was because you kept occupying his mind long after your one-sided romance had supposedly ended.
He took a proper look, and realized it was you.
You.
Why were you crying like that? Like a child abandoned outside a daycare.
His chest tightened at the sight.
He didnât want to approach you too suddenly, and didn't want to scare you. You had only just spoken to him again recently when you handed out yellow tulips and homemade cookies to your friends.
And to him.
You said it was Valentineâs Day. That you wanted to share something sweet with the people you cared about. Single yellow tulips. Symbolic of friendship. It had felt like a punch to the gut. Not a direct rejection. But close enough.
Still, he appreciated that you remembered him at all.
So why were you here now?
You looked happy on campus, and here you were, sobbing past midnight in front of a convenience store.
Without thinking much further, he held out his handkerchief.
You looked up, hiccuping, and took it with a small, broken âthank you.â ââŠHey, mister,â you sniffed, dabbing at your tears. âCan you give me some life advice? I just need⊠something nice to hear.â
Oh.
Of course you didnât recognize him.
He was dressed head to toe in black, helmet shadowing half his face. So he sat down beside you leaving a respectful gap between you. And for the first time in months, he was close to you again.
You sobbed again, burying your face into the soft fabric as you spoke between hiccups.
ââŠIâm sorry. I was just having a bad day andââ you inhaled shakily. âI was so excited to see my favorite person b-but⊠I donât know where it went wrong. I just⊠I just donât know. If they donât like me anymore, they couldâve just said it instead of justâŠâ
Your voice broke.
The image of Seungcheol kissing another girl replayed in your head, and your heart felt like it was being ripped apart all over again.
Wonwoo stiffened.
He had never been good at comforting people. Especially not like this.
God, he felt useless.
But something inside him clenched at the sight of you crying. Whatever happened, he assumed your âdream guyâ didnât feel the same way.
Damn bastard.
Did he even realize how lucky he was to have someone like you?
Wonwoo had never felt so envious, but right now, he focused on you.
ââŠI once loved someone,â he finally said quietly. âMaybe I still do.â
You sniffled, calming down just enough to listen.
âShe was⊠the brightest person Iâve ever met. She changed the way I see the world. Without her, I wouldnât have noticed how colorful life could be.â
You listened intently.
âShe meant everything to me. She treated me with so much love, even if it wasnât always romantic. Everything about her was⊠lovely. She was like sunshine. Warm. Loving. Every day I spent with her wasââ
He swallowed the rest.
As if he wasnât describing the love of his life sitting right beside him.
You just didnât know it was him.
âThenâŠâ you hiccupped softly. âWhat happened? What went wrong?â
He went quiet. You couldnât see his expression under the helmet.
âWe just kind of⊠drifted apart, I guess,â he said with a small shrug.
You turned to him, your crying finally subsiding.
âBut mister, you said you love her. Did you ever tell her how you felt?â
He blinked, caught off guard by how quickly you shifted into curiosity.
ââŠNo. Not really. I didnât see the point in saying it.â
âThen thatâs not technically a rejection.â
âI was trying to avoid one,â he replied. âEven if I confessed, it wouldâve been awkward to stay friends.â
âEven so,â you said firmly, âat least you wouldnât regret it.â
Easier said than done.
Thatâs what he wanted to say.
But he didnât argue.
You continued, even though you were the one who had been crying moments ago. âMister, are you familiar with Winnie the Pooh?â
He stayed silent.
âThereâs this quote that says, âHow lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.ââ You gestured dramatically despite your puffy eyes. âSo you should feel grateful you met her. That you got to feel that kind of love. So whatâs stopping you?â
He found himself liking this about you, how you still glowed even after heartbreak. Though sometimes, it worried him how fast you forced yourself to be okay.
âThatâs⊠true,â he admitted. âBut Iâm not the kind of person who expresses love loudly.â
âThen did you ever do anything about it?â
Silence.
âSo do it,â you encouraged. âYou might regret never trying to make her notice your feelings. Even if your affirmations suck, just do something nice. Actions speak louder than words. Not blatant flirting or cheesy lines but the way you care for her. Mirror the way she cares about you.â
His lips curled slightly beneath the helmet.
âYou should regret not doing anything,â you added. âAt least make it something. Donât just sit there quietly and mourn your one-sided love.â
That felt like a direct hit.
Because what the hell had he been doing all this time?
Ever since that night, your words stayed with him.
Thatâs why, when you suddenly kissed him one day and claimed him as your boyfriend, he said yes. Even if it wasnât how he imagined it would begin.
Because he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didnât finally act.
And he was ready to love you properly this time.
They say that if you grow up in a loving family, youâll learn how to love easily.
Growing up, you were surrounded by decent male figures in your life. Your dad, loving in his own quiet way. Not really loud with words, but his actions always spoke for him. Your older brother was annoying, but in an adoring way. You even grew familiar with his friend, one of whom you had a tiny childhood crush on.
Then there was your cousin Jihoon, rough around the edges, but secretly a softie. And his best friend Soonyoung, whom you had known for years who was very loud and funny. He still is though.
Because of them, you never struggled to understand the difference between male friendship and something more. Thatâs probably why youâre openly affectionate with boundaries, of course.
Ever since then, you and Wonwoo had grown⊠closer.
More intimate. More open.
Kisses whenever you feel like it. Mischievous stolen pecks in quiet corners. You didnât realize how clingy you had become until recently, not that he ever complained.
âI love youâ became routine. No longer foreign. And of course, when you were both in the mood, you would occasionally take things further.
You loved Wonwoo. And he loved you.
Love was like candy. Sweet at first taste, melting on your tongue. But when the sweetness faded, you found yourself craving it again. Sometimes the flavor lingered like longing. Like wanting to taste it over and over.
But what felt even sweeter was spending Halloween with your friends.
Another excuse for trick-or-treating, just like you and Chan used to do, fooling around when you were kids. Teenagers.
Maybe even now.
You opened the door to reveal three bearsâWell. Three people. They stood outside with snacks in their hands before walking into your apartment like they owned the place.
âAt this point, this might as well be my second home,â Vernon said, placing bags of chips on the table where you had already arranged potluck dishes and cute decorations. âIâm here more than at my own house.â
Seungkwan eyed you from head to toe, half judging, half confused. âWhat are you even supposed to be?â
You glanced down at your dark blue pinafore dress and touched the red ribbon clipped behind your hair. âIâm Kiki,â you said simply. âYou know. From that Ghibli movie.â
âWhatâs that?â Chan asked.
âYou idiot,â Vernon said flatly. âThe girl who starts a delivery service with a broom.â
Seungkwan blinked. âI thought we agreed on Goldilocks and the Three Bears.â
You paused. âI never said that.â
âYou did.â
Chan interrupted, âExcuse me, we agreed to be We Bare Bears. You insisted on being regular bears. Vernon was excited to be Ice Bear.â
He gestured vaguely at Vernon, who was calmly eating cake in the background.
âNice costume, Dorothy,â Vernon added.
âIâm Kiki,â you corrected.
âRemind me why weâre doing this again. Arenât we past this age?â Chan sighed as he lifted the lid off the stew you had cooked. âShouldnât we be at the Halloween party where all the cool people are?â
Seungkwan bristled immediately. âYou mean where they all get drunk and dress likeâI donât know. People say Halloween is when you can live out your typical sex fantasy.â
You grimaced.
Sure, dressing up was fun. But skimpy outfits were never really your thing. Even if you found them cute, you didnât want your brother freaking out, thinking youâd been influenced by some frat party nonsense.
âSomebody has to keep traditions alive,â Seungkwan continued dramatically. âAnnual celebration equals preventing the bond from drifting apart. And letâs be honest, that person is me.â
Chan scoffed. The two of them slipped into their usual bickering while Vernon watched quietly, munching on his food in peace.
Honestly, you didnât care.
It was nice spending time with your friends. When you couldnât go back to your hometown for holidays like Thanksgiving, New Yearâs, Christmas. They were always there with early plans.
Your second family. Maybe even your only one nearby.
The doorbell rang.
You immediately knew who it was and rushed over.
âHi,â he smiled, leaning in to kiss you softly. âI brought what you asked for. Doughnuts. They had Halloween-themed ones. I hope you donât mind.â
You chuckled and let him in before guiding him back to the living room.
All three pairs of eyes landed on him.
Seungkwan was the first to comment. âI donât think he got the memo about the dress code.â
Chan examined him from head to toe. âAre you supposed to be one of those biker guys from BookTok or whatever theyâre obsessed with?â
You punched Chanâs arm.
He winced. âWhat did I do?â he mouthed innocently.
âShut up. Wonwoo is just Wonwoo. Let the guy breathe. He just came back from his part-time job,â you huffed.
You placed a pair of black cat ears on his head. He didnât protest.
âAnd heâs Jiji,â you announced proudly.
Wonwoo hadnât dressed up. He had come straight from his shift, still in his all-black gear leather jacket, jeans, helmet tucked under his arm.
âWho?â Seungkwan and Chan asked in unison.
Vernon called out from the kitchen, âThe cat.â
âOhhh.â
That was enough for them.
More importantly, a part of you finally felt healed. The failed situationship didnât feel that serious anymore. Well, you wouldâve appreciated it if Seungcheol hadnât led you on to the point of kissing you.
Anyway.
You only told Chan about that. Not the other two. Seungkwan wouldâve gone absolutely apeshit, especially considering how vocal heâd always been about not liking Mingyu, even though Mingyu wasnât that bad compared to most guys.
Definitely not your brother. Or his friend.
And absolutely not your cousins Jihoon and Soonyoung.
God, that wouldâve been embarrassing. They wouldâve made a whole scene out of it and bring it up about your bad choice of men for years.
You didnât even tell Wonwoo.
Not that it mattered now. You were too busy being happy in your healthy relationship.
Wow.
You could actually call it a relationship now.
That alone felt like progress.
And who wouldnât be on cloud nine when Wonwoo had sent you a huge bouquet of roses yesterday? Seungkwan had gushed about it more than you did and even posted it on his Instagram story like he was the one who received them. Then this morning, you got yellow tulips. He said they suited you more because they meant âthe sunshine of your smile.â
You almost hit his chest out of affection which you tended to do often enough that he nearly bruised from it.
You were all having a great time eating and talking. You even made sure to FaceTime your cousin and Soonyoung, who had dressed up as characters from Winnie the Pooh, Piglet and Tigger.
How typical.
You had told Wonwoo about your cousin before, insisting he meet him one day.
âHe looks mean, but heâs a softie. Donât worry,â youâd said.
âAnd his friend looks like he might bite. Maybe.â You were obviously referring to Soonyoung.
As you and your friends began cleaning up and collecting trash, the doorbell rang again.
You froze.
Who would come this late? Thank God you werenât alone.
You opened the door to reveal a guy in a Deadpool costume.
You just stared.
Sensing the silence, he pulled off the mask.
You brightened instantly. âChanyeol?â you laughed as he opened his arms and pulled you into a hug.
âWow. Whereâs the little girl who used to miss me every time I visited?â he teased, glancing at your brother beside him.
âIâm wondering who the real brother is, to be honest,â Kyungsoo muttered, appearing next to him.
You let them in, welcoming them warmly.
But the joy lasted only a second.
Chanyeol gasped dramatically when he saw three unfamiliar men in your living room excluding Chan, whom he obviously knew.
â_____!â Chanyeol grabbed your shoulders and shook you lightly, pointing accusingly at them. âI thought you were going to marry me if I showed up in an Iron Man costume?!â
Kyungsoo blinked. âExcuse me, what?â
Chan immediately stood up to greet your brother, pulling him into a hug before dapping Chanyeol afterward.
You groaned. âOkay, first of all, I never said that. And second, I was seven, okay?â
You ended up introducing all of them. They say if you introduce your friends or your lover to your family, it means that person is decent enough to be shown genuinely good. And lastly, you casually mentioned that you have a boyfriend.
Your brother and his friendâs reactions werenât exactly positive. At least, not from the looks of it.
âOh.â Thatâs all Kyungsoo said.
Chanyeol choked a little, struggling to swallow his water. âThatâs⊠nice?â he coughed.
âI mean, I figured Chan is decent. Heâs okay, I guess.â your brother added blatantly, like he wasnât standing right there.
âHey! I heard that, you know,â Chan retorted from the kitchen while cleaning up.
You immediately shook your head. âUh, no. Heâs just there.â You jerked your thumb toward Wonwoo, who was tying up the trash bag.
They didnât even hide the daggers they were sending, especially your brother. You rolled your eyes. âOh, come on. Heâs decent too. He treats me nicely.â
âOkay, heâs decent, but why is he dressed all black with cat ears? He looks mean as hell.â
You almost scoffed. Like whoâs talking? Showing up in a full Spiderman, with his friend in a Deadpool costume.
âHeâs not. Itâs just his resting face.â
The rest of the night dragged on, your brother bombarding Wonwoo with questions like he was HR conducting an aggressive interview. You eventually had to kick them out for being annoying as hell.
One by one, your friends drifted off too after helping clean up.
It was only you and him. Alone.
You turned around, finally facing your boyfriend, feeling a little bashful about it.
Boyfriend.
âHi, girlfriend.â He smiled at you. You always thought his smile was cute, especially the way his eyes squeezed slightly, creating that tiny nose scrunch. When you once pointed it out as a compliment, he immediately launched into a whole scientific explanation about facial structures and muscles that caused it.
You smiled back shyly. âHi, boyfriend.â
You slowly stepped backward, and he stepped forward, mirroring your movements until your back hit the kitchen counter. He caged you in with a grin resting on his face.
You only grinned up at him innocently, acting like the two of you were still in the honeymoon phase as if you hadnât already been together for more than a month now. If you calculated everything, youâd known him since last semester. You started off as friends, and then this happened which made it, what, three months and more?
Damn. Itâs been that long?
You didnât care much about the numbers, but you were sure you were lucky as hell to have met him and felt like an idiot for not noticing it sooner.
You had planned to match your Halloween costumes (mainly you). At first, you considered going as Little Red Riding Hood with him as the wolf, but you didnât want Chan pointing out how kinky it would look. God, you wanted to slap him sometimes for being that annoying. The plan never happened anyway since Wonwoo had his shift and there wasnât enough time to change things.
So you decided to roleplay a little.
âMy, what big ears you have, grandmother.â
He chuckled, shaking his head as he removed the cat ears. âWell⊠all the better to hear you with, baby.â He stayed there, hands still braced on either side of you.
âBut grandmother, what big eyes you have.â
He raised an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses. Now he knew what you were up to, but he was willing to indulge in your little foreplay. âItâs just my glasses. But all the better to see you clearly.â
Your hands trailed up his chest, your eyes glinting as you looked up at him. âOh, but grandmother, what a terribly big mouth you have.â
Oh. Now he definitely knew.
He couldnât help the wider, almost wolfish grin that spread across his face. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer as he leaned in.
âAll the better to eat you withâŠâ he murmured against your ear, and you shivered.
You felt the warmth of his breath linger against your skin, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. âYouâre terrible,â you whispered, though your hands tightened in his shirt instead of pushing him away.
âFor indulging you?â he murmured.
âFor knowing exactly what youâre doing.â
He chuckled softly, the sound low in his chest, vibrating against you. His nose brushed your cheek, again that stupid little scrunch appearing when he smiled.
Effortlessly, he lifted you onto the counter, settling you against the cool surface as he stepped between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, fingers splaying over the soft skin there.
âComfortable?â he asked, though his gaze was already roaming appreciatively over you.
âVery,â you confirmed, leaning forward to kiss him.
He kissed you back immediately, lips finding yours in a slow, deliberate press. It was soft at first, unhurried, but it deepened when he felt you respond. One hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, while the other slid to your waist, holding you steady.
It turned heated quickly.
His hands began to wander, moving lower, brushing over the fabric of your dress. His thumb traced slow circles along your inner thigh, the thin material of your stockings doing little to dull the warmth of his touch. The warmth of his touch lingered even through the thin barrier of fabric, and your breath hitched despite yourself.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His eyes flickered up to yours, darker now and slower as if he was watching every reaction like he was studying something precious. âYouâre sensitive,â he murmured, not teasing. Just observing.
Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt. âShut up.â
That only made the corner of his mouth tilt.
Instead of moving further, he paused. That pause was worse. His thumb continued its lazy path along your thigh, never crossing any line, just close enough to make you hyperaware of the space between you. Of him standing there, steady and warm and entirely in control.
âYou okay?â he asked quietly.
The shift in tone softened something in your chest.
You nodded, swallowing. âYeah.â
âGood.â He leaned in again, but this time the kiss wasnât rushed or consuming. It was slower and intentional. His lips moved against yours with a quiet confidence that made your toes curl inside your shoes.
His hand at your waist tightened slightly grounding, not claiming.
When you tried to chase the kiss, he pulled back just a fraction. Not denying you.
Just making you wait.
âYou were bold a minute ago,â he murmured near your lips. âWhat happened to Red Riding Hood?â
Your cheeks burned, but you lifted your chin anyway. âSheâs not scared of the wolf.â
A low sound left his throat at that not quite a laugh. âGood,â he said softly. And this time when he kissed you again, it was deeper, slower like he had all the time in the world.
Where is your heart?
Sometimes you really need to think before acting. Youâre a smart girl. Use that brain. But occasionally, you find yourself stumbling forward before your thoughts can even catch up. Thatâs how you ended up tangled with Seungcheol once. You were thrown to the wolves, and you promised yourself youâd never walk into that forest again.
Blame it all on Mingyu.
Come to think of it, the whole thing feels strange now. You had a hunch back then that maybe he was just playing with you, that maybe he wasnât serious, orâŠ
God.
You need to stop thinking about it.
If he did play your feelings like a fiddle, your old self wouldnât have known how to handle it. It hurts less now that youâre with Wonwoo, but it still sucks in some quiet, annoying way.
Your thoughts slowed when you reached a familiar place.
The same place you used to come to clear your head when your studies overwhelmed you. You always considered it a one-time thing when Mingyu brought you here. That was also where you first met your situationship.Â
And then your eyes landed on a familiar bike.
Wonwooâs.
You were almost impressed that you recognized it from across the street. Curiosity pricked at you. He told you he wasnât the party type. So why was he here? At Yugyeomâs house? Maybe Mingyu dragged him along. It wasnât your business anyway. Your boyfriend can do whatever he wants. You donât control his life. Heâs his own person.
Still.
Sometimes you canât help but wonder.
Was Wonwoo lying to you?
No.
You shook the thought away almost immediately. Heâs always been honest. Always reassuring. Always steady. But your mind drifted back to that night when he approached you after his crash, when you both happened to meet at this very place.
Did he already know about Seungcheol back then? Did he know him personally?
The thought made your stomach twist. It would be embarrassing, considering you once admitted to Wonwoo that you liked Seungcheol before. Now that youâre dating, you sometimes wonder what he really thinks about that.
Heâs never been openly jealous. But you can tell. Heâs⊠possessive.
Not in a suffocating way. Just subtle and quiet. The way his hand lingers a second longer. The way his gaze sharpens when someone stands too close.
You never pointed it out. You just noticed. And strangely enough, it makes you feel giddy.
Right now, you couldnât help wanting to know more.
It would be a lie to say youâd never thought Wonwoo could be secretive at times. You figured it wasnât that he was hiding things, he just didnât share unnecessary details. Or things he thought werenât good for you to hear.
You werenât a child.
But he had this tendency to shield you from ugly things. Not keeping you in the dark, just⊠preventing you from getting burned by things that didnât concern you.
You always thought it was sweet.
Maybe a little overprotective.
Still sweet.
And yet, here you were.
You ended up going inside anyway, jacket thrown over your pajamas. In your defense, you had just come back from the convenience store downstairs for a quick snack.
You didnât plan this.
The inside was rowdy as usual. Loud music boomed through the walls, bass vibrating against your ribs. The air smelled like cheap alcohol and something faintly sweet and burnt.
You remembered this atmosphere.
You sometimes felt out of place in crowds like this. Sure, it was fun when you came with your friends. But this was different. Closer to a frat house vibe though youâd never actually been to one. Seungkwan and Chan once dramatically claimed this place was âdefiled,â whatever that meant.
You weaved through the crowd, people brushing past you. A few gave you odd looks probably because you were underdressed. You were aware of that. Very aware. But you didnât know what possessed you to come in here like this. Maybe you just wanted to see what Wonwoo was doing. Maybe you were just nosy as hell.
Or maybeâŠ
The paranoia was really kicking in now. Was it because of your past experience? You knew you shouldnât feel like this. Wonwoo wasnât the type to let you sleep with a heavy heart or leave you drowning in unsaid thoughts.
Just as you were about to spot his figure, someone suddenly pulled you aside, preventing you from crashing into a group holding drinks.
You blinked, staring at the person who had grabbed your arm.
Seungcheol.
It had been a while.
He looked just as surprised as you did. Realizing his grip, he released you almost immediately. âSorry⊠I was justââ He paused. âI saw you here, wandering around in⊠pajamas?â His brows furrowed slightly. âWhy are you here?â
You didnât answer right away. It felt awkward seeing him again after he ghosted you.
âUm. Yeah. I was just looking for someoneâŠâ
A heavy pause lingered between you.
He looked⊠apologetic. And maybe he should be. Every time he tried approaching you before, youâd avoid him, sometimes deliberately clinging to Wonwoo so heâd back off.
Maybe that was petty.
But you couldnât face him after what happened. And eventually, you just stopped caring, too focused on Wonwoo to bother.
âHey⊠I know I was a dick for leaving you hanging like that.â He inhaled slowly. âAnd Iâm sorry. Really. I didnât mean to lead you on andâŠâ His voice trailed off.
The atmosphere shifted.
He was choosing his words carefully, and you listened despite yourself.
âI just⊠I donât know how to explain it,â he continued. âI know I was a bastard for leading you. I realized I couldnât keep doing that to you because youâre too genuine.â
You werenât sure how to take that. The old you mightâve demanded a proper explanation. Closure. Something.
But now?
It didnât matter.
You were happy with what you had.
Before you could respond, two guys slung their arms around Seungcheolâs shoulders. He shot them an annoyed look.
âHey, man!â the first one slurred, clearly tipsy. His eyes landed on you. âOh? Isnât this the chick you were supposed to woo?â He laughed like you werenât even standing there.
You didnât like the way he said that.
The other one squinted at you, scrutinizing. âWait⊠youâre Jeonâs girl, right?â
You didnât answer. But you knew exactly who they meant.
âFuck off,â Seungcheol snapped, shoving them off. âDonât mind them,â he told you quickly.
You turned, ready to leave this garbage place.
Then one of them called out again. âDonât be upset, man!â he laughed. âYou lost the bet. Donât tell me youâre mad you couldnât get her into your bed.â
Your steps halted.
So it really was a bet. Youâd suspected it. Youâd known, deep down, it wasnât real.
But hearing it said out loud felt different.
Colder.
And then the other guy opened his mouth again. âMan, donât act like you didnât tell Jeon about it,â he slurred. âWasnât he there that night? He knew you were messing around.â
Your breath stopped.
Seungcheolâs head snapped toward him. âShut up.â
âWhat?â the guy laughed. âYou said it yourself. You werenât even serious. Just wanted to see if you could pull it off before Jeonââ
âEnough.â The sharpness in Seungcheolâs voice cut through the music.
But it was too late.
You were already storming out of the damn house.
The cold night air hits you immediately sharp, quiet, almost cruel. For the first time in a long while, you didnât know how to process what you were feeling. You didnât understand why it hit this hard. Sure, it stung knowing you were never taken seriously back then. That part? You could swallow it. But when they mentioned Wonwoo - your heart dropped. Because he knew. Maybe not Seungcheol directly. Maybe not every detail. But he knew those guys.
Which means... .something in your stupid, spiraling head started connecting dots that maybe werenât even meant to be connected.
He knew these people. So how much did he know?
When you told him you used to like Seungcheol, you told him almost everything. Almost. You never mentioned the situationship. It felt unnecessary. Embarrassing. Something you didnât want to relive.
He told you he was only close to Mingyu. So who were those guys who clearly knew him?
Had he lied?
Or was he just very good at hiding things?
The worst part was the possibility that Mingyu knew about that stupid bet too.
Was he part of it?
Your stomach twisted.
You had never felt so betrayed.
By your friend. By your boyfriend.
God, it was humiliating after everything you and Wonwoo had built.
Was this why he was secretive sometimes? Was this the âbad thingsâ he didnât want you to see?
You always saw him as someone unbothered. Detached from unnecessary drama. You never judged Mingyuâs lifestyle either despite everything, he was still a good person.
But now you were questioning all of it again. And it made your chest feel unbearably heavy.
So fucking heavy.
Your breathing turned shallow, uneven. The cold air didnât help. It felt like your lungs couldnât expand fully, like something invisible was pressing down on you.
Suffocating.
Before you even realized it, your vision blurred. Tears pooled, then spilled. You crouched down in the middle of the cold night, arms wrapping around your knees as a sob tore out of you.
Was I ever truly loved?
The thought hit harder than anything else.
Was that why it felt so easy for Wonwoo to slip into the boyfriend role? Why he never hesitate? Never questioned it?
Maybe it was natural to him. Maybe heâd been waiting. Waiting for the right moment to step in like a knight in shining armor when Jia humiliated him and you rushed to defend him.
God.
What if you werenât saving him? What if you were walking straight into something he already knew would happen? Instead of him being played, you were the one being played. Maybe you were just convenient. The conclusion made you want to claw your own heart out.
All this time, youâd been afraid you were the dishonest one, hiding that stupid situationship because it felt irrelevant, embarrassing. And yet somewhere along the way, you learned to love him.
Sincerely, genuinely.
And now here you were again, in another humiliating position. The gullible girl. He must think youâre easy.
The thought made you feel sick.
After everything, after loving him so much it physically hurt. This is what you get?
The betrayal burned. From your friend. From him.
It hurts so fucking much.
The next day on campus, you looked awful. You cried most of the night. You didnât answer his calls. You didnât reply to his texts. You just let the screen light up and fade again and again.
When he showed up at your apartment with food and medicine, you accepted it quietly. You couldnât even look him in the eye.
He looked worried. That almost made it worse.
The days after that blurred together. You avoided him on campus, sticking close to your friends. When they asked if you were okay, you brushed it off with a weak âIâm just not feeling well.â
Technically, it wasnât a lie. Your phone was filled with missed calls and unread messages from him.
You replied once. Just one line that is âIâm unwell.â That was it.
Eventually, you told Chan. Only Chan.
He was the closest thing to family you had here. You called him that night and everything spilled out of you in broken pieces. Every doubt. Every ugly conclusion. Every fear you didnât want to admit out loud. You sobbed so hard your chest hurt. And for once, Chan didnât joke. He didnât interrupt. Didnât tease and dramatize your whole stuff.
He just listened. When you begged him not to hang up, he stayed. You ended up falling asleep on call, the line still connected because you needed somethingâsomeone to keep you from feeling completely alone.
As annoying as he could be, he was always there. And that was probably the first time he didnât make a single joke.
âŠ
Itâs been five days since everything happened.
You ended up shutting Wonwoo out. You know itâs unfair, you shouldâve just asked him instead of sitting alone with your thoughts, letting them rot in the dark. But you canât. Youâre too afraid itâll turn out exactly the way you fear.
What if he is part of it? What if he actually loves you?
Youâre burnt out. Maybe even depressed. More than just heartbroken.
Chan wouldâve definitely called you out for looking like absolute shit right now but he doesnât. Not when you look this bad. Your head rests against his shoulder as he sits beside you on the bed, fingers intertwined with his. For once, he doesnât complain when you seek physical affection. He just lets you stay there, quiet and small, needing warmth.
You sniffle, cheek pressed against his arm, grip tightening slightly. ââŠAm I that unlovable?â you ask meekly. A moment of weakness.
Youâve skipped class for two days now. You feel so unwell. So drained.
Chan sighs softly, resting his chin on top of your head. âNo. No, youâre not.â
Your throat tightens. âDo you love me?â Of course youâd question everything now your worth, your existence, all of it.
He stiffens. He can tell youâre about to cry again, and heâs terrible at comforting people.
âOf course I love you. Why wouldnât I?â
âYouâre just saying that because Iâm sad.â
âWell, I wouldnât have stuck around if Iâd been farting in your face for years.â
You frown and hit his arm. âNot funny.â
He winces. âWasnât supposed to be?â he scoffs lightly, before pulling your head back to his shoulder and patting your hair more gently. âCome on. Donât cry. I donât know what to do when you cry like that.â
Silence settles between you.
Then he tries again. âYou know⊠when I first saw you, I knew a grand adventure was about to happen.â
Your lips twitch. âYou mean when we were seven and you threw a stick at me?â
âYeah,â he smiles. âFrom that moment on, I knew any day spent with you would be my favorite day. So todayâs my favorite day too.â
You smile faintly. âThatâs sweet.â
âI know,â he replies softly.
Another quiet stretch.
You still feel heavy. He notices. Of course he does.
Vernon has been sending you playlists non-stop since he found out you were sad. Unfortunately, half of them are Taylor Swift songs which only makes you feel worse. Great job, man.
You sigh. âI donât think Iâm ever going to get married,â you mumble. âI donât even want to fall in love. Who would ever want to marry me?â
Thereâs a pause.
âI would,â Chan says simply.
You lift a brow, amused despite yourself.
âRemember when we roleplayed marriage when we were twelve?â he continues. âThe ridiculous paper rings? Your momâs red lipstick that you smeared all over my face? I had to use Clorox to get it off.â
You laugh, genuinely this time. âHey. That ring was not ridiculous. It was cute.â
âAnd you stole my first kiss.â
âThat was my first kiss too.â
You both burst into laughter. And for the first time in days, your chest doesnât feel quite as tight.
You stay there like that. Comfortable.
The moment feels easy. Light. Just like it used to feel when you were with Wonwoo.
You hate how familiar that warmth is. Hate how your body remembers it so easily. You donât want to think about him, but you do anyway, recalling the things you did together, the small habits, the quiet laughter.
It hurts. So much.
âI donât know, ChanâŠâ you start, your voice already wobbling again much to his immediate panic. âAll of our friends know weâre inseparable. They know how close we are, and yetâŠâ You gesture vaguely, frustration spilling over. âHe just played my heart likeâlike Pooh or something.â
Chan blinks. âLike as in⊠Winnie the Pooh?â
You ignore him. âI even introduced him to half of my family. What am I supposed to do now?â Your sobs return, softer but heavier, soaking into his sweater as you bury your face into his arm.
âHey, hey.â He pats your head awkwardly. âDonât be so hard on yourself. You should forgive yourself firstâŠâ
He swallows. Heâs never been good with words. Heâs never seen you this broken before.
When he was the one getting picked on as a kid, you were the one who stood in front of him. You were always stronger. ââŠWhatever happens,â he continues carefully, âIâll be by your side, okay? It makes me feel like an asshole seeing you cry like this, knowing Iâm not even the one who caused it.â
Your sobs soften at that, turning into hiccups.
He panics again and reaches for tissues, dabbing at your cheeks in clumsy little motions.Â
âY-you knowâŠâ you choke out, âhe never even swore. He was always nice to me. Of course I didnât notice⊠God, I feel so, so stupid.â
Chan sighs, wiping the last of your tears. ââŠWhat kind of guy has never cursed in his life?â he mutters. âMaybe only duringââ
He stops himself too late.
Your face crumples again.
Because Wonwoo did swear. Especially during intimate moments. And now youâre crying harder.
Chan stiffens. âO-okay! Okay, no, no, noâdonât cry!â He fumbles, half hugging you, half trying to wipe your tears. âIâm sorry! Iâm stupid! I didnât mean it like that!â
You just sob into his sweater.
He groans in frustration. âFine! Iâll be your boyfriend and marry you if you stop cryingâdammit!â
After a while, your bedroom door slowly creaks open with a few soft knocks.
Oneâno, two figures step in, plushies covering their faces. One holds Pooh. The other holds Tigger. The two characters youâve loved since childhood.
Your tears slowly subside as you sniffle.
âGlad to meet ya! Nameâs Tigger! T-I-double guh-er! That spells Tigger!â the Tigger waves dramatically, using the plushâs paw to greet you, voice exaggerated and cartoonish.
Your brows lift.
Then Pooh speaks in an oddly high-pitched tone. âHi. I am short, fat, and proud of that.â
You blink.
âCome on, Ji. We practiced this. Thatâs not what Pooh would say.â Soonyoung lowers the Tigger plush, glaring.
Jihoon, your cousin scoffs. âI told you Iâm not doing this.â
They immediately begin bickering like children.
You slowly turn to Chan, frowning. âYou told them?â
Chan raises both hands defensively. âI only told them you needed emotional support and that you were sad.â
You donât argue. If anything, you feel a little lighter. Being here, surrounded by them, your family feels like home. They are home. Despite all this warmth, though, you still somehow ended up in such a foolish position. You only ever wanted someone to accept all of you. To understand that when you love, you love completely.
Unconditionally.
Soonyoung carefully sits on the bed beside you, brushing a slightly damp strand of hair away from your face. ââŠYou okay, little bee?â he asks gently.
You give him a faint smile. âA little. Now that youâre both here.â
Jihoon doesnât look convinced. Of course he isnât. He can tell this runs deeper, but he doesnât press. Instead, he places the Pooh plush in your lap and sits at the edge of the bed.
âItâs okay,â Soonyoung reassures. âHappiness doesnât come with grades. Just look at Chan, he seems happy with his barely passing CGPA.â
Chan frowns. âI was passing.â
Soonyoung ignores him, swatting his hand away. âI have a friend. His name is Seokmin. Heâs really, really nice. He even apologized to ants when he accidentally stepped on them.â
All of you slowly turn to look at him.
Your brows knit together.
âI donât appreciate you introducing a guy to her like that,â Jihoon deadpans.
You honestly have no idea whatâs going to happen next. At some point, youâll have to face Wonwoo again. You need to settle whatever this relationship was.
Was it even real?
Maybe you shouldâve crashed out. Screamed. Swung a bat. Or used that frozen baguette Jeonghan once left in his abandoned fridge.
âShe canât. Okay? Thatâs final,â Chan cuts in firmly.
You appreciate that he speaks up. You donât think youâd ever survive loving someone like that again.
Soonyoung sighs dramatically. âItâs alright, little bee. The only thing you missed was swinging the bat and watching the man duck.â
Your lips curl slightly. âThanks, but violence really isnât my thing.â
âWell, it is mine,â Jihoon mutters.
You sigh. âItâs fine. Letâs not talk about men. I think Iâve had enough. I donât ever want to get married or fall in love. Boyfriends are overrated anyway.â
Jihoon and Soonyoung exchange a glance. They know itâs about someone. They just donât know the whole story.
âHey,â Soonyoung says softly, nudging your shoulder. âDonât say that. If anything, you still have us.â He pauses, then grins. âAlso, I can be your boyââ
Before he can finish, Jihoon smacks the back of his head. âOw!â Soonyoung rubs his scalp, offended. âI can do a backflip. Just saying.â
âŠ
Just when youâre about to feel suspiciously relaxed, it hits you. Your responsibility and your relationship.
Swore youâd never end up in this position again â yeah, right. This feels worse than your old situationship ever did.
When your phone buzzes, you almost assume itâs Wonwoo. Heâs been checking messages youâve ignored constantly. It hurts every time you leave him on read while heâs practically begging to talk.
Youâve been avoiding him at all costs. Clinging to Chan instead. But the name on the screen isnât Wonwoo this time, it was Mingyu.
You agree to meet him outside campus, near the small park. His text sounded urgent. Important. Aside from heartbreak, thereâs another ache sitting in your chest. Disappointment. You thought a friend had broken your trust.
When you arrive, Mingyu jogs over. âHey, shortcakeâŠâ he greets you with a crooked smile as he sits beside you on the bench. ââŠDid you wait long?â
You shake your head, offering a faint smile. âNo. Not really.â
Silence settles between you. It was heavy and awkward. If anything, friendship betrayals hurt more than breakups.
Mingyu slides a paper bag toward you. You peek inside to find a slice of strawberry cake and carton of milk.
Wonwoo flashes across your mind instantly, and your chest tightens.
Mingyu groans, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. âShit. How do I even start this?â
You look at him quietly.
âFirst, Iâm apologizing. For all this mess. You didnât deserve it.â
So he knows.
He swallows. âTo be fair, I had no idea about that bet. Cross my heart. If Iâd known those jackasses made some stupid deal with Seungcheol, I wouldâve swung at them immediately.â He pauses. âWhich I did.â
You frown, finally turning to face him fully.
âCheol told me everything after that night. You were there â thatâs why. We ended up fighting. Those two idiots deserved the beating anyway.â
Your eyes drop to his knuckles. Slightly scraped.
ââŠYou didnât have to do that,â you murmur. Now guilt creeps in that his friendship with Seungcheol strained because of this. Because of you.
He waves it off. âItâs fine. They were disrespecting you. I couldnât just sit there.â
He hesitates.ââŠI heard you and Wonwoo were together though. I only found out recently. My own best friend didnât even tell me.â He lets out a dry chuckle, glancing at how quiet youâve become.
âHeâs miserable, you know.â
Your head lifts instantly.
Mingyu nods toward the paper bag. âThatâs from him. Not me. He figured you wouldnât want to see him, so he asked me to pass it to you.â
Your throat tightens.
âHeâs been depressed these past few days. He didnât know about the bet. He was only there that night because I was wasted and he had to drag my ass home.â
Mingyu exhales. âHeâs not what you think he is. Heâs a good guy. Really.â
God.
You feel horrible.
You let your insecurity spiral. You let overthinking consume you whole. You knew you shouldâve talked to him, but you were too scared to hear the worst.
You couldnât even look him in the eye.
âWonwooâs not that kind of guy,â Mingyu continues gently. âYou know that too. Those idiots only talked to you like that because Cheol called them out. Wonwoo never agreed to any stupid arrangement. If anything, Cheol just didnât want some random prick getting close to you.â
Oh.
So Seungcheol did that because of⊠that?
His methods were questionable. Shitty, even.
But still.
Mingyu sighs and leans his head lightly against yours. ââŠAre we still friends, shortcake?â
You stare ahead for a moment.
Then you smile softly. ââŠYeah. We are.â
After a moment, Mingyu exhales like heâs debating whether to continue. âI wasnât supposed to say this,â he admits, rubbing his face. âBut Wonwoo said heâs sorry. Sorry he didnât tell you everything. That night⊠he almost beat the shit out of those guys. He even punched Seungcheol.â
You go still. You didnât expect it to escalate that badly.
Something about it makes you feel⊠off. Not relieved. Not exactly guilty either. Just heavy. You donât like drama. And if your brother or Chanyeol ever found out about this?
Oh, boy.
Your cousin and his friends? Absolutely not. Theyâd demand names. Addresses. Blood. You almost groan at the thought.
âAs I said,â Mingyu continues, shaking his head in disbelief, âif youâd seen him that night⊠youâd know he was holding back. If I hadnât been there, I swear someone wouldâve ended up in the hospital.â
He sounds almost impressed.
You sigh heavily. You were hurt, yes. But you never wanted something this big. And what if Seungkwan finds out too? Youâll never live through it.
Just when youâre about to calm down. Two figures approach.
Jia and her little sidekick. Fantastic timing.
âWell, if it isnât goody two-shoes,â Jia sneers. You glare at her. âIâm surprised youâre even outside after that.â Her eyes drop to Mingyu. She scoffs.
Her friend pipes up, smirking. âWow. First Seungcheol and Wonwoo⊠now Mingyu? I didnât know you were such an attention whore.â
You feel nothing. Just tired.
âFuck off. Both of you,â Mingyu says flatly, draping his arm casually behind your shoulders. Protective and easy. âDidnât take my rejection well, huh? Is that why youâre still bitter?â
He grins.
Their faces flush instantly.
Ah.
So thatâs what this is.
You blink slowly. You genuinely donât have the energy for this. You wish you brought your Nerf gun again like the other day. Jia keeps talking, probably something meant to make you feel small but your brain is elsewhere. You just want to go home. Eat. Sleep.
Itâs been relentless harassment. Enough is enough.
Before you even process it, the carton of milk in your hand flies. It splashes directly onto Jiaâs face.
Silence.
She gasps, stunned.
You blink. You didnât even realize youâd done it.
Mingyu stares at you in shock, then bursts into uncontrollable laughter.
âWhy, you biâ!â Before she can slap you, another splash arrives. It was banana milk this time. Seungkwan stands there, arm still extended from the throw.
âYou again?â Jia shrieks in disbelief.
Oh, no.
You feel it. This is about to escalate.
Seungkwan drops his bag into Mingyuâs arms and starts rolling up his sleeves.
âYou can insult whoever you want,â he says with a sarcastic scoff, âbut not my bumblebee.â
And he didnât hesitate to grab her hair while she grabbed his back. They start screaming. Itâs absolute chaos. Youâre pretty sure hers are extensions. Before Jiaâs friend can intervene, Chan appears out of nowhere, grabbing her arm. She kicks him, making yelp. Mingyu tries to separate them but catches an accidental elbow from Seungkwan straight to the stomach and doubles over.
You turn desperately toward Vernon for help but see him standing off to the side. With his ass recording. Muttering something about how this is going to be legendary. Possibly waiting for Chan to attempt a backflip mid-fight.
You stare at him in disbelief.
Before you can even process whatâs happening, two familiar faces step into the scene. The jerks from that party.
They stride in like backup, clearly here for the girls. It clicks instantly, they were acquaintances. You feel something snap. You have no reason to be kind anymore. If crashing out is the theme of the day, then so be it.
One of them steps toward you, hand lifting like heâs about to grab you. If you think wisdom is chasing Mingyu, he is faster. âHold on, buddy,â he mutters, rolling his shoulders. âBet you missed my knuckle sandwich. Say bye.â
His fist connects with the guyâs jaw cleanly.
You gasp, hand flying to your mouth.
The guy stumbles but doesnât back down.
And somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, Seungcheol appears at the right time. You donât even remember spotting him, but instinctively you shout, âCheol!â He doesnât hesitate either. Next thing you know, his fist lands square on the second guy.
Oh my God.
Now itâs a full-blown mess.
Seungkwan is still yelling, hair-pulling ongoing. Chan is trying to restrain someone while dodging kicks. Vernon attempts to help but gets accidentally elbowed by Seungkwan mid-rant and just stands there, betrayed, still recording. Insults are flying. People are shouting. Mingyu is swinging. Seungcheol looks two seconds away from catching a body.
You make a very smart decision. You are not joining that.
Absolutely not.
While everyone is too busy reenacting a low-budget action film, you step back and pull out your phone to call for your emergency contact. You were contemplating who to call. Not your cousin. Definitely not your brother. If they show up, someoneâs actually going to jail.
Your thumb hovers for half a second. Then you press call.
Wonwoo.
Listed under: my pookie bf <3 (emergency contact)
(Which, for the record, is what you labeled almost everyone in your contacts⊠except Chan.)
The phone rings. Around you, chaos erupts.
And you realize, distantly, that this is the first time youâve reached out to him since you started avoiding him.
The line clicks.
ââŠHello?â
There are certain people who are friends on a whole different level. Like you and Chan. You consider it soul-level. Heâs been there since diapers, through bad haircuts, ugly phases, and college.
And then thereâs Seungkwan and Vernon. You didnât even mean to be friends at first. You and Chan met on the wrong foot during your first orientation when Chan farted on Seungkwanâs jacket. Guess the universe has its ways of making all of you inseparable.
You never planned this friendship. The world just knew you needed someone like them to make you feel brighter. And better. Maybe even better at loving.
You did end up seeking Wonwooâs help.
So how did it end up with all of you including Seungcheol and Mingyu squeezed into a fast-food diner now?
Jia and her henchmen eventually ratted themselves out. Not that theyâre relevant anymore.
All of you squeezed around the same table, munching on your food like you just celebrated a world victory.
You had an ice pack, about to gently press it against Cheolâs cheek when Seungkwan snatched it from you and shoved it onto his face, a little too harshly. âOh, heâs not a baby. Iâm sure you can do it yourself, hm?â he said with a restrained smile, as Cheol glared at him, clearly annoyed.
Right. Thereâs a lot to unpack here.
You sat between Chan and Wonwoo, practically squeezed in.
Vernon shifted between Mingyu and Cheol, looking uncomfortable. â...I think Iâm about to be sandwiched here.â
Another shuffle, as Seungkwan purposely moved beside Seungcheol. âMove, fatass,â he grumbled, and they started bickering again.
Chan sighed, dipping another fry into his mouth as he ate quietly. His hair looked like a birdâs nest, similar to his ugly haircut back in middle school.
You almost smiled.
You remembered Wonwoo was just beside you. You glanced at his bruised knuckles and almost sighed at the sight as you softly held his hand, brushing over it gently.
He let you. He still didnât look at you, afraid to meet your eyes, like he didnât deserve to see you eye to eye.
It made your heart tug a little. You tapped his hand softly. When his gaze finally met yours, he smiled at the face he had missed so much.
âHi, boyfriend,â you smiled at him, genuinely. You didnât need to ask anything. Mingyu had already explained everything, and Seungcheol had apologized just minutes ago.
It felt like you two were the only ones in the world. The rest didnât matter.
You saw his long paragraph messages. You read his heartfelt texts. You heard his voice notes, the ones where he drunkenly cried and confessed everything.
You feel bad now. But youâd make up for it with kisses and pick-up lines later, when youâre alone with him.
Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing Soonyoung and Jihoon though it really seemed like only Soonyoung made the dramatic entrance. His eyes fell on your table as he rushed over.
You had called them earlier, but they didnât pick up. You only managed to text: âShit is about to go down.â
They were too late anyway.
Soonyoung looked at you. âWhich bastard?â
His eyes scanned everyone before landing on Mingyu, and without hesitation, he headlocked him. Mingyu whimpered, tapping his arm. âNot me! Not me!â
âWas it you?â Jihoon asked, raising an eyebrow at Vernon.
Vernonâs eyes widened immediately, hands raised in surrender. âWhoa, chill. Iâm one of her homies.â
You sighed, burying your face in your palms as Chan cackled, fries still in his mouth.
God, this is embarrassing. This is exactly why you didnât want any of your people to know what youâve been through. Good thing your brother doesnât know or someone would be facing court charges.
Then the waiter slid in, not caring about the scene Soonyoung just made.
Chan hummed when he saw the strawberry parfait. âDid you order this?â
You shook your head. âThen who did?â
âIt was me, actually,â Wonwoo admitted as the treat was handed to him.
You werenât really in the mood, but since he paid for it, you had to try it.
It was sweet - just like the strawberry milk he once gave you. Just like the first time you met him. He had been sweet and kind, helping you with calculus without hesitation.
You realized something. It was just that simple. You were never alone. All these people loved you. Wonwoo loved you. Maybe you were just scared. Maybe you let your thoughts consume you too easily.
âYou know,â Chan suddenly said, scooping his almost-empty sundae, âthis reminds me of that time ____ and I got free ice cream when we faked being a couple and got free rides at the amusement park.â
All eyes turned to him like heâd just said the most normal thing in the world.
You punched his arm.
He winced, rubbing it as he stared at all of you. âWhat? You guys donât do that with your friends? You know, go to an amusement park or something?â
His eyes flicked toward Wonwoo and Seungcheol. âWow. Not even you guys?â
They didnât bother answering.
âI feel special somehow.â
...
The rest was history. All of you ended up going on an impromptu beach hangout to watch the sunset, typical Seungkwan suggestion.
And now, itâs only you and Wonwoo left behind.
Alone.
How silly of you to forget how far youâve come just because you still have a long way to go. Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.
Just like you thought, perhaps this would be your favorite day. With your friends. With Wonwoo.
âI have a question,â Wonwoo started, facing you, his hands still holding yours as you listened intently. âWhen you wake up in the morning, whatâs the first thing you say to yourself?â
You considered it briefly. âHm. Realistically speaking, I always wonder whatâs for breakfast⊠and lunch later,â you said. âWhat about you, Won?â
Wonwoo chuckled, shaking his head as he hummed softly. âI say⊠I wonder what exciting thing is going to happen today.â
He leaned closer, smiling gently. âBecause I always look forward to another day with you.â
You melted at his words, wrapping your arms around his nape as the two of you ended up kissing in the middle of the beach.
Wonwoo was right. There were still so many adventures waiting for both of you. And you couldnât wait to explore themâwith him, and with your friends.
Youâd sayâŠ
It was better than ever.
FIN.
A/N: we've come to the end, apples. sorry for the delays and tq sm for the loves given from the first part arghhh. i was doing charity work lmao. anw, i wasn't feeling good about the ending but i think it was rather sweet. the reason why i didn't add jeonghan n joshua, they would be unstoppable. also, all chan loverssss out there, don't be sad, i promised i will make another fic of him lmao. anywhomst, thank uu once again, dearest apples. pls keep on looking forward for my next work. reblogs and comments are appreciated sm.
SUMMARY: You didnât mean for it to turn into a betting competition. And yet, here you are on a mission to save that nerd from your calculus class that you've known from last semester before he gets dicked down.
PAIRINGS: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
GENRE: fluff, drama, comedy, angst, university au, smut
add tagsâŠïž: biker!wonwoo, nerd!wonwoo, mingyu is his best friend, friends to lovers, fake dating(?), reader majored in chemical engineering, winnie the pooh reference, ex!seungcheol, disgustingly in love, lil crack, green flag is sexy wdym, bestie!doremiz, found family trope hinted, sun x moon dynamics, chan as childhood twin fr, she fell first but he fell harder type of shii aye.
â€ïž part 1, part 2 â€ïž
A/N: hello ladies n apples, another masterpiece. shoutout to my friend for recommended me 'to all the boys i've loved before', as a non romcom person i actually enjoyed it w/o me realized it lol.
Itâs not that deep.
Of course it is, to them. But you wouldnât take it lightly.
The thing about you is that youâre always ready to hate anyoneâs boyfriend at a momentâs notice. You need approximately zero seconds to prepare. Literally just give you a heads-up and youâre on it.
But again, for a girl like you who prioritizes eating and sleeping, your choice of major is⊠questionable.
At least for now.
Though, you donât really care. Your situationship only lasted a while, and you decided never to do that again, especially not in the middle of finals week.
Which is hell.
Never again. You almost failed. Not literally, but enough to make you lose track of everything. Itâs practically a universal rule at this point: number one, never get into a relationship during exam week.
Thank God you passed this semester. If not, you wouldâve gone insane seeing those red marks on your transcript.
You underestimate yourself. You shouldâve crashed out. And itâs all Mingyuâs fault for introducing his friend to you in the first place. You thought you could handle it since Mingyu always had time to party around despite his deadass architecture projects but hell, you never expected to end up on the verge of failing.
Studying may be the only thing youâre good at.
But you know what else youâre good at?
Sleeping.
Either way, reminder: always listen to your friends when youâre on the wrong path. Chan already warned you.
Did you listen?
Obviously not.
And the moment you went into full disaster mode and ran back to him, you swear you almost punched him when he hit you with that smug âI told you so.â
You were hunched over one of the campus cafeteria tables, impatiently waiting for your friend to finish his class. The new semester had just started, but honestly, you felt so, so, so far from immaculate right now. You even considered skipping a few lectures but given your CGPA last semester, which was shit as hell, that wasnât an option.
If you wanted to graduate this year, you seriously needed to lock in.
No relationships. No sleeping all over campus. No exchanging memes at 3 a.m.
Okay, maybe not the last part. You canât stop being funny. Itâs part of your personality. At this point, if you were going to be with someone, theyâd have to be at least funnier than you to catch your heart completely.
Maybe Seungcheol wasnât the case. He was charming, okay? No one could blame you for wanting something everyone wanted.
And you turned out just like the rest of them.
Disappointment.
The entire semester break, you ended up bedrotting all day. Eat. Sleep. Maybe grieve your failed relationship.
Whatever.
Youâd like to think it wasnât that deep. Love does distract you from important things, something you swore you were never going to let happen again.
âUgh, I canât believe Mr. Pi said attendance is compulsory,â a voice piped up behind you. âSeriously, since when did the campus care about their studentsâ attendance?â
You were sitting at the opposite end of the table, hood up, back facing them.
âWhat a drag,â her friend added with a chuckle. âThat just means you get to see your former darling on campus now.â
âCheol,â she scoffed. âSpeaking of him, maybe I should get him back. Heard his little situationship failed. Why did he choose such a boring girl?â
Ouch.
The mention of his name almost made you slide to the floor right then and there. It was depressing. Yes. What a way to start your day.
Great.
You didnât mean to eavesdrop, but they clearly failed to notice your existence.
Not that it mattered. You preferred it that way.
âWhy not try to get him back?â her friend suggested.
She scoffed again, snapping her compact mirror shut. âHe wouldnât even want to talk to me.â
You knew that voice. Jia. Seungcheolâs ex. She never liked you when you and him started getting close.
Or maybe she just didnât like anyone in general. You guessed she hated herself too. You didnât really know what her deal was, except that she had a problem with you simply because you were close to her man.
You couldnât care less.
Or at least, you tried not to.
âI have an idea,â her friend continued. âWhy not make him jealous? Like that guy over there.â She jerked her chin toward someone at the vending machine.
Your eyes darted in the direction she pointed.
Leather jacket. Jeans. Black-framed glasses.
âHim?â Jia bristled. âIsnât that guy sometimes hanging out with Mingyu? Looks kind of like a nerd. Never really saw him at parties.â
âHeâs not a party type,â her friend said. âWhy not make a move on him? Catch Seungcheolâs attention. You canât hook up with his friendsâtheyâre too loyal.â
âNot really my type, but his face does give,â Jia mused. âIâll give it a shot. Maybe in less than three days, Iâll have him.â
Wow.
You almost couldnât believe it. People really lived in this level of shallowness.
Their chatter slowly faded.
You pulled your hood down and turned around.
That rhymed.
You never expected people to bet over feelings like they were throwing darts. Itâs almost similar to how you chose your major, impulsively yet somehow took longer deciding what to eat after a morning lecture.
You think people are low, and yet here you are apologizing to your door after accidentally bumping into it.
Wait.
Now that you think about itâŠ
You glanced at the same guy from the vending machine. He was in your calculus class last semester.
What was his name again? Oh, yeah.
Jeon Wonwoo.
You didnât talk much, but you mightâve left a bad impression on him.
You were flunking that semester, so you always ended up sitting beside him, whispering âhow?â and âwhat?â to almost every question. Probably annoying. You were aware of that. But he never seemed bothered. Always stoic. Quiet. Patient.
And you kept doing it because you were shameless and convinced youâd never see him again.
Oh my God.
Thatâs the guy theyâre choosing?
Honestly, if it werenât for him, you wouldâve already failed that class.
Now you felt⊠obligated to save him.
Well. Not obligated. Butâ
Okay, fine. Obligated.
He didnât deserve to get played.
Then you wondered: if it were someone else, someone you didnât know, would you do the same?
ââŠ.â
Yeah.
It doesnât matter. You could just think of it as returning a favor to your calculus savior.
(Even if it was completely one-sided.)
Your legs bounced under the table, almost violently. You were obviously deep in thought about the possibility of an unwanted conversation from yesterday. The rush of anxiety felt way too similar to when you fumbled with your answer sheet outside the exam hall.
Jia mustâve made her move by now.
You shouldnât care. Who even are you to care?
And yet, you found yourself thinking about it.
Chan noticed your shaking leg, glanced at you, then exchanged a look with Seungkwan beside him.
âWhatâs on your mind?â Chan spoke first.
You answered almost immediately. âNothing.â
He and Seungkwan exchanged another look.
âYouâre biting your nails,â Seungkwan pointed out, âand youâve been scribbling circles on your book for the past five minutes.â
You stopped. Then glanced at them. âSugar rush.â
âYou didnât eat any candy today,â he replied.
âWell, maybe I did. What would you know?â The answer came out more defensive than you intended.
A brief silence settled over the table.
Chan tried again. âDid you perhaps, perchance not get over your failed situationship?â
âYou canât say perchance,â you frowned. âWeâve talked about this. No mention of that guy.â
âSo it is about him,â Seungkwan confirmed.
You scoffed lightly. âItâs not about him.â
âIt is about him,â he shot back. âJudging by your reaction, heâs definitely living rent-free in your head. Come on. He wasnât good for you and you know that.â
âItâs not about him,â you insisted, aggressively scribbling over nothing in your notebook.
Another silence.
You glanced up at them and sighed when they were still staring.
âDo my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot?â
Chan frowned. âWhat? No. What kind of question is that?â
âI think my under-eye circles are adding to the aesthetic,â you said seriously.
âLook, thereâs nothing aesthetically pleasing about your failed love story.â
âItâs not about him!â you snapped.
The librarian let out a sharp âShh!â in your direction.
After that, the three of you toned it down.
âWhat is it exactly about?â Seungkwan leaned closer. âYou couldâve just told us. You look so troubled itâs making me nosy.â
You hesitated, debating whether you should say anything. But if you kept it in your head any longer, it might actually explode.
So you told them anyway. After a moment, Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look.
âYou know what,â Seungkwan started, leaning back in his chair, âthis is your time to shine. Payback at Jia.â
Chan chimed in, âYeah. What she did to you was not cool. Sheâs the reason you were spiraling over that guy.â
Your eyebrows furrowed. âNo. That is definitely not what you two are thinking.â
âOh, come on,â Seungkwan whined. âShe literally harassed you when you were with Seungcheol, and it wasnât even your fault!â
Another loud âShh!â was directed at your table.
âI meanâŠâ Chan trailed off, lowering his voice. âItâs not that bad. You already know him. Who knows? He might actually⊠you know⊠feel the sameââ
âNo.â You stabbed your pen into your notebook. âI doubt it. He looks nonchalant. He sounds nonchalant. I am not risking my time like last semester. Have you not seen how fucked up I was?â
Sometimes you feel like the universe deliberately puts you in alarming situations. You didnât need more character development. You were smart enough at this point.
âI thought you guys were, like, friends. Buddy-buddy level,â Seungkwan said with a shrug.
Sighing, you dragged a hand down your face. âThatâs the thing, Boo. I am not buddy-buddy with him. We shared one class. Thatâs it.â You slumped in your seat. âHeâd be weirded out if I suddenly went up to him like, âHey, someoneâs betting on fucking you within three days. Be careful.ââ
Chan and Seungkwan exchanged another look.
This time, it came with a mischievous grin.
âAsk him out,â Chan said simply.
You almost choked. âExcuse me? Are you crazy? Iâm notââ
âShh!â the librarian snapped again.
You lowered your voice, glaring at them. âIâm not doing that. Why the hell should I date him just to bruise Jiaâs ego?â
Seungkwan scoffed, crossing his arms. âGirl, be serious. She harassed you the entire time you were with that guy. You nearly fucked up your semesterâbe grateful you even passed, barely. And was it worth it? For a man who didnât deserve you and only gave you a shitty situationship?â He leaned forward. âNow sheâs about to mess with your calculus bestieâwho literally contributed to you passing and youâre just going to let that happen?â
You opened your mouth to argue. Nothing came out. Because, unfortunately, Seungkwan had a point.
You were stupid for letting yourself get distracted by something that was never worth it to begin with.
ââŠIâm not close with him,â you muttered weakly.
Chan hummed. âSo? Get closer.â
âThat would be awkward.â
âYouâre always awkward,â he shot back.
âShut up, loser. You canât even hold a proper conversation with a girl.â
âOkay, that was a personal attack,â he huffed.
âIâm not as unhinged as I could be, and I need everyone to be grateful for that.â
As much as you hated the idea, your friends might be amazed at how much youâd already fucked around without actually finding anything out.
Yeah, so unfortunately, the more you fuck around, the more you find out.
So why the hell were you standing there, watching him get flirted with by Jia on a random Tuesday afternoon? It felt as random as Soonyoung showing up with a tub of kimchi in flip-flops.
Judging by his reaction, he was stoic as always. Meanwhile, Jia was trying way too hard, battling her lashes at him like it was a competitive sport.
You werenât gullible, but you were nosy.
As much as you wanted to yell, âGirllll, he does not give a fuckkkk,â across the hall, yet you didnât.
Instead, you walked toward your car. Halfway there, you stopped in your tracks, conflicted. Should you intervene or just walk away? He wasnât an idiot. Surely he was smart enough to know he was getting played.
You muttered a curse under your breath. Even a smart student like you got distracted by someone like Seungcheol. So what made you think Wonwoo wouldnât?
Human minds and hearts are complicated.
Seungkwan did a damn good job guilt-tripping you.
You fumbled in your pocket for your phone, scrolling through your contacts to see if you still had his number. Youâd only exchanged it for academic purposes. Strictly.
When your finger landed on his name, you didnât hesitate.
You called.
The thought of him ending up in the same position you were in made something bitter curl in your chest. You didnât want anyone to go through that. It was hell. Dramatic, maybe but still hell.
Maybe you just appreciated Wonwoo more than you admitted. He did help you a lot with your studies.
You felt⊠indebted.
âHello? ____? Is that you?â
His voice came through, and your heart immediately started pounding. A voice youâd tried to forget now sounded painfully familiar. When he said your name, you fumbled.
Great start.
âOh, um⊠hey,â you began, suddenly shy. âMy car⊠the tire kind of blew out, and I donât really know how to, you knowâŠâ
You let the sentence hang, hoping heâd understand.
There was a pause.
âAh, I see,â he replied. âIâll come to you. Stay there. Youâre at the campus parking lot?â
âYes.â
The call ended.
Wow.
You couldnât believe he agreed that easily, even though it had been months since you last spoke about anything other than calculus equations.
Meanwhile, Wonwoo was grateful for the interruption.
The girl, whose name he still hadnât bothered to learn had been clinging to him since yesterday. He wasnât oblivious to her intentions.
He just wasnât interested.
So when his phone rang, he welcomed the excuse.
What he didnât expect⊠was you.
Like, you you.
Hearing your voice again after a while did something to him. Yesterdayâs persistent flirting had been mildly irritating. Your voice, on the other hand, felt oddly calming.
And now he was here, crouched beside your car, fixing a tire that you claimed was blown.
âHey,â he called when you turned around. âAre you okay? Did you wait long?â
You almost stammered again. You werenât sure if the air suddenly turned cold or if you were just getting cold feet.
âAh, no⊠not long.â You gestured awkwardly toward the car. âI just needed help. If you know how to change a tire.â
His gaze flickered to the car, then back to you. âYeah. Give me your keys.â
You handed them over obediently.
âIâm not really good with this stuff,â you added. âMy friends had class, so I didnât want to bother them.â
Flaming lies.
Your dad raised you to be an independent woman. You absolutely knew how to change a tire.
âIâm sorry for the inconvenience,â you murmured, watching him work. âYou mustâve had class, right?â
âItâs fine,â he said, crouched down, focused on the wheel. âI just finished. Good timing, actually.â
You nodded. âOh.â
You were definitely trying not to make it obvious that youâd just saved him from Jiaâs relentless seduction.
Less than forty-five minutes later, he was done.
âThanks,â you smiled. âSorry you had to come all the way here.â
He wiped his hands with a napkin and gave you a small smile. âItâs alright. Itâs funny how, out of everyone you couldâve called, you called me.â
âBut you came anyway,â you replied.
He looked at you, and you looked back.
Your throat suddenly went dry.
He didnât break eye contact. It felt like he was staring straight into your soul.
This was only the second day Jia tried to flirt with him.
Tomorrow might be her last attempt.
Unacceptable.
âUm,â you broke eye contact first. âFor some reason, Iâm feeling a little off today.â
âOh? Are you unwell?â he asked.
You shook your head. âNot exactly. But when you came along, you definitely turned me on.â
Silence.
He blinked.
You blinked.
You had never wanted to crawl into a grave more in your life.
âIâIâm sorry. That was too forward,â you rushed. âI just mean you look⊠familiar. Like my next boyfriend.â
He blinked again.
Still processing.
You scrambled for your keys. âOkay! Thanks again for today. I really like your jacket. I hope itâs made of boyfriend material.â
You mentally cursed yourself as you rushed into your car, started the engine, and sped off.
In every possible way, this was ridiculous. More ridiculous than Jeonghan using a frozen baguette from Paris as a hammer.
You seriously needed to have a dick in your personality to keep things in your pants.
To put it differently,
you donât have a dick. You donât own any balls, unfortunately.
Maybe you arenât resilient enough. Or maybe youâre just not audacious enough to be like Jia with her relentless flirting.
One talent you were proud of was flirting without actually catching feelings.
Not something to brag about. Really.
The last time you fumbled your words this badly was when you were with Seungcheol.
This isnât about him.
But this is Wonwoo youâre talking about. You feel like youâre taking advantage of him. Well⊠technically not. According to Chan, youâre just helping out. Out of care.
You donât want to be a snollygoster.
You definitely donât want him to think of you that way, toying with peopleâs feelings like theyâre dodgeballs.
And why do you care so much about what he thinks of you anyway? You were already shameless before you even knew his name.
You bumped your head lightly against the bathroom door and let out a loooong sigh.
You didnât know if you could face him after yesterday. He probably thinks youâre weird for suddenly hitting him with the lamest pickup lines in history.
You were panicking, okay?
Then you heard voices entering the bathroom.
âSeriously, whatâs with this guy?â a familiar voice complained. âI tried small talk and he wouldnât even look at me.â
Jia.
Here you were, eavesdropping. Again. You leaned closer to the stall door.
âI even wore low-rise jeans and everything. He doesnât seem interested at all,â she scoffed. âIs he into men or something?â
You rolled your eyes. What did it matter to her anyway?
Their voices blurred until you caught the next line clearly.
âFine,â she said, probably applying gloss. âIâll just lock us in the janitorâs closet. Maybe thatâll bring out his real self. You know what they sayâitâs always the quiet ones.â
Their laughter faded.
You stared at the door.
She was willing to go that far? Just to get back at her ex?
You used to like Seungcheol too, but you werenât that crazy.
That wasnât love for sure, definitely close to possession.
ââŠ.â
Wait.
This might be her last day to try.
Something gnawed at you.
Technically, Wonwoo didnât need rescuing. But hell, youâd rather eat dirt than let Jia ruin your calculus buddy.
...
In the library, you hoped Jia hadnât gotten to him yet.
You knew where to find Wonwoo. He always studied there after class. At least last semester.
Nothing wrong with trying.
You texted Chan to update you on Jiaâs whereabouts, and surprisingly, he was very committed to the mission.
You just needed time.
Wow.
You felt like a possessive girlfriend already.
Anyway.
When Chan sent you a video attachment, you did not expect it to be Seungkwan âaccidentallyâ spilling banana milk on Jiaâs top.
You never told them to do that.
But apparently, you were enabling chaos.
Sometimes you feel like a bad person. At least thatâs what seven-year-old Chan wouldâve said.
Your eyes finally landed on a familiar pair of glasses.
He looked good.
What.
You absentmindedly fixed your hair and smoothed your clothes before walking over, placing your bag and books beside him.
He looked up.
You gave him a sheepish smile.
You used to study together. Strictly academic of course.
Now it felt like you had ulterior motives.
âHi,â you said, as if you hadnât practically confessed yesterday.
He blinked. âHey. Studying?â
You nodded and sat down.
God, you used to send him random updates about how Chanâs disgusting farts and now this felt weirdly intimate.
You studied quietly beside him. One of his earphones was in, the other dangling.
He was completely focused.
âYou know,â you said suddenly, âphotosynthesis is basically how plants fart if you think about it.â
He looked up slowly.
âPardon?â
No shit, your personality truly is just like that one drawer in the kitchen thatâs just full of random stuff.
You tried again. âChan did a backflip yesterday.â
âHe did?â He actually sounded impressed.
âNo,â you said flatly. âHeâs too chicken. But it wouldâve been cool.â
Silence.
Then he went back to studying.
Same old you, random TMI if it wasn't you.
âSoâŠâ you started. âAre you busy after this?â
âI have quizzes to submit,â he replied.
âAnything after that?â
âI need to pick up my familyâs dog from daycare. Then send my bike to the workshop.â
âHow about 6 p.m.?â
âIâll probably be home by then. Why?â
You looked at him.
âSo I can ask you out to dinner.â
Smooth.
He turned fully toward you now.
ââŠI donât mind,â he said slowly, âbut can we do it another day?â
Internally, you screamed.
âOkay,â you nodded quickly. âBut Iâm bad with directions. Even though Iâve had my license for a year.â
âIâll send you the location.â
âHow about your apartment?â
He stopped.
âOhâI think I dropped something,â you said abruptly, leaning down.
He instinctively leaned down too. âWhat is it?â
You looked straight into his eyes.
âMy jaw.â
He froze.
You sat back down like nothing happened.
Never mind.
Your phone buzzed violently. You received bombarded messages from Chan with his constant âabort missionâ spamming in your phone.
Jia was on her way.
You needed to move.
âDo you do weddings?â you asked suddenly.
He blinked. âWhat?â
âBecause someone I know needs someone important.â
âDepends. What kind of role?â
âThe groom.â
Another silence.
ââŠWhat are you trying to say?â he sighed.
You couldnât say, Someoneâs trying to trap you in a janitorâs closet and going to fucked you up.
You donât confront problems. You parkour over them.
And this wasnât technically your problem.
âI like you,â you blurted.
He blinked.
âIâm sorry?â
âI like you, Wonwoo. So⊠wanna be my boyfriend? I can do a backflip.â
âIââ
âGo out with me. Iâm good at girlfriend stuff. Iâm not a great kisser, but I can do origami.â
Your phone buzzed again.
Jia incoming.
âLook, Iâm not sureââ
Before he could finish, you crashed your lips against his.
Your brain has officially clocked out.
He went still from shock.
You kissed him again, deeper this time, heart pounding.
When you pulled back, his eyes were wide.
You leaned close, barely brushing his lips. âBe mine,â you whispered. âPlease.â
He didnât move away.
So you kissed him again.
This time, slower.
You felt him stiffen. Then, gradually, melt into it. For once, you didnât use your brain. The only other time you shut it off like this was during an exam.
Your head tilted slightly as you leaned closer to him, practically crushing him beneath your weight. You heard a small groan escape his lips.
Then he slowly grabbed your arms and pulled you back. You stared at him.
You couldnât blame him, though.
âListenâŠâ he breathed, your faces only inches apart. When you tried to lean in again, he grunted and covered your mouth with his large palm. âDamn it, Iâm trying to talk here. Be good.â
That made you freeze obediently.
Apparently.
He started again. âThis is too sudden. I need you to be clear with me.â
You nodded.
âGood,â he said. âIâm sorry, but this is moving too fastââ
âAre you rejecting me?â you asked softly, your voice barely there. Your eyes looked like a kicked puppy.
He immediately stammered. The dejected look on your face made him feel like an asshole. âWhat? No! I wasnâtâ I was justâŠâ He paused, thinking. âI meant we should at least actually get to know each other.â
Oh.
Maybe you did a good job weaponizing your eyes. You never thought that trick would actually work. Or maybe you werenât acting at all. Maybe you just hated the idea of being rejected. That old, familiar feeling of being unlovable creeping up on you again.
From a distance, you heard someone huff and stomp their feet.
That was probably Jia.
Mission accomplished.
Then... what?
Dear Chan,
whose presence I barely tolerate,
I must say, Iâm beginning to think we made a mistake yesterday. Because thereâs no way in hell I can look at Wonwoo the same anymore. You did a great job cockblocking Jia, and she looked pissed, alright.
Then again⊠at what cost?
Oh, where do I begin? I kissed him. And I asked him to be my boyfriend. Iâm starting to think Iâm about to die todayâ
âYou know,â Chan started from beside you, âyou can just say it to my face. You donât need to write a whole email on your phone.â
You stopped typing and looked at him.
âItâs my inner monologue,â you replied. âMy personal digital diary.â
âYou do know Iâm under no obligation to make it make sense to you, right?â
âKnow thy lane and stayeth the fuck in it.â
âWhat the hell is that?â
âThe prophecy,â you shot back.
âThe prophecy can kiss my ass. Thatâs not a prophecy if you just made it clear it was a misunderstanding,â he retorted.
âWellânot my fault that you and Boo kept egging me on to hit him up,â you said dramatically, flailing your arms.
His face suddenly brightened.
He had spotted Wonwoo.
Wonwoo had just parked his bike, removing his helmet. Looking effortlessly handsome.
âOh look, itâs your boyfriend,â Chan nudged you, nearly knocking you over.
You rubbed your arms and glared at him. âHeâs not.â
âMight as well be soon,â he grinned.
Then he added, âBy the way, that guy was looking for you.â
âOh.â Thatâs all you managed.
Chan studied your face. âCome on. Donât tell me youâre still hung up on him.â
âIâm not,â you huffed immediately.
But his eyes drifted past you toward Wonwoo again, and he let out a low, impressed whistle.
Black bike. Probably some BMW S1000RRâstyle superbike. His hair was slightly tousled after pulling off the helmet, and his jacket clung to him in a way that felt illegal.
You found yourself staring a little too long.
âForget Seungcheol because goddaaaamn, papi,â Chan exaggerated, completely awestruck. âYou know what? Get that bag, girl. Iâd kiss him too.â
You blinked and turned to him with a frown.
âWhat?â he stared back.
âItâs not the time for eyefucking. Iâm in a crisis.â
âSo? Just try being in love with him. Who knows, maybe youâll actually fall for him eventually.â
Before you could slap him across the face, he suddenly grabbed you.
âChanâwhat the fuââ
He shoved you forward.
You stumbled straight into Wonwooâs arms.
Your eyes widened. You looked up at him, then at Chan, who was already giggling and running away.
Slowly, you stepped back from Wonwoo. âSorry about that. Chanâs being annoying.â
You cleared your throat and fixed your hair.
âItâs alright,â he replied, setting his helmet aside. âAre you okay now?â
You blinked, trying not to fumble your words at how gentle his voice sounded. Your face was heating up.
âOhâum. Iâm alright. Really.â
Then yesterday hit you.
Sure, Jia mightâve backed off⊠but was she really gone? Her ego was as big as the Pacific Ocean.
âSo⊠howâs my boyfriend doing?â you suddenly said.
He froze mid-motion while adjusting his bike key and slowly turned to stare at you.
ââŠBoyfriend?â
God, you wanted to eat dirt.
But you know what they say, the more shameless you are, the greater you become.
âYeah. Boyfriend,â you said. âAm I not your girlfriend?â
He paused, about to say something, then closed his mouth.
âWho decided that?â he asked. âI donât remember being your boyfriend.â
Since he didnât deny it⊠technically, thatâs a win.
âWell, you did,â you replied casually. âThe moment I kissed you, I already declared us boyfriend and girlfriend.â
He stared at you, incredulous.
âWhy?â you asked softly. âYou donât want me to be your girlfriend?â
There it was again, that look. That voice. Like you were one breath away from crying.
He carefully considered his words. Instead of answering, he grabbed his bag and took your hand.
âLetâs go. Iâll walk you to class.â
And just like that, he led you forward.
Oh my God.
You pressed your lips together, trying so hard not to break into a stupid grin as he guided you.
He didnât say yes. But he didnât say no either.
And somehow⊠that made it worse.
âŠ
Sometimes, having someone who waits for you is a great thing.
And the problem is⊠you donât know how long this whole âboyfriend-girlfriendâ thing between you and Wonwoo is going to last.
You want to scream. Maybe cry a little.
What the hell are you even doing?
Go with the flow?
The only thing flowing right now is your shameless, stupid chain of actions and their consequences.
Youâre fucked.
Not literally.
At least not yet. Maybe later.
So what now? Youâre going to see his face every day without the constant reminder of, hey, this was all a mistake and youâre about to get exposed!
Chan keeps convincing you that youâre not messing with him. Maybe it didnât start on the right foot, but that doesnât mean you canât make it real.
Right?
Or maybe Wonwoo just feels bad for you.
Yeah. That makes more sense.
Thereâs no way heâd genuinely want to be with someone who apologizes to the floor after tripping over it.
If youâre wrong, then Chan aced his test, Seungkwan quit drinking, and Jeonghan stopped collecting rocks from unknown places.
Exactly.
Your class ended, and somehow your first instinct was to find Wonwoo.
You saw him waiting, leaning against his bike while scrolling through his phone.
When he noticed you approaching, he looked up and smiled, straightening himself.
Now that you think about itâŠ
Heâs kind of cute.
His smile, you mean.
âDid you finish your class?â he asked, his voice softer than you remembered.
Your stomach immediately did that stupid fish-flipping thing.
God. Just kill me.
Seriously, what is wrong with me?
You smiled and nodded. âYeah. I only had one class today. What about you?â
âJust finished a while ago.â He tilted his head slightly. âHave you eaten yet?â
You paused before shaking your head. âDoes a cup of coffee this morning count?â
He gave you a look then nodded once, like he expected that answer. Without another word, he reached for your hand and started leading you somewhere.
Gah damn.
You feel like an idiot right now. You obviously know where heâs taking you, but you ask anyway just to feed your tiny, fragile ego.
âWhere are we off to, boyfriend?â
âTo eat. Since you havenât.â
You swear you can practically hear Chanâs stupid grin from across campus, hyping you up. He will never let you live this down.
You have to physically restrain the giggle threatening to escape.
Then suddenly, from a distance, you spot a familiar figure.
Cheol.
Of course.
You want absolutely nothing to do with him.
You quickly tug on Wonwooâs sleeve. He turns to look at you, puzzled with the sudden tug. And before you can overthink it, you lean up and kiss him.
He freezes.
He pulls back slightly and stares at you.
âSorry,â you say quickly, trying not to make it weird. âUm⊠I just missed you so much.â
It takes him a second to process that.
Before he can respond, you grab his hand tighter and drag him away.
...
People always say if youâre going to be in a relationship, you have to be prepared to take the bitter with the sweet.
You know that. Realistically speaking.
Thatâs how you always end up anyway. When you fall in love, you donât really think about the consequences.
And apparently, in this situation, you have absolutely no idea how to handle this whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing with Wonwoo. At some point, heâs going to find out the truth anyway.
So whatâs actually bothering you?
The fact that you started this whole thing, randomly adopting him and declaring heâs your boyfriend just so someone else wouldnât snatch him?
Or the fact that you werenât serious about it in the first place?
Or⊠are you just scared he might actually end up liking you?
Wait.
Letâs not go that far.
Yes, he technically accepted the whole boyfriend-girlfriend label. He never denied it. He couldâve said no.
But he didnât.
This is so confusing.
At the very least, he takes the âboyfriendâ role seriously.
Unlike your previous situationship.
Love-bombed you. Then ghosted you.
Classic.
On the bright side, youâre not addicted to cocaine.
They snickered and nudged each other, not even trying to hide how annoying they were being.
From the looks of it, they were definitely about to drag you.
Much to Wonwooâs obliviousness.
âI know,â you said sweetly, smiling at them. âI can give you one too. I like to think Iâm creative.â
They both made exaggerated âoohâ sounds, already giggling.
You rolled your eyes. âChan, I really hope youâre from Europe.â
He blinked.
âBecause europiece of shit.â
Wonwooâs lips pressed together.
Chanâs smile dropped. âOh come on. Thatâs not even creative. My grandma could come up with that.â
âOh yeah? Can your grandma do a backflip? I bet she canât.â
Sometimes you hate when people say you need to be the bigger person.Â
If anything, all of you can go to hell together.
âThis is why you easily lost to that Jia girl,â Seungkwan sighed, shaking his head. âYouâre easily overstimulated. I hope you know that.â
Coming from him was wild.
But at the mention of her, in front of Wonwoo made you stiffened.
Still, you tried not to make it obvious that she was the entire reason youâre in this situation.
âI wasnât overstimulated,â you huffed, sipping your drink. âGrounding techniques donât work for me, especially in public. âName five things you can seeâ but the only thing I see is a bunch of people pissing me off.â
You heard Wonwoo stifle a quiet chuckle beside you.
That was cute.
What.
Anyway.
âOkay, that was actually funny,â Chan admitted. âHow do you even come up with that?â
Another suppressed laugh from Wonwoo.
âWhat can I say? I learned from the best,â you said proudly, puffing your chest. âIsnât that right, boyfriend?â
You turned to him with a cutesy voice, not realizing your hands had been intertwined with his under the table the whole time.
At that, Seungkwan almost spat out his coffee.
You were offended.
âThat part wasnât supposed to be funny,â you deadpanned. âI hope you know that, Boo.â
He waved his hand dismissively. âNo way. I just choked on coffee beans.â
âReally?â Chan peered into his americano. âThought it was perfectly blended.â
âYou know thereâs this thing called sarcasm?â
And just like that, they started debating coffee brewing theory like two unemployed baristas.
You decided to ignore the boys.
Instead, you focused on your âboyfriendâ beside you.
He had ordered a strawberry frappuccino for himself.
How cute.
WHAT.
You seriously need to stop thinking heâs cute.
But now that you think about itâŠ
You remembered how he used to give you those carton strawberry milk from the vending machine when you had class together last semester.
The first time you noticed one sitting beside him, you casually mentioned that you loved that brand.
He immediately offered it to you, saying he actually meant to grab chocolate milk but the machine gave him strawberry instead.
âNot really my thing,â he had said.
So he gave it to you.
And somehow⊠every single class after that, there was always a strawberry milk waiting on your desk.
The strawberry milk had always been waiting for you.
Wonwoo reminds you a little of your dad. The moment you tell him you like a specific snack, heâll buy it over and over until youâre sick of it.
You didnât realize how much you missed that stupid carton strawberry milk agenda until now.
Maybe thatâs just how he shows he cares.
Quietly.
Or maybe⊠heâs been caring the whole time.
Not just when he patiently taught you complicated equations. Not just when he stayed back after class because you always took forever to pack your things. Not just when he waited for you and walked you to the cafeteria or your next class even when his was on the opposite side of campus. Not just when he saved you the seat beside him because the middle row was always full.
Maybe it was always there.
And you were too busy being dramatic to see it.
Ah.
That realization made your chest ache a little.
Because what even was that?
Here you were, hoping Cheol would give you roses and the moon on Valentineâs Day when you werenât even a thing. Giggling over his simple âgood morningâ texts, only to receive nothing after a whole day class.
Not that you could blame him. Hoping for more was probably too much when there was never a label to begin with. You thought you were something.
Turns out, you were just⊠convenient.
Gut-wrenching, honestly.
He never promised anything. Never compromised anything.
Maybe it really was your fault for wanting more.
And you hated feeling like this.
Did you ask for too much?
Or were you just never clear about what you wanted?
Youâre such an idiot sometimes.
Noticing your subtle downcast expression, Wonwoo brushed his thumb gently over your intertwined hands.
âYouâre not hungry anymore?â he asked softly.
God.
That tone again.
You snapped out of your thoughts and shook your head, shoving the anxiety aside as you scooped lasagna into your mouth.
You should not be spiraling. He literally paid for this.
âNope. Iâm very hungry, alright,â you said mid-bite.
He smiled and dabbed at the corner of your lips with a tissue.
âWhatâs going on in that pretty little head of yours? Is the semester that hard this time?â
âNot really,â you muttered while chewing. âMaybe the lab reports are just a hassle. What about you? Software engineering must be fun.â
âMm. I guess,â he shrugged lightly. âIf you like complexity, itâs exciting.â
You nodded slowly, then offered him a small spoonful of lasagna. He accepted it without hesitation.
âYeah. No. I donât think thatâs fun,â you grimaced. Then, casually, âBy the way⊠I thought you werenât a fan of strawberries?â
You gestured toward his strawberry frappuccino.
ââŠAh.â He blinked, glancing down at the drink like heâd just remembered something. âI just felt like drinking it today. It tastes nice.â
âMay I?â you asked, already leaning in to take a sip from his straw.
Basically making an indirect kiss.
Again.
He simply nodded, letting you drink it like this was completely normal.
Meanwhile, across the table, Chan and Seungkwan witnessed the entire exchange.
They loudly slurped their half-finished drinks, making exaggerated straw noises.
Birds of fucking feather.
Arguing with them was pointless. They were doing it on purpose.
You swore that you have no anger issues. People just make you want to develop them.
And unfortunately, those people are your friends.
Sore losers.
âYeeeah, you know what?â Seungkwan stood up first. âWeâre going to leave you lovebirds now. Iâm a busy man.â
âMhm. I think I have class after this,â Chan added, about to stand.
You kicked his leg under the table.
âOw! What was that for? Not even a thank you?â
âSit and stay,â you said sternly, then looked at Seungkwan. âAnd I know for a fact media studies isnât that busy. Liar.â
If anything, youâre the busy one here.
Busy overthinking. Busy pretending.
Busy trying not to realize that maybe⊠just maybeâŠ
This isnât fake anymore.
They say to be in love is to be seen.
It baffles you that itâs been almost five weeks since this⊠âboyfriend-girlfriendâ thing with Wonwoo started.
You refused to call it a relationship properly, not technically, at least because this didnât happen purely out of love or devotion.
Itâs not like Wonwoo was wishy-washy with you during this time. In fact, he was far more committed than some people who never even show up for 5% of group participation.
Unlike someone who just left you breadcrumbing.
But Wonwoo has his own flaws. You couldnât even call them flaws. BecauseâŠ
Wonwoo is just Wonwoo.
He never texted unless you initiated first on random days. His messages were dry, yes, but thatâs just the way he was.
Maybe it was because you got used to it when you first met him last semester as your calculus buddy.
If it were someone else, you would have rolled your eyes and muttered, âman, heâs dry as hellllll,â because youâd overthink every single nonchalant message.
You did call him that once.
And you decided never again.
The more you thought about the past every moment, every little habit you observed when you were friends, it felt like you were holding onto tiny pieces of him.
Damn.
You wished your memory worked that well for formulas too.
But instead of feeling haunted, it felt⊠pleasing. Everything about being with him was easy.
He may not be the first texter, but he always checked in, making sure you arrived home safely, asking if youâd eaten, offering to bring something before you even got to campus.
He never really asked you about your day; he preferred to hear it from you face-to-face.
And somehow, youâd realized⊠he was a really good listener.
You werenât an oaf or a fiasco, obviously.
But damnâŠ
Heâs a damn good boyfriend.
You donât exactly remember the last time a relationship felt this⊠easy. Itâs not the rush of adrenaline or butterflies though those exist but something quieter, something steady.
One thing youâd realized: heâs always been the one you keep coming back to. The one you run to, the one you can rely on without thinking twice.
You both were caring friends before this. So it felt⊠natural, to show gestures and affection. Nothing changed between you two, except for a little hand-holding here, a few soft kisses there.
You know what they say: when you like someone, you naturally want to do nice things for them.
In your case, sometimes being nice isnât tied to affection. You compliment Chanâs ridiculous haircuts, tease Seungkwan mercilessly, make Vernon laugh until he chokes on his coffee. And WonwooâŠ
Even in the current ârelationship,â youâd always been nice to him. As a friend, as a calculus buddy, even cracking fart jokes fifty times in a row. It all just⊠happened.
You admit it, you like being around him. Even when heâs quiet. Even when you ramble about everything, ask too many questions, or repeat the same mistakes in tutorials. Even when you cling to him during class because youâre flunking.
Thatâs probably why you keep coming back.
And maybe⊠the whole Jia mess made you take him even more personally. You donât want anyone pawing at him. You definitely take that personally, and now that heâs yours, you feel⊠possessive.
Woah. Hold on.
Yeah. Definitely possessive. Never knew you had it in you.
You were waiting at the vending machine, tapping your foot impatiently as it swallowed your money.
âWoah there, youâre gonna get sued for destroying property,â a voice chuckled behind you, snatching the drink from the machine.
You blinked. Of course it was Mingyu, grinning at you like it was a normal Tuesday.
âWell⊠it ate my money and didnât give me my drink,â you muttered.
He pressed a button and a new drink slid down. âChill. I got you.â
A brief silence.
âItâs been a while. Howâve youââ
âFuck you,â you cut him off, immediately regretting nothing.
He blinked, mouth agape. âWhat was that for?â
âNothing,â you muttered, barely hiding your bite about your last⊠situationship.
He handed over the soda. âHere. Donât drink it all in one go.â
Your eyes landed on two cartons beside it, chocolate milk and strawberry. And you thought of Wonwoo.
âReally? Didnât know you were into strawberry,â you said, teasing.
Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. âNah. This is for Wonwoo.â
Wait. Didnât Wonwoo say he preferred chocolate over strawberry?
âOh,â you said slowly.
Mingyu corrected himself with a shrug. âSorry, itâs for my friend. Iâm used to calling him that sometimes⊠not everyone knows him.â
So he thinks you donât know him. Interesting. You had heard Wonwoo mention Mingyu before, but never that they were close. And apparently, Wonwoo hadnât said anything about being in a relationshipâŠ
Wow. Relief mixed with panic. What if Mingyu accidentally snitched?
âI⊠know him,â you admitted. âWeâre in the same class last semester.â
His face brightened. He clearly didnât know his best friend was now in a relationship.
Whatever it is, you wondered how Wonwoo even ended up friends with Mingyu. Mingyu, the social butterfly, while Wonwoo prefers a small circle. He rarely talks about his social life⊠except with you, which you didnât mind at all.
âOh, cool,â Mingyu said, glancing at his watch. âAnyway, got to go, shortcake. See you when I see you.â
You waved as he slowly disappeared down the hallway.
In every possible way, you were going to need a lot of prayers and a little bit of luck to navigate this relationship.
Because quiet, steady, easy love is one thing. But keeping it under the radar? Thatâs a whole other game.
...
Chan once pointed out that you and Wonwoo were the epitome of âLove Is in the Air.â As if youâd ever believe that.
Or so you thought.
Because apparently, whenever he looked at both of you, it reminded him of his parents. And thatâs how they ended up having him. Which explains why his parents still look suspiciously young.
You told him to shut up.
Still, the comment lingered longer than you wanted it to.
Youâve always been aware that you wear your heart on your sleeve. Blame your lovable parents for raising you in a home where affection wasnât scarce. And yet somehow, you still managed to get sad over a guy who wasnât even serious about you.
For someone who had a decent childhood, you sure had questionable romantic encounters.
And frankly⊠youâve figured that Wonwoo might be more similar to you than you initially thought.
Heâs a good kid.
In this situation, you are calm. Almost way too calm but at the same time, thereâs this small anxiety clawing at you because you werenât honest from the beginning.
No matter how much Chan tries to reason that youâll eventually grow into it, you canât shake the thought.
They say when a heart is forced into something it doesnât want, it slowly dies.
But your heart doesnât feel like itâs dying.
If anything, it feels⊠natural. Easy and alive.
Which confuses you more.
What your heart definitely doesnât want right now, however, is folding another dumpling wrapper.
You and Chan were helping Seungkwan prepare dumplings for his volunteering project at the Carat Retirement Home. Apparently, homemade dumplings feel more âheartfelt.â
Your hands were sore. You just finished your hundredth dumpling. âRemind me why weâre doing this again?â you muttered, mid-annoyance.
âTell me about it,â Chan sighed, placing another neatly folded one onto the tray before immediately starting the next. He was disturbingly efficient.
Seungkwan was already packing another batch, while Vernon worked quietly beside him, focused like he was solving world hunger instead of sealing dumplings.
âBecause you guys are my friends,â Seungkwan replied dramatically, patting the sealed box. âAnd friends stick together.â
You narrowed your eyes. âYou said that last time when you made us carry fifty chairs.â
âAnd?â
âAnd I developed trust issues.â
Chan snorted at that and Vernon smiled faintly without looking up.
Seungkwan pointed his flour-covered finger at you. âAlso, donât think I didnât notice.â
You froze when you heard his almost accusatory tone, âNotice what?â
âThe glow.â
Chan gasped loudly. âSEE? I TOLD YOU.â
âThere is no glow,â you deadpanned.
âThere is,â Seungkwan insisted. âYou and Wonwoo are disgusting lately.â
You nearly dropped your dumpling. âExcuse me?â
âDisgustingly in love,â Chan corrected, nodding seriously.
You scoffed. âWe barely even kiss.â
Vernon finally spoke, calm as ever. âItâs not about that.â
The three of them looked at you like you were the last person to realize something obvious.
âItâs the way he looks at you,â Chan said softly this time. Thereâs not a hint of teasing behind it.
Your hands stilled.
You swallowed. âHe doesnât.â
âHe does,â Seungkwan said. âLike you hung the moon or something.â
That made your chest tighten in a way you didnât like.
Because if thatâs true, if he really does look at you like thatâ
Then what are you doing?
You werenât even honest at the start. You kissed him knowing your feelings were messy. You claimed him when you were still sorting yourself out.
And yetâŠ
Your heart doesnât feel forced. It doesnât feel pressured.
It feels rather⊠safe.
And that might be the scariest part of all.
Chan nudged your shoulder. âYouâre overthinking again.â
You sighed and picked up another wrapper. âShut up and fold your dumplings.â
But deep down, you couldnât stop wondering.
If he really sees you, when will you be brave enough to see him back?
You hated that your friendsâ greatest research skills werenât academic. It was being nosy bitches with investigative journalism degrees in your love life.
After an hour, the dumpling massacre finally ended. Everything was packed nicely, sealed properly, stacked like you were preparing for war. Somehow, random side quests always squeezed themselves into your schedule.
Still, it was better than entertaining some fuckable situationship that drained your soul and GPA at the same time.
âCome to think of itâŠâ Seungkwan scratched his head, leaning over the stack of boxes. âI donât think any of my committee members can help send these. Or lend their car.â
Chan exhaled sharply. âSeriously, dude? They didnât help make dumplings and now they wonât even help deliver, what kind of NPC teammates are these?â
Vernon stared at the fiveâno, six boxes. âThese are a lot. A seven-seater would do.â
Then all three of them slowly turned to you.
You avoided eye contact immediately.
Of course. Youâre the only one with a car. The designated driver. The unpaid driver service.
âWhat?â you blinked. âDonât look at me like that.â
Seungkwanâs smile curled dangerously. âYou know I love you, right?â
âEw. Fuck off.â
âIâll pay your petrol.â
You scoffed. âStill no. I donât drive in the rain. You know I donât do that.â
Rain made your hands tense. Made your mind spiral. The nicest thing about rain is that it always stops. Eventually. You remember that from Winnie the Pooh. You still watch it sometimes.
Chan suddenly perked up, an evil genius smile forming. âI know. Ask your boyfriend.â
You frowned immediately, mildly defensive. âLook. He canât. Donât drag him into this.â
He rolled his eyes. âJust ask him to drive. Itâs not a crime. Weâll hang out after. You wonât even have to send us home.â
âAnd what makes you think he would?â you challenged.
Seungkwan didnât hesitate. âFor you? He would.â
Silence.
ââŠItâs not going to happen,â you muttered while already scrolling through your contacts.
You glanced up. ââŠYou think so?â
The three of them collectively nodded.
For fuckâs sake.
Sometimes it felt like these idiots were just exploiting your assets. But to be fair, they paid for petrol and took turns driving.
Still⊠asking Wonwoo felt heavier. Even though he never once made you feel like a burden.
ââŠI havenât called him yet,â you said, watching them already start cleaning up like it was confirmed.
Chan shrugged while rearranging chairs. âHeâll say yes. He never denies you.â
Heat crept up your neck.
As much as you wanted to argue, he wasnât wrong.
Wonwoo never says no. Not when you hesitate. Not when you ramble. Not even when youâre clearly spiraling.
Like heâd move heaven and earth for you.
And before you could properly process the weight of that thought, you called him.
You explained everything.
And he came in the end.
Obviously he did.
Now youâre watching the boys load the boxes into your car trunk. When you tried lifting one, Wonwoo gently took it from you.
âIâll do it,â he said simply.
You stared at his back for a second too long.
You always complain your taste in men is trash. So why are you praising the bare minimum?
Thatâs what they say, right? Love comes wrapped in dough.
âCan you tie the knot?â Seungkwan gestured at Chan.
âNo, I cannot.â He replied.
âSo you can knot?â
âNot knot.â
âKnot knot?â
Vernon chimed in smoothly, âWhoâs there?â
Seungkwan groaned, not in the time to be funny. âHansol!â
âHansol who?â
Thatâs how the three of them derailed into a full knot-knot-whoâs-there argument while you just stood there.
You turned to Wonwoo.
âSorry for calling you out of nowhere,â you said softly. âIt was last minute. Seungkwanâs team bailed.â
He shook his head, hands sliding into his pockets. In the distance, your friends were still arguing about knots.
âItâs fine,â he said. âI didnât have much to do on campus anyway. And your friends are⊠fun.â
You smiled at that. A real one.
âDo you want to join us after this?â you asked, hopeful.
Your friends are your pride. You might be unlucky in love, but youâre blessed with these chaotic idiots.
Wonwoo looked at you for a second, just at you.
Then he nodded. âYeah. Iâll stay.â
And something about how quickly he agreed made your chest tighten again.
Because Chan was right.
He never denies you.
And you donât know if that makes you lucky or feeling terrified about it.
âŠ
After completing your little side quest, your three friends kept insisting on going for a hangout afterward. Karaoke, as usual. Itâs not like itâs the first time you guys have done this. More often than not, honestly.
Not to mention you had to snap at them every five seconds from the passenger seat while Wonwoo was driving. The car radio was blasting through Bluetooth, âParty in the USAâ by Miley Cyrus, their choice, obviously.
Then you ended up at a photobooth, squeezing all five of you into the tiny space. You honestly couldnât remember how many photobooth strips you had back in your room with your friends from high school, committees, and now them.
But this was the first time you had one with Wonwoo.
You smiled at the group photo of your friends with your boyfriend included, of course.
Then it occurred to you.
Shouldnât you take one with him? Just the two of you?
You glanced at the three idiots, still crowding the mirror with cute headbands, arguing about whether they should be three bears or minions.
So you poked Wonwoo and sheepishly dragged him back into the booth. âLetâs take a picture. Just the two of us.â
For some reason, you felt a little too giddy. You werenât sure if it was your pure excitement over adding to your photobooth collection, which you always loved or simply the fact that it was with him. Your first one as boyfriend and girlfriend.
He let you have your way, as usual. But this time, he actually contributed posing properly, leaning in, following your lead. You felt genuinely happy, without feeling anxious or overthinking.
When the third camera click sounded, you pressed your lips against his cheek, catching him off guard.
He froze for half a second.
Then he leaned in.
The fourth photo captured your face half-covered as he kissed you back, making you giggle.
When the session ended, Wonwoo looked at the preview screen.
âShould we retake the last one?â he asked.
You studied it for a moment. It looked natural. Genuine. So you shook your head and pressed the screen to print.
âNo. It looks great already.â
When the machine finally dispensed the photo strips, you grabbed them excitedly.
âArenât we the cutest pair?â you showed him.
His lips curled softly. âWe are.â
The rest was history.
The rain had stopped by then, and your stupidly annoying friends suggested going to the beach.
Not that you minded but Wonwoo was the one driving. In fact, he didnât seem to mind at all.
What you were actually worried about was whether he ever felt overwhelmed around your circle. They could be chaotic. Not everyone could keep up.
It wasnât his first time hanging out with them. Somehow, wherever you went, he was there too. Your friends were more than happy to third-wheel. It was like they had unofficially adopted him into the group.
Not that you minded.
Wonwoo once said they were lively to be around. That there was never a boring day with them, even if he mostly observed.
When you asked about his own friends, he didnât say much. He did mention Mingyu though, pretty confidently. Maybe that was his way of showing how close they were.
The three boys walked ahead of you both, laughing and lightly kicking sand at each other while trash-talking. Probably Seungkwan and Chan.
You suddenly felt like something was missing. Your hand went to your bangs. Your cherry hair clip was gone.
Wonwoo noticed your expression immediately. âSomething wrong?â His hand rested gently behind your back as you both slowed down.
ââŠMy cherry clip. I think I lost it in the mall bathroom.â
To be specific, it was a gift from Seungcheol. Donât ask. You wore it because it was there. Because you told yourself it should be useful for something.
He blinked slightly at your expression. It might seem silly to anyone else but clearly, it wasnât nothing to you.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. It looked newly bought.
Inside were two strawberry hair clips.
They were ridiculously cute. Your eyes sparkled instantly.
âHereâŠâ He opened the packaging and gently clipped your bangs aside. He smiled at how it revealed your forehead slightly.
He always liked when you wore hair clips while studying in the library.
ââŠBetter?â he asked quietly.
You absentmindedly touched the clip and nodded.
âWhen did you buy this?â you chuckled softly. âDonât tell me youâve been hiding more things from me.â
You were joking.
Until he pulled out another velvet blue box.
You blinked.
âOh. I did, actually,â he said with a low chuckle. âAt first I planned to buy it because it reminded me of you. Then I figured⊠I just wanted to give you something nice.â
Inside was a golden heart-shaped locket.
Your face lit up as you held it in your palm.
âLet me,â he murmured, stepping closer.
He fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing against your bare nape. Warm hands resting briefly on your shoulders.
When you turned to face him, you instinctively held the pendant between your fingers.
âI love it,â you beamed. âThank you. You didnât have toâitâs too sweet.â
He shook his head. âI told you. I wanted to.â
Damn.
Your heart felt like it might burst. âIs there anything I can give you in return?â
He chuckled softly, your hands naturally intertwining. âJust you.â
You smiled shyly.
Maybe Chan was right. Maybe love really is in the air when youâre around each other.
âDid you know you canât spell love?â you asked.
He tilted his head, genuinely intrigued like he always was with your random thoughts. âHow does that work?â
âYou donât spell it,â you said, swinging your intertwined hands. âYou feel it.â
His smile widened. âWas that supposed to make my heart flutter? Because it worked. How do you even come up with these things?â
You laughed. âIâm unoriginal. Itâs from a conversation between Pooh and Piglet from Winnie the Pooh.â
You continued thoughtfully, brushing the locket. âYou know, this reminds me of that quote⊠âIf there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever.ââ
You shrugged lightly. âI first saw it on my momâs Facebook when I was ten. I loved that show. Spent a lot of time watching it with my cousin.â
âThatâs sweet,â he said softly.
You shook your head. âBut the meaning isnât really my favorite. Itâs often used for condolences or long-distance relationships. Like love surviving separation.â
He noticed the small pout on your face and gently lifted your chin.
âDoes that make you sad?â he asked. âYou donât have to see it that way. It can be positive too. If you ever miss me, or if Iâm not around, you can think of it as carrying a little piece of me with you.â
Your smile returned, softer this time.
That fish-flipping feeling stirred in your stomach again.
Slowly, the air shifted.
His hand wrapped a little closer around your waist. His head dipped slightly.
And before you fully processed it, he leaned down and kissed you.
You let him, your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back.
For the first time, you turned your brain off and let the moment happen.
A real kiss. Not the quick peck, or rush ones.
And you didnât pull away.
You fell asleep during the car ride, your eyes slowly opening when you remembered that Wonwoo had probably dropped your friends off, leaving just the two of you.
Yawning softly, rubbing your eyes with your sleeves, your half-sleepy voice mumbled,
â...Sorry, I mustâve dozed off during the long ride.â
âItâs alright, itâs been a long day,â he reassured, his eyes still on the road. âYou can rest a bit. Iâll wake you up.â
You remembered that his place was probably far from your apartment. From the looks of the surroundings, it mightâve taken a while to reach yours first.
âWhat about you then, if you drop me off at my place?â
âIâll just take a cab later. I need to send your car there.â
You thought for a moment. âCan I just stay over at your place? Itâs going to be a long ride if you go back from mine. Besides, your place is almost there.â
He turned to you as the light went red. âYou sure?â
You nodded.
Technically speaking, heâd been driving the whole day. You felt bad if he had to travel again just because of you. Thatâs what you told yourself that it was to lessen his burden.
Meanwhile, Wonwooâs heart pounded rapidly at the mention of it.
This would be the very first time you were coming over to his apartment. Come to think of it, he didnât even realize how easily he had agreed.
He never denies you. He never has.
And when he saw you sleeping soundly later, looking so peaceful on his bed, he felt like it was all a dream.
You in his space. It almost drove him insane. He couldnât believe this was happening but he knew it wouldnât last forever.
Because he knew.
It wasnât real in the first place.
You werenât honest with him.
When your anxious eyes looked at him with that hint of uncertainty. Those trembling lips. The way you suddenly grew nervous talking to him after not seeing him for so long after that semester.
He already knew.
It all started with Jia throwing herself at him. He had his suspicions. Heâd seen her at a few parties, the one or two times he went with Mingyu. Parties were never really his style.
He knew the kind of group she was associated with. Mingyu mightâve been acquainted with them, but he never truly mixed with that crowd. It wasnât hard to guess her intentions.
It was almost hilarious at first when he noticed you werenât even subtle about hinting something was going on, yet he let you.
Because it had been a while since he last talked to you. Because he has always liked you.
Since that semester, you were both taking the same class. He met you on the second day when you arrived late, wearing a cat hair clip beside your bangs. Wonwoo thought you were cute.
Then you sat beside him and started asking what topic the professor had covered.
His impression died quickly when you kept saying you didnât understand half of it.
It was only week two. Then it became a routine.
The professor always had his eyes on you, and youâd sheepishly smile. You were probably the slowest in class but that didnât mean you were stupid.
At first, he found it bothersome. You kept tapping his shoulder, asking how and why, like you knew it would annoy him. You barely knew each other, yet you kept coming back to him like a cat waiting for treats.
To be frank, you stuck to him the entire semester.
When he asked your major and you answered âchemical engineering,â he was speechless.
How were you majoring in that and still struggling in calculus.
He didnât say much. He helped you willingly just for that semester while trying not to suck in his breath too loudly at how clingy and close you were whenever you sat beside him.
Have you always been like this with others?
He later learned you were just naturally affectionate.
When he saw you with your friends, he genuinely thought you were already taken. You never cared much about proximity. You were always comfortable, always open.
He may or may not have casually slipped in a question about your relationship status.
Just curious.
When you told him you were single, his heart leaped.
Since then, he couldnât remember how it started, saving seats for you, waiting for you to pack your things before walking out together.
Listening to you ramble about half your life. Joining you for lunch because you hadnât eaten since morning.
Heck, he even lied about preferring chocolate milk and gave you his strawberry one.
He loved strawberries.
And since then, he always brought an extra carton of strawberry milk to leave on your desk during class. Even at the library.
What kind of guy walks a girl to her next class when his own is on the other side of campus?
A guy with a massive crush.
Then one day, he saw you giggling at your phone.
He asked what was funny, thinking it was another meme youâd send him at 3 a.m. When you admitted you were talking to someone your face flushed, shyly talking about your crush.
His heart broke a little.
You liked someone.
He hoped, foolishly, that maybe it was him and it wasnât.
You said his name.
Choi Seungcheol.
He knew that guy. A close friend of Mingyuâs. The type from frat parties he only attended once and never again.
Thatâs the guy youâre into?
You were the polar opposite of him. You were sweet, bright and charming. You deserved more than some random fuckboy who wasnât serious about long-term relationships.
He noticed the way your eyes lingered on your phone more than once. The troubled look. The waiting. Always waiting.
You came to class looking more exhausted each day.
He hated seeing you like that.
He wanted the 9 a.m. version of you cracking jokes the moment you stepped into class.
But he couldnât do anything.
Because he wasnât the person you wanted and it hurt because it would never be him.
Study week came. Exams happened.
And just like that, the semester ended.
You were only meant to be friends in that specific chapter of life.
It ended as naturally as it began.
He was devastated when you stopped talking to him. No more laughter and random updates.
They said old habits die hard. He got used to your presence and he didnât want to forget it.
Wonwoo had so much love to give you and you didnât want it. He couldnât have your heart because it was never his to begin with. He couldnât give his to anyone else because it was only meant for you. It was so fucking heavy and he had nowhere to put it.
He genuinely loved you. The thought of never seeing you again killed him inside.
So when his long-time crush suddenly kissed him.
His heart stopped. He knew you didnât mean it yet you did it anyway. He was confused. Why would you go this far? Force yourself like that?
He wanted to clear the misunderstanding.
ButâŠ
When else would he ever get the chance to be close to you again? So he took it. That fucking opportunity.
You claimed he was your boyfriend.
He let you kiss him first and when you asked things of him. He would literally drop everything for you.
He could see your hesitation and guilt. The way you tried not to cross certain boundaries.
He knew it wasnât real but if you needed him, he would let you use him.
You might not like him the way he wanted but he tried his fucking best to make you love him.
Youâll eventually love him.
Right?
He loves you with all his heart. But he knows you havenât fully healed. He knows he can never replace the place Seungcheol once had.
And even though it aches him. He foolishly hopes that every gesture, every word, every ounce of love he pours into you will someday reach your heart.
He wants you to accept all of him.
And it hurts.
He had hoped that one day, you would change your mind about him. That you would simply accept him and the heart he has always held out for you.
Because the moment you start to feel nothing, the moment you decide to end everything.
That would be the day his world crumbles.
You are his world. His entire fucking universe.
So he appreciates every single day he gets to spend with you. Every small moment. Every insignificant touch.
He is terrified that one morning heâll wake up to you telling him you want to break up. That is his biggest nightmare.Â
So he takes whatever version of you he can get.
If you break up, he doesnât just lose you as a girlfriend. He loses you entirely. And he knows you wouldnât talk to him anymore. Who even talks to their ex?
The moment you no longer need him anymore, that would be the day something inside him dies. Why build something if youâre just going to walk away from it? It doesnât make sense.
Your heart is too genuine to feel absolutely nothing. You must have felt something, even if itâs small and even if itâs barely there. He clings to that possibility. His heart has always been yours. With patience, open and still waiting.
And now, here he was. Sitting on his couch, head thrown back, breath uneven as his hand moved against his cock at the thought of you.
His glasses were somewhere on the floor. On the coffee table sat your recent photobooth strips and the polaroids from the beach of your smiles frozen in glossy paper.
It was all too consuming.
You were innocently sleeping in his bed and he was out here, fisting his cock at the thought of you.
Heâs a bastard, he thinks.
You are so precious to him. So sacred that he canât even bring himself to lie beside you, afraid that if he does, he wonât be able to stop himself from touching you the way he truly wants to.
It hurts him. So fucking much.
All the yearning. The pining. The wanting.
He knows itâs unhealthy. He knows the way he craves you borders on obsession.
But he wants you.
All of you.
Only for him.
His grip tightens around his dick as he thinks about your smile and your laughter. The way your cheeks flush when youâre embarrassed.
Heâs a bastard for getting turned on by the smallest touches the way your fingers fit so perfectly between his. The way your lips linger just half a second too long. Heâs a bastard for wanting to devour you whole when you kissed him. And heâs a bastard for loving you so deeply while desiring you in the most intoxicating way.
Sometimes he wonders if that makes him no different from Seungcheol.
But at least heâs genuine. At least he loves you.
And if he ever saw Seungcheol around campus again, heâd consider it a blessing because the moment he saw that guy, he wouldnât hesitate to throw a punch straight across his jaw.
Because he would.
For you.
A/N: had to separate into two parts, no worries apples. the heat is about to get started. lmk if you want to be tagged on the next part here.
he has spent four lifetimes repenting for his sins and searching for you. in the fifth, he finally gets it right.
â tags: romance, angst, hurt/comfort, reincarnation!au, past lives!au. mentions of death & sins, character death, war, injuries, historical inaccuracies, profanity, alcohol consumption, implied sexual content, etc. title from hozierâs song of the same name. 8.7k words.
SEOUL, KOREA.
EARLY WINTER, 1936.
Itâs become a habit now, for Mingyu to walk the alley behind Hwaryeohan Cha-jip every morning. He tells himself heâs just passing through, just out for air, but his feet always take the same turnâpast the ink shop, past the frozen rice fields. The snow came early that year, dusting the rooftops of Bukchon in white. Mingyu walks until he finds the teahouse, half-tucked between two aging hanoks, with its faded wooden sign and wind chimes made of porcelain spoons.
You work there. Heâs known this for a week now.
You sweep the floors with your hair tied up in a red ribbon, humming songs no one else seems to know. You boil water in the back room, your sleeves rolled up past your elbows, wrists red from the heat. Sometimes you lean out the window to shake out a cloth, and Mingyu watches from across the street, heart in his throat, as if looking at you might somehow unmake the curse.
It doesnât.
The Fifth Kingâs words still echo like older thunder in his ears. One lifetime for every sin, the king had said. He doesnât remember what he did to deserve this; only that it was enough to curse him with memory, and longing, and you.
You, who never remembers him. You, who are always just out of reach.
Still, this life feels different. Heâs not a lonely musician. Heâs just Mingyu. Just a man in a wool coat with frayed sleeves and too many lifetimes folded into the lines around his eyes.
Somehow, that compels him to step inside.
The bell above the teahouse door is delicate and cracked, like itâs been broken and glued back together a dozen times. It tinkles faintly as he enters, and you glance up from behind the counter. He orders ginger tea. Itâs too hot, a little bitter. He drinks it anyway.
You donât say much to him at first, just slide the cup forward with a polite nod, fingers dusted with flour, and return to kneading dough in the back. Mingyu sits in the corner, watching steam curl from the rim of his cup, pretending to read a book heâs read a thousand times before.
He returns the next day. And the next.
Sometimes you smile at him. Sometimes you ask if he wants something sweet with his tea. He always says yes, just to hear your voice again.
âDo you work nearby?â you ask one morning, wiping your hands on your apron.
âNo,â he says. âI walk a lot.â
You tilt your head. âEven in the snow?â
âEspecially then,â he says, and you laugh. The sound cuts through every century heâs lived without you. It makes something ancient in him ache.
You tell him your name one day. He already knows it, of course, but he pretends itâs the first time. He says it softly, rolls it on his tongue like a promise.
He brings small things sometimes: a book of poems; a silk ribbon the same colour as the one you wear; once, a tiny jade rabbit charm that he leaves near the register when youâre not looking. You find it later and keep it in your purse. You never ask if itâs from him, and he never tells you.
Some days, he helps. He carries water from the well; repairs a broken chair leg; teaches you how to fold paper cranes when the shop is slow. You sit across from him at the low table, your hands awkward at first, and he watches you fold the wings silently.
You crease the edge of the paper with your thumbnail, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. Mingyu doesnât laugh, though the sight of you furrowing your brow over something as simple as a paper crane is enough to pull a smile to his mouth. He leans forward and gently adjusts the angle of the folded wing.
âLike this,â he says quietly.
Your fingers brush, briefly, barely. Itâs nothingâbut to him, itâs everything.
After that, you start leaving out an extra cup when you brew tea in the morning, even before he walks in. He tells you that he prefers ginger tea with honey, that he likes his bread warm and his jam unsweetened. Sometimes he hums under his breath when he reads, even though his eyes donât always move across the page.
He learns that you braid your hair when youâre nervous, and that youâre saving up for a trip to Busan, and that you talk to the teapot when you think no oneâs listening.
Sometimes, when it snows harder than usual, you donât get any customers and the city stays quiet. On those days, you sit across from each other on the heated floorboards, sipping tea and listening to the wind rattle the windows.
Once, you fall asleep like thatâcheek pressed to your folded arms, exhaustion shuttering your eyelids. Mingyu doesnât wake you. He watches the snow gather on the windowsill and thinks about how peaceful your face looks in this life.Â
He wonders if this is enough. If friendship is enough.
You wake, embarrassed, and he just smiles and tells you to rest more. You blink at him, still sleepy but shake your head, so he asks if you want to learn how to fold a lotus next. You do.
PARIS, FRANCE.
SUMMER, 1890.
Itâs your honeymoon. At least, thatâs what the world thinks.
The hotel is charming in the way French hotels are supposed to beâwrought-iron balconies, velvet drapes, and wallpaper the colour of old pearls. The floorboards creak under his feet, and the hallways smell faintly of orange blossoms and candlewax.
Below, the Seine coils through the city, meandering long and slow. Gondoliers shout in lilting voices from the water. The bouquinistes have already opened their green boxes along the banks, selling secondhand poetry and crumbling maps to tourists who still believe Paris belongs to lovers.
The light falls soft on your face where you sit at the vanity, brushing your hair in long, even strokes, the red ribbon that youâd used to tie your hair back wrapped around your wrist. Your nightgown is lace-trimmed and far too sheer for the cool morning. He thinks it must be uncomfortable, but you wear it anyway, spine straight, chin lifted, always composed. You donât look at him. You havenât looked at him all morning.
There are two coffee cups on the table. One is untouched. You didnât like the roast, but you wonât tell him that. Youâll let it sit there and grow cold because indifference is your sharpest weapon, and you know exactly how to wield it.
The lace shifts again as you move, bare shoulders catching the gold light. Itâs almost enough to make him forget; almost enough to believe this life could be different. Maybe, if he just reached outâif he touched your shoulder, softly, just onceâyouâd remember something. The way your fingers once curled around the fabric of his hanbok, or the way you said his name.
Itâs your honeymoon, and you can barely stand to be in the same room.
TOKYO, JAPAN.
SPRING, ONE WEEK AGO.
Mingyu promises to take you to see the cherry blossoms after work.
Youâre half-asleep on the sofa when he tells you, legs tucked beneath you, your blouse rumpled and your slacks creased at the knees. Your fingers are curled around a mug of ginger tea youâve forgotten to sip from, the steam long faded. The apartment glows in the evening lightâlow and golden, brushing everything it touches with warmth. It rests on your cheek, your collarbone, the line of your neck.
The window is cracked open just enough for the air to carry the sound of birds and distant footsteps. Someone laughs downstairsâthe neighbourâs kid, maybe, or a passing couple. In the kitchen, the rice cooker clicks off with a soft chime, and the smell of jasmine rice begins to mingle with the faint perfume of laundry soap and honey.
The sakura have started blooming early this year, soft clouds of pink dusting every street, like the cityâs been dipped in blush and left to dry slowly. He noticed them that morning on his walk to the train: the way petals clung to the sidewalk like confetti, the way one landed on the shoulder of your coat and you didnât notice.
âDonât forget,â you mumble without opening your eyes, voice warm and worn out, lips brushing the rim of the mug. Your feet are bare, and you wiggle your toes sleepily when he sits beside you.
âI wonât,â Mingyu says, and he means it.
He never forgets, not in this life.
He reaches over and gently lifts the mug from your hands, careful not to spill it, and sets it on the coffee table beside your phone and a half-finished crossword. Your handwriting is in blue penâcurvy, a little impatient. He glances at it, then turns his attention back to you.
âYou should change out of your work clothes,â he says.
âMâcomfy,â you whisper, not moving an inch.
He laughs softly. âYou say that. Then you complain about the wrinkles in the morning.â
You hum noncommittally, already slipping towards sleep. Your head tilts until it rests against his shoulder. He shifts a little to make it easier. Your hair smells like lemongrass shampoo and the rose spray you use in early spring. Mingyu leans his cheek gently against the top of your head.
âAre we going tomorrow or Saturday?â you ask.
âTomorrow,â Mingyu says. âI want to go before the crowds come.â
âYou hate crowds,â you agree, nodding.
âYou hate them more.â
You smile. âSmart man.â
Mingyu slides his arm behind your back, warm and solid and steady. He closes his eyes and listensâto your breath, to the tick of the clock on the wall.
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.
EARLY SUMMER, 1972.
Mingyu slings his arm over your bare waist, and thinks that this might be the life.
Maybe the Fifth King took pity on him. Maybe this is a loophole, and it comes with jazz and heat and the way your lipstick smeared against his collar an hour ago. Maybe itâs not a trick. Maybe, for once, he gets to stay.
Your breath is steady now, but your skin is still flushed, slick with the last traces of sweat. The cotton sheets stick to your thigh where itâs thrown over his hip, and your fingers twitch against his ribs, still restless in sleep.
He lets his hand drift up the slope of your side, slow and gentle. He watches your lashes flutter, the corner of your mouth twitch as you stir.
âAre you awake?â he asks.
You hum without opening your eyes. âBarely.â
He presses a kiss behind your ear. âShould I stop?â
âIf youâre asking that, you already know the answer.â
So Mingyu doesnât stop. His hand moves, slow and familiar now, tracing the curve of your hip. You shift closer, still half-asleep, until your leg slides between his and your mouth brushes against the underside of his jaw.
Itâs easy like this. Too easy.
Your bodies know each other even if your minds donât. Thereâs no fumbling anymore, no pretending. Just heat and breath and the memory of his name whispered into the crook of his neck, again and again, like youâre trying to brand yourself into him. Maybe you are.
He holds you afterward, and listens to the rain starting up again outside the windowâsoft at first, then steadier. Jazz spills in from the bar two floors down, muffled by distance and glass, but still there. Like everything in this city, it lingers.
âYouâre staring,â you say eventually, not unkindly.
âI do that,â Mingyu says.
âWhy?â
âDo I need a reason?â
You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, somewhere between amusement and disbelief, and burrow deeper into his chest. Your fingers trace a line over his collarbone, idle and absentminded, like youâre not really thinking about what youâre doing.
âYou always act like you know something I donât,â you mumble. âLike youâve been waiting for me to figure it out.â
Mingyu swallows. âFigure out what?â
âWhatever it is you keep hiding behind your eyes,â you say. âYou always look so sad, Mingyu.â
His arm tightens around you just slightly.Â
Youâre not wrong. You never are, not in any life. Even without memory, your intuition is as sharp as itâs always been. Youâre like a compass that always swings toward the truth, even when the truth is something you have no idea about.Â
Mingyu considers lying, or laughing it off. But you shift again, and your thigh brushes against his. Youâre closeâso close, close enough that he almost lets the truth slip past his teeth. Youâve died in my arms before. Youâve looked at me with your last breath. Iâve been cursed to find you again and again and again.
Instead, he says, âMaybe I just like the way you look when you sleep.â
âPoetic.â
âI try.â
You lift your head to look at him. Thereâs mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and a tiny crease on your cheek where it pressed against the pillow. Your mouth is a little swollen from kissing, and your voice is hoarse in the way that drives him insane.
âYou know this isnât forever, right?â you say, softly, like youâre offering him a kindness by saying it first.
âI know,â Mingyu says.
You nod, like thatâs what you needed to hear. âGood.â
But you donât move. You donât pull away. You rest your chin on his chest and look at him like youâre memorising the shape of his nose and the colour of his eyes.
âGod,â you whisper after a while. âThis would be so much easier if you were an asshole.â
Mingyu laughs and says, âI can be, if it helps.â
âNo,â you say, shaking your head. âYouâre good. Thatâs the problem.â
He kisses your forehead and tries not to think about the way your voice cracked.
JOSEON, KOREA.
WINTER, 1798.
It is snowing the first time Mingyu sees you, and your name forms on his mouth like habit.
Itâs not the name you carry nowânot the one assigned to you by court records and a royal appointment, or the one embroidered into the hem of your hanbok in gold thread. It is the name youâve had in your previous lifetime. The name heâs whispered into your skin, into your dying hands.
Mingyu doesnât say it aloud. He doesnât dare.
He watches you from the far side of the courtyard, where the snow has muffled the world and the stone paths disappear beneath white. His breath fogs in the air. A court servant speaks beside himâsomething about a grain levy in Jeollaâbut Mingyu isnât listening. He couldnât, even if he tried.
You walk gracefully, holding a lacquered tray to your chest, with your back straight. Your hair is pulled into a sleek bun, adorned with a single ornamental binyeo shaped like a plum blossom. It is the sign of a new concubine: favoured and untouched. The wind catches your sleeve and flutters it gently, and his chest clenches at the sight of your wrist. A thousand memories flicker through his mind like reeds in the current.
Yet, your face is unfamiliar in this first life. Younger, and softer. Your eyes donât carry memory. You donât look at him with recognition or contempt. You donât look at him at all.
You pass through the courtyard, and Mingyu stands frozen under the shadow of a ginkgo tree, as though time itself has collapsed.
Later, in his private study, he asks about you. He pretends itâs nothingâan idle inquiry wrapped in courtesy, spoken to the right eunuch over warm rice wine.
âThe girl who came last month,â he says, carefully. âThe concubine gifted by the Governor of Gangwon. What do we know of her?â
âThe new Lady?â The eunuch says your new name, the one that doesnât feel right in Mingyuâs mouth. âShe is quiet and well-mannered. Literate, I believe, though she comes from no family of rank. She entered the palace under the northern courtâs petitionâher village suffered a flood, and her people sought mercy. The Governor offered her as tribute.â
âTribute,â Mingyu repeats, tasting the word like ash.
âShe was chosen for her beauty,â the eunuch adds. âNothing more.â
PARIS, FRANCE.
SUMMER, 1890.
You married him because you had to.
It was a bargain struck behind closed doors, a compromise made with fathers and fortunes and convenience. He had wealth, and you had a family in debt. It was all very civilised, very French. The papers printed your photograph beside a headline that called it a union of elegance and fortune. They didnât print the part where you refused to meet his eyes.
At dinner, you speak to him in French, formally, like a woman who doesnât wish to be misunderstood, and doesnât care to be known. You order for yourself. You never ask if heâs read the books you quote. You let the silence stretch until it breaks and sip your half-finished wine instead.
Mingyu lets you. He nods when appropriate, smiles when it seems polite, swirls his wine, and pretends not to watch the way you cut your food too carefully.
He thinks about how different your voice sounds in this life. How your laughter is a stranger to him. He remembers the you who laughed easily, the you who danced barefoot in the snow, the you who wrote him letters in the margins of books and left pressed flowers between the pages. That version of you isnât here.
In this lifetime, you wear gloves to dinner and never once let your fingers brush his.
But youâre beautiful. God, youâre beautiful.
It kills him a little, every time.
You look like a painting heâs seen before and canât quite place; one heâs spent lifetimes trying to find again. Now that youâre hereâflesh and blood, name and ring and contractâyouâre more unreachable than ever.
You donât sleep in the same bed. The suite has two, and thatâs something you requested specifically. He remembers the clerk glancing at him with a look that hovered between pity and apology.
The bellboy had asked, âMadame, shall I draw the curtains between the beds?â
âYes, thank you,â you had said.
You donât ask him questions: not about his work, not about his past. Not about the faraway look he sometimes gets when the light hits the Seine just right. He doesnât ask you, either. The truth is, you are not his, in this life.
He wonders if you dream of him. He wonders if somewhere deep in your chest, beneath the silk and bone and flesh, something stirs when he says your name. He wonders if you ever wake in the middle of the night with a pang in your heart that you donât understand.
Mingyu hopes so, because he has woken up like that every night of this life.
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.
WINTER, 1937.
By the time Seollal passes and the paper lanterns are taken down, the people in the neighbourhood begin to noticeânot with suspicion or idle gossip, but with a kind of slow, blooming fondness. They donât whisper behind their hands or snicker when Mingyu walks by. Instead, they smile.
The old woman with the parrotâMadam Kwon, who lives above the fermented soybean shopâstarts referring to Mingyu as your shadow. Every morning, as she feeds her bird sesame seeds and counts her prayer beads in the sun, she croaks out, âYour shadowâs early today,â when Mingyu turns the corner near the tea shop. The parrot repeats her, mangled and gleeful. Sha-dow, sha-dow!
You glance up from the window, smothering a smile.
The boy from across the alley, barely thirteen, who runs errands for the ink shop, has started tipping his cap at Mingyu each morning. One day, when he passes, he calls out with the overconfidence of youth, âShe likes persimmons, you know. Bring her some. The kind with the wrinkly skins.â
Mingyu hides his amusement behind a polite nod. The next day, a small cloth pouch of dried persimmons appears on the tea shop counter. You donât say anything, just tuck them into the cupboardâbut you save one, and when Mingyu comes in at closing, you place it on a small plate beside his tea without a word.
The grocer, Mr. Baek, an older man with a permanent frown and a weak knee, lets Mingyu pick through the fresh vegetables first whenever he sees him on the path to the tea shop.
âYou work too hard, boy,â Mr. Baek grumbles as Mingyu hoists a basket of firewood onto one shoulder.
âHeâs not a boy,â Madam Kwon snorts from her usual perch. âHeâs a man, Baek. Canât you tell?â
âA man, huh?â Mr. Baek eyes Mingyuâs hands, callused from helping with the heavy work around the shop. âWell, even a man needs to rest his back before it breaks.â
Mingyu only smiles. âIâll rest after Iâve swept the steps for her.â
They all approve of him, though none say it directly. The world is starting to tuck Mingyu into your corner of it without him needing to ask.
One afternoon, while the snow still clings to the gutters but the breeze carries a hint of plum blossoms, an elderly couple walks in from out of town. They speak in slow dialect, asking for ginger tea and warmth for their aching bones. Mingyu is seated by the window, sketching quietly in his notebook. As you prepare the tea, the woman glances at him, then at you.
âYour husband doesnât say much,â she remarks.
You nearly spill the water. âHeâs notâ I mean, weâre notââ
Mingyu looks up, and the couple laughs kindly. âAh, forgive us,â the man says. âYou have that look about you.â
âWhat look?â you ask, wary.
âThe look of people whose silence with each other is comfortable.â
You donât respond, but when you set the tray down in front of them, you notice Mingyu watching you closely. After they leave, you go to clear the table. Thereâs an extra coin left on the tray, and the old woman has pressed a paper fortune beside it: âLove that arrives quietly stays the longest.â
You crumple it. But later that night, after the shop has closed and the windows are shuttered, Mingyu finds it smoothed out on the back counter, your handwriting scribbled in the margins: âDonât get any ideas.â
He smiles.
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.
AUTUMN, 1971.
Mingyu finds you by accident, really.Â
Heâs searching for a barâany barâon an unnaturally rainy Friday night, his collar turned up against the warm drizzle, the air thick with the smell of sweet olive trees and fried catfish. The city hums with life even in the storm. Neon flickers on puddles like oil slicks, and brass spills from half-opened windows.
Heâs already passed three places too crowded, one too quiet, and a fourth that reeked of stale beer and cigarette ash, when he turns down a narrow side street he doesnât remember the name of.
He finds a wooden door, warped with time and painted a moody red. It sits beneath a hanging sign with chipped cursive that reads: The Red Ribbon. A string of paper lanterns hangs overhead, glowing soft through the rain like a trail of fireflies.
Inside, the bar is low-lit and warm, a haven from the storm. The air smells like cinnamon smoke and lemon rinds, and something oldâlike velvet curtains and perfume that clings to skin. Thereâs a quiet hum of conversation, the clink of glass on glass, and music.
Noânot music. A voice.
Low and rich, not quite singing, not quite speaking. Like honey melting in a warm cup of tea, it curls around the room before he sees you; dips into the cracks between shadows; holds him still.
Youâre on stage, beneath a gold spotlight, wearing a black satin blouse tucked into high-waisted pants, one heel perched on the edge of the stool as you croon into the microphone. Your voice doesnât beg for attention. It commands it, slow and sultry and effortless. You sing a cover of Iâll Be Seeing You, but itâs yours now, softer, smokier, as if the songâs always belonged to you.
In your hair, tied just above your ear, is a red ribbon.
Mingyu stops breathing.
Youâre older in this life. Sharper. Your voice curls like cigarette smoke, and your smile doesnât reach your eyes. But itâs you. Of course itâs you. He would know you in any century.
You donât see him. You never do, not at first.
The room fades. Mingyuâs heart hammers.
The Fifth Kingâs curse, so old now itâs half-forgotten, curls tight in his ribs like a warning. This is the fourth time, he thinks.
The bartender is young, with freckles scattered across his nose. âWhat can I get you?â
âWhatâs her drink?â Mingyu asks, nodding toward the stage.
âShe switches it up sometimes. But mostly itâs gin and tonic. Extra lime.â
âThen one of those. And whatever you recommend.â
He carries both your drinks over when you step off the stage, undoing the ribbon in your hair deftly and shaking your head. You wrap the ribbon around your wrist and raise an eyebrow when he stops by your table.Â
âThat for me?â you ask.
Mingyu sets the gin and tonic down. âExtra lime.â
âLet me guess,â you drawl. âFirst time here, heard me sing, got curious?â
âSomething like that,â he says.
JOSEON, KOREA.
SPRING, 1799.
It is well past curfew when you slip into the old library pavilion.
The moon is high, its light diffused through the paper lattice windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. The scent of old parchment and ink wafts through the air. Outside, the plum trees stir in the breeze, petals tumbling like tiny, perfumed ghosts.
You shouldnât be here. No one comes here anymoreânot since the roof began to rot, not since the scrolls were moved to the new annex.
But you know the door that creaks just slightly less. You know which floorboards to avoid. Most importantly, you know no one will be looking for a concubine in the archive of forgotten histories.
You light a single oil lamp and walk the aisles barefoot, your skirts brushing against shelves of neglected poetry and old Confucian texts. Youâre looking for something. You donât know what; only that your chest has been heavy lately with something unnamed, and that reading makes it easier to breathe.
Youâre so engrossed in a worn volume of Tang poetry that you donât hear him until itâs too late.
âWhat are you doing here?â
You whip around, heart slamming in your chest, the book nearly slipping from your fingers.Â
Mingyu stands in the doorwayâhalf-lit by moonlight, half-shadowed, like something conjured from the very pages you were reading. Heâs shed his ceremonial robes for the evening, wearing only a dark overcoat tied loosely at the waist. His hair is unbound at the nape, a sign that he, too, thought the night would pass without interruption.
You gasp. âIâI didnât think anyoneââ
âYouâre not supposed to be here,â he says, though thereâs no bite to it. Just curiosity, and a hint of wariness.
You lift your chin. âNeither are you.â
He arches a brow, and you realise your mistake. Of course heâs allowed anywhere he wishesâheâs one of the Kingâs closest ministers. But instead of correcting you, he steps further inside, eyes never leaving yours.
âWhat are you reading?â
âPoetry,â you say.
âMay I see it?â
You hand him the book with reluctant fingers. He takes it carefully, as though itâs precious. You watch as he scans the open page. His lips move as he reads silently. Then, softly, aloud:
âAt the foot of my bed, moonlight
Yes, I suppose there is frost on the ground.
Lifting my head I gaze at the bright moon
Bowing my head, thinking of home.â
You say nothing.
âYou miss it,â Mingyu says quietly. âYour home.â
âYou canât miss what you barely remember,â you say, shrugging.
âStill, youâre here,â he says, closing the book. âRisking punishment for poetry.â
âI thought this place was empty.â
âIt is. Mostly. Youâve been here before,â he says.
âWill you report me?â you ask, finally meeting his eyes.
He watches you for a long moment, and shakes his head. âNo. But if youâre going to read by lamplight, you shouldnât sit so close to the paper screens. It casts a shadow.â
TOKYO, JAPAN.
SPRING, ONE MONTH AGO.
On Mingyuâs birthday, you surprise him with a picnic beneath the sakura.
Itâs a Monday, technically a workday, but you convince his supervisor to let him off early and drag him, half-confused, half-laughing, onto the Marunouchi Line. You refuse to say where youâre going, only grin over the rim of your coffee and tap your knee against his like youâre buzzing with a secret.
He figures it out by the time youâre walking down the path at Shinjuku Gyoen, past couples and families and students with cameras, every tree dripping in soft pink petals. The wind is light, enough to lift your hair and scatter a few blossoms onto his shoulder. You swipe them off with a delicate touch, fingers brushing his collar.
âHere?â he asks, looking around.
You point to a quiet spot beneath a tall cherry tree, where the ground is dappled with sunlight and pink. âHere.â
He watches you set the blanket down and unroll the bento boxes you packed that morning, tied in checkered cloth, still warm. Tamagoyaki, onigiri, simmered daikon, the pickled things he likes. Thereâs even a small chocolate cake hidden in your tote, which you keep sneakily tucked behind your legs like it isnât obvious.
âYou didnât have to do all this,â he says, sitting beside you. His voice is warm. He never quite knows what to do with being loved like thisânot when itâs freely given.
âI know,â you say. âBut I wanted to.â
Mingyu looks at you for a long second. Youâre wearing that soft blue sweater he likes, the one that slides off your shoulder when youâre not paying attention. The sunlight hits your cheekbones and catches in your lashes, and he thinksâlike he always doesâthat youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen.
You open a thermos, pour him tea, and he raises it in mock solemnity.
âTo twenty-eight,â he says.
âTwenty-nine,â you correct.
âAm I?â
âYou always forget,â you say. âYouâve been forgetting since we met.â
He laughs. âFeels like Iâve lived a hundred years already.â
You donât say anything. Sometimes, when the light hits his face just right or he says something that echoes in your mind, you wonder.
Youâve always had strange dreams: places youâve never been, languages youâve never studied, and a man who always looks like him, even when he wears a robe, or a bloodied uniform, or a wool coat in the snow. You never tell him this. Youâre afraid it will break the spell.
Instead, you offer him another onigiri and press a kiss to his cheek.
âHappy birthday,â you whisper. âIâm glad you were born.â
Mingyu closes his eyes and laces his fingers with yours, lets you lean your weight into his side; lets the breeze scatter petals in your hair; lets the warmth spread down his spine like heâs standing in the sun after a long, long winter.
MANCHURIA.
WINTER, 1944.
It comes as no surprise, then, that when the war begins, you and Mingyu get married and business at the teahouse dwindles with every passing day.
The papers are signed quietly one late afternoon, in the cramped back office of the local administration hall: two names written in black ink, side by side, binding you together not by love but by survival. There is no time for anything else. The world is already falling apart.
The Japanese occupation deepens its grip. All around you, men vanish into forced conscription, women into labour camps, into silence. The air grows tighter with fear. Propaganda posters replace the poetry on the streets. The teahouse shutters for good.
You and Mingyu are sent away within the month. He becomes a soldier. You become a nurse.
You are not the only married couple split between posts, but somehow, impossibly, the army places you both near the front. You meet sometimes between camps. Once every few weeks, maybe. Sometimes longer.
Each time, your reunion is brief and practical. You sew up the tears in his uniform. He shares what little rations heâs stashed away for you. He never forgets to hand you a pair of gloves or wrap your scarf tighter, or tie your hair back with that red ribbon with shaking fingers. You always insist he sleep for at least two hours before returning to his unit.
There is no time for affection. There is barely time for sleep.
But sometimes, when you are aloneâwhen the tents are quiet and the snow piles against the canvasâhe touches your face in the dark, and you lean into him without a word. Sometimes you rest your forehead against his shoulder, and Mingyu runs his hand up and down your back.
The night you die, it is snowing.
The war has reached a new fever. There are no longer clear lines, no longer rest stations or warning signals or predictable patrols. The world is burning in patches, and no one can remember what day it is.
Mingyu is stationed near the ravine when the call comesâmedics down, supplies hit, critical injuries. He runs before they finish speaking.
He doesnât recognise the wreckage of the medic tent at first, just the shape of it, torn open by gunfire and winter wind, canvas flapping in the air. The snow is tinged red. Bodies are scattered everywhere.
Youâre still alive when he finds you, but barely.
Youâre half-buried beneath another nurse, shielding her even in unconsciousness. Your side is soaked through with blood, spreading dark and fast across your uniform. Your breathing is shallow, more rasp than breath. Mingyu drops to his knees beside you.
âHey,â he says, voice breaking. âHeyâlook at me. Itâs me.â
Your eyes flutter open. Focus. Unfocus. Finally, they find him. â...Mingyu?â you breathe, your voice thready.
He laughs, because itâs either that or scream. âYeah. Yeah, itâs me. You stubborn woman, what were you doing here? You were supposed to be safe.â
âI stayed.â You cough, wet and small. âOne of the children⊠the boy with the bad legâŠâ
âI know,â Mingyu says. He does know. He always knew youâd stay. He presses his hand to your wound. His other hand cradles the back of your head. Snowflakes melt on your cheeks.
Later, they find him still holding you, long after the snow has buried your boots and the blood has dried stiff on his uniform. He wonât speak for days, wonât eat. When he finally returns to his post, he doesnât say what happened; he only writes your name on the inside of his sleeve in black ink, where no one else can see.
Years later, when the war ends and the country forgets the names of its dead, Mingyu does not. He leaves a folded paper crane at every teahouse he passes, and he never remarries.
PARIS, FRANCE.
SUMMER, 1890.
On the third day of your honeymoon, Mingyu takes you dancing.
It is a Friday evening, and the city glows with the kind of gold that never quite fades, even as dusk creeps in. From the hotel balcony, the streets below shimmer with laughter, carriage wheels clattering against cobblestones, parasols twirling, violins warming up in salons beyond shuttered windows.
He waits for you in the sitting room, dressed in pressed trousers and a charcoal waistcoat, a pale lavender cravat at his throatâthe one you picked, absentmindedly, on your first day in the city. The silk still smells faintly like you.
You emerge from the bedroom without a word, gloves drawn tight over your wrists, gown cinched neatly at the waist. Youâre beautiful, but distant.
Always, always distant.
âShall we?â he asks, offering his arm.
The carriage ride is quiet. The air smells like summer rain and perfume, and Mingyu watches your profile in the glassâthe slope of your nose, the way your eyes follow the shape of the Seine like itâs memory. You havenât touched him since the day you arrived. Your hand rests lightly on his arm now, like youâre afraid even weight might give too much away.
He wants to ask about the letters.
The ones you receive from a different postbox. The ones you tuck away before he enters the room. Heâs never opened one, but he doesnât need to. The handwriting is always the same: slanted, and familiar only to you. He doesnât ask. He never does.
Tonight, he only wants to pretend.
The ballroom is in Montmartre, crowded and warm, lit by chandeliers that make the dust shimmer. The band plays slow waltzes, the kind that ring in your ears even after the music fades.
Mingyu places a hand on your waist. You let him.
Your fingers rest against his shoulder, delicate as frost.
He draws you closer, searching for something in your eyes. He finds nothing. Nothing but the practiced smile of a woman doing what is expected.
âYouâre quiet tonight,â he says, voice low.
You look away. âIâm tired.â
âOf dancing?â Of me?
You donât answer. Mingyu guides you in a slow circle. You follow, graceful, perfect. A doll in silk and pearl. Yet, every few beats, your gaze slips towards the doors; towards the windows; towards something far away. Heâs used to it now. The Fifth Kingâs curse has hardened him, but just because he is used to it, it does not make it any easier to be the consolation prize in this lifetime that never belonged to him.
âDo you love him?â he asks suddenly, before he can stop himself.
âIt doesnât matter,â you say.
Youâre right. It doesnât. Not in this life. Not in this world where your father sold your hand to erase a debt, and his name was the one on the contract. Not in a marriage made of cold sheets and polite lies.
Mingyu exhales slowly. âIt does to me.â
You meet his gaze, then, and something flickers in your eyes. Not love, or forgivenessâjust sadness, deep and quiet, like the kind that seeps into your bones and never quite leaves.
âYouâre not a bad man,â you say softly. âYou just arenât mine.â
He closes his eyes. The music swells. Couples spin around you both like falling leaves.
Mingyu doesnât say another word. He just holds you a little tighter, for as long as the song lasts, because after tonight, youâll drift further away. He can feel it, that tide pulling you towards a life youâll never have and a man he will never be.
But for this danceâjust this oneâhe lets himself imagine youâre his.
The next day, the divorce papers are finalised and the money is settled. You move to Vienna the week after.
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.
AUTUMN, 1972.
The bartender tells Mingyu you moved to Chicago.
He says it like itâs nothing, like you didnât leave a hollowed-out space where your voice used to sit on stage at The Red Ribbon, smokey and golden and soft as dusk.
âPacked up two weeks ago,â the freckled boy says, polishing a glass. âDidnât say much, just left a note for Missy in the back. Said she got an opportunity, somethinâ better. Maybe a record label.â
Mingyu doesnât ask for details. He doesnât need them.
He nurses his bourbon in silence for a while, and lets the saxophone on the radio spill into the half-empty room. The walls feel thinner without youâless velvet, more echo. The stage is dark now, the piano covered in a wrinkled sheet.
When he asks for your address, the bartender raises an eyebrow. âYou a friend?â
âI was her lover,â Mingyu says, and itâs not wrong.
The man shrugs and writes it down on the back of a bar napkin, sliding it over with two fingers. Itâs smudged at the edges, ink bleeding from moisture left behind by someone elseâs glass. But the words are clear.
South Side. Chicago.
Apartment 2B.
â Langford Records.
Mingyu stares at it for a long time. He folds it once and pockets it.
That night, in his apartment above the bakery on Dauphine Street, he sits at the kitchen table with a cigarette burning low and a single lamp flickering behind him. Rain taps gently against the window, steady as a metronome.
He finds a sheet of paper, ivory and heavy. He doesnât plan to write much.
October 12th, 1972
New Orleans
You left without saying goodbye.
Thatâs not a complaint. Just⊠an observation.
The bartender said Chicago. He said you packed light, but you always did. I used to wonder how someone could carry so much in them and still leave so little behind. I guess I have my answer now.
I keep thinking about that night on the balcony. You, with your lipstick smudged and your heels kicked off, humming some Ella Fitzgerald song that only you knew all the words to. You asked me if I believed in fate. I said no. You laughed like I was missing the joke.
I think I get it now.
Maybe it wasnât fate. Maybe it was just timing. Bad, as always.
I donât know what youâre chasing up thereâmusic, love, a version of yourself you can finally live withâbut I hope you find it. And if you donât, I hope it finds you anyway.
I wonât write again. This feels like enough.
But if it ever rains in Chicago, and you think of me, just know I was thinking of you too.
â M.
Mingyu folds the letter carefully and slides it into an envelope but doesnât seal it. He stares at it for a long time. Then he sets it on the counter beside his keys and goes to bed without turning out the lamp.
He never mails it, but every now and then, when the rain hits the windows just so, he reads it again.
JOSEON, KOREA.
LATE SUMMER, 1799.
They charge you with treason.
No matter how many times Mingyu kneels before the King, no matter how many sleepless nights he spends rewriting every record, begging the court historian to leave your name out of the final script, no one listens.
It is easier to silence a concubine than to question a minister, easier to blame a woman for sin than to hold a man accountable for love.
So, on the last evening of your life, they dress you in white: a shade meant for funerals; for forgetting.
Your hair, once combed and oiled and pinned with mother-of-pearl, hangs unbound down your back now. The servants didnât bother with ceremony. They gave you water, and left you in a corner of the gardens, as if you were already half-gone. You sit on the edge of the low stone wall, staring at the lotus pond, legs tucked neatly beneath you and wrists bound.
The ropes around your wrists bite into tender skinâtight, too tightâbut you wonât ask them to be loosened. The guards know better than to keep an eye on you. Youâre not dangerous, just inconvenient.
You know heâll come.
You donât look surprised when Mingyu appears between the carved columns, breathless, his topknot hastily tied and robes disheveled. His boots make no sound against the wooden floor as he drops to his knees before you.
âPlease,â he says, his voice shredded down to the bone. âPlease tell me youâll hate me for this.â
You blink slowly. Your lashes are damp with the humidity. âWould that make it easier?â
âNo.â Mingyu shakes his head. âBut I want you to have something.â
Thereâs no moon yet, but the light from the lantern by the steps is enough to see him properly. His lips are chapped. Thereâs ink on his sleeves, on the soft crease where his palm meets his thumb. He hasnât stopped writing letters, then. Petitions. Pleas.
âYou should go,â you say quietly. âIf they see youââ
âI donât care.â
âTheyâll strip you of your title.â
âI donât care.â
His hands are trembling when they reach for yours. He cups your bound wrists with reverence. His touch is a contradictionâsoft, but desperate. His thumbs brush over your bruises. You donât flinch.
Between his palms, you feel something cool press against your skin, smooth and weightless. Your fingers twitch, instinctively curling around it.
A jade rabbit. The kind children carry for luck. The kind lovers carve when words arenât enough.
You remember once, weeks ago, a charm just like it left behind on the counter behind the Queen Dowagerâs quartersâno note, no name. Youâd tucked it into the folds of your robes and told yourself it didnât mean anything. Now, you understand. You clutch it tighter.
âYou said once,â Mingyu whispers, âthat you didnât believe in reincarnation.â
You manage a faint smile, remembering his stories of the demon king and the curse of love and memory because of sins past. âI still donât.â
âWell.â His eyes close briefly, lashes dark against his cheek. âIâll believe for both of us, then.â
The cicadas outside scream like they know how little time is left.
âItâs just a story,â you say. âNo one remembers their past lives.â
âI do,â he says, and something deep in you twists, aching. âAnd I will. Iâll find you again.â
âI donât want to be remembered like this,â you whisper.
âI wonât remember the ropes,â Mingyu says. âIâll remember the way you fold paper cranes, and recite poetry, and the sound of your laugh when you think no oneâs listening.â
Your throat tightens. Thereâs a sob there, buried deep, but it wonât surface. Youâre too tired for crying. âDonâtââ
âIâll remember,â he says. âAnd one day, somewhereâwhen you are free and unafraidâIâll press this rabbit into your palm again, and youâll know.â
âMingyuââ
He leans forward slowly, and presses his forehead to your bound hands. The lanternâs light glows between you. The cicadas hush. Far in the distance, a temple bell rings the hour. Itâs almost time.
TOKYO, JAPAN.
PRESENT DAY.
These days, you find it harder to sleep. The dreams are worse now, beguiling and long and sad. They stretch like old film reels behind your eyes, full of half-familiar cities and names that slip away when you wake. They end with Mingyu, always Mingyuâbut not Mingyu at the same time. He wears different clothes, speaks in languages you donât remember learning.
You shift in bed, sheets tangled around your legs, one arm heavy and warm across your waist.
This version of Mingyu sleeps with his mouth slightly open, his breathing even, steady. His chest rises and falls against your back, his palm curled gently beneath your navel. The windowâs been left ajar, and the scent of sakura drifts in on the night air. You press your hand over his absentmindedly. His fingers twitch in his sleep and close tighter around you.
You sigh. Your forehead presses into the pillow. Itâs too early or too late to be awake, and youâre tiredâso tiredâbut your body doesnât know how to rest anymore. Not when your mind insists on wandering. Not when you wake up crying into a manâs arms and canât tell him why.
You almost speak, but he stirs before you can.
âMmh,â he mumbles, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. âYou okay?â
âI⊠had that dream again,â you tell him.
Mingyu lifts his head. Heâs groggy, eyes swollen with sleep, but heâs already frowning. Already reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
âThe one with the snow?â he asks.
You nod. âAnd the red ribbon. And a jazz bar.â
He doesnât laugh, though youâd expect anyone else to. Instead, he kisses your shoulder. âCome closer.â
âIâm already close.â
âCloser,â he says again, like the space between you could ever be enough to stop the ache. Like if he holds you tight enough, he can keep the dreams at bay.
You turn to face him, legs brushing his under the blanket. He touches your cheek with the backs of his fingers.
âDo I do something wrong in the dream?â he asks.
âNo,â you say. âBut youâre sad. Like⊠you know something I donât.â
His throat works. His thumb runs along the apple of your cheek, just once. âMaybe Iâm dreaming it too.â
You stare at him. Itâs too dark to read his expression clearly, but something in you catches at the thought. Maybe heâs dreaming it, too: the same ink-stained hands, the same gardens, the same unfinished goodbyes.
âYou think so?â you whisper.
He nods. âRemind me,â he says. âI found this antique rabbit made out of jade yesterday at the market. It reminded me of you. Remind me to give it to you.â
âOkay,â you say, and bury your face against his chest and let him wrap both arms around you. You press your palm over his heart.Â
âYou talk in your sleep, too, sometimes, you know,â you murmur into the dark. âWhoâs the Fifth King?âÂ
Youâre teasing, mostlyâhalf-asleep, your words loose around the edgesâbut thereâs a small, curious lilt to your voice that makes Mingyu still for a fraction of a second. Barely perceptible, just long enough for you to notice.
You continue, lightly, unaware. âShould I be worried?â
He shouldâve prepared for this. Heâs had five lifetimes to come up with a better answer. Five lifetimes of choices and mistakes and prayers spoken into temples and alleyways and bomb shelters. Five lifetimes of watching you slip through his fingers, of losing you just when he thought he might have a chance.
He shouldâve been ready.
Mingyu exhales slowly, letting his palm slide a little higher on your stomach, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. Your breathing is calm now. You trust him.
He leans in and kisses your shoulder again, and says, âNo one.â
You shift a little in his arms, not entirely convinced. âSounds like a someone.â
He smiles against your skin, but it doesnât reach his eyes. âJust a strange dream. One of those names that sticks for no reason. You know how it is.â
âWeâre weird,â you mumble. âI mean⊠you and me.â
âI know,â Mingyu says, and he means it more than youâll ever understand.
You donât see the way his gaze always rests on you in the dark after you drift off. You donât feel how tight his arms become, how he pulls you closer like heâs afraid youâll vanish in your sleep.
You donât know that he remembers everything.
The snow in Bukchon. The teahouse. The library in the palace. The battlefield and your name on the inside of his sleeve. Paris and silence. New Orleans and the ribbon in your hair. The prison courtyard and the jade rabbit you clutched until the rope took you. All of it.
He remembers the taste of your ginger tea; the colour of your blood on his hands; the sound of your voice in French; the way you looked at him in a jazz bar in 1972 and said, âDonât fall in love with me.â
Too late, heâd wanted to say. Too many lives too late.
Now, in this quiet Tokyo apartment, with your fingers unconsciously curled into the fabric of his shirt, he knows the Fifth King has finally allowed him to keep you. He has grown tired of watching him suffer. That was the promise, that in this fifth and final life, he can keep you safe and warm, tucked into his side, where the only real concerns are whether heâs put the laundry to dry, or what to cook for dinner.
Mingyu watches the sky begin to pale through the window, watches your lashes flutter in sleep. He watches your mouth part like youâre about to say his name, even here, even now. He thinks about the red ribbon he keeps tucked inside his coat pockets, and the worn-out letter in his dresser, and the jade rabbit he keeps underneath his pillow, and he smiles into your hair.
â authorâs note: happy (late) mingyu day to all who celebrate! this was originally a fic i wrote last year for a completely different fandom that i decided to repurpose for the loml. the poem that mingyu reads out in the middle is quiet night thought by li bai. thank you to my sexy wife liya who beta read this for me before i posted, and thank you for reading! iâd love to hear your thoughts!
context: after a long time, the kim family was about to simply... settle down, but sometimes, those nights just last longer when you are spending it with the people you love
pairings: dad!mingyu x reader
genre: fluff fluff fluff
warnings: suggestive a bit, 2 kids (1 older son, 1 younger daughter), names such as mom/dad being used to address reader & mingyu
author's notes: dad!svt gang... pls
m. list | join the taglist | requests: open âĄ
your daughter was sleeping on your chest while you and mingyu were watching a movie, snoring with her mouth slightly open and drool falling from her mouth. mingyu had his arm wrapped around you waist while he also lays on your shoulder. on the other side, your son has long since started his sleep, legs swung over your body, arms hanging off the sofa while his mouth was wide open.
so there you were - sandwiched between your most favourite people in the world.
unfortunately for you, as much as you love the position you were in right now, you were kind of in a dilemma in terms of bodily functions.
"gyu," you whisper, reaching your hand over to pat his head. "gyu."
"hm?" he lifts his head from your shoulder, looking at you with tired, puppy-like eyes.
"i need to pee."
mingyu closes his eyes and lies his head down again. "okay."
"gyu, i need you to get up and take your kids with you," you say, shifting slightly underneath your daughter and son.
your son moves, but if he moves anymore, he was going to fall off the entire couch. your daughter, if she gets awakened from her sleep, she was going to throw a huge tantrum. if you wanted to get up, you would need to enlist the help of your husband.
mingyu looks at your situation and cracks a smile. he sits up, stretching his arms out, flexing just a bit. you scoff as he turns to you and gently takes his daughter into his hold. then, he stands up to hover over your son.
mingyu gently shakes him awake, "hey buddy. how about you go to sleep in your room?"
the young boy groans, but he opens his eyes and drags his feet down the hall to his room, yawning and mumbling incoherent words. before you knew it, he closes the door to his bedroom.
"thanks, gyu," you quickly kiss his cheek before bolting to the bathroom.
mingyu laughs, bouncing his daughter in his arms as she sleeps, "i think it's time for some mommy and daddy time, right, princess?" he asks his daughter, but she didn't respond (she's 2 years old). quietly, he walks to the nursery and places his daughter in her crib, kissing her forehead in the process. "goodnight, princess."
he leaves the room, proceeding to his son's bedroom. he opens the door as quietly as possible, peaking his head in only to see his son completely passed out on his bed - no blanket in sight, and his head on the opposite end of the bed frame.
mingyu scoffs, knowing exactly where he got his sleeping habits from (him. his son 100% got his sleeping habits from him). he picks up the clothes that was scattered across the room, putting them in the nearby laundry basket. then, he approaches the bed and turns on the nearby night light.
"mm," his son rolls around in the bed, almost whacking mingyu in the face.
"wow, okay," mingyu purses his lips while he switches his son's position. he moves the pillow so that the child was now sleeping on it while covering him with a blanket. "night, bud."
when he arrives back to the living room, you were scrolling on your phone, the movie still playing in the background. the blanket was wrapped around your body, but when you notice him come into the living space, your shut off your phone and spread your arms out.
âcome here,â you simply say.
without hesitation, mingyu moves his feet and crashes onto you, snuggling right against you as he captures your scent. a hand creeps up around your body as you run your hand through his hair, enjoying the moment of quiet in your home.
you rest a finger under his chin, making him look at you with loving eyes.
the way heâs looked at you has never changed. it was always filled with the same care, the same love.
you lean in and kiss him. he kisses back, his hands slipping underneath your shirt - his shirt. slowly, he shifts his weight, resting his free hand on the back of the couch while you continue to remain under him. the movie plays in the background, entirely forgotten at this point.
mingyu makes his way down your neck, leaving gentle and soft marks as you tug at his hair whenever you feel him suck a little bit harder on your skin than normal.
you pull at his hair slightly, and a soft, quiet, sound escapes his mouth.
though, before proceeding further, you heard footsteps coming from the hallway.
your eyes widen, shoving your husband off you. mingyu lets out a shout in protest, falling onto the ground, but quickly shuts up when he follows your gaze at the hallway.
it was your daughter.
she wobbles out, pacifier in her mouth and her pillow in her hand, with tired but pleading eyes. she didnât say anything as she makes her way to you and mingyu, then silently climbing up to get comfortable on the sofa.
mingyu glares at her with a pout.
you scoff, taking your daughter's pillow and putting it to the side. using your free hand, you make sure she doesn't fall off.
mingyu looks at you with a raised eyebrow, âi thought she could sleep by herself now?â he brings himself back up, going between you and the small child.
âsomeone got your attachment issues,â you hum.
âhey, i donât have attachment-"
before he could say anything else, your 6 year old son pokes his head into the living room.
âmom, dad,â he rubs his eyes, a pout on his face.
âoh, come here, buddy,â you coo, patting at the spot beside you.
your son doesnât hesitate, running to his spot before he was sent back to his room earlier in the night. he settles down quickly, yawning and closing his eyes.
in two minutes, he's fast asleep again, snoring just like his little sister.
mingyu looks between his kids and you, biting the inside of his cheek with a small bit of annoyance.
you let out a soft giggle, kissing him again, "so they definitely got your attachment issues...
"yeah, yeah..."
and suddenly, the four of you were back in the same spot in the beginning - sandwiched and tangled between each other in the comfort and warmth of the feeling of home.
pairing: mingyu x f!reader
wc: 13k
warnings: arranged marriage, classism, fluff, angst, jealousy (as always), oral sex (f!recv.), love at first sight(?), a bit fast paced, might contain inaccuracies(i tried my best), NOT beta-read
glossary: i used some slangs used in 1920s to maintain some relevance to the theme (đ) playing goosberry- thirdwheeling, bee's knee's- extraordinary person, to carry a torch- to have a crush on someone, salesroom- salesroom, joe- common man
(a/n): part of puttin' on the ritz collab hosted by @studiosvt. thankyou for hosting another fun collab. i swear all the themes are so good for me to give it up. do read all the other fics, everyone has worked so hard :) don't forget to reblog if you liked it and tell me what you like and not like so that i can improve in future :3
âTake your eyes off that book for once and live in the real world.â Paâs voice pulls your attention from the page to his face, though he is already stepping out of the car. You glance to your side, to where your mother had been sitting, only to find her giving you that familiar look. The one that says you know Pa does not like seeing your nose buried in a book.
You sigh as you slip the book closed and follow your mother out of the car, smoothing your dress as your feet touch the pavement. The building before you is neat and imposing, its tall windows gleaming under the afternoon light.
The bell above the door chimes as the three of you step into the salesroom, the space opening up into polished counters and neatly displayed marvels of modern living.
A man approaches almost immediately, his suit crisp and his smile practiced. You assume he must be the manager from the way he carries himself, the way his attention goes straight to Pa. "Mr. Hong," he says, extending his hand. "Welcome."
Pa greets him in turn. Your mother lingers at his side while you trail half a step behind, hands folded, eyes wandering over rows of new inventions you are meant to want.
âWeâre preparing for a wedding,â Pa says after the pleasantries, straight to the point. âLooking for something practical. Something useful.â
The managerâs eyes brighten at that, and he gestures toward a display near the back. He begins explaining the merits of several electric refrigerators, their ability to preserve food longer, the mark of a modern household. Pa listens intently as the man opens doors, points out compartments, lists features meant to impress.
Pa runs a hand along the smooth metal, thoughtful. Then he turns slightly toward your mother. âCharles would like this, wouldnât he?â
He is polite to a fault, always saying the right thing, always standing straight, always mindful of who might be watching. Reputation matters deeply to him, perhaps more than anything else. Appearances must be maintained, traditions respected, nothing ever allowed to stray too far from what is deemed proper.
You don't hate him. Charles is not cruel, nor careless. He treats you with courtesy and kindness. Yet, there is something about him that feels distant, like a man already married to the life expected of him.
You suppose that, in his eyes, this refrigerator makes sense. Another sensible purchase. Another step toward a well ordered future.
You know better than to interfere. Decisions like these are not meant for you. Your role is to agree when spoken to, to smile when appropriate, to trust that the people who know better have everything under control. So when your parentsâ attention remains fixed on the manager and his endless explanations, you take the opportunity and slip away.
You wander past the polishes appliances until something tucked slightly to the side catches your eye. A phonograph rests atop a polished wooden cabinet. Your fingers brush the edge of the cabinet, tracing the smooth finish, then hover near the horn. You imagine music filling a room, imagine evenings softened by sound rather than silence.
âDo you like it?â
Assuming the question isn't for you, you don't answer. You continue looking at the phonograph until the lack of response becomes noticeable. You glance up.
A man stands nearby, watching you with a faint smile.
You point to yourself, unsure. âMe?â
He nods.
âUh⊠yes. No. I mean,â you falter, embarrassed. âI was just looking.â
He chuckles softly and steps closer. âItâs a good one,â he says, gently. âClear sound. Strong needle. If you take care of it, itâll last years.â There is a warmth in his voice as he speaks, a fondness, like he is talking about something dear. âMusic sounds different on these.â
You listen, drawn in despite yourself. Somewhere between his explanation, your focus drifts. You notice the shape of his eyes, expressive and bright, the way his hair falls slightly out of place, the softness in his smile that feels entirely unpracticed.
âWhatâs your name?â you ask.
âKim Mingyu,â he answers.
You smile. âMingyu. Do you like it?â you ask, gesturing to the phonograph.
His eyes light up, and he continues, speaking about music, about evenings spent listening. You nod along, asking small questions wanting to hear him speak more. You do not realize how long you have been standing there until a familiar voice cuts through the moment.
You turn to see your parents waiting, already prepared to leave.
âIt was nice to meet you,â you say softly. âMingyu.â
âNice to meet you too,â he replies.
âSee you again,â you add, unsure whether it is something you are allowed to say.
You settle back into the car, skirts smoothed, posture proper, the familiar weight of your parents on either side of you. The door closes with a dull thud, sealing you back into your place.
Your father is the first to speak. "Charles is coming home tonight,"he says, almost casually. "We should start planning about the engagement now."
Ma hums in agreement, asking him if there is anything to be prepared for the meeting with their future son-in-law. You nod when expected, a small sound of acknowledgment leaving you, though the words barely reach you at all.
Your gaze drifts instead to the salesroom window as the car begins to move. Through the glass, you spot him. Mingyu stands near the display, hands resting on the cabinet, his attention elsewhere now.
As the car begins to move, the image shifts, the glass carrying him farther and farther away until he is nothing more than a shape behind light and reflection. You do not look away until the salesroom disappears from view.
A few days roll by, slow and uneventful, until you find yourself out again, this time for dress shopping.
Martha is with you today, like always. She has been there for as long as you can remember, lingering in the background of your childhood. If anyone has ever known you in all your unguarded moments, it is her. She is older than you by years, and yet indulgent enough to let you forget that sometimes.
The shop is bright and filled with fabric, layers of silk and lace draped over polished counters. You move between racks with a lightness you rarely allow yourself, lifting skirts, holding them up to your frame, spinning just enough to feel the fabric sway.
âCareful,â Martha chides, arms already full of garments. âYouâll wrinkle everything before we even get to the fitting room.â
You slow, offering her a sheepish smile that you know she cannot resist. She sighs, shaking her head, but her lips betray her.
You both leave the shop with bags in hand. you insist on ice cream, dragging Martha along despite her protests about sugar and melted hems. You buy two conesâ chocolate for you and vanilla for her.
She sets the shopping bags down with visible relief, flexing her fingers as you press the second cone into her hand.
âFor me?â she asks, surprised.
âFor you,â you say simply, already taking a step ahead.
âMiss,â Martha calls, juggling the cone and bending to pick up the bags at the same time. âWait. These are heavy.â
You glance back, walking backward now, licking at the edge of your ice cream. You smile at her, bright and teasing. âHurry up, Martha.â
And then you bump into someone.
Your steps falter, ice cream nearly slipping from your hand as you instinctively step back preparing yourself for an apology.
"Oh!"
It's him.
For a moment, you simply stare, surprised in a way that steals your breath. You had not expected to see him again. At least not like this. And yet, a quiet, unwelcome gladness settles in your chest before you can stop it.
âIâm so sorry,â you begin, then pause.
âMingyu,â he says followed by your name. âYou were at the shop the other day.â
âI was,â you say, warmth creeping into your voice. âHow do you know my name?â
He nods. âHeard it that day, at the salesroom. It was pretty hard to forget youâit.â He quickly corrects himself.
Your cheeks warm at that, and you shift slightly, suddenly aware of the way you are standing, the ice cream slowly melting in your hand. Your gaze drifts, then settles on the flowers in his handâa modest bouquet of lilies and sunflowers.
You glance around and realize where you are. A flower shop sits just behind him, its door open, the scent of petals lingering in the air.
"Are those for your lover?" you ask, even thought you know you might be overstepping, you kind of envy the woman he thought of while buying these.
âNo,â he says quickly, almost tripping over the words. âNo, I'm not in a relationship.â
Your eyes flick back to the bouquet, questioning without meaning to be.
âOh,â he adds, realizing, a soft laugh escaping him. âThese are for my grandmother.â He scratches the back of his neck, shy, almost boyish. "She really likes sunflowers."
"That's so sweet."
His eyes meet yours, and for a second the look he gives you feels thoughtful, curious, like he is seeing you rather than simply looking at you. You glance away first, suddenly conscious of your ice cream, the slow drip threatening your fingers.
He laughs softly. âIt's melting.â
You look down with a small gasp. âOh. Right.â
You fumble for a napkin, and before you can properly manage it, Martha appears at your side, bags in hand, eyebrow raised ever so slightly.
âThere you are,â she says. âI turn my back for one moment.â
You smile innocently. âI ran into someone.â
Her gaze shifts to Mingyu, assessing but kind. He straightens instinctively, offering a polite nod.
âGood afternoon, maâam.â
Martha hums in response, then looks back at you. âShall we continue, or are we planning to block the pavement all day?â
You suppress a laugh. âWe were just leaving.â
Mingyu steps back to give you space, though there is reluctance in the movement. âIt was nice seeing you again,â he says. âI didnât expectââ He stops, smiling instead. âIâm glad I did.â
âSo am I,â you say quietly.
Mingyu shifts his weight slightly, adjusting his grip on the bouquet as if wanting to continue this conversation with you but the way Martha was gaping at him suddenly made him aware of how long he had been just standing their and admiring you.
âWell,â he adds, lifting the bouquet slightly, âI should take these."
You nod. âOf course.â
You hesitate, then add, âMaybe Iâll see you around?â
His smile returns, warmer now. âIâd like that.â
You walk a few steps before Martha speaks again, her pace unhurried, perfectly measured beside yours. The street noise rushes back in, filling the quiet he left behind.
âWell,â she says at last.
You glance at her. âWell what?â
She gives you an amused look. âYou seem to have developed a habit of bumping into interesting people.â
You feel your face warm. âIt was an accident.â
âOf course it was,â Martha replies, adjusting the bags in her hand. âAccidents can still be interesting.â
That earns a sheepish grin from you. You lick at the melting edge of your cone, buying yourself a moment. âHe was just someone I met once before.â
âAh,â she says, drawing the word out. âJust someone.â
You walk in silence for a bit, the street opening up ahead of you, warm and alive. Then Martha speaks again, gentler this time.
âHe seems kind.â
You glance at her, surprised. âYou think so?â
âI wouldnât say it if I didnât,â she replies.
Your steps slow slightly at that. You say nothing, because you do not trust your voice to remain steady.
Martha squeezes your arm briefly as you walk. âItâs nice to see you laugh like that,â she adds. âYou donât do it enough these days.â
You look down, smiling to yourself. âNeither do you.â
She scoffs. âI laugh plenty. Just not at men who bump into me on the street.â
The next time you see Mingyu, it is raining.
It falls with no warning, one moment the sky is clear, the next it opens up entirely, rain pouring down hard enough to scatter people off the street.
You stand beneath the narrow awning of the post office, hands tucked into your coat, watching the rain hit the pavement. A letter has just been sent, sealed and addressed carefully to your brother.
You miss your brother terriblyâyou had been inseparable since forever. But he left years ago, chasing work the city could not offer him, and ever since, his visits have been few and fleeting. So, now you settle for letters instead.
You snap out of your thoughts when the sudden gust of cold misty air hits you. You have no umbrella and your empty hands make that painfully clear. Midst of debating whether to make a run for it or not, you notice someone step closer, shoes stopping just short of the edge of the shelter. You glance up.
Mingyu.
âHello,â he says first, a little breathless, like he had not expected this either.
âHello,â you reply, surprised and quietly pleased all at once.
âWhat are you doing here?â he asks, then quickly adds, âI mean, not here here. Just⊠the post office.â
You smile faintly. âI was sending a letter. To my brother.â
He nods, understanding softening his expression. âI had some installation work nearby,â he says. âThey needed help setting something up inside.â
For a moment neither of you speak.
âWhy are you standing here?â he asks.
You lift your palms slightly, as if the answer is obvious. âNo umbrella.â
âAh,â he says, tapping the tip of his umbrella lightly against the ground, using it for support as he settles beside you. âThat would do it.â
The rain pours down relentlessly, filling the silence between you. Without quite deciding to, you shift a little closer to him, drawn in by the warmth radiating from his body as the chill settles into your bones. You tell yourself it is only that, that you are cold and nothing more, an excuse you cling to even as you know better. He smells like lavender and the thought stays with you longer than it should. If he notices the way you move nearer, he gives no sign of it, says nothing.
You wait, half expecting him to speak, while he seems to be doing the same, both of you lingering in that quiet moment, unsure of who should say something first.Then, as if by instinct, you both step forward at the same time.
âWhy arenât youââ you begin.
âDo you want toââ he says.
You stop, then let out a soft laugh. Mingyu too laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly shy. You gesture for him to continue.
He clears his throat, suddenly nervous. âWould you like to share an umbrella with me?â he asks, words tumbling slightly over one another. âI mean, the rain does not look like it is stopping any time soon, soâŠâ
You look at him, something warm blooming in your chest. âYou would not mind?â
His head jerks toward you immediately. âWhy would I mind?â
You giggle softly. âThen⊠yes. I would like that.â
His smile comes easily now. He opens the umbrella and steps out into the rain, pausing just ahead of you, holding it steady. You join him, the space beneath the umbrella small but enough. His arm brushes yours as you fall into step together.
The streets glisten underfoot, puddles rippling as drops fall on the ground. He matches his pace to yours without thinking, slowing when you do, angling the umbrella whenever the wind shifts.
You walk beneath the umbrella together, the space close but careful, his arm steady as he shields you from the rain. The street gleams under the downpour, puddles breaking apart with every passing drop.
âWell,â he says, glancing down at you, âthis is not how I imagined my afternoon.â
You smile. âYou did not plan on rescuing strangers from the rain?â
âHardly strangers,â he replies. âWe have collided twice now. That feels intentional.â
You laugh. âBy that logic, I should start watching where I walk.â
âPlease donât,â he says easily. âIâd miss the chance.â
You shake your head, amused. âDo you always say things like that?â
âOnly when Iâm nervous,â he admits. âWhich is unfortunate, because it seems to happen often around you.â
âThat is good to know,â you tease. âI was beginning to think you were just naturally bold.â
He scoffs lightly. âI am many things. Bold is not one of them.â
âYou did offer to share your umbrella,â you point out.
âAfter standing there far too long debating it,â he says. âI almost convinced myself the rain would stop out of politeness.â
You laugh again, softer this time. âI am glad it didnât.â
He smiles at that, adjusting the umbrella as you turn a corner. âSo am I.â
A gust of wind cuts through the street, blowing rain beneath the edge of the umbrella. Cold drops kiss your sleeve and cheek, making you flinch.
âOh,â you murmur.
âSorry,â he says quickly, adjusting the umbrella, angling it closer. âThe wind has a mind of its own.â
âMuch like you,â you tease. âYou seem to appear when least expected.â
He laughs. âI will take that as a compliment.â
You feel warmth bloom despite the cold, rain still tapping insistently against the fabric above you. You open your mouth to reply when the sound of wheels rushing over wet stone grows louder.
A motorcar barrels past the edge of the street. Before you can react, Mingyu reaches out and pulls you toward him. The car speeds by, splashing water onto the empty stretch of road you had been standing on moments before.
Your breath catches.
âIâm sorry,â he says immediately, loosening his grip. âI didnât mean to startle you.â
You shake your head, still a little stunned. âNo. Itâs fine. I justââ
You trail off, suddenly aware of how close you are now, how the umbrella shelters you both, how his hand lingers near yours as if reluctant to pull away entirely.
He clears his throat, stepping back just enough to give you space. âYou were saying?â
You blink, then laugh softly, a little breathless. âI⊠honestly do not remember.â
Mingyu just laughs, shaking his head.
The walk slows as you turn onto your street, the rain easing just slightly, as if it knows the journey is nearly over. Your house comes into view, its windows lit warmly against the darkening evening.
You smile, a little shy. âThis is me.â As you reach the gate, you turn to face him. "Thank you,â you say. âFor walking me home. And for the umbrella.â
âOf course,â he replies easily. âIâm glad I could.â
When you step a bit away from him, you notice one shoulder of his his coat is noticeably darker, damp from where the rain had slipped in while he made sure you stayed dry.
âOh,â you say, frowning slightly. âYouâre wet.â
He glances down, then shrugs. âOh. Yeah. Itâs no problem.â
âIt is,â you insist. âYou got wet because of me.â
âItâs just a coat,â he says quickly. âItâll dry.â
You hesitate, then reach out, fingers brushing the fabric. âLet me have it,â you say. âIâll get it cleaned.â
He shakes his head. âYou donât have toââ
âPlease,â you say, more earnestly now. âOtherwise Iâll feel really bad.â You do not realize you are pouting until his lips twitch, a quiet chuckle escaping him.
âWell,â he says, surrendering, âI suppose I donât stand a chance.â
You brighten immediately, taking the coat from him with care. âOf course.â
He smiles at you, rain still falling lightly around him. âGoodbye.â
âGoodbye,â you reply.
You watch him leave for a moment before stepping inside, the door closing softly behind you. The house is warm and quiet. You hold the coat a second longer than necessary.
It smells like him.
You are halfway up the stairs, still holding onto that quiet, foolish smile, when a familiar voice stops you.
âWhere have you been for so long?â
You turn slowly. Pa sits on the sofa, cup of tea cradled in his hand, watching you over the rim. Opposite him, legs crossed neatly, posture impeccable, is Charles.
The smile fades.
âCharles,â you murmur, more to yourself than to anyone else.
Paâs expression hardens. âYou are to be married soon,â he says sharply. âIt is not appropriate for you to be wandering about like this. â
Your fingers tighten around the railing.
Charles lets out a small laugh. âUncle, do not worry,â he says smoothly. âEverything will change once we are married.â
He looks at you then, expectant, waiting for agreement. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.
Another soft laugh from him, unbothered. He sets his hands on his knees and turns back to your father. âMay I spend a little time with her alone?â
Pa gives him a small smile. âOf course! There's no need to ask me, you are to be married anyway.â
Charles stands and gestures toward the stairs. âShall we?â
He goes ahead of you, already climbing as if this is his house. You follow a step behind, slower, your stomach tightening with every stair. You already dread the conversation waiting for you.
He enters your room first.
Charles looks around with polite curiosity, eyes moving over the shelves lined with books, the desk cluttered with loose papers and half finished thoughts. His lips press together. He clicks his tongue once, quietly.
âYou stillâŠwrite,â he remarks, glancing at the chaotic pile of papers on your desk.
When no reply comes, he turns to face you, folding his hands neatly in front of him. âI came as soon as I landed,â he continues smoothly. âThere is much to prepare for, and I thought it best to ask your opinions on certain things.â
You nod. âOf course.â
His attention drifts downward then, to your hands. You are holding a coat you do not recognize as yours, the fabric dark damp, which he assumes is because of the rain. As he looks closer, something shifts in his expression. He inhales lightly, once, then again. The scent clinging to the coat is unfamiliar. Not the soap used in this house. Not yours.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
âYou were out longer than expected,â he continues, voice still calm. âPeople notice these things.â
âI was delayed by the rain,â you say.
He hums. âYou should be more careful. Soon, your actions will reflect on both of us.â
There it is. The thing he always returns to.
He glances back at your books. âYou will not have as much time for these after the wedding,â he says lightly, as if discussing the weather. âA household requires attention.â
You manage a small smile. âI imagine it does.â
Charles steps closer, his voice warming, softening into something meant to reassure. âYou will adjust,â he says. âI am sure you will.â
You look up at him. His hand lifts, brushing your cheek before tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.
"You know I care about you, right?" his voice warm.
You nod, though your grip tightens around the coat.
He smiles and puts his hand down. "Well, I should let you rest. You must be tired."
He leaves your room your room a moment later, the scent lingering, the weight of the coat still warm in your hands.
You close the door behind him and cross the room, the weight of the moment finally settling into your bones. You let yourself fall back onto the bed, arms spreading out against the covers as a long sigh leaves you. The ceiling blurs above you as your thoughts tumble over one anotherâthe conversation, Charles, the future laid out so neatly for you, whether you want it or not.
You turn your head and your gaze lands on the coat resting beside you. The faint scent still clings to it, unmistakable now in the quiet of your room. Your lips curve into a small, private smile before you can stop it.
You can't wait to meet Mingyu tomorrow.
The next noon, you ask the driver to park a little distance away from the store.
You sit there longer than necessary, fingers tightening around the small bag in your lap. You check your reflection in the hand mirror once, then again, then a third time, smoothing hair that refuses to be out of place. You inhale. Exhale. Too many times to count.
It is not like you are meeting Mingyu for the first time, but all those times before were coincidences ,and this was somewhat planned and you wanted to look presentable for the first time.
When you finally step inside, no one rushes to greet you the way they did when you came with your parents. You are simply another presence in the room, and strangely, you do not mind. It gives you time to look around the storeâ to look around for the one you came here for.
You spot him in the corner.
Mingyu is bent over a machine, sleeves rolled up, hands busy adjusting something delicate and precise. His brow is furrowed in concentration, hair falling forward just enough to look careless. There is grease smudged faintly along his fingers, his focus so complete that the world around him might as well not exist.
He does not seem to notice when you get near him. You clear your throat to get his attention.
He looks up, surprise flashing briefly across his face before it softens into a smile. He straightens quickly, wiping his hands on a cloth nearby.
âYou look really busy,â you say, smiling.
âYeah,â he replies, a little breathless. âNo! No, actually, just finishing up.â
For a moment, you simply look at each other. Then you extend the bag toward him.
âI came to return this.â
He takes it, curious, and peeks inside. The coat is there, neatly folded. And beneath it, a small box, wrapped carefully.
He pauses. Frowns slightly. Then opens it.
Inside rests a small brooch, simple but elegant. He looks up at you, confused.
You smile. âThank you. For yesterday.â
âI was justââ he begins quickly. âI mean, I was just doing my job.â
You shake your head. âIt is not your job to walk me home safely.â
âButââ
âTake it, Mingyu,â you say gently. âThank you for yesterday. I really enjoyed spending time with you.â
Color creeps up his neck, unmistakable. He clears his throat, closes the box, and places it carefully back in the bag.
âItâs no big deal,â he mutters, embarrassed.
âIt is to me,â you reply.
He looks at you then, really looks at you, his smile changes into a softer one. Mingyu hesitates, shifting his weight, fingers tightening briefly around the bag in his hand.
âUm,â he starts, then stops. Tries again. âDo you want to maybe⊠have lunch together?â
He barely lets the words settle before he rushes on, tripping over himself. âYou know what, itâs okay. You must be busy and I should probably get back to work andââ
âI am not busy,â you say quickly.
He blinks.
âAnd lucky for you,â you add, smiling, âI am actually very hungry.â
His expression brightens instantly, relief and excitement mixing in a way that makes it hard not to smile wider. He comes around the table in a few quick steps. âWell, thatâs great. If you could just wait a moment, Iâll clean up real quick.â
You nod, watching as he moves with surprising speed, wiping his hands, setting things aside, already halfway back to you before you expect him to be.
âReady,â he says, a little proud.
You step out together, the bell above the door chiming softly behind you. The street feels different in daylight, livelier, warmer.
âDo you have a place in mind?â you ask as you walk.
âI do,â he says immediately. âThereâs this small cafe down the street. Nothing fancy, but they serve really good sandwiches. And soup. Their breadâs always fresh. I have lunch there almost every week, actually.â
He keeps talking, filling the space easily, telling you about which days they bake extra, which seat near the window gets the best light, how the owner remembers his order without asking.
Then he stops.
ââŠBut,â he says slowly, glancing at you, âIâm not sure if youâll like it.â
You tilt your head. âWhy wouldnât I?â
He scratches the back of his neck. âWell. You know. Because youâreâŠâ
You understand what he means without him finishing it. You scoff, leaning a little closer. âMingyu, you seriously underestimate me. I love food,â you say, dragging out the words, âand Iâm very glad youâre taking me with you today.â
He smiles at that, a little shy, and you feel a small flutter at the corners of his mouth.
Soon, you reach the cafe. The bell above the door chimes as you step inside, and the owner, a round, cheerful man with a perpetually flour-dusted apron, greets Mingyu warmly.
âMingyu! Back again, eh?â he says, eyes lighting up. âAnd⊠whoâs this pretty lady?â
Mingyu clears his throat, slightly flustered. âThis is⊠uh⊠my friend,â he says.
The owner laughs, clapping him on the back. âHa! You seem to know a lot of pretty ladies, lucky bastard!â
Mingyuâs cheeks pink instantly, and you canât help the small twinge of jealousy that prickles your chest. Who else has he brought here before?
You both head to a table in the corner, Mingyu moves ahead of you pulling out a chair for you. You don't think much of it, head filled with questions.
You pick up the menu but canât resist. âSo⊠who else have you brought here?â you ask, voice light but teasing.
âHuh?â he looks genuinely confused.
âThe owner said you know a lot of pretty ladies,â you explain, glancing at him, âso I was just wondering⊠which other pretty lady youâve brought here.â
Mingyu shakes his head. âIâve never brought anyone here. Youâre the first.â
You canât help but smileâ he looks like shy bird.
He continues, his voice dropping slightly. âHe⊠he once saw me with a customer, and since then heâs been on my back. Heâs crazy⊠no one is prettier than you.â
You feel the heat rise immediately, cheeks warming, heart skipping.
Mingyu seems to realize it too, his eyes flicking to yours, expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and pride.
âLetâs⊠letâs order,â he says quickly, clearing his throat, and lifts his glass for a large gulp of water. You hide your smile behind your menu, trying not to look too pleased, but failing spectacularly.
The cafe visit passes in a blur of laughter, shared bites, and easy conversation. The walk back to the salesroom is comfortingâ you get to know about Mingyu's obsession with reading booksâ one thing you both had in common among other things.
The conversation drifts effortlessly, touching on little curiosities and passions, until the shop comes back into view, and the comfort of the walk lingers long after.
When you reach the entrance, you pause. âThank you again, Mingyu,â you say, smiling. âI had a really nice time.â
âMe too,â he replies, his own smile warm, a little shy.
Mingyu watches you go, shoulders tense for a moment, eyes following your figure until it disappears from sight. He doesnât even notice the hum of the street around him.
A voice cuts through his thoughts. âAre you in love, my boy?â
Mingyu jumps, spinning around to see Jeonghan peeking over his shoulder, smirking.
âWhat?â Mingyu says, heart suddenly racing.
Jeonghan's smile turn into a genuine one. âYou're carrying a torch, oh my god.â
âIâm not,â Mingyu insists, brushing it off, though his voice wavers.
Jeonghan just shakes his head and sings, loud and teasing, âYou are in love, so in loveâŠâ before turning back to his work with a triumphant grin.
Mingyu groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. âIâm not in love, okay? Sheâs just⊠a friend.â
Jeonghan, still smirking, hums teasingly, âLoooveeeeâŠâ
âShut up!â Mingyu snaps, red creeping across his ears, but thereâs no real conviction in his voice. You linger in his thoughts far longer than he cares to admit.
Much to Mingyuâs quiet dismay, a week passes without a single glimpse of you.
He keeps himself busy, or at least he tries to. He throws himself into work, fixes machines with more focus than necessary, lingers longer than usual while locking up. Still, his eyes wander. Every other day he finds himself passing the flower shop, slowing near the post office, pretending he has errands when really he is only hoping. Each time, he leaves with empty hands and a heavier chest.
He even postpones his monthly trip to the bookstore, something he never does, telling himself he will go next week when his head is clearer. It never quite is. By the end of the week, the absence feels loud enough that he gives in and heads to the bookstore anyway, convinced a stack of fresh pages might help.
It is there, between shelves and spines, that the heavens finally take pity on him.
As he turns into another aisle, he bumps straight into someone. He looks up, already forming an apology, and then his breath catches.
Your name slips off his tongue with an unmistakable excitement.
He blinks, half certain he has imagined you, then immediately stiffens, realizing how creepily cheerful that must have sounded. You, on the other hand, look delighted.
âIâm so happy to see you,â you say, eyes bright. You glance around at the shelves. âAre you here to buy books too?â
His shoulders ease as he smiles. âYeah. I was starting to think Iâd never run into you again. Iâm glad we met like this.â
âIâve been busy this week,â you say. âMy birthday preparations took over everything andâ.â Then, quieter, almost lost between words, âI missed you.â
He stills, surprise flickering across his face. Thinking how wrong it might have come off as, you shake your hand quickly.
âNo, noâ you rush, cheeks warm. âI meanâit was fun spending time with you. I missed spending spending with you.â
His laugh comes easy, relieved. âI missed you too.â
âReally?â you ask, smiling.
He nods, then tilts his head. âItâs your birthday? Iâm sorry, I didnât know.â
You laugh. âHow could you? I never told you.â
âWell,â he says gently, âhappy birthday.â
âThank you,â you reply, then pause. âItâs tomorrow. If youâre free⊠Iâd really like you to join.â
You pull an invitation card from your purse and hold it out to him. He takes it carefully, like it might disappear if he grips it too tightly.
âThank you,â he says. âIâll try to come.â
Before you can say more, a familiar voice calls out to you from the front of the shop, reminding you that you have to leave, that your father will be home soon. It's the same woman he saw you with the other day.
"Just a minute, Martha." you call back, then turn to Mingyu once more. âI really hope youâd come.â
You give him a smile, warm and lingering, before moving away to check out your books.
Mingyu stands there a moment longer than necessary. The faint scent of vanilla trails in your wake, already missed. He looks down at the invitation card in his hands, thumb brushing the edge, a small smile settling on his face.
He folds the card neatly and slips it into his coat pocket, right over his heart, before finally turning back to the shelves. The books blur together now, their titles meaningless. His mind is already elsewhere, already counting the hours, already hoping.
For the first time all week, the wait feels bearable.
Mingyu stands outside your house longer than he should, invitation card folded and unfolded between his fingers. The place is lit up like it is holding its breath, windows glowing warm against the night, laughter slipping out through the walls. He looks down at himself, suddenly aware of how little he belongs here, and for a brief moment, he considers turning back.
But it is your birthday.
So he straightens his coat and steps inside.
The house is transformed. Garlands of soft lights trail along the banisters, flowers spill from vases in careful arrangements, pale ribbons woven between them. Music hums low and elegant, conversations overlapping in polished tones. Everyone looks effortless and expensive, silk dresses brushing marble floors, tailored suits pressed sharp. Mingyu feels like he has walked into another world, one he is only meant to observe.
He accepts a glass of wine from a passing servant, murmurs a thank you, and drifts toward the corner of the room where he can breathe. He tells himself he will just wait, wish you well, and leave quietly.
When you appear, the room seems to notice before himâ conversations pause, heads turn. You descend the stairs in a burgundy floor-length gown with intricate black beadwork, a fitted silhouette, and you lookâyou look angelic.
Compliments follow you down the steps, voices praising your beauty, your grace. You thank them all with a practiced smiling but your eyes wander around the room looking for a particular someone.
When your eyes land at him your smiles changes to a warmer one. You lift a hand and wave. Mingyu lifts his glass in return, heart thudding a little too fast.
You start toward him but are intercepted, pulled gently into another conversation.
Fifteen minutes go by and eventually the cake is brought out, candles lit, people crowding close to feed you the first bite.
A man, who's almost Mingyu's age, stands constantly beside you, too close for his comfort. Mingyu does not know who he is, but the sight leaves something unsettled in his chest.
He looks away, focuses instead on the table beside him. Cheeses laid out in careful rows, shapes and textures he has never seen before. He takes another sip of wine, pretending to study them, pretending he does not feel out of place. Mingyu knows that he shouldn't be feeling all this, he shouldn't be here at the first place, he shouldn'tâŠlike you.
A hand lands on his shoulder. He turns startled.
You are there, smiling up at him, close enough that he can smell your perfume.
âHappy birthday,â he starts to say.
You do not let him finish.
You take his hand, and without a word, you pull him gently toward the stairs, away from the noise, away from the watching eyes, leaving the party humming behind you as you lead him upstairs.
As you both reach the terrace you turn to face him, hands still warm from his. You tilt your head, eyes bright with expectation. âSo?â you ask.
He blinks. âSoâŠ?â
You tut playfully, lips forming a small pout. âYou know,â you say, dragging it out. âYouâre the only one who hasnât given me a gift.â
His eyes widen just a fraction. âIââ He hesitates, then exhales. âI was going toââ
You chuckle watching him stutter as if caught doing something wrong. "It's okay, I was just joking."
Mingyu's hand reaches to his pocket, feeling the box inside. He hesitates for a bit before taking it out and handing it to you.
âItâs not that good,â he rushes out. âI couldnât think of anything and I didnât know what youâd like and Iâm terrible at this, I swearââ Mingyu keeps on blabbering which stops when he hears you gasp.
A locket with your name engraved on it.
Before he can react you step forward and wrap your arms around him, burying your face against his chest. He freezes for half a secondâthen his arms come around you, tentative, like heâs afraid of doing it wrong.
âI love this,â you murmur, voice thick. âA lot.â
He lets out a shaky laugh. âYouâre crying.â
âI am not,â you sniff, pulling back just enough to look at him. Your eyes are glossy, smile soft. âOkay, maybe a little.â
You glance back down at the locket, fingers tracing the engraving. âHelp me put it on?â
His hands brush your neck as he fastens the chain, careful, reverent. When heâs done, his fingers linger for half a second too long.
Mingyuâs hands drop back to his sides, but you can still feel the ghost of his touch at your neck. He clears his throat. âIt looks⊠nice on you.â
You turn to look at him properly, "thank you, for this." you motion to the locket which rests beautifully on your neck now. "And for coming today. I would've have been really lonely today."
"Anything for you." Mingyu whispers.
What began as chance meetings quietly turned into something deliberate. You started sneaking out at late hours, excuses ready on your tongue, just to steal a few moments with him over shared snacks and hushed laughter.
The salesroom became familiar, almost comforting, its corners holding pieces of your routine now. You knew the creak of the floorboards, the hum of machines, the names and habits of the people who worked there. Jeonghan, who always seemed to be around, took an immediate liking to you, greeting you with exaggerated bows and relentless teasing, much to Mingyuâs embarrassment.
Bookstores became another refuge, aisles and back corners offering privacy. You were rarely together in open spaces, a rule Mingyu insisted on, always careful, always wary of being seen. You thought it unnecessary, even foolish, argued with him more than once, but he never budged, his concern quiet and unyielding.
When the walls of public places felt too thin, you found yourselves retreating to his house insteadâtalking, reading, doing your own things in the same room.
The more time you spent at the salesroom, the more curious you became about the machines themselves. You asked questions endlessly, about gears and levers and sounds, watching the way Mingyuâs hands moved as he worked.
You knew you distracted him, could see it in the way he paused mid task to answer you, so one evening you asked properly, if he would teach you how one of them worked, a phonograph sitting proudly near the front. He had smiled then, surprised but pleased, and agreed.
Now it is past ten, the city outside long settled into sleep. Jeonghan has already gone, leaving the closing to Mingyu as promised.
The salesroom looks different at night. When Mingyu switches on the small table lamp, only one corner of the room is washed in warm yellow light, the rest sinking into shadows. The phonograph sits between you. Mingyu rolls up his sleeves and begins to explain, careful and patient, pointing out each part, his voice softer than usual in the quiet. You nod along, eyes following his hands more than the machine itself.
âNow you try,â he says, stepping back to give you space.
You do exactly as he showed you. Or at least, you try. The needle slips, the sound comes out wrong, and the machine gives a weak, pitiful noise. You freeze, then burst into laughter.
âGently,â he says, guiding your hand. âYou rush things.â
âI am being gentle,â you protest, concentrating far too hard.
You try again but the needle slips.
"Wow. So impressive." Mingyu says flatly.
You swat his arm. âYouâre a terrible teacher.â
âI showed you exactly what to do.â
âAnd I did exactly that,â you insist, fiddling with the machine again, tongue peeking out in focus.
He stops correcting you. Just watches. The way you lean closer, the way your brows knit together in concentration, the way you smile to yourself when the sound almost comes out right. Thereâs something soft in his gaze now, something unguarded, like heâs already lost a battle he never meant to fight.
âCareful,â he murmurs, quieter. âYouâll break it.â
âThen youâll just have to fix it,â you say lightly, not looking at him.
You both might have been a bit too loud, because you hear footsteps echoing outside the door.
Mingyu stiffens. âOh shit.â
In one quick motion, he switches off the phonograph, plunges the room into darkness, and tugs you down with him beneath the table. You let out a small, breathless giggle before you can stop yourself, the thrill of it all bubbling up. His hand comes up instinctively, covering your mouth as he leans close.
âShh,â he whispers.
You nod, eyes wide, laughter trapped behind his palm. You donât struggle. You just look at him, close enough now to make out the shape of his face in the dark.
The footsteps pause. Mingyu holds still, barely breathing, eyes scanning the sliver of light beyond the tablecloth. Seconds stretch. Then the steps move on, fading into nothing.
Slowly, his attention comes back to you.
He lowers his hand, careful, hesitant. âYou alright?â he whispers.
You nod again. He breathes out, relief softening him, and then he notices the way youâre still looking at him. He says your name, barely more than a breath.
He leans in too, instinct overtaking sense, and then the reminder settles heavy in his chestâthis is wrong, you are engaged. He pulls back abruptly and tries to stand, forgetting entirely where he is.
Thump. Mingyu's head hits the table. âFuck,â he mutters, rubbing his head.
You reach for him immediately. âAre you alright?â
He lets out a short laugh. âYeah. Iâm fine,â he says, then straightens, suddenly all nerves. âI think the guardâs gone. We should leave. Before we get caught for real this time.â
You nod, even as disappointment settles quietly in your chest. You follow him out of the darkened salesroom, heart still racing.
On your way back, you don't talk as much as you do usually. He drops you off a little distance away, careful as always. You slip back into the house quietly, shoes in hand, heart still racing but unworried. Pa and Ma would be fast asleep by now. You climb the stairs on light steps, already picturing your bed, when a voice stops you cold.
âYou shouldnât be out at this time.â
You nearly jump out of your skin. âMartha,â you whisper, clutching your chest, âyou scared me.â
âAnd you doing this scares me,â she replies, unimpressed.
You resume walking, Martha following close behind. âDoing what?â you ask, though you already know.
âSpending time with a joe,â she says, lowering her voice, âand that too this late.â
You sigh. âMartha, not you too.â
Inside your room now, you slip off the coat and place it carefully on the chair. You sit at your dressing table, fingers moving automatically as you unclasp your jewellery, the quiet ticking of the clock suddenly too loud. Martha stands behind you, arms folded.
She calls your name softly. âIt was fine till the birthday party. But I fear this is escalating into something that will put you in a difficult position.â
You turn your head slowly. âWhat do you mean?â
She hesitates, then says it anyway, voice dropping at the end. âI've been noticing how you've changed since you've met him. You can't do things like thisâlike sneaking out of the house late at night, like lying to your parents, like⊠like falling in love.â
Your eyes widen as if she has uttered something forbidden. âMartha!â
She exhales, tired. âLove can be fickle, dear. Mingyu is a nice person, no doubt. But you are engaged. And if anyone even gets a whiff of what youâre doing, it would do great harm. To Charles. To your family. To himâ Her voice softens. âI care for you, honey. Iâm worried about your future.â
You say nothing. Just look at her through the mirror.
Martha sighs again, defeated. âYou should sleep. You have breakfast with Charles tomorrow.â
She leaves, closing the door gently behind her.
You turn back to the mirror. The girl staring back at you looks unfamiliar, cheeks still warm, eyes too bright. Your gaze drifts to the coat resting nearby, still carrying his scent, faint and unmistakable.
He pulls out your chair for you, smiling. âYou look well this morning,â he says, warm, familiar. âDid you sleep alright?â
âYes,â you reply, managing a smile of your own. âThank you for asking.â
You talk easily at first, about small things, about the weather, about the wedding preparations that seem to follow you everywhere. Charles asks your opinion on flowers, on the guest list, on trivial details, listening attentively, nodding as if each answer matters. A server approaches, a young man fumbling slightly as he pours water, spilling a few drops onto the tablecloth.
Charlesâ expression hardens instantly.
âDo be careful,â he snaps, sharp and cutting. âThis isnât a roadside stall.â
The server stammers an apology, face flushing as he hurriedly wipes the table. Charles waves him off with an impatient gesture, already turning back to you.
âHonestly,â he says lightly, as if nothing has happened. âStandards seem to slip more every day.â
Your chest tightens. You glance at the server retreating, shoulders hunched, and something twists painfully inside you. You think of Mingyu, of his patience, his quiet respect, the way he spoke to everyone as if they mattered. The contrast is jarring.
Charles fixes his sleeve, turning to you with a tight smile, and continues to talk. His voice is steady and composed, but the words drift past you without settling. Your mind keeps wandering back to Mingyu, to the warmth of his laugh, the way he looked at you like you were something rare. Marthaâs words from the night before echo again, heavier now, harder to ignore.
ââand the guest list should be finalized by next week,â Charles says.
You donât respond.
âDarling?â he tries again.
Nothing.
He says your name once more, firmer this time. âAre you listening?â
You blink, startled, pulled back into the present. âIâm sorry, what?â
He studies you for a moment, concern flickering across his face. âI was saying we need to decide on the venue for the rehearsal dinner. Mother prefers something formal. I thought perhaps the Whitmore estate would be suitable.â
âSounds good,â you say automatically.
He continues, warming to the subject. âWeâll need to schedule fittings, and thereâs the matter of the invitations. I want everything to be impeccable. People remember these things.â He smiles at you, reaching for your hand. âI want our life to begin properly.â
You nod, but the thought makes your chest feel hollow. You try to imagine it, standing beside him, building a life that looks perfect from the outside. But you canât picture your heart racing the way it does with Mingyu, canât imagine laughing without restraint, or feeling seen in the quiet moments.
Charles squeezes your hand gently. âYouâll be happy,â he says, certain. âWeâll be very good together.â
But inside, you know it isnât the same. He doesnât make your pulse quicken. He doesnât linger in your thoughts when he leaves the room. Your heart doesn't beat for him the same way it does for Mingyu.
And that realization settles in your chest, heavy and undeniable.
You push your chair back suddenly, the sound scraping a little too loud against the floor.
âI need to go,â you say.
Charles looks up at you, startled. âGo? Now?â He sets his cutlery down, confusion clear on his face. âWhere do you need to be? I can have the driver take us.â
âItâs something I just remembered,â you reply quickly, already reaching for your bag. âYou donât need to trouble yourself.â
He studies you, concern creeping in. âAre you unwell?â
âNo,â you say, softening your voice. âIâm fine. Truly.â You manage a small smile. âThank you for breakfast, Charles.â
You donât trust yourself to say anything more. You turn and leave before he can ask another question.
The car ride is quiet. Your hands twist in your lap, thoughts racing, heart pounding with a strange urgency you donât fully understand. When the driver slows near the salesroom, you step out almost before the car comes to a full stop.
You take a few hurried steps forward.
Then you stop.
Not far from the entrance, Mingyu stands with a woman you donât recognize. Sheâs close to him, closer than youâve ever been in public. She reaches up, brushes his hair aside with easy familiarity, laughing at something he says. He bends slightly toward her, smiling, relaxed in a way that makes your chest ache.
You donât like the way it looks.
You donât like how quickly your throat tightens.
You donât like how small you suddenly feel.
Without thinking, you turn back.
You open the car door and slide in, avoiding the window. âTake me home,â you say quietly.
With only a month left to the wedding, everything around you moves at a relentless pace. There are fittings and meetings and lists that never seem to end. And yet, in the quiet moments between it all, your thoughts betray you. They drift to Mingyu. To that night at the salesroom. To the way you stopped going there after seeing him with that woman. You have not spoken since.
âI like this one. What about you, honey?â your motherâs voice pulls you back.
You lift your eyes to the mirror. The gown youâre wearing is white and luminous, silk falling softly against your figure, delicate embroidery catching the light with every small movement. It is beautiful. Effortlessly so. Anyone would look at you and see a bride ready for her future. You look at your motherâs reflection and nod, smiling.
âYes,â you say. âItâs lovely.â
She smiles back, pleased, adjusting the veil with gentle hands. âYou look radiant,â she says, proud.
The drive home is quiet, the gown carefully packed away, your mind still elsewhere. When you step inside the house, setting your things down, a familiar voice carries from the sitting room.
You stop short.
You freeze for half a second before your heart leaps. âJoshua?â you call out, disbelief turning into joy as you rush forward.
He barely has time to brace himself before you throw your arms around him. He laughs, arms wrapping around you just as tightly. âMissed me that much, huh?â
You pull back just enough to look at him, smiling so wide it almost hurts. âYou have no idea,â you say, hugging him again, holding on like youâre afraid he might disappear.
Joshua pulls back just enough to look at you properly, his eyes narrowing in that familiar, annoying way that means heâs knows everything.
âWell,â he says slowly, lips twitching, âIâve been told youâve been acting⊠strange.â
You frown. âStrange how?â
He hums, pretending to think. âQuiet. Distant. Smiling at walls. Very unlike my little sister.â He leans closer, mock-serious. âSomeone even said you look like youâre about to bolt at any given moment.â
You scoff and jab him lightly in the stomach. âStop listening to gossip.â
He laughs, catching your wrist easily. âI knew it. Hit a nerve.â His voice softens as he lets go. âBig wedding coming up. Guess thatâll do that to a person.â
You shrug, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting. âItâs just⊠a lot.â
Joshua studies you for a moment, the teasing fading into something gentler. âYeah,â he says quietly. âI can see that.â
Joshua spots your mom hovering near the doorway and immediately lights up.
"Ma," he says fondly, stepping past you. He bends down and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. âYou look as beautiful as ever.â
She laughs, swatting lightly at his arm. âFlatterer. When did you get so smooth?â
âBorn this way,â he grins, then glances back at you, eyes sparkling. âClearly the good genes skipped someone, though.â
âJOSHUA,â you protest, shoving him again.
Joshua laughs, pinching your cheeks, muttering how cute you are.
You both settle at the long dining table, the chandelier above casting a warm, honeyed glow over polished wood and porcelain. Joshua leans back in his chair, watching you with that familiar, knowing grin.
âSo,â he says lightly, reaching for a napkin, âmy little bookwormâfound any new treasures lately?â His eyes flick past you, toward the doorway. âMartha tells me youâve been frequenting the bookstore more than usual these days.â
Martha appears right on cue, placing a small plate between youâwarm buttered scones dusted lightly with sugar, still smelling faintly of the oven. You shoot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. Traitor. Martha, unfazed, merely smooths her apron and disappears back into the kitchen as if she hasnât just exposed you.
Joshua is already helping himself, breaking a scone in half and popping a piece into his mouth. âMm,â he hums. âStill undefeated.â
âJust trying to give myself a break from all the wedding preparations,â you reply, reaching for one yourself. The scone flakes softly between your fingers, crumbs scattering onto the plate.
He turns toward you then, expression softening. âThat makes sense,â he says gently. âDonât push yourself too hard, yeah?â He dusts his hands together, clapping off the sugar and crumbs before resting them on the table.
Joshua stands, nudging your shoulder with his hip as he passes. âGo rest for now. You look exhausted.â He smiles, warm and teasing. âYou can play tour guide laterâI expect a full tour. Itâs been far too long since Iâve been home.â
Two weeks slipped by. The city moved on, the house filled with florists and seamstresses and quiet congratulations, and suddenly the wedding was no longer an idea but a date looming only two weeks away.
Your father insisted on hosting a party in your name, something grand and respectable, something that would assure everyone that everything was exactly as it should be. You smiled when required, stood where you were placed, listened when spoken to. And all the while, missing Mingyu felt like a clean cut under silk.
If anything, the nearness of the wedding had only made it worse. The farther you forced yourself from him, the more he occupied you. Every time you thought of going to the salesroom, of finally speaking, of ending this ache properly, something tightened inside youâfear, duty, cowardice, you didnât knowâand you would turn back before you ever reached the door.
Now you sat before the dressing table as Martha did the work for the evening, brushing your hair, pinning them with floral hair pins.
The party echoes faintly downstairsâlaughter, music, glasses clinking but it felt miles away. You already know how it is going to beâ greeting people with a put on smile, mingling in small talk with people you've never even met, searching every face without meaning too for a particular someoneâsomeone who won't even be here.
"I miss him."
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
You lift your eyes to the mirror to look at Martha behind you. Your reflection wavers, lips parting as if the truth has been pressing against them for days, waiting.
"I miss him," you breathe. "I miss Mingyu."
Her hands still. Just for a second. When she meets your gaze in the mirror, thereâs no surprise thereâonly a tired sort of pity that says I knew this moment would come. She exhales softly and resumes tying your hair, gentler now, as though you might shatter.
You donât wait for her to speak.
âItâs everywhere,â you say, words tumbling out. âWhen I wake up, when I try to read, when someone laughs and it isnât him. I keep telling myself it will passâthat it has toâbut it hasnât, Martha. Itâs only gotten worse.â Your fingers curl into the edge of the dressing table. âI havenât even seen him and still heâs⊠still there. Like heâs carved himself into me.â
She swallows, her eyes lowering for a moment before lifting again. âOh, my dear,â she murmurs, barely audible.
âI try,â you continue, voice trembling now. âI truly try to think of Charles, of my family, of whatâs expected. I try to be grateful. But when I imagine the rest of my lifeâŠâ You trail off, shaking your head. âHe doesnât disappear from it. Mingyu doesnât disappear. And that scares me.â
Marthaâs hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm and grounding. âI was afraid of this,â she admits quietly. âNot because youâre wrong to feel itâbut because love like that⊠it doesnât listen to reason.â
Your eyes sting. âAm I terrible for this?â
She leans down, resting her forehead briefly against your hair. âNo,â she says firmly. âYouâre human. And youâre in love.â
"You're in love?" Your head snaps to the door.
Joshua stands there, one hand still on the knob. Heâs dressed sharplyâas alwaysâin a dark three-piece suit, waistcoat snug, his hair is neatly combed back, but his expression is anything but composed.
He steps into the room slowly, eyes moving from your face to Martha, then back to you.
âWho are you in love with?â he asks, voice deceptively calm. âItâs not Charles, is it?â A short, humorless laugh escapes him. âThe way youâve been acting this past monthâI doubt itâs Charles. So then who is it?â
You say nothing. Your gaze slips away.
Joshuaâs jaw tightens. He studies you for a moment, something clicking into place. âIs this the person that caused your frequent visits to the bookstore??â he asks quietly.
Silence.
His voice rises. âIâm asking you something!â
The dam breaks. You fold in on yourself, sobs tearing out of your chest as apologies spill from your lipsâsoft, broken sorrys that donât even make sense anymore.
Joshua says immediately, crossing the room. He grips your shoulders, firm but careful, forcing you to look at him. His eyes soften, then harden again with disbelief. âThe wedding is in two weeks,â he says, slower now. âAnd youâreââ He exhales sharply. âIn love?â
He scoffs, dragging a hand down his face. âDoes he love you too?â
âIââ Your voice cracks. You shake your head. âI donât know.â
Joshua stiffens. âYou donâtâ you donât know?â His grip loosens. âDoes he even know you love him?â
Another shake of your head.
His hands drop completely. He turns away, pacing the room like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he says nothing. Then he stops in front of you.
âGo tell him.â
You look up, stunned. âWhat?â
âGo tell him,â Joshua repeats, voice firm, resolved. âTell him you love him.â He meets your eyes fully now. âWhatever happens after thatâweâll deal with it after. But you donât get to suffocate like this in silence.â
Your breath catches. âBut the partyââ
âIâll take care of it,â he cuts in without hesitation. âIâll make excuses. Iâll lie if I have to.â His expression softens, just a little. âYouâre my sister. I wonât watch you marry someone while loving another.â
The room feels suddenly too small. Your heart pounds so loud youâre sure they can hear it.
Joshua steps aside, gesturing toward the door.
âGo,â he says quietly. âBefore you convince yourself not to.â
The music from downstairs still hums faintly through the walls as you slip out of the house, shoes in your hands, heart racing louder than the party ever could. You move down the back steps, past the hedges, into the waiting car Joshua arranged without questions.
Your chest aches the whole way. Fear, hope, guilt, reliefâeverything tangles together until you can hardly breathe. You think of his laugh, the way he looks at you when he thinks you arenât watching, the restraint that always sat heavy on his shoulders. You think of the woman you saw him with and how it twisted something ugly and unfamiliar inside you. You donât even recognize myself anymore, you think. But you know thisâyou canât lose him without trying.
When you reach his building, you barely wait to steady yourself. You knock one too many times to be polite. The door finally opens.
Mingyu stands there, hair slightly mussed, sleeves rolled up, confusion flashing into shock the second he sees you. Your name slips out of his mouth.
âI love you.â
The words tumble out before you can lose your nerve. âI love you, and I have for some time now. I tried to stop it. I swear I did. I tried to be sensible, to be good, but every time I stayed away it hurt worse.â Your voice shakes, but you keep going. âI hated seeing you with someone who wasnât me. I hated the person I became because of itâjealous, restless, recklessâbut I hated even more the thought of never telling you.â
He just stares, stunned, whispering your name like itâs something fragile.
âI donât care if itâs inconvenient or foolish,â you press on, tears burning your eyes. âI donât care if it ruins everything Iâm supposed to want. I only know that Iââ
âI love you too.â
The words cut clean through you. You freeze, just for a heartbeat, as if your mind canât quite catch up. Your gaze drops to his mouth.
You finally kiss him with all the weeks you lost, all the words you swallowed, all the wanting that never had anywhere to go.
He exhales against your lips, hands finding your waist as if heâs afraid youâll disappear. The door shuts behind you without either of you noticing.You cling to him, fingers fisting in his shirt, heart pounding wildly as if it finally knows where it belongs.
Kissing him is nothing like you rehearsed in your head on all those sleepless nights. In your imagination it had been softer. This isnât. This is messy and immediate and a little desperate, like both of you have been standing on opposite sides of a locked door and someone finally turned the key.
You pull back only long enough to breathe, but he follows you instinctively, forehead brushing yours, his nose grazing your cheek as if distance, even an inch of it, is suddenly unacceptable.
"Need you." you whimper around his lips.
His eyes search yours for a second, just making sureâand whatever he finds there breaks the last bit of restraint he had left.
He kisses you again, deeper this time. One hand slides from your waist to your back, flattening against your spine, pulling you flush against him. The heat of him startles you. You can feel his heartbeat, fast and uneven, matching the chaos in your own chest. Your fingers slide up into his hair, and he makes a quiet sound against your mouth.
He pulls away just barely, his thumb brushing your cheek, slower than any movement so far, as if heâs reminding both of you to breathe. Your chest rises and falls unevenly anyway. You donât realize how tightly youâre holding his shirt until his other hand gently covers yours where itâs fisted in the fabric.
âYouâre okay?â he asks softly.
You nod, but the word doesnât come out. You can barely think past how close he isâhow every place heâs touching you feels suddenly more sensitive than it has any right to. He kisses you again. Your shoulders relax under his hands, and you lean into him without realizing, trusting the steadiness of his grip.
His mouth leaves yours and for a second you think you did something wrong. Then his lips brush the corner of your jaw.
You inhale sharply. His hand slides slowly down your arm. Your fingers curl into his shoulder to steady yourself as his mouth traces lower.
He pulls your skirt up, revealing your wet undergarment. He pulls your panty down.
"Oh baby." He sighs as if he's seen the gates of heaven.
His face moves closer to your heat. He licks you slowly from hole to clit, humming pleasantly at the taste, making you clasp a hand over your mouth.
He slowly drags his tongue, circling your clit, before sucking it hard, making you arch your back.
His fingers and tongue work in harmonyâcurling inside you, as he ruins your pussy.
The stimulation causes you to clamp your thighs around his face. Mingyu's fingers dig on your hips, as he pulls away from you, gasping. "You good, love?"
You sigh out loud. Unable to form any words, you just nod. Giving you a small smile he dives back, tongue fucking you. His index finger moves tauntingly inside you, his thumb never leaving your clit.
Mingyu whispers soft endearments, each one followed by another long lick that makes your hips buck against his face.
"Mingyuâ" you gasp as his tongue explores your insides. Your body starts throbbing profusely as heat builds up in your cunt, his digits going knuckle deep before pulling out again, just to thrust all the way in, hitting every single nerve that leaves you cumming in no time, letting out a soft, choked moan as your entire being spasms and trembles with exertion.
Mingyu laughs as he pulls his tongue out of you, his face still pressed on you. He gives your clit one final kiss before getting up to kiss your mouth.
His lips linger against yours, as though savoring the simple fact of being allowed to be this close to you. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like there is nowhere else he needs to be but here, with you.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling, his smile barely there but unmistakably tender. His hand slides from yours to your waist.
He exhales a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. âThank you,â he murmurs, voice thick with feeling. âFor choosing usâfor choosing me.â
He leans in, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into his arms, holding you like heâs afraid the moment might slip away if he doesnât.
Morning comes softly in his house.
Light slips in through thin curtains, settling over the familiar walls and the quiet hum of a city just waking up.
You turn your head to see Mingyu still asleep beside you, one arm flung loosely above his head, hair falling into his eyes in a way that makes him look younger.
The sight of him sends a strange, tender ache through your chest. Last night feels almost unreal now, like something you mightâve imagined if the warmth of him werenât still right here.
As you sit up slowly, you feel the mattress beside you shift.
âYouâre awake,â he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
You turn back to him, smiling before you can stop yourself. âGood morning.â
He blinks at you for a second, then smiles tooâslow, disbelieving, like heâs still making sure you didnât vanish with the night. He reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist, grounding himself. âYouâre still here.â
âI am,â you say quietly. âI donât plan on going anywhere.â
That does something to him. You can see it in the way his shoulders relax, the way he exhales. He sits up beside you, close but not crowding, as if heâs relearning how to be with you without restraint.
Neither of you talks about what comes next. Not the wedding. Not the fallout.
For now, thereâs just the morning light, the shared silence, and the simple, terrifying truth that you chose each otherâand for the first time in weeks, the weight in your chest eases.
Mingyu presses his forehead to yours, gentle this time, reverent.
âWeâll figure it out,â he says.
You believe him. It's going to be alright. You just need to talk to your father andâit will be fine, you tell yourself.
By the time you reach your house, the weight of reality settles in. You pause at the door longer than necessary, fingers resting on the handle. You draw in a breath, square your shoulders, and step inside, already wondering how to begin saying what can no longer be unsaid.
When you step into the sitting room, it feels like walking into the quiet before a storm.
Your father is seated on the sofa, spine straight, hands resting on his knees as if he has been waiting for this moment. Your mother sits beside him, her shoulders drawn in, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Joshua stands near the wall, leaning against it, arms crossed tight across his chest. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed on the floor like he already knows what is coming.
âWhere were you?â He asks too calmly, his voice stripped of warmth.
Your mouth opens, then closes again. You donât trust your voice.
He takes a step forward. âWhere were you?â he repeats, deeper now, heavier.
When you still don't answer, his control fractures. âYou spent a night in another manâs house,â he says, his voice rising, anger breaking through at last. âAnd that too a regular fella. Did you forget that you are engaged.â
Your mother gasps, "darlingâ"
"He's not just anybody, I love him." You finally find your voice.
He lets out a sharp, humorless huff. âLove.â He paces once, agitated. âYou embarrassed me in front of everyone for this childish love. I don't care, you can show all the love you want after youâre married to Charles.â
Your eyes sting. âI canât marry someone I donât love.â
âDo you hear yourself?â he huffs. âAfter everything that has been arranged. The invitations. The guests. The name attached to ours.â
"I hear myself very well," your voice becomes bold. "This is the first time I ever decided something for myself,and you cannot tell me to change it."
âI donât want to see you anymore,â he says at last, voice cold and final. âIf you insist on shaming this family, then stay out of my sight.â
Joshua straightens slightly. âPaââ Your father lifts a hand without looking at him.
Your mother reaches for his sleeve, shaking her head gently. Tears brim in her eyes, but she keeps her voice steady.
âPlease,â she says. âThis is still our daughter.â
Your father pulls his hand from your mother's grip and looks away from you, as though the sight of you pains him. "Stay out of my sight."
You turn to leave.
In your room, you sit heavily on the edge of the bed before letting yourself fall back against the mattress, still in yesterdays dress. You stare up at the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks and shadows, feeling hollowed out and sore in places you didnât know could ache but no tears come. Your heart is filled with satisfaction. After all for the first time in your life, you chose yourself, and the weight of that choice presses gently, relentlessly, against your chest.
A knock comes not long after.
You sit up.
Your mother enters first, her eyes glassy, lashes wet. Joshua follows her in, closing the door quietly behind them, as though sound itself might shatter you.
Your mother crosses the room in two quick steps and pulls you into her arms. You fold into her instinctively, breathing her in, the familiar warmth of her holding you together.
âOh, my darling,â she whispers, her voice breaking despite herself.
Joshua lingers near the foot of the bed, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense. âYou did nothing wrong,â he says firmly, as if daring the world to argue.
âI didnât want it to happen like this,â you murmur into your motherâs shoulder. âI didnât want to hurt him.â
âI know,â she says softly, brushing your hair back with trembling fingers. âBut I would rather you be brave than obedient. I would not want my daughter to be stuck in a loveless marriage.â
Joshua exhales. âDonât carry all of it tonight,â he says. âPa is⊠Pa. Heâll come around. Maybe not soon. But someday.â
You look between them, heart aching but full. âI hope so.â
Joshua hesitates, then moves to sit beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. A crooked smile tugs at his lips. âSeeing you spend the night outside, I'm taking everything went well."
A small laugh escapes you before you can stop it. You glance at him, nodding, a shy smile curving your mouth.
Joshua lets out a satisfied hum. âWell,â he says, leaning back on his hands, âIâd really like to meet the beeâs knees who managed to make my sister fall head over heels.â
Your smile softens, something warm blooming behind your ribs. You donât answerâdonât need to. The way your eyes drift, the quiet in your breathing, says enough.
Your mother watches the exchange, her expression easing. She reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek, slow and tender. Then she cups your face fully, studying you the way she did when you were small, pressing a kiss on your forehead.
âRest now,â she whispers. âYouâve been strong enough for one day.â
You lie back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling again as they leave. Your chest still aches, the future still uncertain, but beneath it all is a steady warmth. Because now, you have Mingyu with you now.
Things do not fix themselves overnight. You learn that slowly.
Your father still does not acknowledge Mingyuâs. Mingyu, to his credit, never pushes.
Joshua, on the other hand, is a lost cause.
They take to each other like they have been separated at birth and only just reunited. Inside jokes form within days. They argue over food, over music, over which one of them would survive longer in the wild.
Sometimes you sit between them, listening to them bicker, both talking over each other, and you realize you're playing gooseberry in your own relationship.
But you don't mind.
Your mother warms to Mingyu quietly, the way she warms to all things she trusts. She notices the way he listens when you speak, the way he reaches for your hand without thinking, the way his voice softens around you. She asks him if heâs eaten, if heâs tired, if heâs happy. She presses an extra helping of food onto his plate and says, âYouâre too thin.â
You see the way his eyes shine at that.
Life is calmer nowânot easier or perfect, but you're happier now. You and Mingyu build something slow and sturdy. Morning routines. Shared silences. Arguments that end in laughter or apologies murmured into skin. Love that does not demand you shrink or bend.
Some nights, when the house is quiet and the world feels far away, you lie beside him and think of the girl you used to beâthe one who thought love was something that happened to you, not something you chose.
You chose this.
You chose him.
And when Mingyu turns to you in the dark, half-asleep, arm pulling you closer like itâs the most natural thing in the world, you knowâwith a certainty that settles deep in your bonesâthat whatever matters remain unfinished, whatever bridges yet await their crossing, you are, in that moment, precisely where you are meant to be.
IN WHICH There isnât anything Kim Mingyu can come back home to, no one waiting for him at night when he gets off his shift, so when he finally takes a few days off, his plan consists of two simple things: drinks and sleep. But his world takes a spin around when he stumbles upon a group of officers arresting a young lady begging for help after a night out. If Mingyu has one weakness, itâs people in distress, especially if it involves a child in need.
pairing ⣠aviator!mingyu x fem!reader
genre ⣠fluff, smut
word count ⣠28.4k
contains ⣠prostitution (no explicit scenes regarding prostitution tho), reader working as a prostitute, mature themes, alcohol consumption, age gap (5/6 years â not specified, only implied), reader with a child, 1920s setting, illegal activities, girl dad!mingyu
smut warnings ⣠oral (f. rec.), a bit of dry humping, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink
âȘ izzy adds... thank you so much to @studiosvt for hosting this collab!! It's been a lot of fun!! 26 fics by so many talented writers, you guys have a lot to look forward to! Also big thank you to dreamie @straylightdream for making this banner I cannot stop looking at it she got the vibe done perfectly!! I truly believe Mingyu should also get a big thank you because he is such a great man in this, I am falling for him all over again.
only lightly proof read
The house is just as he remembers â quiet, empty, lacking the personality he's beginning to realize he misses in his life.
He used to love the white walls in his house and how they'd make the space feel bigger. But lately, every time he comes back home to the emptiness, he hates how large it is more. Maybe if he had a smaller house, if he lived in a one room apartment stuffed with his things, he wouldn't even have enough time to think about these stuff. He'd be glad to drop onto his bed after work and fall asleep to the sound of people chatting into the night outside. He doesn't even have that. The streets die around eleven pm, letting the silence eat him alive.
It's been weeks since Mingyu was last able to take some time off at work. In theory, it seemed like an awesome idea â sleeping all day, seeing his friends and enjoying the thrill of illegal drinking. When he sets his travel bag in the hallway and walks into his living room, the happiness he felt from taking a break starts to slowly disappear.
With a heavy sigh on his lips, he heads towards the couch, closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. The quiet is drowning, his heart aching as his thoughts overtake him. It's the same thing that's been haunting him for the last three years â the fear of living his life alone, with no one waiting for him at home and making his day brighter. It's scary. The idea of never finding anyone to spend this life with scares him.
He might have the money, a stable job, a life many dream about â but it's not the life he aches for. He'd exchange everything for a loving family instead in the blink of an eye if given the chance.
A curse slips past his lips as he opens his eyes again, the back of his hand resting on his forehead as he stares at the ceiling. He needs to do something with himself, occupy himself and think about different things â anything, really. As long as he can push the loneliness aside and pretend like he is okay, like he has everything he's ever wanted.
The first to come to mind are his friends â the smiles of his loved ones that always help him focus on the better things. Jumping up from the couch again, he quickly grabs his wallet and car keys, hoping his friends are home and available to keep him company.
Listening to the loudness of his car's engine, Mingyu manages to calm his thoughts for a while. He hums in a soft rhythm as he waits for the red light to turn green again. He should go dancing soon. If Seokmin isn't home â which he so desperately hopes for â maybe that should be his next destination. It's not often that he gets to listen to music unless it's his coworkers singing their lungs out on a drunken night after a successful flight. And if he's honest, they are always off tune.
Seokmin doesn't live too far away from him, and so he stops again after twenty minutes. Compared to his, Seokmin has a lot smaller place. And yet, Mingyu is certain he's never felt like it was little in any way. Min's place has always been filled with laughter and comfort ever since he knew him. It might be why he was so drawn to him in the first place, knowing the two of them would be friends right then when they spoke for the first time. It's probably also why his place was the first he thought of, driving his car here without second guessing anything.
And while Mingyu loves all of his friends, the welcoming sight of Seokmin at the door will always warm his heart and make him feel the most like he is home.
"It's been so long," Seokmin wraps his arms around his friend without questioning anything. "How have you been?" Stepping aside, he creates enough space for Mingyu to step inside, closing the door right behind him.
"It's been good," he hums, taking off his jacket. Seokmin takes it from him immediately, hanging it for him. "I just got back home. Two weeks of freedom." His friend whistles with a laugh, hurrying him into the living room so they can sit down and talk. "What about you, though? Your stories must be so much more exciting," he asks as he takes a seat on the couch, Seokmin following right behind.
"My stories?" He shakes his head with a soft laugh. "All I do is work. It's honestly incredible how you managed to catch me on my day off. Happens once in a blue moon."
"I could say the same. It feels like I've been working nonstop for the past two months," Mingyu sighs.
"That is because it's been two months since you were home. Why don't you take it easy and enjoy life while you still can? It's not like you don't have the money for it," Seokmin suggests, offering him the pie his wife made before she fall asleep on the couch and he carried her into their bedroom.
Mingyu politely refuses, saying he isn't hungry. "And what would I do if I was just home all the time? I know it might be what you wish to be able to do â stay home and spend time with your wife â but I don't have anyone to spend my free time with. It's better when I'm flying, keeping myself busy."
There is no right way Seokmin could answer. Mingyu doesn't have to say it out loud for him to understand â to see that he also has his own problems he doesn't talk about. Opening his mouth to answer, he slowly closes it again when he realizes he's not sure how. It's hard when he isn't sure what it is that bothers his friend in the first place.
"Am I dreaming or is that you, Kim?" The female voice interrupts both of their thoughts, both men turning to the door to see Seokmin's wife standing there, her eyes scanning the familiar figure she hasn't seen in months.
"In all of my glory," he smiles, getting up to hug her. "Hi, Luna."
"Min can not stop talking about how much he misses you," she whispers, low enough so that her husband won't hear. It makes Mingyu chuckle, a soft smile decorating his face as he steps back and takes in the sight of her.
"Marriage suits you," he comments, making her roll her eyes. "I hope you're not making it too hard for him, though. You know he is weak."
"I can hear you guys," Seokmin interrupts them with a scoff, joining his wife's side and wrapping his arm around her waist. "Did you sleep well?" He asks as he presses a kiss to her temple. Mingyu watches, his smile faltering for a split second. It's quick, neither of his friends noticing, but he feels it â the way his heart aches at the sight, wishing for the same thing. He needs booze. And he needs it now.
"I'm sorry for waking you up, Luna. Maybe we should go someplace else? Give the lady her well deserved relax," he offers, trying to sound considerate instead of desperate.
"You guys should go and have fun," she agrees, glancing at her husband to assure him it's okay to leave her alone. "You two haven't seen each other in ages," she continues and even though Mingyu isn't sure if she saw right through him or not, he appreciates what she's doing for him. "How long will you be in town for?"
"Two weeks. I should get back in the air after that."
"So a plenty of time for us to catch up," she grins. "Go have fun together and we can sit down a different day. You'll tell me all about your travels and if you met any interesting people," she winks at him with a smile, one he decides to ignore. Glancing at Seokmin instead, he waits for him to give his opinion.
"Alright," he grins. "Let's get the guys to join us and have some fun." He glances at his wife, pulling her into a reassuring kiss before joining Mingyu's side. "While staying on our best behavior, of course."
"Right," she shakes her head, rushing them off. Laughter echoes of the walls, just like Mingyu is used to. Seokmin's home has always been like this â a place he wishes to come back to much more than his own house.
âĄâžâž
Seokmin leads him through the streets of New York, visiting alleys Mingyu never stepped into. Every time he's visited Seungcheol or Minghao, he drove to their house. He genuinely can't remember if he's ever walked to their places ever since they all settled down. Maybe that's what makes this quiet walk to precious.
As soon as all four of them are together again, just like they used to be all the time before falling into the adult life and worrying about work, money, and living, all his worries seem to disappear. His mind quiets, now only filled with the thoughts of the speakeasy they will lead him to. He tries his best to focus on the road as they move, but he quickly gives up when he realizes he's never set foot in these streets. He'll just have to hope he can catch a taxi back home later.
Grabbing the closest empty table they see, all four of them fall into the booth, the singer's voice ringing in their ears immediately. It's loud despite it only being around seven pm, the bar filled with people. "I'll go order, first round is on me," Seungcheol proclaims.
"Thanks, I'll get the next one," Seokmin smiles, watching him walk off to the bar.
Mingyu soon stops counting the number of drinks he's had. He loses count when whiskey joins the table, the liquor sliding down his throat with ease. It might be the alcohol honestly, but the more he listens to his friends talking about how life's been treating them, the more he misses them. Being in the skies all the time gives him the freedom he wishes for along with a fresh mind, but it also takes away from him nights like these. With his ears red from the alcohol, he doesn't even notice Seungcheol leaving the table, nor the fact he hasn't come back yet even though it's already been forty minutes.
"I need to piss," he blurts out, settling his empty shot glass down on the table.
"Don't throw up!" Minghao calls after him and Mingyu just waves him off with his hand. It's then that he catches a glimpse of Cheol, leaning against the bar and talking with some girl â one of the singers he assumes due to her clothing. Shaking his head at him, he looks ahead again, focusing on not tripping over his own feet and getting to the toilet.
When he comes back, Cheol is back at their table with two girls beside him. He wants to be shocked, act like he is surprised, but the emotions don't come. If anything, he's expected this. Seungcheol always knew how to act around women, how to speak and behave. Yet, somehow he was just as single as Mingyu. Well, except for the fact he is sure Cheol has women sleeping over at his place, even if it's just for pleasure.
"There he is," Cheol smiles, telling him with his eyes to play into whatever his plan is. "I'm sure the two of you would find some things in common." Mingyu's eyes widen for a split second before he quickly composes himself again, taking in the sight of the brunette looking up at him. This is certainly not the best time to be meeting any women, but he can try his best.
Taking a seat beside her, he avoids meeting eyes with the guys, too scared of what they have to say. "I've heard many things about you," she says, her voice low enough so only he can hear.
"Like?"
"You haven't married yet."
Right. With two of his friends in a happy marriage and Seungcheol occupied with her friends, all that was left for her was him. "What's your name?" He asks instead of acknowledging what she said, watching as she leans forward slightly, giving him a clear view at her cleavage if he wanted to. He keeps his eyes on hers, refusing to let them fall down. It doesn't seem to please her much. "Choi Hyuna." He repeats her name, trying how it sounds on his lips. It's plain if he is honest. "Do you work here? Do you sing?"
"Yes," she shrugs, straightening her back again. "I'm on in thirty minutes." He nods, glancing at the current woman on stage whose voice fills the room. "Will you watch me?"
Meeting her eyes again, he finds nothing but lust behind them. "If you want me to," he nods. "I could."
"You should," she smiles. "You should wait for my performance to be over and help me home." Unfortunately for her, stuff like these never worked for him. Simple night tangled in each others warmth just to never see each other again was never something he hoped for. If she wasn't with her friend, she might have had a chance with Seungcheol and find better luck there.
"Maybe," he forces a smile, grabbing the first beer he sees on the table and taking a sip. The conversation doesn't flow as he'd wish for it to. Hyuna constantly tries to touch his biceps or thigh, doing everything she is used to working on the other guys that visit the speakeasy. But as Mingyu's responses become more and more timid, her frustration only grows.
He only feels like he can breathe again when she leaves the table to go up on the stage. With a heavy sigh leaving his lips, he relaxes in his seat. "Should we get another round?" He asks, looking around at his friends. Well, the remaining ones as Seungcheol manages to escape the bar a few minutes ago with the girl hanging on his arm.
"I should head back home," Seokmin shakes his head. "I miss my wife."
"Of course, you're right," Mingyu agrees. "Say hi to Luna for me." His eyes trail to Minghao, a hopeful look on his face. But as soon as he meets his friend's eyes, he knows he doesn't plan to stay with him either. "You should get back as well."
"Come visit some day," Minghao says as he stands up. "We do a game night with the guys every Friday, you should come. And you can tell us all about your new girl," he motions towards Hyuna on stage. Mingyu nods despite disgust spreading through his entire body just at the thought of that â of calling her his girl. It's not like she did anything wrong, deep down he understands her, but it's also not something he could do. All he can do for her is wish she finds someone else, someone who would fit her preferences more.
Mingyu doesn't leave the speakeasy right after his friends do, buying himself another shot as he watches Hyuna on the stage, forcing a smile whenever she looks his way. She has a nice voice, and the longer he listens, the more he thinks she was made to do exactly this â sing on a stage. It's nice when something like this happens, when people find their calling. A part of him wonders if his friends looks at him and think the same â that what he does is something he was made for, that being in the air truly is what he is meant to do. He hopes so.
The watch on his hand clearly says two in the morning. He didn't mean to stay for so long but he just couldn't find it in himself to leave. Once he did, it was only because Hyuna was getting off the stage and he was scared she'd want to talk to him again. It's pathetic really. He is pathetic. He spends all his time thinking about what it'd be like if he had someone's company, if he wasn't just alone all the time, and yet the moment a woman is interested in him, he can't even talk to her properly.
Maybe he should have tried. He should have talked to her more, get to know her before writing her off and labeling her as someone who wouldn't look his way if it wasn't for the fact all his other friends were already spoken for. A part of him debates turning around and seeing her again, but he quickly snaps out of it, reminding himself how that conversation would go and that he isn't wrong for wanting more than she has to offer.
"Please! I'm sorry! I won'tâ"
"Quiet!"
Mingyu's eyes snap up when the argument reaches his ears, freezing when he sees a group of officers from the sheriff department holding a lady and trying to drag her to their car. It takes a mere second for his feet to move again, this time faster than before, trying to get to the scene as quickly as possible. "What's going on here?" He yells loud enough for them to hear, catching the attention of two of them.
"This doesn't concern you!" One of them yells. By the starting wrinkles on his face and the color of his hair, he'd guess he is in his late forties. Why on Earth is a grown man like this holding a lady who couldn't be any older than twenty three in a way that could easily break her arm if he doesn't control his strength properly.
"I think it does," he argues. "You're going to hurt her!" He points out, hoping to get them to back off. He presses further, asking them to let her go and explain why they are arresting her. It doesn't seem to go like he wishes for it to, though, the officers' anger only growing.
"Please," you interrupt, avoiding the strangers eyes as you beg for forgiveness. "I know what I did was wrong. I know. Please, just let me go this once, I promise I won't show up here again," you quickly shake your head, your pleading eyes flickering between all four officers around you. "I have a daughter waiting for me. I can'tâ she needs me."
Mingyu's eyes widen at your pleas, something in him snapping as he listens to you. "How much for letting her off?" It's a risk. He can't know if he's using the right method, if it won't just rile them up more and he won't end up in a cell right beside you, but at the moment, it is a risk he is willing to take.
He watches the officers hesitate, exchanging a look before slowly dropping their arms to their sides. He doesn't wait for them to name their price, reaching into his pocket and taking a handful of clams. Handing it to the eldest of them, he finally looks at you too, looking for any bruises they could have left with their hold. "Is that good?" By the gawking eyes of theirs, he guesses it is. Well then, he doesn't need to bother himself with them anymore then. "Are you okay?"
"Thank you," you mumble without meeting his eyes, staying still until the group drives off.
"Do you need a ride home?" He asks, his head tilted as he watches you.
It's then that you finally meet his eyes, caught of guard when you see the brown orbs, watching you as if you were something fragile. You quickly shake your head at his offer. The idea of having a stranger drive you home and find out where you live doesn't sound too appealing. His eyes stay on you even after you refuse, making you sigh. "I didn't lie before. I need to get back home. Can you come back tomorrow? I can do something for you then I justâ"
"That's not why I helped," he interrupts you, stopping you before you can finish. "I don't want anything in return. I just want to know you're okay."
"It's never just out of a good heart," you mumble as you walk past him. He turns with you, keeping his eyes on your figure. He hesitates, watching you move further away from him. He can't get his feet to move, to catch up onto you and ask you once more if you're okay. With your earlier implication, he is scared you'll take it the wrong way again, and he'll just end up bothering you the same way the officers did.
"Wait!" He calls once you're at the end of the alley, ready to walk away and never see him again. "What's your name?"
You stop mid step when his voice reaches you, your shoulders visibly tense no matter how he looks at it. Closing his mouth again, he regrets calling after you. He should have just left you alone, let you get back home to your daughter and pretend he never saw you.
You glance over your shoulder, taking in the sight of him â nervous and hesitant despite your first impression of him being completely different thanks to the muscles and height he carries. "Neve," you tell him your work name, not giving him a chance to say anything back before disappearing into the night.
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Neve.
The name repeats in his head over and over again.
It was three am when he got back home, struggling to get out of his clothes so he could shower before falling into his bed. He ended up catching a taxi that took him home, riding with his window rolled down in hopes of the fresh air helping him sober up. When he spoke to you and the officers, it felt like adrenaline took over, helping him think rationally for a moment. But as soon as he sat in the back of the yellow car, he started to feel the alcohol in his system.
The shower helped a bit too, but he still ended up falling into his bed naked, not bothered enough to put his pajama pants on. Sleep caught up to him right after. But even then, you stayed on his mind. His dream was full of you, your figure everywhere he looked, your scared eyes finding his in an instant. It's the memory of the officers holding you that clouds his thoughts, worries of what could have happened if he didn't show up making it hard for him to sleep.
Even when he wakes up at noon and goes to cook lunch for himself, you are still all he can think about. If you got home safe last night, if you got to your daughter, if everything is okay.
As if in trance, he finds himself leaving his house and following his and Seokmin's footsteps, exploring the streets of New York on his own this time. It's stupid, he knows it is. But for some reason, he hopes that by some luck, he'll be able to see you again if he goes into the same alley. That the universe will be on his side this time and he'll get a chance to calm his mind when he sees you are safe.
However, as soon as he reaches the alley, he wishes more and more he won't find you here. It's only now that he walks through the street that he realizes properly where he is, his smile falling and his brows furrowing further every time he passes a homeless person sleeping on the cold ground. He'd like to think that if it was a different situation, he would worry and try to find a way to help them, but right now, all he can think about is if you go through the same thing â if he'll find you sleeping somewhere on the ground as well; with your daughter cuddled up with you.
It doesn't make sense for him to worry so much. All he knows about you is your name after all. But just like all throughout the night, it's you who clouds his mind. The deeper into the alley he walks, the more scared he gets, slowly regretting his decision. Would it have been better if he let the officers take you last night? Would it be better to let you spend a night in jail and stay warm? Maybe he shouldn't have messed with you and think better about his decisions. It's all he can think about, the different ways the night could have went. But when he remembers what you said, begging for them to let you go because you need to get to your daughter, he doesn't regret helping you in the slightest.
"Now, this is the most perfect cat I've ever seen." Mingyu's eyes follow the voice, finding a woman on the side eyeing him up and down. She looks his age, twenty six if he had to guess. "It's not often I see such handsome men around here," she continues, eyeing him like he's a pray she's going to hunt. "Wouldn't you like to come inside with me?" She bats her eyelashes at him, her words making his eyes trail to the building behind her. It looks ordinary from the outside, nothing special about the building. He looks through the window, noticing an empty stage and a bar inside. For some reason he doubts it is simply a speakeasy, though.
"I'm sorry," he smiles politely, taking a step back. "I don't think I'm in the right place." She smiles back, a sign she understands his refusal. He looks back at the way he came from, ready to give up on this meaningless hunt and go back to his house, but something in him stops him, making him take in the sight of her again. It feels like an invisible force, the universe keeping him where he should be. "Do you know Neve?" He blurts out the question before he can think about how strange he'll look if she doesn't.
She tilts her head, pretending to think, her black hair falling into her face. He sees right through her, understanding what those clueless eyes of her long for. Taking out his wallet, he pulls out a few banknotes and watches as her eyes widen at the sight. She reaches forward and he places them in her hand. She tugs the money into her top happily, smiling when she meets his eyes again. "Neve works with me."
A colleague. Okay, that's a start. There are many things he wants to ask her about â where you live, what it is you do, what you like, what you hate â but she beats him to it, talking again. "She is usually on time but she hasn't came in today yet," she mumbles, the complain falling off her lips as if she's been waiting to talk badly about you all day. "I hate working out here but guess who had to cover for her?"
"Why do you hate working here?" He interrupts her, tilting his head confusedly.
"You're cute," she comments, leaning back against the wall behind her. "You have no idea, huh? It's dangerous out here," she shrugs simply. "Much more than when I'm working inside. Out here, flirting with men, one wrong move and I can say hello to the big house."
That's all he needs to hear in order to connect the dots, his eyes widening at the realization. Of course. It now makes sense why you were under arrest when he met you, why you were outside so late at night with your clothes hugging your body and revealing more skin that was probably comfortable with the night air around. Alcohol warmed him up last night so he walked around in just a shirt, but if it wasn't for it he'd definitely want a jacket on top.
"Could you tell her I stopped by? Whenever she comes in."
"I guess," she shrugs. "Is that all you want me to say?"
"Tell her my name is Mingyu and I'm not asking for any compensation no matter what she thinks. All I want is to know if she's okay."
Nodding, she eyes him up and down, deciding to try her luck once more. "And you're sure you don't want to come in?"
Forming an apologetic smile on his lips, he shakes his head again. "Looking for that sort of company is not for meâŠ" he trails off, hoping she can introduce herself when he asks for her name with his eyes.
"Jisoo," she finishes for him. "Suit yourself," she hums, fixing her dress and stepping from the wall. She stops beside him, looking up to meet his eyes. "If there is one thing we learn on the job, it's that men always want something in return. It's hard to trust one when he says otherwise, especially since most of us got burned in the past. If you truly mean what you said, though, then know that you have my admiration."
Looking down at her, he finds himself repeating her words in his head. She pats his biceps gently, smiling at another guy currently passing by. Mingyu steps aside, barely looking at her again as he walks back the path he walked here through. "I'll come back again tomorrow!" He calls before getting too far away, catching Jisoo's smile before she gives her full attention to the young man in front of her.
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One would think nothing can get lost in a one-room apartment. Well, they would be wrong. As you frantically look all over the place, searching for the baby medicine you are convinced you have somewhere, you are once again reminded that things can get lost everywhere. As if this forsaken cursed apartment wasn't enough on top of your daughter crying beside your leg because she is in pain, you are late for work.
"I know, baby," you coo, picking her up into your arms and looking through the bathroom again. When you don't find anything, you just pray your little girl's fever will go down on its own. You're not sure how you'd be able to deal with it if it doesn't. Hurrying outside, you stop in front of your neighbor's door, knocking as if your life would depend on it. If you're honest, it does. You need him to open the door.
Thankfully, the door opens just as you snap your palm on it again and you stand face to face with your neighbor. You don't greet him or ask how he is doing. Instead, you try putting on your best smile, "Please, Jihoon, just untilâ"
"No," he shakes his head, stopping you before you can even finish your sentence. You don't need to voice it fully for him to understand what you're asking, his eyes falling to the girl you hold tightly in your arms. He looks mad, which you more than understand. But you need him. You can't just waltz into work with your daughter's hands wrapped around your neck as she cries because of the sickness that has gotten to her.
You met Jihoon when you first moved in, a few weeks after your daughter was born when you started working for your boss. He never cared about you much, barely sharing hello's with you when you'd pass him on your way into your apartment. The two of you were never friends, far from it actually, but when he learned about your situation, seeing as you'd leave your daughter with some questionable looking people â that he has later found out you met through work â he offered to help looking after her from time to time.
He truly saved you back then. Had it not been for him, who knows how things would look like right now. Which is also why you appreciate him so much. And even though you know you can't just rely on him all the time, he is the only one you truly trust with your baby.
"You need to find a real babysitter," he mumbles. "I can't be doing this charity work all the time."
"I will," you blurt out, desperate to convince him to look after her while you go to work. He sighs, reaching out his arms and taking your daughter from you. She immediately wraps her baby arms around him, leaning into the comfort he always gives her. You quickly run down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder one more time before reaching the stairs. "I'll help you out when I get back!"
There's a clear implication in your voice, one that makes him roll his eyes and shake his head. "I'd rather you not!" He yells back, making you giggle as you rush down the stairs, trying to get to work as quickly as you can. Jihoon's eyes trail from your figure to your daughter in his arms, a soft smile on his lips. "Come on, Nabi, let's get your fever down so you can come to the studio with me." She cries for her mama and he just slowly rubs her back, taking her back inside with him.
You curse yourself out as you try to fix your clothes while running through the streets. You are so terribly late. You were supposed to start at five â a hour and half ago. You are so terribly screwed. By the time you reach the speakeasy it'll be 6:42, 6:40 if you're lucky and fast enough. Your boss is going to kill you.
You can't help and think of the worst case scenarios. Despite being your boss' favorite, slip ups like these certainly won't help you keep her on your side. There are many ways she could destroy your life if she wanted to â not paying for your apartment and kicking you out on the streets, sending the sheriff department to you so they could take your daughter away after finding out what you do, cutting your pay; the list doesn't end.
"You're late," Jisoo grumbles as soon as you come into her field of view.
"I know. I'm so sorry. Nabi has got a fever andâ"
"I don't care," she interrupts you. "Save that for the boss. I'm not the one who needs explanation." Jisoo moves away, stopping with her hand on the door knob. You watch her hesitate, hovering there. It almost looks like she isn't sure if she doesn't want to stay, if she doesn't want to keep your position. A heavy sigh leaves her and she drops the knob, meeting your eyes. You tilt your head confusedly. "A guys stopped by asking for you earlier.
"Who?" Your brows furrow together.
"He was tall, broad shoulders, dark hair and annoyingly gentle eyes. His name is Mingyu," she waits, scanning your face to see if you recognize him. You think you do, you think you know exactly who she is talking about. "He said he doesn't want anything in return, or something along those lines. And that he'll be back tomorrow." You nod to her, waiting for more. But more doesn't come, and before you can ask her anything else about him, she disappears inside.
Your thoughts trail back to the man from last night as you stand in front of the door, looking for customers. You have no doubt it's the same man. You couldn't look at him properly in the dark but from the glimpses you did catch, he would fit Jisoo's description. And who else would be so stupid and run back here again, just to check on your apparently? It doesn't make any sense, the way he acts. How could anyone with even a little rational thoughts care so much about a stranger?
When you think back to last night, it makes even less sense. Not only has he rushed to save you, but he spent his money on you as if it meant nothing. You saw the sum, the great amount that would make your life so much easier if you had gotten your hands on it. No one in their right mind would do that. No matter how high he sits on the food chain, no matter how much money he has, you can't figure out a single reason why he'd want to help you out of all people.
Maybe you could understand if he wanted to use your service for free, if he asked for you inside just to enjoy the power he holds after you after helping you out. But he hasn't done that. And for some reason, you don't feel like he will either. You know it would make sense, that it's something you should expect from him, from any men that wanders around you, but just like Jisoo said; his eyes look too gentle to make you believe he'd do that.
You're not sure how you feel about the last part, about knowing he wants to come back here to see you, about promising he'll be back. You can't figure out what he'll do, and if you're honest, that scares you much more than the typical men you meet on the job.
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Jihoon is already at home when you come back, the hallways dark due to the late hour. He looks sleepy when he opens the door to face you, seeing your awkward smile. "She's fell asleep as soon as we got back," he says, stepping aside so you could walk inside. "I gave her medicine and her fever went down too, so hopefully she'll be good for the rest of the night."
"Seriously, thank you so much," you say, unable to express with words how grateful you are for everything he does for you and your daughter. "My boss said she can get me some medicine soon too so if it comes back, I'll be able to get the fever back down." He nods, leading you towards his bed where Nabi peacefully sleeps, her little arms and legs sprawled all over.
"Did you think about a babysitter like I mentioned?" He asks after a moment of silence, making you look his way again. "I could help you look for someone." You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to tell him about your struggles â about the way you doubt you'd be able to pay another person to look after her despite your boss paying half of your rent â so instead you simply nod, forcing on a smile.
"Yeah, it'd be great if you could help."
He hums back, coming closer to his bed and gently scooping Nabi up, careful enough not to wake her up. "I'll carry her, come on," he nods towards the door and you nod, following him back out. You open your apartment door, allowing him to step inside and look at the mess your space is as he take her to bed. He doesn't mention it, but you see his eyes trail over the things on the floor and the stack of clothing just sitting on your kitchen counter. He settles her on the bed and turns to face you again.
You watch as his eyes scan your figure, obviously debating if he should say something or leave it be. You interrupt him before he can open his mouth, not wanting to hear it right now. "Do you think you could look after Nabi tomorrow as well? Just for like an hour or two, I swear it won't be long."
"Isn't it your day off tomorrow?" He questions, tilting his head slightly.
"It is," you agree. "I just need to take care of something. I swear I won't be longer than those two hours, through," you try your best puppy eyes on him. You are confident it won't take longer than two hours. That is the maximum you are willing to wait on Mingyu for. He doesn't get any more.
To your surprise, the eyes actually seem to work as he sighs, running his hand through his hair. "I can't believe I always get wrapped up in your stuff," he murmurs under his breath before finally accepting, your smile widening.
"Thank you, you are so amazing, Jihoon," you cross the space between you, wrapping your arms around his neck without hesitation. He doesn't hug you back but you don't need him to. You know he cares either way. He wouldn't be doing you all these favors if he didn't.
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"If anything comes up, I'll be at work, okay?" You remind Jihoon as he takes Nabi from your hands and she immediately nuzzles into his neck, just like she always seems to.
"We are going studio!" She smiles happily, the hole in her teeth obvious.
"Not today," Jihoon shakes his head. "Today we'll be home waiting for mama, okay?" Her smile falters for a second before she glances back at you, her round cheeks making you smile as well. You promise her you'll be back soon and she just nods, wiggling down from Jihoon's arms before running to hug your leg. She looks much more lively than she did yesterday now that her fever has gone, and you love seeing her like this. You debate just staying home and not going anywhere as your tiny version hangs around your leg, but when Jihoon reaches out his hand to her and she happily runs into his apartment, you shake the thought off. You know she'll have fun with Jihoon, and that's what is important.
It's not that a part of you wants to see Mingyu and see what he has to say, you convince yourself as you walk away. It's truly just about the fact Nabi will have a great time playing with your neighbor. Nothing else.
You take your time, not rushing anywhere. When you ran yesterday, it took you 12 minutes to get to the speakeasy. It takes you 25 today. You awkwardly smile at the girl standing outside of the speakeasy, her hands wrapped around a man's shoulders but her eyes anywhere but on him. It feels weird seeing what you do almost every day from afar, the uneasy feeling in your stomach staying with you even as you take your eyes off her.
Deciding to wait on the opposite side of the alley so you wouldn't be in her business, you lean against the dusty building behind you. Closing your eyes, you wait if Mingyu does show up after all.
"Neve!" The voice causes you to open your eyes again. Turning your head to face him, you feel caught off guard when your eyes land on his figure. You knew he was coming. He promised Jisoo he would come back. But somehow, deep down, you didn't want to believe it. There is no reason for him to. He isn't making any sense again. "Hi," he reaches you with a soft smile and you hum back in response, averting your eyes and letting them drop to the ground beneath your feet.
Mingyu stands beside you, leaning his back against the wall just like you, his arm brushing against your shoulder. "I came by yesterday," he speaks, his voice low, careful.
"I know."
Silence settles over the two of you and you slowly raise your head again, meeting eyes with the girl from before. The guy you saw with her before is now kissing her neck, but her eyes are on you, judging you even from afar. You can't blame her. She probably thinks you are stealing her possible clients.
"Is it about me?" You ask, forcing your eyes off the girl as the uneasy feeling reaches you again. "Did you refuse my offer because you don't find me appealing enough? If you'd like the company of a different girl in return I might be able to arrange somethingâ"
"No!" He interrupts you, much more eager than he wanted to sound. He shakes his hands in the air frantically, making your eyes widen due to his panic. "That's not why I came here. I don't care about any of that."
"What is it then?"
"You've been on my mind, so I wanted to make sure you were okay. That you got home safe to your daughter. I was just worried."
"Oh," you breath out, blinking as you look at him.
Mingyu makes zero sense to you. People never do anything selflessly. No one is just so good to be throwing money around without a single care in the world and instead of asking anything in return wondering about if you are safe. All throughout your life, it has always been about people wanting something from you, and if you couldn't give it to them, they'd just throw you out like an old, used up, piece of furniture.
"I'm okay," you assure him.
He smiles, "that's good." Your eyes flicker all over his face, taking in his features and trying to find an explanation to your questions, anything that would help you understand his motives. "How about your daughter? What's her name?"
You hesitate, reminding yourself it's a stranger you are talking to. He doesn't know you and you don't know him. So why should you tell him anything about the most important person in your life? But for some reason, despite your brain cursing at you not to tell him, to turn around and never speak to him again, your mouth does the exact opposite. "Nabi."
Seeing sparks in this grown man's eyes wasn't something you expected, but it happens. "A butterfly," he comments and you raise an eyebrow, questioning what he is talking about. "Her name. It means butterfly, does it not?" Little shocked, you nod, agreeing. A beautiful grin decorates his face right after. "It's adorable. Neve and Nabi." It rolls off his lips with ease, and you hate how much you like the sound of it.
You take a moment before correcting him, telling him your real name. He repeats it after you, just as happy as before. It makes you roll your eyes. "Where did Neve come from then?"
"It's my work name," you explain. "I don't really⊠it can be dangerous when others know your actual name." He hums to show he understands, his smile falling as he unconsciously glances at the speakeasy â or what he believes it's supposed to be on the outside â and meets eyes with the girl watching the two of you. She smiles at him as a different man trails her curves with his hands and it makes Mingyu frown, taking his eyes off immediately.
It's quiet for a bit after, but you don't mind. It's comfortable. Well, until Mingyu breaks the silence again. "Can I ask something?"
"You've been asking me things," you tell him, watching him curiously. His smile is nervous as he takes in the sight of you in. You feel his eyes everywhere â on your face, arms, legs â but for some reason it doesn't feel the same as when the guys you work with eye you like this. While their eyes have always been hungry, only thinking about where they'll put their hands first, his eyes feel gentle, like he is actually appreciating you.
"Will you go out for a dinner with me?"
Your eyes widen at his question and you quickly shake your head. You had a few guesses on what he might ask, but none of them were this. "I need to be at home and cook for my daughter," you turn his offer down, but he doesn't seem to back out easily.
"Let me take both of you to dinner then," he changes his offer, leaning against the building while keeping his eyes on you. You look at him with nothing but awe, wondering what happened with the universe, what shift was made for you to even be having this conversation at the moment. You've had your clients ask you out before when they were satisfied with your work, but this is far from how it is with them.
As he waits patiently for your answer, you are once again reminded you don't understand Mingyu and his deal. Nothing about the way he acts and treats you makes sense.
You don't get the chance to answer before your name rings in your ears, followed by a loud "Mama!" call. Turning around, you see Nabi in Jihoon's arms, smiling when she notices you. You smile back at her, unable to hide the happiness you feel every time you get her back from him.
"I'm sorry, I know you asked for two hours but something came up and I need to go." He apologizes as you take her into your arms. You quickly shake your head, assuring him you understand. You wonder what it is he needs to do but he just brushes you off with another apology before running off, obviously in a hurry.
Finally looking at Mingyu again, you see him already focused on you, his eyes flickering between you and your daughter. He is smiling, his eyes soft and welcoming. Nabi looks at him the same, admiring him as if he was an Angel walking this Earth. He might be. You haven't crossed that option out yet. It takes him a second to take his eyes off the little girl in your arms but as soon as he does, they lock with yours again. "Dinner, my treat. That's all I ask in return for that night. Nothing more, nothing less."
You still feel hesitant, but it is true you owe him as much. Had it not been for him, who knows where you'd be now, where Nabi would be now. You'd like to think Jihoon would take her in and protect her, but you can never be sure. "Okay," you nod. "You can take us out for a dinner." His grin widens as you tell him your address, insisting on him being on time otherwise you're not going anywhere.
He promises he will be there.
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Mingyu isn't sure why he feels so nervous as he paces his house, debating if the casual suit he put on is too much or too little. There are many other things he could â and probably should â stress about, but at the moment, the peek of his worries is if you'll like the clothes he put on. He wanted to see Seokmin and Luna before coming to pick you up, but with the time he already spent on thinking where he'll take you, he can't waste any more minutes.
It's been a while since he felt like this, since something other than work mattered to him so much, which is probably also why he has the stupid smile on his lips as he gets into his car. Paying the officers off that night was truly an act of his heart without any ulterior motives, but after spending the last two nights without much sleep and you occupying his thoughts, he needed to do something about it.
The first night when he managed to get home, it were his worries that kept him awake, wondering if you got home to your daughter.
The second night, after seeing your coworker and the people around, worries about your safety were joined by wondering how you live, what your house might look like, if you eat with your daughter dinner every day or if you are too busy to come back on time.
As he drove to the same alley earlier, the thoughts about you didn't stop, they only grew. When Seokmin and Luna started seeing each other and Min would tell him about how much he misses his girlfriend every time they hang out, Mingyu didn't understand. But now, as he finds his mind wandering to questions he wants to ask you when he sees you, he finally starts to get what he meant. It might have been crazy considering you were far from being with him, but he couldn't help it.
And the more he talked to you, the more he wanted to ask about anything and everything that came to mind. He might have convinced himself it was pure curiosity, a simple interest in how other people in New York live, but the moment he saw another guy holding your daughter and acting as if you were close, the spark of jealousy he felt made him look at the situation much clearly â he wasn't just interested in your way of life, he was interested in you.
Seungcheol would probably laugh in his face if he heard about all the thoughts he's had in the past few days, but Seokmin and Luna would understand. He is certain about that. Back when they met, Seokmin told him there was an immediate spark, a look in the eyes that made him absolutely certain he wanted to be with her. When Mingyu listened to him, he thought it was cute.
Now, experiencing it himself, it felt scary.
If he could compare the feeling to anything, it would be free falling. Which is exactly what he's thinking about as he drives through the busy streets of New York, scanning all the street names with his eyes and trying to find the one you live at.
Mingyu truly believes he has the greatest luck of everyone in this country, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to arrive in time. Driving through the city also made him realize how little he knows his own hometown, and that he might have to spend more time on roads than in the air.
"Hi," he smiles as he reaches you already waiting outside of your apartment building, Nabi in your arms with her eyes sparkling as soon as she notices Mingyu.
"Hi," you smile back, your eyes flickering between him and your daughter. "Nabi, look, this is Mingyu. Can you say Gyu?"
"Gyu," she repeats after you, looking at you for approval before reaching her hand towards him. As Mingyu stands there, watching her tiny outstretched hand, asking to be held by him, it feels like the free falling finally stops. His eyes soften, his smile bright as day as he asks you if it's okay for him to hold her.
"Promise not to drop her?"
"Promise," he nods, certain. You nod as well, handing her to him and taking in the sight, your heart shattering a little. She's always been clingy with Jihoon, but this is the first time you're seeing her like this with anyone else. And the look in his eyes as he holds her tiny hand in his rather large one certainly isn't helping how you feel. "Hey, little butterfly. Are you going to get dinner with me and mommy?"
"Dinner with mama!" She agrees, a giggle escaping her lips.
"Dinner with mama," he repeats after her, his eyes finally flickering to you again. "You have a beautiful mama, Nabi, do you know?" He doesn't take her eyes off you as he speaks to your daughter, but that only makes you feel hotter, your cheeks catching a light pink as you shake your head at him, unable to hide the smile on your face. "Shall we? I am parked around the corner."
"You drove here?" Your eyes widen. You knew he was rich, of course you did, but somehow you didn't think of the fact he might have a car. It's weird how your brain immediately classifies him as a higher up, someone completely out of your league, who you shouldn't be able to talk to so casually. But the moment you meet his eyes, it doesn't feel like that at all. He is there, right in front of you, sharing that stupid smile with your daughter as if going out with you was a normal Tuesday tradition.
"Yeah," he nods, a bit confused at your surprise. "It's not exactly close to my house and I didn't want to sweat too much before even seeing you," he shrugs.
"I see," you mumble, averting your eyes from him and quickly walking past him so he can't see just how unreal that sounds to you. He follows right after you, not letting you get ahead. It's easy for him, with his long legs he catches up to you in an instant. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," is all he says before steadying Nabi with one hand and grabbing yours with the other so he could tug you with himself towards his car. Despite you trying your best not to, the warmth of his hand makes you feel at home.
"Wait, is it safe to put a child this small into a car? What if we crash, what if someone crashes into us from behind?" His eyes widen as he hesitates with his car door open, the panic written all over his face. It makes you laugh.
"Those are things that can happen even without a child in a car, are they not?" He nods hesitantly as you take Nabi from him again and slip past him into the back of his car, holding her in your lap. "Does this make you feel better? Me holding her?"
He doesn't say anything, simply watching you for a moment before finally nodding and closing the door behind you. "It would have been better if you sat in the front, but a guy can only dream, hm?" He glances over his shoulder and you roll your eyes. You hate that his stupid smile works wonders on you.
You were in a similar position when you were nineteen, falling for a guy who flashed his white teeth at you and made you feel like you were a star glowing in the sky. In only lead to you losing your life, and if that's what some stupid smile can do, you don't want to fall for another one.
"You should start driving before I leave the car and decide to just eat one of the canned foods we have at home," you say, forcing him to look forward again.
"I'd rather you don't," he answers, briefly looking at you one more time before driving off.
As Mingyu parks the car in front of a restaurant the size of half of the apartment building you live in, your eyes widen. He doesn't stop surprising you. "This isn't where we are eating, is it?" You gawk at the front while he steps out of the car. He's lucky you are too busy admiring the space to open your own door, feeling a little giddy as he opens it for you and extends his hand forward to help you out. "Mingyu," you warn as you look up at him, still sitting inside.
"Come on out," he encourages, refusing to take his eyes off you.
"This is too much. No," you shake your head. "Let's go to like a chuckwagon or something. We can go back to my place, I don't have that much at home but it's enough to feed all three of us, come on."
Your name slips past his lips, a gentle sound that echoes in your ears. "Just hold my hand and follow me, will you?"
"I don't fit in that kind of a place," you still refuse while Nabi watches you confusedly, her curious eyes flickering between you and Mingyu. "You might eat out with your friends a lot and dress in suits and drive cars but," you hesitate, hating how sincere he looks as he still holds out his hand for you, giving you the time to speak but not backing down. "I'm not even dressed for a place like that," you settle for the that simple fact, looking down on your sweater and long skirt. You want to say much more, that you don't and never will belong in a fancy place like that, that you definitely can't afford eating there, or that you are scared of the people inside and their dirty looks.
"You are gorgeous," is all he says before finally dropping his hand to his side and taking a step forward, crouching down on the ground and making himself eye level with you. "Not only your clothes, but your hair, your face, the way you act, your eyes â you are gorgeous."
"Stand up," you whisper-command, looking around quickly and scanning the place for any people around. Thankfully, it doesn't look like anyone is paying you any attention. "And stop doing that. Thatâ whatever you are doing."
He tilts his head to the side, blinking innocently at you. "Doing what?"
"Just stop," you groan, averting your eyes and looking at Nabi instead. "Mingyu is insufferable, baby," you whisper to her and she giggles despite not understanding the words.
Your name leaves his lips again in an attempt to get you to look at him. You don't. But he continues anyway. "Not that there is anything like fitting into a place, but you'll be alright. I promise. Just let me take you to a place I like, have a nice dinner with me, tell me all about your life and act normal. It's going to be just the three of us at the table, and I can assure you, you definitely fit there."
"If I was acting normal I wouldn't be here with you at all," you mumble, slowly stepping out of the car. He immediately jumps to his feet again and reaches his hand out. You hold it while keeping Nabi steady with one arm as she wraps her hands around your neck and rests her head on your shoulder. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't," he assures you with a smile, thinking again about all the questions he is going to ask you tonight as he squeezes your hand in his, loving how they fit together. He steals glances at you as you walk across the street together, heading towards the restaurant that scares you so much. He meant everything he just said â you are gorgeous. And honestly, he can't believe you worry about fitting in when it's him who is scared of not meeting your standards and disappointing you.
"I can't believe you actually took me here," you mumble as soon as the waiter walks away and Mingyu looks at you again. He ordered Beef Wellington for the both of you â a dish you can only imagine the cost of â after you told him he doesn't need to buy Nabi anything because you'll share your portion with her. He tried convincing you he could get her something small or ask the owner for kid's size of your meal but you insisted.
"Do you really hate it so much?" He asks, worries written all over his eyes. You look up, your eyes panicked as you shake your head. Even though you still think he is insane for all of this â for treating you this well without any reason â you don't want him to think that deep down you don't actually like what he is doing.
"That's not it," you assure him, a sigh leaving your lips when he keeps looking at you like he doesn't believe it. "I'm just not used to it, that's all."
"Well, you should be."
A soft smile tugs in the corner of your lips as you shrug casually, "then help me get used to it."
It's all Mingyu needed to hear, a small reassurance that he should keep trying, that he should try harder, and do everything in his power to get what he wants â in this case, you. Nodding, he grins at you as if he was a teen boy seeing a woman for the first time.
"Oh my god," you sing as you take a bite of your food, the meat melting in your mouth. "This is so much better than what we eat at home. Come here, Nabi, take a bite." Mingyu watches you as you feed your daughter while stealing bites yourself, the smile on your face letting him know you truly do find pleasure in the taste.
"Do you always eat canned food at home?" He asks, remembering your mention earlier.
"I'm not sure what Jihoon feeds her when he has her overnight but I usually do unless my boss treats me to something," you answer without looking up.
"Is Jihoon the guy we saw earlier?" This time you do look at him as you nod, tilting your head to the side in confusion. "Is he the father?"
"What?" A soft laugh erupts from you as you watch his completely serious face, the jealousy written all over his eyes. It's quite cute if you must say. "Oh no. Even though I'm pretty sure everything would be much easier if he was my baby dada." Mingyu doesn't laugh which only makes your teasing smile grow. Nabi's eyes flicker between the two of you as she waits for another bite, one you gladly give her. "Relax, big boy. You're gonna get wrinkles."
"Jihoon is my neighbor, he lives in the apartment besides mine. And because he is so kind, he looks after Nabi when I'm working." Mingyu looks at your daughter who has a smile on her face at the mention of her favorite, causing some sort of urge to compete to grow in him. "I don't know how I'd manage without him, honestly. Before he offered to help me, my boss would find people I barely knew that were willing to look after her â mostly people from work."
"I can help," Mingyu states confidently and you blink confusedly. "Let me help as well."
"Have you ever taken care of a child? I doubt."
"I'll learn."
"It's not that easy, Mingyu."
"I'll learn," he repeats, the confidence shining through him. "This little butterfly can't be that hard to deal with," he makes a face at your daughter, making her laugh. "I'm home all day since I'm on break. I can do it."
You hesitate, taking in the sight of him. Not only does he looks confident, but he is also determined. You know he'll keep trying to convince you until you say yes if it means being able to help you out.
"I don't even know you that well, I'm not leaving my daughter with a complete stranger," you shake your head.
Mingyu doesn't hesitate for even the shortest moment before answering. "I'm Kim Mingyu, born and raised here in New York. I have a younger sister who lives with her husband so we don't see each other much anymore due to my schedule. I work as an aviator, and I think I'm doing a pretty good job. I was born on the sixth of April, 1897. I love meat, any kind, really. I love music, I think it's a great thing."
Staring at him blankly, you let silence settle over you before a laugh bubbles out of you. "I see," you shake your head slightly.
"And I also like you and your daughter," he adds, waiting for you to look at him again. As soon as you do, he notices the faint blush on your cheeks and smiles. "Let me do this for you."
"You've done plenty for me already," you argue, trying to ignore the fact your heart screams to say yes and have a reason to continue seeing him. It's your head that stops you though, the reminder of what happened the last time you reached out your hand towards a fire and burned yourself.
"Please," your name leaves his lips, a gentle sound that echoes in your ears. It's always like this. Every time he says your name, you feel sick. But much to your despite, it's not the throw-up kind of sickness, it's more like I don't want to feel like this. "I'll be good."
"We'll see," you mumble as you avert your eyes from him, too scared he'll read your entire expression.
But at that moment, Mingyu doesn't even think to observe you anyhow, simply happy to have made a progress somehow. He doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the night, joking with your daughter without a single care in the world if others are looking at him weirdly. His focus stays on the two of you, making sure tonight stays the best night you could have asked for.
He carries Nabi in his arms back to the car while holding your hand, keeping both of his girls close. He wouldn't say it out loud, too scared what your reaction could be, but deep down, he's already decided you were both his girls. Even if you might not feel that way.
"Will you sit at the front with me?" He asks, batting his puppy eyes at you. You look him up and down, properly taking in the sight of him â from his hair, down to his arms in the suit, to his shoes. There are two ways you think tonight can go. One, you tell him yes and he'll drive you to his place. Two, you say no and this will be the last time you're seeing him.
Neither of them sound ideal, but there is one you'd rather go through. "Sure," you nod, taking Nabi from him as he opens the door for you and waits until you're comfortable with your daughter on your lap before closing it again and walking around the car to get to his own seat.
To your surprise though, he takes the same road he did before, not turning away even ones. You continue talking and so you don't watch the streets as closely, but no matter how much you try, it just keeps looking like the way to your home.
And when he parks his car again, in the same place he did when he came to pick you up, you realize there might have not only been two ways your night could go.
"Thank you," you mumble sheepishly as you step out.
"That should be my line," he smiles, walking with you to your apartment building. "Thank you for going out with me."
You hum back, hiding your smile from him as you let him follow you into your apartment. It's just for a split moment, a millisecond, really, but the thoughts of him wanting to spend the night crosses your mind. You assume that's why he didn't drive to his house but to yours â to make it more comfortable for you with Nabi. Or maybe it's because he doesn't want you to know where he lives, so he could just never show up again after giving you hope.
You quickly shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. You can't help and feel like everything that happens is just an evil plan against you that will leave you heart broken. Maybe it's good you think that way, though, considering if you always think the worst, it won't hurt you as much in the end.
But he stops at the door despite you inviting him in. "It's late and Nabi is sleeping in your arms," he shakes his head. Still, he hesitates before leaving, his eyes trailing the space behind you as you wait for him to say something.
Narrowing your eyes, you are the one that breaks the silence. "Don't pity me or anything like that," you state firmly and his eyes find yours in an instant. "I don't need any of that. I don't want that."
He blinks confusedly before the panic settles in his eyes. "I wasn't going to," he assures you, almost stumbling over his words due to how fast he is talking. "I was justâ seeing where you live. It's not likeâ"
You rolling your eyes at his panic with a smile on your face helps him calm down again, a soft smile spreading across his lips as well as he leans against the doorframe. "How about you stop talking and just finally come inside?" You prompt but he doesn't move, simply taking in the sight of you.
"I'm going home," he refuses gently, trying to see if the look in your eyes changes anyhow. He doesn't like how it looks like right now. It's different from earlier. Before, he saw a spark, a girl full of personality who he wanted to spend as much time with as she'd let him. But now, all he sees is someone hurt, someone who is forcing themselves into pushing themselves down. "When can I see you again, though?"
Your eyes widen in surprise and you take a moment to think about your answer. He doesn't rush you, patiently waiting while gazing into your eyes as he watches them turn back into the ones he loves. Into the ones full of you. "I need to work tomorrow," you finally say, looking away into the ground. "So if you want, you can take care of Nabi."
"Can I?" He straightens his back immediately. "I promise I'll keep her safe."
You nod. "I trust you," the words escape your lips before you can rethink them, catching you off guard. The only person you've trusted in a while was Jihoon, maybe because you knew he was the only one different from the people you surround yourself with. Well, now he isn't the only one anymore. It feels weird, but also like something you could get used to.
"When do you start?"
"At five. I end at two in the morning, though. Forget it. I'll ask Jihoon tomorrow so it's easier."
He immediately interrupts you, refusing. He repeats how he can do it again, promising to be here again tomorrow at four. Before you can say anything back, fight him or tell him how overly excited he is for this, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. You freeze in your place, your grip around Nabi tightening as you try to steady yourself. He then pats your daughter's hair, gently enough not to wake her up. "I'll see your tomorrow," he smiles, turning around and walking down the hall while you stay in place, watching his back.
You did not think this day would come again, but you might be done for. Kim Mingyu â born in 1897, raised in New York who now works as an aviator â might have just found his way into your heart.
But it's not happiness that crosses your mind first. It's worries, the sudden panic of what he thinks of you, how he sees you when he knows what you do to make money. You've never regretted agreeing to this since it put food on your table and you were able to take care of your daughter alone, but now that there might be another person in the equation, you do question if it was worth it, if it's not only going to stand in your way now.
Instead of dwelling on it for too long, though, you make your way to your bed, gently laying Nabi down and changing her clothes before doing the same, burying the thoughts aside and hoping sleep will bring better things.
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It's four in the afternoon when Mingyu knocks on your door. He takes a step back, not wanting to scare you or anything. His feet lightly taps against the wooden floor as he hums to a melody stuck in his head, deciding not to pay attention to how cold it feels here despite him being fully dressed up. That's an issue he can bring up with you later.
The door opens, but it's not the one he is standing in front of. His eyes trail to the side, landing on your neighbor. Jihoon, if he remembers correctly. "Afternoon," he mumbles with a light nod, a motion Mingyu repeats. He doesn't think much of it, averting his eyes to your door again while Jihoon slowly walks down the hallway.
But Mingyu wouldn't be him if he didn't voice his thoughts. "Uhm, excuse me," he turns to the shorter man, causing him to stop mid step and glance back at him. "Has it always been this cold here?"
"Yeah," he brushes him off as if it was completely normal. "Windows don't close completely and water leaks through the ceiling when it rains or snows." Hesitating for a moment, he eyes Mingyu up and down. "You are the dude I saw yesterday at the⊠speakeasy, right?"
"Kim Mingyu," he extends his hand forward, offering a handshake, despite Jihoon being out of reach.
Thankfully, he takes the few steps forward and holds his hand in his. "Lee Jihoon. Are you a client?" His eyes trail to your door and Mingyu quickly shakes his head no.
"A friend," he corrects. "Kind of."
Jihoon hums as he let's go of his hand, watching the door of your apartment open. "Nabi, I'm right there!" You call helplessly as your daughter's cry echoes off the walls. With a heavy sigh, you greet Jihoon before redirecting your attention to your seemingly favorite aviator. "I don't know if this is going to work," you shake your head. "She's been crying all morning and I don't even know what to do to stop it. She's only going to cause you trouble and you're never going to want to see us again and everything willâ"
Your name on his lips stops your panicked monologue, making you meet his eyes. "No matter how she's feeling and if she causes trouble, I'm not going to stop wanting to see you," he squeezes your shoulder, a gentle gesture that is meant to help you feel calmer. To your surprise, it works.
You catch Jihoon's eyes, feeling your cheeks heating up immediately as he smiles at you, a soft knowing one that screams "I'm proud" no matter how you look at it. Hurrying Mingyu inside, not wanting to look at your neighbor any longer, worried he'll make fun of you for this whole situation, you gasp out a see you latter before slamming the door in his face.
"Jihoon seems nice," Mingyu comments as he allows himself to look around your apartment. This time, you let him, too busy running to your daughter and trying to calm her down to yell at him not to judge you.
"He is," you mumble. "You can sit down. Unless all the money you have is painted all over your head and you can't touch anything if it isn't luxurious."
He quickly snaps out of his thoughts and rushes to you. "I don't mind being here," he assures you but you catch him glancing at the leaking ceiling.
"Then stop gawking at everything so much."
"I wasn'tâ" he meets your raised eyebrow and gives up on lying. "Okay, I might have been. But not because I'd think any less of you. I just like seeing parts of you and this place is full of that."
You don't answer that, holding Nabi's hands in yours and trying to make silly faces on her. "Baby, come on. You're going to play with Mingyu, aren't you excited? You like Mingyu, don't you?" She doesn't even look at you, her cries getting louder. A groan leaves your lips and he crouches down beside you. His hands cup yours as he holds Nabi with you, a soft coo leaving his lips as he tries to get her attention. Your eyes shoot up to him, watching his side profile as he pays her all his attention, acting like it's no big deal for him to be here, like it's completely normal.
But while it might be casual for him, the warmth of his fingers on yours sends a shiver up your body, You're not used to this. Even when you were with Nabi's father, it never felt like this. Like every single time he looks at you, sparks erupt in your entire body. He catches Nabi's attention as much as he catches yours, and while tears continue running down her chubby cheeks, a smile decorates her lips now.
"What the hell did you do?" You blink confusedly, pulling your hands away from him and hiding them in your lap.
He shrugs, glancing at you. "I tend to have this effect on the women in this house," he grins, boyish and pure. It creates a smile on your face too. "Isn't it possible she's hungry?" He wonders and despite him trying to be subtle about it, you see his eyes falling to your breast.
"I don't breastfeed anymore," you answer and he forces his eyes up again. You haven't seen him look at you like that once since you got to know him which honestly surprised you at first. But now, as you finally see him looking, it feels great. "But she should be full still. Usually she cries due to food around six. It's too early."
"Okay," he nods. "Don't worry. even if I don't know what's going on with her, I'll take care of her as best as I can."
"Thank you," you mumble, your cheeks flushed. "Where do you live? So I can come pick her up later. I mean, unless you'd rather stay here?" Looking around, you know he won't pick the latter. You can't blame him. You might not know what his house looks like, but you have a general idea what kind of a street he lives on. It must be a big change for him being here.
"I'll come pick you up," he shakes his head. "I'm not risking you getting lost or hurting yourself on your way, so I'll be waiting for you when you finish." He watches you bite the inside of your cheek as you look up at him. There's a mixture of appreciation and nervousness behind your eyes â a look he just fell in love with.
"Okay," you nod slowly and he looks away again, lifting Nabi in his arms.
"Let's go, little butterfly. Mommy needs to work," he smiles at you while hugging her and your heart melts at the sight. It's weird because you've never felt like this with Jihoon. No matter how good he is with your daughter, seeing him with her doesn't do the same thing to you as seeing her with Mingyu, surrounded by love even though he barely knows her.
"I'll see you later then?"
"You'll see me later," he agrees, leaving you all alone between the four walls surrounding you.
Mingyu rubs gentle circles on Nabi's back as he carries her to his car, never stopping with the soft coos. She seems to relax in his arms, burying her head in the crook of his neck as she watches the buildings around her. She's probably just tired, he realizes as she weakly wraps her arms around him. "What should we do then, hm?" He asks himself while looking at her, finding himself falling for you even more as he carries a smaller version of you in his arms.
"Whose child did you steal?" Seokmin's eyes widen as he opens the door of his house, confusedly blinking at his best friend and the little girl in his arms.
"My future wife's," he grins at the thought while Seokmin's mouth opens wider, no words leaving his lips. "May I come in?" It takes him a moment to regain his composure but he steps aside, creating space for the brooding male.
"Luna is going to lose her mind," he scoffs, still in disbelieve as he follows Mingyu into the living room.
"Who was it, love?" Luna peaks in from the kitchen, the knife in her hand almost slipping from her fingers as her eyes find her husband and his best friend. "Oh," she breathes out, unable to take her eyes off the tiny human being sleeping peacefully in his arms.
"Hi," Mingyu smiles sheepishly, acting as if a stranger's child in his arms is completely normal.
"Let me set this down and get to you, I need to hear this one," she laughs softly while shaking her head, disappearing from his vision again.
Mingyu settles on the couch, making his movements minimal in order not to wake Nabi up. Seokmin takes a seat right beside him while Luna sits in the armchair on the side as soon as she joins. "Well, meet Nabi, guys."
"Nabi," Seokmin nods in acknowledgment. "I'm assuming you didn't name her? Or you just haven't told us you have a daughter, which I wouldn't be surprised at this point."
"No, I didn't name her," he chuckles. "I wanted to stop by and talk to you sooner but then I got⊠busy," he says the first thing that comes to mind. Which, if he thinks about it, isn't as far away from the truth. He did get busy, thinking about you.
"Busy enough to not tell us you have a child now?"
"I don't have a child," he argues. "But the woman I think I fell in love with does."
He watches as both of his friends' eyes widen, a part of him wanting to hide in this very couch. He gets it. The Kim Mingyu they know has never even spoken of love and definitely hasn't come out his way to find something for himself, but now, with your daughter in his arms, every inch of him wants to do so. His life has consisted of work and flying for as long as he can remember, but now, he wishes to push back the upcoming end of his break as much as he can.
"Alright, tell us about her," Luna encourages, a smile spreading across her lips as she notices the sparks in his eyes when he opens his mouth.
It takes thirty minutes for Mingyu to finally stop talking about you, only because Seokmin interrupts him by saying he needs to go pee. It's only then that he stops daydreaming and meets eyes with his friend again, seeing the proud smile on her face. A part of him also feels proud. It's such a simple thing, a basic human feeling, but it feels great to finally be able to share the love he's been storing inside himself for years with someone else. Especially when that someone are two pretty ladies he wants to cherish and take care of.
"She sounds great," she assures him and it feels like weight lifts off his shoulders. "When am I going to meet her?"
"Whenever she wants to meet my friends," he shrugs casually. "That's completely up to her."
"You're a good guy, Mingyu. I'm sure she'll see it as well." Mingyu's eyes trail down to Nabi in his lap, the thought of both of you in his arms as he talks to his friends and fills the space with laughter clouds his mind. He wants that. He wants to be happy outside of work and share said happiness with other people. He wants it more than he realized before.
"Although, I'm a bit worried." He looks up again, suddenly nervous. What could she worry about? "Have you given any thoughts to your lives before, Gyu? What she is used to, how she's probably used to being treated and how you grew up? What about your work? And hers? There's a lot of variables you need to have in mind when you say you are falling in love."
He doesn't answer immediately, letting himself linger in the silence. Of course he thought about all of these. With how much of his mind you occupy, it would be insane if he hasn't. Last night, as he laid in his bed after your date, the way you live was the only thing he could ponder upon. The image of your apartment â the bits he saw â were still vivid to him. And now that he's seen it fully, it only adds to his worries. Not because he'd want judge you â god, he doesn't think he ever could â but because he can't imagine what you have to go through.
He's never been a lustful man. Not because he wouldn't understand why someone would be, but because there were always far more important things to him he could pay attention to. And the moment he's learned what you do for living, when he heard you suggesting repaying him with your body, he subconsciously pushed every single thought regarding sex to the back of his mind.
While he is certain he could see himself wrapped in your warmth and being intimate with you, the worry of ending up just like the guys you meet at work, of falling to their level, was too powerful. He'd much rather give up on lust fully if it'd mean knowing you feel comfortable and safe with him.
"It's probably not easy on her if she's raising this little girl all alone."
"I know that. Which is why I wanted to make it a bit easier," he nods towards sleeping Nabi and Luna hums. "I want to be there for her, and help her out. If I could, I'd pay for her to live someplace else, anywhere she'd want. I'd design her a house if that's what her heart aches for."
"But I'm also trying to give her the breather she probably needs, so no matter how deeply I feel, I'm not rushing anywhere."
"You truly have grown while I wasn't looking," Luna's smile softens.
"You are younger than me," he reminds her instead of acknowledging her comment.
She decides to ignore his as well. "Unlike you, Seokmin jumped in straight away. I didn't mind, but it's nice that you consider her feelings as much as you do yours. It might not feel like a big deal to you, but we aren't used to it."
"Well, you should be."
"You have many privileges you don't even know about, Gyu," while her voice is soft, her words feel like anything but. He knows it probably wasn't her intention, but it hits him harsher than he thought it would. He never thought of it like this. While he has realized your life must be a lot harder than his with a child constantly needing your attention and no help outside of Jihoon's availability, he's never pondered on all the things that were delivered to him on silver plate simply because he was born the way he was.
"I wouldn't necessarily say it's bad, or that it makes you bad," she continues, "but you can't understand even half of it. Honestly, I was lucky. I don't think I'd be able to tell you everything she had to go through. It's only a guess from what you've told me, but I wouldn't count on that girl's life ever being easier than it is now."
"How do I help?" He interrupts her train of thoughts, blurting the words out before he can think over them. "How do I make this all easier?"
"For now, just continue what you already do," Luna smiles at his eagerness. "And if you are lucky, then you might end up making both of you happy."
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Mingyu leaves his friends' house before Nabi can wake up, settling her on the passenger seat after debating if he'd able to drive with her on his lap or not. Leaning over his seat, he also rests all the things Luna gave him in the back. Apparently, Seokmin's cousin visited them last week with a box full of children stuff â a silent wish from their families to finally reproduce as well, they assumed â and now that he has a child with him, she thought it would be of better use with him than them. From what he saw, there is a bunch of books and toys, so he will have no problem finding use for them.
It's harder to carry all the stuff out of his car than it was taking them in for some reason. With one of his hands tightly wrapped around Nabi, he tries his best taking everything else in the other one. He wouldn't say it's too heavy for him, but his grip certainly isn't perfect.
He has to place the box down on the floor in order to open the door, gently moving the box inside with his foot before shutting the door behind himself and exhaling as if he's just achieved the greatest accomplishment of his life. That's truly how it feels. In that moment, he admires you even more for everything you do.
He sets Nabi down in the middle of his bed, letting her sleep some more. He leaves the door to his room open while picking the box in the hallway and moving it into the living room, dropping it all on his couch so he could take a look. There are four books in total which he places on the table in front of him, briefly scanning the titles with his eyes. The next thing that catches his eyes is the worn out teddy bear. It stinks, but Mingyu is almost sure he can wash that scent off. Leaving it besides the books, he roams through the rest of the stuff, checking to see which toys he wants to give your daughter and which look far too dangerous for children to play with.
Once he is done with that, he tries his best washing the stuffed toy in his bathroom. It's the least he can do, he reminds himself. Helping you out like this, getting your daughter toys to play with and making sure she isn't going to catch anything from them â he can do all that. With all you do for her, this is nothing.
He wraps the teddy in a fresh towel when he is all done in order for it dry, right on time as he hears a cry echo off his walls. Panic rushes through his whole body for a split second before he forces himself to regain his composure and rushes to his room, seeing Nabi waking up. A heavy sigh of relief leaves his lips when he assures himself it's not because she'd fall off or hurt herself but simply because her nap ended.
"Shh, it's okay, little butterfly," he coos, sitting down beside her. But his voice or gentle brush of his fingers doesn't help as she cries for her mama. Okay, he's got this. "Mommy is working, bug, it's just the two of us." It doesn't seem to budge with her even a little bit. Less words then, alright. He makes a mental note to himself as he scoops her up in his arms, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. Rubbing small circles on her back with his thumb, he carries her out into the living room.
It seems to work a little as her little fingers reach up to grab onto his hair, playing with it while her cries slowly quiet down. He barely feels it due to the strength she has but it makes him smile nonetheless. "We'll be okay even without mommy for a while, right baby?" He turns his head slightly to look at her and she raises her head as well, her glossy eyes meeting his as she nods, her lips pressed in a thin line. She's trying to hold back her tears, he realizes. "Oh, Nabi, you are just the strongest little girl, aren't you?"
Thankfully, luck seems to be on his side today. Nabi plays with the toys laid out on the couch as soon as he sets her down, slowly forgetting all about waking up in a space she doesn't recognize. Mingyu watches her with a smile, holding a doll in his own hand and letting her lead the story while her giggles echo in his house.
The same place that felt empty and suffocating just a week ago now brings a smile to his lips, all thanks to stumbling upon you that night. He's realizing this was exactly what he needed, what he wishes would fill these walls â giggles, smiles, love. And while it's just him and your daughter at the moment, he can see you clearly in his mind. Sitting on the couch behind Nabi, playing with her with a smile on your face and laugh that makes him fall even deeper in love. He can imagine you comfortably laying in his bed, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, listening to your soft breathing.
He can see both of you filling this house, turning what was once quiet and boring into something exciting, something he could look forward to coming home to.
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Nabi is fast asleep in his car as Mingyu waits for you to come out, leaning his back against the same wall he did when he invited you to dinner. It's rather quiet at this hour, even though he can hear soft music coming from the speakeasy. But other than that, the streets of New York are calm this late into the night.
The front door opens and his eyes immediately trail down the figure walking out. It's not you. He ignores the disappointment bubbling in his chest as he sees a different woman locking eyes with him. There's truly nothing he wants more than to be around you again.
"Still not coming in?" Jisoo's voice rings in his ears and he pushes himself off the wall, coming closer to her.
"I'm happy right here," he smiles at her, watching her hum.
She looks around for any other passerby, leaning on the doorframe when she doesn't find anyone. "You truly are a special one," she mumbles as she takes he sight of him in. Mingyu doesn't answer, simply taking a small step back. He's not sure what it is, but this conversation feels a lot different from their first one. While back then she made her intentions clear, letting him know she found him attractive, this time makes him much more uncomfortable. "So, what are you doing here?"
"Waiting."
"For Neve?"
"For Neve," he nods. "She should be ending any minute."
"Yeah, I think she is supposed to end soon," Jisoo agrees. "Although, who knows when she'll be done. The last time I saw her she was with an eager one."
Mingyu grits his teeth together at the thought. Not for the same reasons Jisoo wishes he would, though. While the image of you with another isn't pleasing, he doesn't feel any disgust or repulse towards you. If anything, he finds the men inside the speakeasy pathetic. He understands why you do it, that at the end of the day, you'd probably love to be able to do anything else â and if not then his support wouldn't change â and he doesn't see anything wrong with that. The men inside? He can't say the same about them.
"Okay," he shrugs, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a bigger reaction.
Jisoo blinks at him confusedly before collecting herself again. "Well, have fun then." While her words are likely supposed to get to him, he simply smiles at her. Saying his goodbyes and watching her walk away. He sighs as he closes his eyes for a second, listening to the jazz music coming from inside as he keeps on waiting.
"Gyu," your voice causes him to open his eyes again. He isn't sure how long it has been, but he hopes he didn't fall asleep. There's a smile on your face as you look at him and he can't help but mimic the motion. "Thank you for coming for me."
"The least I could do," he shakes his head, getting off his suit jacket and dropping it over your shoulders. You don't question him, holding it closed with your hands to guard yourself from the chill of the outside air.
You walk side by side out of the alley without exchanging another word. It's when you reach a lamp on the main street, casting a soft light over you, that you reach your hand out towards him. Mingyu's eyes flicker between yours and your hand before the boyish grin you love appears on his face and he takes your fingers in his. His hand is warm to your surprise.
You recognize his car as soon as it comes in your field of view, noticing the messy hair of your daughter immediately. She's sleeping soundlessly inside, much more comfortable than you thought she would be. Not that you'd mind. Knowing he had no trouble taking care of her today only makes your heart skip a beat. "Do you mind carrying her? I feel exhausted."
"Why? I'll drive."
You blink up at him. "I live fifteen minutes from here. You don't have to drive us."
A soft "Oh," leaves his lips, making you tilt your head confusedly. "This is stupid of me. I thoughtâ I didn't even realize I could drop you off at home. I left her things at mine, I thought we'd go there."
"Her things?"
"My friends had a few toys and I got her some clothesâ"
"Mingyu," you interrupt him. "You bought her clothes?"
He nods hesitantly, a bit worried what you're going to say now that you're standing beside him. But instead of arguing with him like he half expects you to, you stand on your tiptoes to reach him, steadying yourself by holding onto his shoulder, and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."
Mingyu's cheeks are flushed when you pull back, somehow making him even more attractive than he already was. "We can get back to your place," you nod, walking around him and getting into the back of his car, a chuckle leaving your lips when he stays glued in place. "Come on, big boy, the car isn't going to drive itself."
It is safe to say you mess with Mingyu's head. As he sits behind the wheel and starts the car, all he can think about is how pretty you look in the back of his car and how soft your lips felt on his cheek. He's getting red all over again, but he doesn't care. He can just blame it on the cold if you question him. Clearing his throat and doing his best to look ahead at the road, he drives the now familiar road back to his house.
Surprised doesn't feel like a strong enough emotion as you look at the house he parked in front of. Just looking at it from outside, you guess you could fit five families inside. When you lived with your parents, your house wasn't small, it was much bigger than the apartment you have now, but even then when you thought you were living in luxury, it couldn't compare to the house he owns.
"This is yours?"
"All mine," he nods, his hand finding your lower back as he leads you inside, holding Nabi with the other one. The four am on his clock greets him as soon as he walks past it, deciding to ignore the late hour when there are far more important things right now â like you being in his house.
"She seems to like the teddy a lot, as well as the two dolls," he comments when he sees you eyeing the toys sprawled all over the couch. He didn't bother cleaning it yet, so there is a mess everywhere. But he sure if anyone would understand the mess your daughter can make it'd be you.
"This is awesome, Mingyu," you exhale, meeting his eyes in the dark.
He smiles at you, glad you like it. "Let me lay her down and I'll be right back."
You take your time exploring his living room and kitchen, letting your finger glaze every inch of his furniture you can. Even with the lights off, you can tell it's beautiful. If you could show someone your dream house, it'd probably look a lot like this place. The entire place is so spacious you don't have to worry about bumping into things as you walk, you don't have to worry where you're going to store clothes or eat your food. It's everything you don't have and wish you did.
"Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?" You hear Mingyu behind you but you don't turn, just gawking at the cabinet full of pictures of him. Despite the black and white, you can make out the beauty of his face and excitement he feels as he sits in a plane, the same with the picture beside it where he is surrounded what you can only assume to be his crew. He joins your side, looking at the same pictures. "This one is from last year. I was the lead in a rescue operation. And the guy you see right here, Soonyoung, he was my partner back then."
"You are amazing," you breathe out.
"Well, I think the same about you."
You look up at him just to find him already looking at you, everything about his eyes telling you he means everything he says. "All I do is barely get by."
"You could think that," he hums. "But to me, everything you do for Nabi to make sure she has a place to call home and something to eat, I think of as incredible." Tugging your hair behind your ear, he let's his thumb brush against your cheek. Keeping your eyes locked onto his, you listen to your own heartbeat in the silence, instinctively leaning into his touch. Deep down, you missed this. The warmth of another person outside of work, the reassuring words and smiles meant just for you. "Stay here tonight."
His voice is barely above a whisper but as the sound echos in your ears, it feels much more like a yell. As much as you'd like to call yourself a guarded person, someone who keeps her distance from others and takes her time trusting someone, Mingyu keeps proving you wrong every time you talk to him. He has a charm, you think. A spark in his eyes that breaks down all the defense you try building up and instead of pushing him back allows him get closer.
"With you?" You keep your voice low, matching his.
"With me." His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his eyes falling to them as well. And honestly, as he looks at you like that, there is nothing you want more than to stay here tonight. "My bed is large enough for us all to sleep comfortably, and it's be easier than driving you back so late," he reasons.
"Is that why you wanted us to come here? You wanted to ask me to stay with you?"
He doesn't argue. "Please."
Your breath trembles and you find yourself nodding. He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. Your eyes flicker between his lips and orbs, unsure what to focus on more â the love in his eyes or the urge in his lips.
But just as you are pushing yourself up on your tiptoes again, he steps back and his hand falls to his side. Your mouth hangs open in surprise, blinking fast as you take in the scene in front of you. "You're tired," is all he says before holding your hand in his and pulling you towards what you assume to be his bedroom. You are right.
"Mingyu," you try to stop him but he doesn't look at you, going to his wardrobe and pulling out a fresh shirt, telling you you can wear it to sleep and that he will stay on the couch. "Mingyu!" You try again, this time louder. Your eyes quickly flicker to sleeping Nabi, making sure you didn't wake her up. "Talk to me."
"It's late, and you just finished working," he shakes his head, making you frown. "You should rest."
It's you who holds his hand this time, stopping him from leaving the room. "Is it because of that? Did you remember how I spent my working hours and decided I wasn't attractive to you anymore? Is that why you didn't kiss me just now?"
You can see his eyes widen even in the dark. "God no," he shakes his head quickly, not giving you the chance to continue. "You could never not be attractive in my eyes. If anything, I didn't kiss you because I didn't want you to view me as all the other guys you spend time with."
"So you justâ"
"I wanted to give you space."
A heavy sigh leaves your lips and the grip on his hand tightens. Mingyu gives your hand a tight, reassuring squeeze before lacing his fingers with yours. "I didn't want to screw anything up." Gently cupping your cheek, he finds himself gazing into your eyes again.
"Then please, kiss me, Mingyu."
He doesn't need to be asked twice, leaning down and closing the space between you fully. He let's go of your hand only to hold your waist and pull your closer, his other hand holding your chin and tilting your head for a better access. His lips are soft against yours, plum and sweet. Every move he makes, every step, is extremely gentle, almost as if you were something fragile.
You're not sure when you moved back but at some point, your back hits the wall, and you have nowhere to go. Your hands wrap behind his neck and you pull him even closer than he already is, a soft moan leaving your lips.
"I wanted to take my time with you," he mumbles between kisses, his lips never staying away from you for too long. "Wanted to cherish you," his breath shakes. "And love you properly."
Your head spins at the words combined with his actions, every inch of your body itching to be as close to him as possible, wrapped in his warmth. But because Kim Mingyu is the good guy he is, he forces himself back, his hand resting on the wall beside your head as he closes his eyes and let's both of you breathe. You cup his cheeks in your palms, forcing him to look at you again. "You're not doing anything wrong."
You can see the weight lift off his shoulders at your words, smiling at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you chuckle. "Now, you said I can wear that, right?"
Despite you assuring him it's okay, Mingyu insists on stepping out of the room while you change clothes, his eyes only widening more once he sees you again, his shirt swallowing your whole. A part of you hoped for less gentleness and more touching, but for now, you'll have to do with the way he crosses the room and kisses you all over again. His hands stay on your cheeks, as respectful as he can be.
You scoop Nabi to the side, taking a bunch of Mingyu's pillows and creating a barrier between her and the edge of the bed. It is true his bed is much bigger than yours and will have no problem fitting all of you in, but you'd rather be safe than sorry. Slipping under the blanket beside her, you watch the giant man who seems to be hesitating about getting into his own bed. "Come on. I thought you said it was late."
You watch as he rethinks the whole situation, fighting himself in his head before finally joining your side. You turn your back to your daughter to face him, allowing yourself to gaze into his eyes while he does the same. "Can I ask you something?" You break the silence and he nods. "What do you truly think ofâŠme, and what I do?"
"Darling, I meant it when I said I think you are incredible. I admire what you do."
"No I mean," biting the inside of your cheek, you struggle to ask properly and figure out how he feels. It's scary. This whole conversation is scary. But it is one you want to have with him. "My work. How do you⊠How do you feel about that? Do you not mind?"
"Mind what? You providing for your family? Absolutely not." You tilt your head, serious. A sigh leaves his lips and he scoots a bit closer to you. "I'm okay with you doing what you want to do, if that's what you want to do. I don'tâ I thought about this a lot, actually. And while I know I don't have a say, the only thing I care about is the fact you surround yourself with people who don't appreciate your worth."
"But you don't think any less of me?"
"I couldn't think any less of you even if I wanted to," he assures you. "And it's not like I don't feel any jealousy, but I also know you are doing your best, and I'll just be the luckiest man alive if you manage to allow me to be close to you."
You avert your eyes from his, focusing on the sheets under you instead. He is too sweet, definitely more than you deserve. "I've been telling you I'll sleep with you ever since we met," you remind him and he frowns.
"I don't care about that. I don't want us to be like that." You keep your head low, listening to him. "The moment I see you naked, it will be because we are so deeply in love with each other we simply cannot stay away from each other any longer."
It's crazy. You know each other for a week. And yet, a smile spreads across your lips as you close your eyes. "I like that," you whisper. "I like that a lot."
You turn your back to him in order to keep an eye on your daughter while his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His head rests on your shoulder, the room falling quiet. It's comfortable, and you find yourself melting into his touch. "But just so you know," his voice is so quiet you're not sure if he wants you to hear and pay attention or not. "If you'd tell me you don't like doing what you do, that you wish to stop, I'd take both of you in in a heartbeat and make sure you don't have to do anything you don't wish to."
Your breath catches at his words and without him knowing, you slowly fall for him. Step by step, the wishful dream you had once build in your head where you and Nabi laugh together, living the happy life you always wanted for her, slowly changes into a picture of the three of you.
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You're not sure how it all happened, how you ended up over at Mingyu's house every day the following week, or how you got into this conversation. But as your daughter's giggles ring in your ears because Mingyu manages to hold a serious conversation with you while playing with her, you don't ever want to go back to how things were before.
"I promise you arranging my schedule is no problem. I've been taking on any and every shift I could until now because I didn't like being at home. But if you stay here and I get to see your beautiful face every time I come back home, I can manage with a lot less shifts."
"You seriously want us to move in with you?" you question.
"Well, I want you to marry me but I didn't want to get too ahead of myself."
You pin him down with your eyes and he raises his hands in surrender, a soft laugh leaving his lips. "I can't just turn your entire life upside down, come on. Two weeks ago you were flying around the country saving people."
"And now I want to stay home and be with you," he shrugs casually. "I can afford this, baby. I can work less and be there for the both of you. You can't want me to get back in the air without breaks when I finally have something holding me down and making me look forward to coming home."
"But I also can't want for you to do all this for us. I'll feel bad."
He shakes his head at you and leans over the table, pressing his lips to yours. Every time he kisses you, it feels like the first time all over again. You never know what to expect, if he's going to kiss you with hunger or going to be gentle, and that makes the thrill of it all so much better. This time, his kiss is filled with reassurance, grounding you.
"You deserve to get away from that place. You deserve to live your life without the constant reminder of how much power your boss holds over you and that you ended up where you did because the men in your life were terrible."
When you told Mingyu about Nabi's father, about who you thought was the love of your life and how fast he ran away when you found out you were pregnant, he was mad. But the moment you told him about your parents, about your father kicking you out onto the streets because he wasn't going to have a failure under his roof, his anger exceeded all your expectations. Ever since then, the hatred he feels towards men and practically anyone in your life except for Jihoon only grows each day.
If you're honest, it's incredibly attractive.
"I'll think about it, okay? My boss is already mad I asked to be behind the bar and singing instead. I'm not sure I want to see her reaction if I tell her I'm quitting fully."
"And she's listened to you, right? She doesn't force you to work," his eyes flicker to Nabi who is watching both of you curiously, "down there, does she?"
"I'm okay, Mingyu," you assure him but he doesn't calm down completely. "I promise I'll think about it, so you just think about what you're planning to do for us as well, okay?"
"Alright," he agrees even though deep down, both of you know he's already decided. If he wants to stay at home and be with you as much as possible, he will make it work no matter what. "We still got two days before I start again anyway. Should we do something together?" He bats his eyelashes at you with his head tilted and it gets to you more than you wish it would.
"We could," you avert your eyes. "But didn't you say you have plans with the guys tonight?"
"Then tomorrow." He doesn't back down. "Let's go out together. We could go see a play and have dinner," he suggests. You can feel his eyes on you even though you're not looking at him, knowing he's not going to give up until you agree. "What do you think?"
"I don't know if a play is a good idea. Nabi could disturb people around and I don't have anything fancy like that to wear."
"We don't have to go see one, but if you want to, I'll make it work," he assures you. "I could convince Jihoon or ask Seokmin and Luna to look after her and we could buy you a new dress â even though I think your clothes are perfectly fine."
"Mingyu," you raise your brows as if to tell him he's stupid. He immediately leans back in his chair, shaking his head as if to tell you he did nothing. You sigh, pointing down at your clothes, a long worn out skirt and Mingyu's button-up. "Have you ever seen what women wear while going out? It's certainly not this."
"I'm sure Luna has something you could borrow as well," he thinks out loud, barely paying attention to your complains as he thinks about going shopping with you and having you try on all different kinds of dresses. "Shopping. We should definitely go shopping if we want to get you something new."
"Are you even listening?" You see right through him. With the way he is zoning out while looking at you, it's not hard to guess what he is doing. "How about you stop getting weird ideas in your head and start heading out. I'm sure the guys are already waiting for you."
He gasps, bringing his hand to his heart to add to the shock. "Kicking me out of my own house? How terrible of you, darling."
You roll your eyes. "You are the one who wanted me in your house. Isn't that right, Nabi? Did Mingyu want us in his house?" You lean to your girl and she giggles, nodding her head.
Mingyu watches you both, the same soft smile he seems to have every time he is with you spreading across his lips. It's impossible not to have one when you are like this. No matter what you do, if you tease him, argue with him and tell him how stupid he is for being so in love with you, he just finds you adorable. Even more so, when you are cooperating with your daughter.
"I'll be back later," he says as he stands up from his place at the table.
"I know you will."
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It's been long since he last visited Minghao's house. Not long enough for him to forget the way, but long enough to be surprised at the beautiful garden standing beside his house. It's also long enough for him to almost not recognize Hao's wife tending to the flowers.
The game is already in full swing when she leads Mingyu into the living room. He thanks her once more before she leaves and he takes the last empty seat at the table beside his friends. Seokmin leans into his side immediately, showing off his cards with an evil smile. Looking at what he has, Mingyu can only assume it's a part of his strategy.
Seungcheol scoffs, obviously not buying any of it. Unlike him, though, Chan, who sits between him and Minghao, seems rather nervous thinking about what cards his elders have in hands. There's only been a few times Mingyu has interacted with Chan. Not because he wouldn't enjoy his presence, but simply because their schedules didn't align enough to give them the opportunity to get to know each other more. His three close friends didn't have the same problems, and so it was easy for them to get close. Close enough that he was a part of their game nights.
"I don't know what you're laughing about, because no matter how I look at it, I win," Minghao shows off his cards as the turn comes to an end, causing Seokmin to groan loudly. Mingyu laughs with the others as Hao takes all of Seokmin's money, enjoying teasing his friend.
"Next round is mine," he proclaims confidently, which only causes another wave full of laughter.
"Leave me out," Mingyu shakes his head politely. "I only stopped by on the way, I need to go again."
"You just got here! Can't you stay even for one game?"
"I need to make my girl's life a bit easier again," he smiles at Seokmin, knowing he'll understand what he means. "But I'll make sure to come back as soon as I'm done. I'm sure there is only as much money you can lose while I'm gone."
"I would run fast if you want to catch him while he is still bidding. It doesn't take long to rid him of everything he has," Cheol laughs and Seokmin immediately hisses offensively.
"I'll be an hour max. I wouldn't miss this."
While the road to Minghao's house wasn't as familiar, the one he takes now is a different story. He's drove to the same apartment building so many times in the past two weeks, he could probably do it blind. He tugs his hands inside his pants pockets as he walks to the speakeasy that started it all.
To his surprise, it feels the same as when he first came looking for you here. He walks past a group sleeping on the cold ground and past people trying to warm themselves up with a fire until he finally reaches his destination, coming face to face with the same girl that helped him get to where he is right now, even though she probably doesn't realize it.
"Every time I see you here I question if you truly mean it when you say you aren't interested," Jisoo says with her hands on her hips. "Neve isn't here today."
"I know," he nods. "She's at my house," he adds proudly.
"Oh?" She tilts her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "But you are here." Mingyu nods, opening his mouth to explain himself. But before he can do so, she's speaking again. "Does that mean you might finally join us inside?" She bats her eyelashes at him and while he doesn't find it at all pleasing, he agrees. "Wait, actually?"
A soft laugh escapes his lips as he hums, "Mhm, I've got some things I want to do."
She doesn't ask further, stepping aside and opening the door for him with a proud smile â almost as if she finally accomplished her biggest goal. Who knows, maybe he has been her biggest goal all along. Unfortunately for her, Mingyu doesn't have much care left now that you've stepped into his life.
On the surface, the speakeasy looks like any other ones he's been to. Jazz music echoes off the walls, accompanied by a woman's voice. The tables are still rather empty at this hour, but there is a guy behind the bar nonetheless. "Hey," Mingyu greets him casually, leaning against a bar chair.
"What can I get you tonight?" The barista eyes him up and down. "Blond island?" He suggests and Mingyu frowns at the chose of name for what he can tell immediately is not a drink.
"I'd like a chat with the boss."
Mingyu watches the barista's eyes widen as he looks around the place, almost as if looking for some sort of help. He seems stressed, but that's a reaction he expected. It's probably not often that men dressed in full suits they've never seen before come in and ask to see the person in charge of an illegal bar. Had it been him behind the bar, he'd also assume the worst.
"Angel," he calls over to one of the girls walking past, heading to the back. She blinks up at him confusedly before hurrying to his side. They exchange a few words together, quietly enough so that Mingyu couldn't hear. "You can follow her."
"Hi," she smiles at him and he returns her greeting. Straightening his back again, he follows her to the back of the bar, looking around as she leads him through the hall. He's never been more thankful for music and how it can cover other sounds around.
"Do people pay more for that?" He wonders, a question more to himself than anyone else. But the girl in front of him glances over her shoulder to look at him, clueless about what he's talking about. "Being loud, I mean. It sounds awfully forced." A soft giggle leaves her lips at his comment but other than that, she doesn't answer.
The boss' office is at the very end of the hall. The girl in front of him makes sure to knock three times on the door before stepping inside, encouraging him to follow. The office isn't anything fancy on its own, plain white walls with only a few closets decorating the space and a table in the center. But then again, there isn't really a reason for the room to be anyhow special, is there?
"Who do we have here?" The woman behind the table asks as she eyes him up and down, her eyes lingering on his muscles longer than he'd like. While the room isn't screaming wealth in the slightest, the woman in charge certainly is. Two pearl necklaces line her neck and she's wearing a pretty red slip dress â one he is convinced would look gorgeous on you. And while he isn't an expert, her earrings and rings look expensive. Unlike the ladies she has under herself, it seems like she has money.
"Mingyu," he bows his head slightly as the introduction slips past his lips.
She hums happily. "Angel, you can get back to work. I don't think we'll have any problems here." The girl quickly nods, excusing herself and rushing out of the room before Mingyu can even turn his head towards her. "Madam Yang," she introduces herself back.
"I came here on behalf of one of the girls in your care," he explains, motioning towards the empty chair a few feet away from him. "May I?"
"Well, of course," she allows him to sit, a polite smile on her lips. "Excuse me for not knowing, but are you one of our clients? Would there be a complain?"
"Not necessarily," he shakes his head slightly. "But I have a girl working under you because of her financial issues â Neve â I'm certain it rings a bell. Well, pardon my bluntness but while she tells me she requested to be behind the bar and on stage only, I have a feeling you don't allow her as much freedom."
"Neve," she sings a low chuckle leaving her lips as she leans back in her chair. "Well, Mr. Mingyu, I never thought I'd be meeting you like this."
"I never thought I'd be meeting you, ma'am."
"It seems we share a few concerns regarding Neve's work life," she hums and Mingyu frowns. Despite appreciating her professionalism, the way she speaks to him is less and less to his liking. "We each have a different idea of what is best for her."
"Enlighten me, please. What do you think would be the best for a girl in her situation?"
"Making more money, obviously. Which she can't do if she's pouring drinks behind the bar. She herself should understand that what she needs to do to feed that child of hers is what I've been offering her since I met her."
"Nabi," he interrupts her. She tilts her head in confusion. "That child as you say with so much disgust. She has a name. A beautiful one if I may add."
Madam Yang shakes her head at him which only makes his blood boil more. "Poor child," she starts despite Mingyu being certain she is his age. Thirty, maybe. "You could never truly understand her or her needs. If those are the things you worry about, you never stood a chance. But that is okay, after all, you are just a man."
In reality it only takes a second, but internally, as Mingyu closes his eyes to calm down, he thinks of twenty different way he could destroy this woman's career and make her regret this conversation. The only thing stopping him are the other girls working under her, who might be in a similar situation like you, who need this job despite everything.
"You're right," he sighs, slowly standing up. "I am just a man, a foolish one some may even say. But I stand by my decisions. Especially the ones regarding this very girl you only use to make money for yourself while giving her barely enough to get by in life." A scoff leaves her lips, but Mingyu doesn't let her say anything. "Which makes it so much easier and enjoyable to be the one to tell you not to expect her to come here from now on."
"What?" Her voice sounds panicked now as she leans forward again, quickly composing herself again when she realizes what she's doing. "What do youâ You can't be serious."
Putting on a fake smile, he makes sure to take in the distress on her face. "But I am. You know, Madam Yang, I am a foolish man at heart, and I tend to fall deep. So even if one day she decides she doesn't want to be around me anymore, that she doesn't like me anymore, I will continue supporting her so that she doesn't need to come back here no matter what. And I'm sorry I don't fit your ideal of a man, of those you meet here, thirsting for your woman just to kick them aside once they get what they want. Maybe your life would be easier if I was."
Fixing his suit jacket, he smiles at her once more before turning around on his heel and heading out the same way he came in, making sure to tip the bar and tell him to share with the girls working so hard today.
Mingyu doesn't tell his friends what he was doing when he comes back, acting like nothing happened and laughing at Chan's and Seokmin's failed attempts at tricking Seungcheol. He might find himself in an argument with you tomorrow when he tells you what he did without talking to your properly first but for now, all he wants to focus on are the guys, and the possibility of getting to see you happy because he lifted the burden off your shoulders instead of you yelling at him.
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Mingyu genuinely couldn't think of a better way to spend the last day of his break than by your side. And as much as he wishes to have both of his favorite girls with him, he is extremely grateful to Seokmin for agreeing to look after Nabi for the night so he could spend some alone time with you. And even though you said you aren't feeling the play he suggested, he was going to make the most of the dinner.
As your giggles echo in his ears, he is more than sure the night is as perfect as it could be. He doesn't remember what he said anymore, what caused this beautiful sound he loves, but it doesn't matter. As long as he can keep listening to your laugh, nothing else matters to him.
"All of your friends sound amazing," you nod while bringing another piece of meat into your mouth. "I knew I would like Luna from the start, but I'm just liking her more and more the more you talk."
"She's really excited to meet you. If that's what you'd like as well?" He asks and you nod immediately.
"I'd love to. After all, I need to know who is taking care of my daughter as we speak, don't I?"
"Certainly," he chuckles. Your smile grows bigger with his and it only makes Mingyu fall for you more. He seems to fall in love with you more and more every day, no matter if you're telling him about something, laughing with him, or just sitting in silence. It all leads to him being more grateful for getting to meet you. "I'm going to miss that pretty smile every time I'm in the air," he mumbles.
"Are you now?" You tilt your head teasingly, but your eyes soften at his words, feeling the same way he does â like every time you are with him, you fall a bit deeper.
He mimics your motion, tilting his head and resting his cheek in his palm as he watches you. "Absolutely," he agrees. "From the second I leave the house, all I'll be able to think about are my two favorite girls."
And there he goes again, making your heart beat faster. It's not only the way he feels about you, but the way he always includes your daughter in as well. Deep down, a part of you always thought that your chances at love or an ordinary life went down to zero when you had your baby, but he proves you wrong every time he opens his mouth. He couldn't get any better.
"Well, then you better work your schedule around so you can be with us as much as possible," you shrug casually, leaning back in your chair.
His eyes widen immediately and he straightens his back as well. "So you agree? You are okay with me wanting to be home most of the time?"
"Yeah," you nod, still smiling. "But I don't want to be a burden on you. You can't just be paying for everything on my behalf. So, I'll ask my boss for more money, maybe it'll be possible if I'm not longer living in her apartment. It doesn't matter, I'll just figure something out so I don't have to keep living off your savings."
"About that," he mumbles under his breath, his gaze dropping down into his plate. It makes you frown as you tilt your head confusedly, questioning what he means. "Before I tell you and you get mad at me, I stand by what I said and I will support you even if you decide you don't want to be with me. Even if you are so angry with me you decide to pack your things tonight â I will still pay for your hotel room and anything else need. Heck, I'd leave you the entire house and go to a hotel myself."
"Mingyu, what are you rambling about?" You interrupt him, your confusion on growing. You have no idea what he is talking about, but if he is so worried about you leaving, it probably isn't anything great. Just your luck, really. Every time you think you are going to be happy, something like this just has to happen.
"Yesterday, when I was at Minghao's, I might have left for like an hour or so. An hour I spent at the speakeasy you work at â used to work at," he corrects himself quickly. Now, your confusion is turning into panic. What does he mean he was there? The thought of him talking to your boss and having you quit doesn't cross your mind for even a second. Instead, you think of him with one of your coworkers, finding pleasure in their company instead of being with you. Oh fuck, you feel like crying.
Mingyu notices the distress in your eyes immediately. "Whoa, whoa, wait. I thought you'd be angry that I went behind your back but don't cry." He's panicking, trying to lean across the table and cup your cheeks. You dodge his hand, clearing your throat as you try to excuse yourself and get up. "Love, wait. Let me explain," he stops you quickly, catching your hand before you can leave. "I know I should have waited for your decision, but I just couldn't stand having others walk over you like this anymore. Your boss is insufferable. And I justâ I think a part of me was also jealous, and so I just acted on instincts."
"Which is also why I want to support you no matter what. I'm the one who decided you are quitting and so it's completely on me to take care of everything even if you one day decide you don't want anything to do with me anymore."
Confusion comes back to you as you take in the sight of him â sincere, in love, without any regrets. "You quit my job for me?" You realize.
"I'm sorry," he exhales, holding onto your hand like letting go would mean losing you completely. "I was selfish, yes. But I also thought I'd make your life easier that way. That without your boss making decisions for you and using you for money, you'd like it more if you had the freedom and my support. And I know it sounds stupid because I just made a decision on your behalf and it doesn't make me any better."
"It makes you so much better, Gyu," you quickly interrupt him, unsure if you want to jump over the table and kiss him right now or pretend like it doesn't mean the world to you he's done that. "I don't think I'd ever be able to do it on my own and youâ" you hide your face in your free hand, hoping he doesn't see how much you are blushing. "I love you so much."
Mingyu's eyes widen as your words reach his ears, his brain fighting with his heart as the urge to jump off his chair, wrap his arms around you, and spin around while declaring his love to you grows. He is pathetic, and just like Madam Yang said â just a man.
Your man. He thinks. He is grinning ear to ear, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he also hides his face in his hand, realizing how absolutely gone for you he is.
"Thank you."
He brings his hand away so he can look at you, squeezing your hand tightly on top of the table. "There is nothing you could possibly thank me for," he shakes his head. You open your mouth to argue but he continues before you can say anything. "Everything I did since the night I met you is because of my own feelings. I never thought I'd find myself in love or having a family despite my heart always aching for it, so the moment I figured out what I feel for you â how deeply in love I'm falling with you every day â I simply acted on my selfish intentions."
"And yet, they were always the least selfish things you could have done."
A beat of silence passes, a moment you spend simply gazing into each other's eyes and falling in love. All your worries disappear, and a part of you can't believe you ever doubted him. Kim Mingyu, the same man who's already done everything he could for you and your daughter. Of course he'd go and make you quit the job you despite so much. And as much as he says he's done it for himself, because he was selfish, you know deep down, he's done it for you.
"Let's go home?" You suggest, tilting your head slightly. Mingyu swears it's the prettiest you've been since he's met you. He isn't sure why, if it's because of the dress you're wearing, how you did your hair, the way you say home when referring to his house, or the way he can see his love reflecting in your eyes. It's probably all of the above.
"Let's go home," he repeats, his voice soft. All you can do is smile as Mingyu pays for dinner, wanting to get out of this restaurant as quickly as possible so he could finally kiss you. You feel the same urgency, wanting nothing more than to get away from all these curious eyes that you felt like were judging you the entire night and be alone with your boyfriend.
His fingers lace with yours as you walk back to his car, his suit jacket thrown over your shoulders. The cold air didn't even get to hit you before he was already wrapping you in his clothes, making sure you're warm and taken care of. He reaches to open the car door for you but you stop him, pressing your back against it and looking up at him. His eyes trail down your figure, questioning what you're doing. "Didn't you want to go home?"
"Well, right now, I just really want to kiss you since I couldn't when we were inside."
His smile grows as he closes the space between you, his hands resting on your waist as he pulls you onto him, his lips moving against yours in sync. You stand on your tiptoes, a soft, barely audible moan escaping your lips. You feel Mingyu's hands shake as he holds you, the vulnerability and hesitance clear. You don't give him the chance to question anything, wrapping your hands behind his neck and deepening the kiss. The moment he melts into your touch is so obvious your head spins with how in love you feel.
Mingyu has a problem. An aching one that is making him forget he is in public, with you pressed against his car. He is sure you feel it too, there is no other explanation as to why you'd rub yourself on him to test his limits if you couldn't feel him. "Home," he exhales against your lips, forcing himself back. You chuckle as you take in the sight of his flushed cheeks, his eyes wide.
"Quickly. There is so many ways I want to tell you how much I love you," you whisper and his grip on your waist tightens. You love seeing him like this, having him lose control all simply because you said something. You love being the one who makes him like this.
His hand rests on your thigh the entire car ride, making you feel hot. It's not only the way he squeezes your flesh any chance he gets but also the way he looks whenever you glance at him â one hand on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. Mingyu has always been incredibly attractive, you know that. But somehow, he manages to look even better now.
The longer you look at him, the more occupied your mind gets. The memory of your kiss is all you can think about, his clothed cock pressed against you, and his hands holding you. You can't help it and think about his hands on other parts of your body, exploring every inch of your skin and worshiping you like you wish he would. You think about his lips, about how affectionate you can imagine him being with you, how finally, after years, you can see yourself making love again instead of just having sex. All thanks to him.
"Is it weird that I've never felt as good as I feel with you despite only knowing you for such a short time?" You ask quietly, staring at the road ahead. You can feel his eyes on you even without looking, knowing those brown orbs of his are watching you with as much care as always.
"Darling, you can't keep doing that to me," he groans. "You can't justâ Fuck." You look at him again, your eyes softening when you see him, his emotions on full display. "If I'll crash this car because I desperately need to hold you and kiss you all over, know that it's your fault," he chuckles lowly, but you can hear the pain behind his words â pain you know he feels for you, because that's just the kind of a person he is. It's not like he's lived your life, like he's known any of the people that shaped you into who you are today, but you still know that he shares all kinds of emotions for them.
While your feelings have mostly gone numb, the previous anger and regret you felt turning into a void, Mingyu feels them for you. He holds anger for your parents and Nabi's father you can't anymore, he feels pain for you, for all the things he thinks you deserve but never could have had until you met him. It all makes him so much more attractive.
"How about you do that when we get home?" You smile.
It's weird how fast and yet tenderly the two of you can move. The moment the entrance door closes behind you, Mingyu's hands are on your waist and his lips on yours. Your back hits the wall and a whine escapes your lips, every inch of your body itching to be closer to him even though he is pressed flush against you. "It means so much to me," you whisper against his lips.
"I still should have asked first," he argues, kissing you again. He is unable to stay away for too long, needing to feel you on him as much as you need him.
"You didn't need to," you shake your head slightly. His hand cradles your jaw as he tilts your head up, allowing himself to get lost in your eyes.
"You are so beautiful," he breathes out, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. You take the opportunity and wrap your lips around his finger, keeping your eyes on his. He pushes down onto your tongue, his head spinning. He wants to take you right here, admire your naked body and sink into you, but he still has his worries that keep him from doing so, worries that he'll be pushing you into something you don't want.
You can practically see the thoughts in his eyes, letting your hands pull up his shirt and wander over his toned abs. "I want this, Gyu," you assure him as his wet thumb pulls away from your lips. "I want to enjoy our free night. I want to have you all to myself," your hands move up to his chest, his skin shivering under your fingertips.
"What if you change your mind halfway through?"
"Then I'll tell you," you promise. "I'll tell you and we'll just cuddle all night again as if nothing happened, hm? I'm not leaving if that's what you're worried about."
Gripping your waist, his head falls down to your shoulder and your eyes widen in surprise. "Does that mean it's okay to tell you how much I want this? How much I want you," he mumbles into your skin but you hear him, nodding as you trail your hands down to his waist.
"Please tell me."
He raises his head to look at you again. Neither of you say anything, telling each other everything with your gaze. His lips are on you again, gentle yet needy. And when you wrap your leg around his side, he doesn't hesitate gripping your thighs and picking you up.
The walk to the bedroom feels like hours. Not that you mind when he kisses you so sweetly, but the wetness between your legs begs for more than just this. You hold onto him, your nails digging into his shoulders until your back finally hits the softness of his mattress. Before you met him, you had no idea they could feel like this. Sleep naturally came easier ever since you started sleeping here.
Mingyu hovers above you, his broad shoulders blocking your view at the ceiling. His knee rests between your legs and you find yourself grinding against him while helping him out of his shirt. The suit jacket of his he gave you fell somewhere on the floor as he was carrying you, so it's only suitable to throw the shirt to the floor as well.
Despite seeing him shirtless before when he was picking which shirt to wear or walking out of the bathroom, it feels entirely different right now. Even though the room is dark, you can see his lines perfectly, the muscles you always admired, the tan you know he has, even the bulge in his pants.
"Mingyu," you breathe out and he hums back, his eyes trailing down your body. His hand slides under the hem of your dress, slowly making his way up and buckling the material up. Your core is still pressed against his knee as you slowly rub yourself on him. He takes his time touching every inch of your skin, just like you imagined he would.
From your ankles to your fingertips, he pays attention to it all. His hands are gentle at first, at least until he hears you moaning his name as you rub yourself on him again. You can see his eyes growing hungry as he looks at you, the urge behind them clear. But instead of acting on it, he presses his lips to your again, trying to calm himself by focusing on something else.
You on the other hand, can't seem to focus on anything but the need between your legs. "Love," you whisper this time as soon as he pulls away to breathe. His eyes widen and his hands grip your waist immediately.
"Yes?" He coos, the proudness in his voice after hearing you call him love evident.
"Please," you bat your eyelashes at him, "Can you please touch me more?"
A groan escapes his lips at the sight, your words doing wonders to him. "You'd tell me if you don't like anything, right?" He assures himself one more time and when you nod your head, he finally let's his fingers dip between your legs, feeling how wet you are. Your eyes trail his entire face as he locks his eyes on your pussy, unable to look away now that he's allowed himself to look. It's so incredibly attractive.
You let him slowly play with your clit and pull your dress off, letting the garment fall to the floor. "Can I taste you, pretty? Can I feel you on my lips?" His eyes meet yours again and you feel like coming on the spot when you see him. It was always obvious by the way he looked at you that you meant a lot to him, and he's always reminded you he wants to be around you, but the way he looks at you now is entirely different. It almost feels like he'd die if he doesn't get to have every last bit of you.
"You want toâ" you swallow, suddenly shy under his gaze. "You can do anything you want, Gyu."
His brows furrow together at the answer, something about it bugging him the wrong way. "But do you want me to? Do you like it?"
"I don't know," you admit and his brows dip even further. But this time, it's not in confusion but anger.
"None of the saps you've been with done this for you?" You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, disappointed. "Can I be the first then, my love? Can I show you how good you can feel when men don't just focus on themselves but on you as well?" Your breath shakes as you nod, watching as his frown gets replaced by a proud smile again.
He takes his time kissing your inner thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he makes you beg for more, your pleas a pleasure to his ears. You don't care what he does, if he just decides to fuck you after all or eats you out like he just promisedâyou just want to feel more.
As his tongue laps between your folds though, you realize waiting was worth it. With his hands gripping your thighs, he pulls you closer onto him, keeping you in place while his tongue circles your clit. His eyes flicker to your face from time to time but other than that, he pays his full attention to your needy pussy. Had it not been for his grip, your thighs would have closed around his head in an instead. But like this, you are forced to feel it all.
Your back arches under the pleasure, one of your hands instinctively reaching for his hair while the other fists the bed sheet under you. You grind your hips forward, your clit rubbing on his nose. His tongue pushes past your folds into your gummy walls, making your eyes roll back. Experiencing this for the first time, you understand why he was so mad no one's ever done this for you. It just shows how much he truly loves you.
"God, baby," you gasp, a loud whine leaving your lips. He smirks against you as he slowly pulls away, his lips glistening.
"That's not my name, love," he teases, circling your clit with his fingers. "Or were you praying for a baby? Is that what you want with me?" He ignores his own cock twitching in his pants at his words, thrusting two fingers into you. With how thick they are, you feel like there are three inside you. "Do you want me to put one into you? Because that works differently, darling. I can't do that with my tongue."
As if his fingers now stretching you open wasn't already enough, the way he speaks to you makes you so cock-drunk you question how you managed to spend the last two weeks with him without jumping on him.
You whine and his smirk only grows. "Did I get it right? Do you want my baby in you?" A part of you is convinced if he keeps going, you just might tell him yes â that you absolutely do. "But we already have a baby, love. You think we can take care of two, hm?"
"Yes," you gasp as he hits your sweet spot, your back arching again.
To Kim Mingyu, there isn't a more beautiful sight. With his fingers deep inside you, your naked body itching towards him and pleasure he knows you hadn't gotten much before written all across your face, the only thing missing is that baby of his inside your belly.
The only thing that compares to how you look right now is how you look with a smile on your face and your daughter in your hands. And while every inch of his body wants to fuck another baby into you, he'll be just as happy if Nabi is the only child in his life.
"My love, I shall die with this image painted in my mind," he groans, lowering himself again and wrapping his lips around your clit. It doesn't take much longer for him to make you come on his tongue, your legs shaking around his head as he helps you reach an orgasm you didn't think you had in you.
And when he comes back up, the grin on his face is unforgettable. He lets go off your thigh only to lace his fingers with yours, giving your hand a tight squeeze as he praises you for doing good. You try to steady your breath, ignoring his comment and remembering the feeling of his lips on you. Now that you've got a taste, you don't think you'll be able to fuck without it.
"The baby," you breathe out when your eyes find his. "Put one into me, love," the quiet plea rings in Mingyu's ears much louder, your words repeating over and over again in his head. He has to fight himself not to come untouched with his pants still on.
"Oh, darling," he coos as if his head wasn't spinning thinking about it. "You just finished and you already want more?"
You nod with a whine, reaching your free hand behind his back and tugging him closer. With your lips mere inches away from his, your voice grows more desperate. "You do this to me. It's your fault."
Another loud groan leaves Mingyu's lips as he drops his forehead to your shoulder, hiding his face so you wouldn't see just how pathetic your words make him. You chuckle at the reaction, reaching down and tugging his pants down as far as you can â even though you barely pull it down enough to free his cock. But that's enough for now.
Your fingers wrap around his length and you look at him, waiting for him to raise his head. He doesn't. Keeping his head buried in the crook of your neck, he enjoys the feelings of your hand rubbing over his tip. He knows you are waiting for a reaction, teasing him, but this is the reaction he is going to give you now, nothing more and nothing less.
But that's enough for you. Because while he thinks he is making himself unable to read this way, you focus on the small details that tell you he is enjoying this. Like the way he squeezes your hand, or the way his hips trust forward in your hand, or the muffled moans against your skin.
"Love," you beg, squeezing his tip. Another groan and finally, he looks at you again. "Will you please put it in?"
That's all he needs to hear before straightening his back and forcing his pants down, kicking them off. He is in a rush, that much is something anyone could tell. And god, do you love it. You pull up to wrap your hands behind his neck, doing the same with your legs around his hips with a smile on your face. His lips immediately crash with yours, his tip rubbing between your folds.
It's nice seeing him like this, knowing that while it was him making you crazy just a few minutes ago, you can make him feel the same way with ease. You pull him flush against you, your chest pressed against his as he slowly sinks into you. Your mouth falls open at the stretch but he never stops kissing you.
"I want you to look at me, love," he says as soon as he sees you closing your eyes at the pleasure. You whine as you listen to him, locking your eyes with his. "I want you to see who is making you feel good. I want you to know you're with me."
You nod, his words echoing in your ears. It's hard to stay focused when you can feel him everywhere; his hands on your waist, his lips on yours, his cock inside you â it's all too much. Every inch of your body begs to just turn off and give into the pleasure fully, but you get why he wants you to look at him, why it's so important for him to make sure you are being loved right now and not just used. Somehow, it makes you hornier.
Your heels dig into his lower back, keeping him close. It's probably impossible for the two of you to be closer than you are now, but you love it this way. It's not something you are used to, and that just makes him so much more special.
"Faster," you plea. A low groan leaves his lips as he speeds his pace, his hips thrusting towards you much quicker now. It's clear he was just trying to stay gentle before â which you appreciate deep down â but you want to feel all of him, see what he can give you even when he stops treating you like something fragile.
"Darling, youâ" this time it's a whine that escapes him and you don't think you've ever heard anything more beautiful. You are gone, so gone for this man. You could kiss the ground Kim Mingyu walks on, simply because you know he'd do the same without a moment of hesitation. "I can'tâ"
You crash your lips against his before he can finish, keeping yourself occupied so you wouldn't just moan with every thrust he gives you. He moves against you with hunger, that you can feel with his every touch. His grip on your waist tightens as soon as he registers the kiss, his fingers digging into your flesh. He will probably leave some light marks after his hands but you don't mind, you can't when your nails scratch his back in return. You might not be able to see the art you leave behind right now, but you know the red lines will look beautiful on his back.
Your pussy clench around him as you reach your orgasm again, his own following right after. He covers your walls white and you truly believe you've never felt better about making a man come. Maybe it's because he makes you feel taken care of, or maybe it's just because of how attractive he is, but you'd like to believe the fluttery in your chest has something to do with it.
He doesn't pull away even after the orgasm and you don't let him go either, the position turning into a warm embrace. "How am I supposed to leave tomorrow?" he whispers against your skin as he lets his head drop to your shoulder again. "Knowing that you'll be right here, in my bed, sleeping without me? How am I supposed to fly anywhere and not crash?"
"You'll need to keep thinking about how needy I'll be as soon as you come back. You can't fall from the skies when you'll have me waiting for you," you smile, pressing your lips to his shoulder. You can already imagine it, having Nabi on your hips as you come greet him at the door with the biggest smile on your face, his open arms as he swallows you in a tight hug immediately from how much he'd missed you, and having him cling to you the entire time he is home.
You can see yourself living like this for the rest of your life. With him by your side.
It's incredible, how much ones life can change in the span of a few days. If anyone told you you'd be having these thoughts a few weeks ago â hell, even if they did just last week â you wouldn't believe them at all. But now, it doesn't seem like such an unimaginable things. You can picture Mingyu being a dad to your daughter, you can picture him being a partner, a husband, to you, and you can picture finally living the ordinary life you once dreamed of.
Mingyu feels the same way. He used to love suffocating himself with work, being in the skies as much as he could, surrounded with his colleagues. He used to hate coming home just as much. He used to hate the feeling of an empty house and no one waiting for him.
But now, there is nothing more he wants to do than be at home and stop flying entirely. Not because he wouldn't enjoy it anymore, but because there are things far more important to him now. He can see himself working an office job if he needs to, being with you every night, and raising your daughter like his own.
He can see it all too well.
Suddenly, being home isn't as lonely as it once was.
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"Daddy! Mom says you need to go away for whole two weeks!" Nabi rushes into the room dramatically, her big eyes on the verge of crying as she looks up. "Tell her she's wrong! Why would you go away again?"
"Oh, butterfly," he coos, picking her up with ease and resting her on his lap. She's all grown now â a six year old, he reminds himself â but there are still things she doesn't completely understand and takes out of context. "I need to go to work. Remember how we looked at those airplanes last week? I'll be flying a similar one so I can buy you and mommy nice things." Still, every time he hears her refer to him as her dad, he has to resist the urge to quit his job and stay with the two of you forever.
"I didn't say you were going away," you argue as you follow your daughter inside the bedroom, leaning at the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest. "I said you would be at work for the next two weeks."
"That's not fair! Who is going to teach me to read? Daddy, stay home," she begs and Mingyu meets your eyes from across the room. You know this is his weakness. It was a few months after you moved into his house that she called him dad for the first time â it was dada at that time â and he was on the verge of crying as he picked her up and spun her around in the air, making her feel like she was flying. It was huge for him, and seeing him so excited over it only made your feelings for him grow.
There wasn't a single time where you'd question his devotion to the two of you. He's changed his life entirely just to make sure you had everything you've always wanted, from a lovely home to a partner who would stand by you. He's worked things around with his boss and agreed on only taking jobs that would allow him to be back home for dinner or breakfast the next morning, aside for a few exceptions. You could see that it was something new for him, being home for the night and sleeping in his own bed, but you could also see the happiness it brought him.
And every time you question if you made the right decision, if you weren't in the wrong for trapping him like this and limiting his options, he'd greet you with a long kiss after getting back home and reminding you just how much he loves living like this.
There is nothing better that could have happened to you. Kim Mingyu is the second greatest thing that happened to you, right after your daughter.
"Baby, you know daddy can't just do that," you cross the room, squatting down beside his leg and locking eyes with her. "He would get in big trouble if he didn't listen to his boss."
"How about uncle Jihoon helps you read while I'm gone and then you'll show me all that you learned, hm?" Mingyu smiles at her, watching the frown on her face slowly turn into a smile as well as she thinks about it. "I promise I'll be with you the entire week after that. And we can talk about that thing I told you about." Her eyes widen in excitement and you question what he means, tilting your head confusedly. "That's just between me and my little angel," he grins at you.
"Yes! It's a secret!" A big smile decorates Nabi's face as well, her crooked teeth showcasing. "One mommy can't know about!"
"Mingyu," your eyes narrow as you look at him. He doesn't answer though, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head instead.
"Let it be a surprise," he mumbles before kissing your daughter's head as well. Considering how secretive he is about it, it must be something serious. Usually, he'd fold under you in an instant and tell you anything you want to know, but it seems this time he is set on keeping it a secret.
"Keep in mind I can lock you outside if I don't like what you're planning," you remind him and a flash of fear appears in his eyes.
"You'll love it!" Nabi interrupts immediately.
"Of course, baby," you smile at her. Standing up from the floor, you pick her up again, ready to get back to cooking lunch. But you stop at the door once more, glancing back at Mingyu and narrowing your eyes to show him you're not playing around.
But Mingyu keeps a grin on his face, unable to hide his excitement as he thinks about the first thing he wants to do when he comes back from this trip â asking you to marry him.
thinking about... gyu calling you from his hotel room on tour, already sulky, already stretched out on the bed like a bored cat. he tries to talk about his day, but it lasts five seconds before his voice drops into that exaggerated, dragged-out whine. âi want youuuu,â he says, pulling the words like heâs made of pure drama. complains that the pillows are bad, the room is cold, the vibes are wrong, and â somehow â itâs all your fault for not being there. you hear him roll around on the mattress, huffing softly, going full baby mode. âthis is stupid,â he mutters. âi hate being away. i wanna be home. with you. now.â you laugh, call him needy. he gasps like youâve deeply betrayed him. denies it immediately â then follows it up with another long, shameless âpleaaase,â voice all soft and pouty, like he genuinely believes if he drags it enough youâll teleport to him. and when you tell him you miss him too? instant silence. then the tiniest satisfied sigh. âyeah,â he says, smug and sleepy. âi knew it.â
thinking out loud.
content: fluff, nerd!bf!wonwoo, yapping.
he doesnât even realize heâs doing it.
youâre sitting next to him on the couch, legs tucked under you, his shoulder warm against yours. wonwoo has his glasses on â the thin ones that slide just a little down his nose when he gets too into something â and at first heâs talking normally. calm. measured. explaining, like always.
âso the update changed the way the skill tree works,â he says, hands already moving, fingers drawing invisible diagrams in the air. âwhich is actually good, because before it was kind of unbalancedââ
you hum softly, not interrupting. thatâs all it takes.
his voice picks up without him noticing. words start coming faster, brighter, layered with excitement. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes focused on nothing in particular because heâs already inside the game in his head.
ââand people keep saying itâs overpowered, but itâs not if you actually understand the mechanics. like, okay, lookââ
he stops himself, laughs quietly. âsorry. iâm rambling.â
âno,â you say immediately. âkeep going.â
thatâs the moment heâs gone.
his ears turn pink first. then he smiles â small, shy, but pleased â and suddenly heâs fully yapping. explaining strategies. characters. patch notes. lore you know youâll forget but still listen to because he cares.
he doesnât notice how close he gets. how his knee bumps into yours and stays there. how his sleeve brushes your arm every time he gestures. how he starts saying âweâ instead of âi,â like youâre already part of it.
âand if you play it right,â he says, eyes lighting up, âitâs actually really satisfying. likeâoh, wait, waitâthereâs this one partââ
he catches himself again, breathless now, laughing under his breath.
ââŠam i talking too much?â
youâre already smiling at him. soft. fond. completely gone.
âyouâre cute when you do this,â you say.
that shuts him up instantly.
he freezes, blinking behind his glasses. then he looks away, embarrassed, lips pressing together like heâs trying not to smile and failing miserably.
ââŠi am?â he asks, quieter now.
you lean in, resting your head against his shoulder. feel him relax under you.
âyeah,â you murmur. âyou get all excited and forget everything else. itâs my favorite.â
thereâs a pause. then his arm lifts â hesitant, careful â before settling around you. pulling you just a little closer.
ââŠokay,â he says, voice warm now, content. âthen iâll keep going. but just because you asked.â
and he does.
yapping softly now. slower. happier. one hand absentmindedly playing with your fingers while he talks about a game he loves â completely unaware that the best part of your night isnât the story heâs telling, but the way he feels safe enough to tell it at all.
â synopsis: you're alone in the woods following the tail-end of a very bad live-action rendition of the walking dead and you're in jeans of all things: but welcome to kim mingyu's early post-apocalyptic guide to falling in love. in three days, no less!
â genre: strangers to ??? ; post-apocalyptic au (think very, very early post-apocalypse) ; angst, fluff, mild smut.
â pairing: architect!kim mingyu x fem!reader
â word count: 42.1k
â rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
â warnings: swearing. mentions of zombies, though it's really not that serious or pertinent to the plot once they start spending time together. mentions of death, porn, wattpad...and essentially, they're fucking stupid. smut warnings: virgin!reader (so essentially mildly unrealistic but i do what i want) ; mingyu consent king because i said so, unprotected sex (it's the apocalypse where are they gonna find rubbers??), mild choking (f.rec), clit play, 'just the tip' (was not just the tip), fingering (f.rec), brief oral (f.rec), jokes during sex because i can't be serious to save my life, dirty talk, begging?, creampie (ew!!), pet names (baby, sweetness, slut (whoops)) and i think that's about it.
â what to listen to: sweetness - elliot james reay ; my kind of woman - mac demarco ; remedy - adele ; piece of my heart - janice joplin ; love at first sight - kylie minogue ; anyone - seventeen.
â author's note: welcome back to haologram. i want to preface that i don't know jackshit about zombie apocalypses but i know a lot about camping and angst! apologies for any typos, and thank you to @aeristudios for beta-ing this before i put in the smut (i am a woman of many talents, but smut is not one of them!) as always, thank you to @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr for these daisy dividers & this behemoth is dedicated to none other than @gyuswhore. to emberly: happiest birthday & congratulations on your graduation. i love you eternally. âĄ
YOU HAVE NEVER KISSED A BOY.Â
Itâs the only thing that crosses your mind as you sit in the middle of the forest, your hands covered in wild blackberry juice and blood from a gash on your palm, cause of the thorns. It sounds stupid, for that to be the thought that crosses your mind â but it means something to you.Â
You run your tongue over the gash, the metallic taste of blood mixing with the sweetness of the berry juice in a gross cocktail on the back of your tongue.Â
It was one of your hidden secrets.Â
One you talked about only to your pillow, not even bothering to waste precious gel ink on confessing it into your journal. You hid behind your hair in classes; you barely spoke up at your part-time job â letting your hands do the talking. You spent your hard-earned pennies on cool lip gloss: sparkly, shimmery, sticky and smelling of berries, vanilla, even mint. You were meant for more, you thought â your life couldnât be all studying and entitled customers demanding half off their service.Â
You kept to yourself, and you had been close with two people: Lee Jian and Jang Jieun. Your best friends all through high school and college, glued at the hips like gum to shoes. They, too, knew of your lack of...boy kissing. Jieun had dated Jianâs cousin Hyunjin for three years before they broke up when he went abroad, and Jian had dated around through most of college â so neither of them had this problem.Â
And now, as the world continued to crumble around you, neither would you â it was unlikely. Eventually, almost surely â you would also succumb to the brain-melting that turned you into one of those undead things. Rotting, your flesh practically falling off the bone as you lost all sense of coordination and eventually, hopefully, got taken out by one of the surviving, merciful humans.Â
You lean your head back, scrunching your nose as your hair gets caught in the rough bark of the oak tree. You donât bother complaining as you straighten again, rummaging through your backpack limply when you hear the familiar crunch of twigs. Your uninjured hand freezes, your shoulders tense as you peer over the edge of the ratty brown JanSport bag.Â
If it was slow, you could easily outrun it. You could climb one of the trees, you could kill it from a distanceâÂ
Your breath hitches as the rustling stops, and you look up through your lashes to see a very tall man looking down at you. He doesnât look like heâs running; rather, walking â donning nice olive-green cargo shorts, a brown t-shirt paired with well-loved hiking boots and thick white socks. He wears a black watch that blinks 3:32 PM, and a silver chain peeks out from the collar of his shirt. Your fingers tighten inside the bag as you see him adjust the white cap on his head, and he raises a brow at you.Â
âItâs kind of counterproductive to hold a knife in your hand if youâre just going to...sit there.âÂ
You glance down â your hand is gripping a red box cutter youâd taken from an abandoned warehouse you slept in a few weeks back. It had been a solace for a few days, until you heard the familiar chittering of the stupid, rotting bodies surrounding the building. You bolted out, leaving behind a rather large stockpile of bread and water â but you were alive, and you didnât care.Â
Your bag was almost empty now; aside from the box cutter, some rope, a jar of honey you were almost too frugal with, half a sleeve of crackers, an extra pair of ratty socks and underwear, an unscented bar of soap...Â
And a stupid, unused tube of sparkly lip gloss that smelled like sickly sweet bubblegum. You didnât even have a bra, the one you left with stolen by a fucking raccoon of all things.Â
âAre you hurt?âÂ
His eyes are probing, and you remain silent as you nod slowly.Â
âCan you show me? I haveââÂ
âDo you have any food?âÂ
His eyes glimmer with amusement as he nods, and he tugs the packed rucksack off before crouching next to you. You push your own bag out of the way, pressing both your hands into your dirty jeans as you peer over the opening. The bag holds a netted pouch of oranges, apples and carrots, and there are tons of scattered plastic sandwich bags â not holding sandwiches, but what seemed to be dehydrated meals. Your eyes widen at the three biggest bottles of water youâd seen in weeks, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow. Youâd run out the day before, hardly wanting to risk it with the streams.Â
âCan IââÂ
âLet me see where youâre injured, first. And we can wash your hands, too.âÂ
You huff, sitting up on your knees and showing him your bleeding palm. The gash is still trickling, and he shakes his head as he fishes out a plastic first aid kit. You furrow your brow, watching as he pops it open to reveal it freshly stocked â and you move back slightly, eyes narrow.Â
âWhere are you getting all this stuff from?âÂ
He shrugs, âmy family has a cabin in these woods. About a hundred miles north, give or take a few detours. But theyâre gone, so. Yeah.âÂ
Your heart sinks a bit for the too-friendly stranger, but you donât let it tug too hard.Â
â...So, what are you doing out here? If you have shelter, I mean?âÂ
âLooking for people to take back. You seem...alive. No undead freaks try to eat your brain yet?âÂ
You try not to look offended at his questioning of your consciousness, but you canât find it within yourself to say anything as he carefully pops open a bottle of antiseptic. He holds his hand out for yours, your eyes running over the healed calluses on his palms. Youâre not as wary as you normally are and it worries you, but you place your own hand palm-up in his with a restrained tremble.Â
Heâs cool to the touch. Almost as though heâd just run his hands through a stream, or the less possible option (for you, at least) â a nice, cold bath.Â
âHow long have you been on your own?â He asks, and youâre easily distracted from the sting of antiseptic by his conversation. You shrug, watching the dirt and blood and sticky berry juice melt away as he wipes at your hand with a pinch in his brow.Â
âSince the beginning,â you mutter, your chest tight at the acknowledgement. Jieun and Jian had been amongst the first to go, and youâd narrowly escaped their attempt at infecting you by climbing out the window of your shared apartment after barricading your bedroom door. The entire ordeal had been so terrifying that you didnât really remember it, much less how they got infected â but it wasnât like you could do anything now.Â
Youâd been on high alert since â your muscles tense as you prowled the streets alone. Your phone had been long dead, tucked in the very bottom of your bag. You tried payphones, but you grew more and more fearful of any sounds in your vicinity. The city was seemingly abandoned at that point; the chitter of the undead was the only thing you could hear for miles â and you missed the cicadas.Â
The man frowns, nodding as he smears a thick gel onto your palm. A roll of bandage is rummaged out of the bottom of his bag, and he carefully wraps your hand before tearing the end with his teeth and tucking it in place.Â
âYouâre not allergic to anything, are you?â He mumbles, shoving the kit back into his bag. You shake your head eagerly, and he smiles inwardly before pulling out one of the bottles of water. He uncaps it for you, the click of a new bottle soothing to your ears. âCareful, youâll throw it up if you drink too fast.âÂ
You take the bottle gingerly, holding it awkwardly as you drink. Itâs smooth down your dry throat, your eyes fluttering shut as you slump slightly against the oak tree. He chuckles softly, and you hold the bottle to your chest tightly with a pout on your lips.Â
âYou have no idea how long Iâve needed that.âÂ
âYou also need a bathââÂ
âWill you shut up? Iâm already down, donât kick me anymore.âÂ
He snickers, reaching into the rucksack and retrieving several bags.Â
âYou have a name?âÂ
âObviously,â your tone is uninterested; eyes fixed on the bags in his hands. He glances up, wiggling his fingers to get your attention. You tongue your cheek as he tilts his head.Â
âWell, what is it?âÂ
âWhatâs it to you, guy?âÂ
You bite back a grin as he snorts, âcute. Fine, have your secrets.âÂ
He holds up a bag, âthis is something you can just soak in the water. Itâll be cold but itâs a meal, thereâs riceââÂ
âThatâs great and all, but I do not care. Iâve been surviving off berries, honey and a sleeve of crackers for three days. Just give it to me, please.â You hold your hand out, your exhaustion settling on your shoulders, making his eyes soften. He fishes out a thermos from his bag, placing it in your hand. You unscrew the top, warmth floating up to your face as you sniff it â your eyes never leaving him as he provides a spoon.Â
âPorridge. Itâs plain, butââÂ
You donât bother listening, your hand reaching into your bag and pulling out the honey jar. You take the spoon and shove it into the porridge, before thrusting the honey into his hands, open, please.âÂ
You kneel closer to his bag as he pops the lid, your fingers wiggling through the netted bag and prying an apple out through the opening. Wiping it across your shirt, you sink your teeth into it and take a bite, holding it in your mouth before grabbing the now-open jar of honey from his hand and carefully tilting it into the thermos. A soft drip of natureâs gold swirls into the porridge, and you stir it in carefully before taking the apple between your fingers to spoon some into your mouth. Itâs warm and sweet with the crunch of the apple, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as you lean your head back against the rough bark of the tree again. Your eyes close as you chew, a hot tear streaming down your cheek that you wipe away haphazardly, before practically inhaling the porridge as though it were your first meal ever.Â
Which...it kind of is, but thatâs none of his business.Â
The guy just coos, watching you eat as he carefully repacks his bag and you adjust to fold your legs beneath you. The apple core is held between two of your fingers; the large bites subsiding as you scrape the bottom of the thermos for the last bit of porridge. He smiles inwardly, shaking his head as he holds his hand out for the items. He smiles inwardly, shaking his head as he holds his hand out for the thermos and spoon. You shovel the last bite into your cheek, coughing slightly around the last chunk of apple in your mouth as he screws the lid back onto the dish and shoves it to the bottom of his bag.Â
âFeel better?â He leans back on his hands, and you swallow hard around the porridge before reaching for the bottle of water. He takes it before you can, unscrewing the top and you mutter something adjacent to a thanks before carefully taking a sip. You hiccup slightly but fix your posture once more to sit with your back against the tree trunk.Â
âI missed hot food.â You admit, watching his hand spin the lid back onto your jar of honey. He slides it back into your bag, and you pull the ratty thing to your chest and look over at him. âThanks for...helping me out. Uh, you didnât have to.âÂ
âOh, itâs no problem.âÂ
âYou should get going. Iâm sure someone else could need your help, too.âÂ
He snorts, shaking his head, âIâm on my way up to the cabin. I donât know how I missed you on the way down, but there is literally no one else in these woods aside from the occasional bear and deer. Have you ever had deer? Delicious.âÂ
âNo, I havenât had deer. Are you always this talkative with strangers? Donât you worryââ You cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes as you scoot back slightly, âarenât you worried about stranger danger?âÂ
âStranger danger became a thing of the past when that loser in those downtown chemistry labs released that stupid experiment upon the general public. If you were so worried about me, you wouldnât have eaten the porridge, drank the water, or let me bandage you up.â He shrugs, before giving you a pointed look, âyouâre injured, hungry, in jeans of all things and youâre lost.âÂ
âI am not lost.â You huff, and he raises a brow as he speaks, âyeah? Which way is North?âÂ
âThat way.âÂ
âThatâs left, my friend.âÂ
âAnd itâs about time you do just that, guy. I am not your friend, either.âÂ
âYouâre quick with it. I like that.â He laughs, before gesturing at the bottle in your lap. âYou can keep that, and we can refill it along the way.âÂ
âWhat are you talking about? Iâm not going anywhereââÂ
âAgain, youâre hungry, youâre lost and youâre dirty. I have food, I know this place like the back of my hand, and we can get you a nice bath if you just chill out.âÂ
âDid you just call me uptight?â You scoff, crossing your arms as he bites back a smile, shrugging one shoulder as he zips his bag closed, hiking it over the other and standing carefully. He dusts his hands of debris, giving you a lopsided smirk.Â
âI said no such thing.âÂ
âYou implied it.â You hop to your feet, and he only smiles down at you. The warmth in it makes your stomach settle slightly, but your brows remain furrowed as he leans down and picks your bag up by the strap. He hitches it over the same shoulder holding his own, before moving forward.Â
âCome on, stinky. Weâll get you cleaned up, and you can joint he rest of the people Iâve found at the cabin.âÂ
âI do not stink! How dare youââÂ
âCome on, princess. Thereâs a spring deeper in the forest. When was the last time you took a bath?âÂ
You reluctantly follow behind him, your fingers gripping the water bottle before he takes it and tucked it into the netted pocket of his rucksack. You tongue your cheek, wrapping your arms around yourself and tucking your fingertips under your sleeves as a breeze blows softly. Autumn would set in soon, and maybe the end of the despair, too.Â
âDid you hear me?â He prods, and you kick a patch of grass behind his boot. He snickers, swatting his hand behind him and brushing your elbow. You smack the heel of his hand, his fingers pulling your fingertips before you twist them out of his hold.Â
âThree days ago. I finished the last of my water cleaning myself up, I donât trust the streams.â You mutter, wrapping your arms around you tighter as you move to his side. He bumps his hip to yours with purpose, and you spare him a glance to see his soft smile. âDonât look at me like that, Iâm clean.âÂ
âIâm not some weirdo, you know. I know these woods, and I wouldnât put you in danger. You have to have some inkling of that, too, because youâre following me.â He raises his brows at you, and you only roll your eyes, kicking more twigs and pebbles.Â
âYeah, right. I donât even know your name, guy.âÂ
âWell, itâsââÂ
You throw your hand up, the bandaged injury brushing his shoulder as you shake your head.Â
"Don't tell me. You'll get attached and I fly solo."Â
"âŠRight. Totally, princess. There's a spring this wayâ"Â
"Stop calling me that!"Â
"Well, it's not like I know your name, right?" He smiles cheekily, and you bite your tongue as you move ahead of him. Your back is damp from sweating in the sticky August afternoon, but you hold your head high as you keep trudging forward. This guy seemingly took pleasure in bugging you like his life depended on it; granted, you'd been in these woods for almost a month and a half and hadn't seen another living soulâŠyou can't really blame him.Â
But because you'd been alone for so long, you also couldn't really blame yourself for not wanting to get attached. Who knew what lingered in these woods â bears, mountain lionsâŠmore of the undead, and creepy crawlers that would kill you without a second thought. All you could do was hope that he wasn't one of those.Â
"So," He starts, and you almost want to punch him in the face as you curl your fingers into your palms and tuck them under your armpits. He only chuckles at the visual, "what did you do before the world started crumbling?"Â
"I was an architecture student with a focus on interior design. Three months from graduation and with a first-class ticket to to Germany where I scored a major internship." You grouse, your eyes still glued to the forest floor. You kick a bigger rock out of your way with the tip of your canvas sneakers, "I was top of my class. My models were outstanding. I was displayed all over my professor's lecture hall. I would've been great. God, I would've been so fucking great. Stupid outbreak."Â
"Isn't surviving on your own for this long also something you could consider greatness?" He questions you carefully, almost as though you're a ticking bomb with no timer. You only shrug.Â
"That just means you're great, too."Â
"You don't think I'm great?"Â
"I think you're annoying. God, is this spring actually close or are you just gonna lead me down some ridiculous winding path?"Â
He snorts, his fingers cool against your skin as he carefully tilts your face to the left. The spring is down the hill, seemingly man-made and lined with big boulders. Your eyes widen, and you swat his hand away as you make your way down. He follows closely behind, your excited cheers being heard all throughout the woods as you slide down the hill, crouching on one of the boulders and sticking your hands into the flowing water. The water is slightly warm from the high sun but refreshing to the touch as you press your wet fingers against your neck, a sigh slipping from your throat as you dip them below the collar of your shirt.Â
"God, that's good." The sigh of relief from your lips must be amusing, because you hear a soft chuckle from the top of the hill. You quickly untie your shoes, ripping them off your feet and stuffing your socks into them. You dip your feet in, sore and blistered from days of walking as he slides down the hill.Â
"You shouldâŠtake a dip. I can wash your clothes down the stream."Â
You scoff, "that's vulgar. A stranger washing my intimates? Please."Â
"You can wash your pink panties yourself, princess. I'm talking about your shirt and jeans. I have a change, if you want it." He rolls his eyes, tugging at hem of your shirt over the belt loops of your jeans. You swat his hand away, "go away! I can wash my own clothes! And I have a change, too!"Â
"Whatever you say, princess. I'll be down this wayâŠenjoy. Holler if you need me." He shrugs, standing abruptly as you scoff inwardly. You cross your arms as he crunches leaves and twigs beneath his heavy boots, and you nibble on your lip as you stare at the water. A groan leaves your lips.Â
"Are you sure this water's safe!?" You call out, hearing an annoying chuckle from a few feet away.Â
"Do you want me to get in with you, princess?"Â
"Ugh, men." You grumble, tonguing your cheek as you stare at the water. You weren't a camper or anything, and your family never frequented hiking trails or the great outdoors all that oftenâŠbut if he fed you, and he led you there, and he had experience in these woodsâŠhe had to know something, right?Â
Hesitantly, you peek over the boulders to see him holding a rag in his hand, his bag still hitched over his shoulder as he plucked berries skillfully from a bush. Blackberries, you think â but not too much as you strip yourself of your top and jeans, folding them neatly on one of the boulders before glancing over your shoulder again. He's kneeling now, still carefully sorting through brambles and thumbing berries as you cross your arms around your chest, ignoring the heat radiating off your cheeks as you remember that your underwear is in fact, pink, and only turning darker as the water soaks into it.Â
You're not gonna let a man you don't know see your intimates!Â
You wade into the water, cool against your skin as you reach about neck deep. A sigh falls from your lips as you lean your hair back into the water, refreshing against your scalp. Your eyes are closed as you swim through the water, working away the ache in your shoulders from your backpack straps being too tight. Â
"Feels good, huh?"Â Â
Your eyes immediately fly open, your arms wrapping around your chest as you look up to see the guy setting his bag downâŠwith his eyes closed. He's set down the berries on the boulder where your clothes are, but they're not blackberries. They're red, and kind of enticing as you try your best to quietly swim over. You lift yourself up slightly, covering your chest with your arms still as you touch one with your wet hand.Â
"What are these?" You pick one up, piercing the flesh cell with your fingernail as he shrugs, eyes still closed as he expertly digs through his rucksack. You throw the berry at him, hitting him square in the chest and making him tongue his cheek as he shakes his head.Â
"Thimbleberries. You can eat some if you want, they're pretty good. I use the bark to make soap, which is what I'm going to give you here in a second." Â
"Bark to make soap? Incredible." You murmur, eyeing the berry in your hand. You run it under the water, wiping at the flesh carefully with the pad of your thumb before taking a tentative nip. The juice is sweet in the forefront of your mouth but tart on the back of your tongue, a hum from your throat catching his attention.Â
"Good? I like it as spread. Sometimes we make wine back at the cabin, or those fruit leather strips." He nods, eyes still closed as you throw another berry at him. "Stop that! You're wasting berries and I worked hard to pick those!"Â
"Open your eyes, dude. You can't see anything from where you are." You roll your eyes, and he lets out a huff as he tentatively peels open one eye. You give him a pointed look, holding out one of the washed berries as he pouts, plucking it from your fingers and stuffing it into his cheek as he speaks.Â
"I'm just trying to be respectful."Â
"And I appreciate that, but I'm sure you've seen boobs before."Â
He rolls his eyes, "that's not the point."Â
"The point, guy, is that I don't care. You've seen boobs and it's not like you're gonna do anything to me, so what the hell. We can be adults about this." You shrug, shoveling another berry into your mouth. "Now, what's this bark soap shit you're talking about? How does that work?"Â
"You've warmed up to me really quickly, haven't you?"Â
"The worst you could do is kill me. You don't have the guts, and I'm faster than you."Â Â
Your voice is confident as you take more berries in your hand, making him shake his head in amusement as he digs into the bag one more time. A flash crosses his eyes, and he pulls his hand out to reveal a small bottle with a pink cap. Â
"Here it is!" He holds it out to you, popping the cap to waft the smell into your face. You crinkle your nose, backing up slightly when he rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on! It smells nice!"Â
"It smells like eucalyptus and despair, and I can taste it. I hate that, bleugh." You make a disgusted face as you bite into another berry to erase the scent from your palate, and he frowns. Â
"It's either eucalyptus and despair or you stink for the next two days."Â
"I do not stink!"Â
He snorts, and you reluctantly hold your hand out for it. He drops it into your palm, "I wouldn't recommendâŠbeing in the spring while you wash. You'll contaminate it."Â
"So what do you suggest I do, genius? Give myself a little sponge bath?" You scoff, only for him to nod as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You give him a deadpan look, slapping the boulder beneath your arms. "How the hell would I do that?"Â
"Uh, you step out and scrub yourself with a washcloth, then rinse until you're clean? The point of hiking is to enjoy nature while preserving it, princess."Â
"This is surviving, guy. Not hiking for fun!"Â
"Still. You may be faster but I'm stronger and I have no problem fishing you out myself." He shrugs, and you suck your teeth as you stare up at him. He doesn't budge, his eyes stern as he gestures you to get out.Â
"I don't like you, guy." You mutter, and he only snickers as you make your way to a lower boulder to pull yourself out. He looks away, digging in his bag quickly before pulling out a soft washcloth and handing it to you blindly. You snatch it out of his hand as you pull yourself onto the boulder, making a wet plop sound as you sit on the edge.Â
"I'llâŠgive you some privacy. Just give meâ"Â
"A holler, yeah. Scram, guy."Â
He does just that. You do as you're told, peeling your soaked underwear off and scrubbing yourself silly with the stinky soap and washclothâ unfortunately, feeling a lot cleaner than you had in months. Your scalp tingles as you haphazardly scrub the soap into it, and you feel almost insane as you keep looking over your shoulder to see him nowhere to be found. You rinse yourself off with the bottle of water he'd given you, glancing over to see he's left his rucksack and your backpack next to you. You grab yours, fishing out the pair of clean underwear and pulling it over your legs before ringing your hair out.Â
"Uh, hey, guy? Do you have a shirt in this thing?" You call out, glancing over your shoulder to see him jerk his head up from under the berry brambles. He quickly shuts his eyes as you cover your chest, your cheeks warming as he stutters.Â
"Y-Yeah, yep! Uh, justâŠdig around!"Â
You do just that, holding your arm over your chest as you root in the bag, pulling a brown shirt out and quickly pulling it over your head. You dip your feet back into the spring, "Thanks, I got it! We're good!"Â
"Great, great." He stumbles back over, holding the rag of berries in his hand before clearing his throat. "Are youâŠyou're not gonna walk around like that, are you?"Â
"Well, I was kind of hoping to wash my clothes and justâŠlay here until dusk. ThenâŠfall asleep in a tree or something." You shift, and you glance over to see him trying to hold in either a fart or laughter. You guess the latter as a smile breaks through, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he turns his face away.Â
He clears his throat, letting out a suspicious cough as you narrow your eyes.Â
"You're laughing at me."Â
"I'm not, promise."Â
"You're a liar."Â
He lets out a breath, corners of his lips upturning involuntarily as he smooths his shorts with his hands. "I am not. You're justâŠfunny."Â
"So you are laughing!"Â
"This is bear country, sweetness." He manages, clearing his throat again and fighting back his smile. "We can't stay here. Bears climb trees, bears maul you, then you're dead before the world's back in order. Wouldn't want you to miss that internship."Â
"Yeah right, internship's as dead and gone as any idea of society rebuilding itself after this. At this point we'll have to repopulateâ" You cut yourself off, looking at him to see his eyes wide and cheeks red from the hot sun. "UhâŠI just don't have very high hopes for that. So, I'm just going to take it day by day, I guess. If I die, then I die."Â
"Except you won't, because you have me! So, get up. There's a cave we can camp in around here, trust." He rolls his eyes, flipping through his rucksack before producing a pair of shorts and holding them out to you. "âŠSeriously, you're not gonna walk around in your underwear, right? You'll get eaten alive by the mosquitoes."Â
"Not true, guy. The DCAâ"Â
"You wanna trust the DCA right now?"Â
He gives you a look of disbelief, and you shrug. Â
"A study in 2014â"Â
"That was a decade ago, sweetheart."Â
"I'm not your sweetheart, and who cares? Eucalyptus oil was approved as an effective mosquito repellent. If I get bit, I'll put my jeans back on. Not a big deal."Â
"What if that virus is zoonotic?" He argues, shaking the shorts in his hands as a way to emphasize his point. You raise a brow, crossing your arms as you jut your hip out.Â
"This ass is hypnotic, so at least I'll die knowing I gave it my all."Â
"I have another pair, just put them on. You're not being serious right now."Â
"Take a look if you want, pervert." You scoff, before crouching to gather your dirty clothes. You stuff them into your bag, before peeling your socks out of your shoes with a discontented sigh. There's a hole in the toe, but the other socks have suffered the same fate. You sit on the boulder to pull them over your feet anyway, before his hand wraps around your ankle and he snatches it out of your hand.Â
"Stinky, worn thin and one, two, three holes. Good grief, princess." He mutters, tossing it onto your lap before grabbing a fresh pair and a little box from his rucksack. You have half a mind to pull your leg away, but something about the cool feeling of his fingers around your hot skin makes you sit still as he cracks the box open. "These are moleskin bandages. We'll change them every night, because your shoes are horrible for this."Â
He touches the side of your pinky toe, hearing you hiss before examining the sole of your foot with a frown. He pads at it with his thumb, tonguing his cheek as he sets it on his knee to look at the other.Â
"You'll need insoles. I'll have to see what size boot you wear when we get back to the cabin, these are no good." He reaches over to grab your sneaker, peeking inside to see the soles worn and thin. He shakes his head, "maybe I should just carry you. This really won't do."Â
"I'm not a baby." You spit back, and his hand on your foot squeezes, making you wince. You kick him gently, only for him to pop your toes with one hand as you squirm.Â
"Not a baby, my ass." He moves to tend to your foot silently, even reaching into his bag several times for different ointments and oils before your feet are covered in slivers of moleskin bandages. He shoves the socks on, rolling the ankles as you realize how thick they are. He puts your shoes on for you, double-knotting the laces before glancing at the shorts.Â
"You sure you don't want them?"Â
"Good God, man. If it makes you feel better, I'll wear your stupid shorts."Â
"Well, now I don't want to give them to you." He sniffs, grabbing the shorts by the pocket as you loop your fingers into the waistband. "My shorts are not stupid."Â
"Oh, I'm so sorry, shorts. I'm so sorry your owner is restrictingâ"Â
"Shut up!"Â
"Good, now you know how annoying you are." You suck your teeth, yanking the shorts out of his hand and pulling them over your legs quickly. You tuck the drawstring until they're snug, before standing and pulling your backpack over your shoulder. "Now, move it, guy. I'm tired and I want to rest without feeling like I'm gonna die."Â
You shove past him, marching off with no direction as he snorts behind you. You hear him behind you; the rustle of his bag being thrown over his shoulder. You keep walking aimlessly, before crossing your arms on your chest and talking over your shoulder.Â
"What did you do before the world decided to end?"Â
"I thought you said you didn't wanna get attached, princess?"Â
You scoff, "yeah, that's why you don't need to know my name. That's how people keep stray animals, you know. They say they'll only take care of them until they're healthy, then they name the thing and suddenly that animal is getting scraps off the table and it sleeps at the foot of the bed."Â
He chuckles, his stride lengthening to end up next to you. He tilts you slightly to the left, to a different pathway than your original wandering. Â
"That's a good point, I guess. But like animals, people are won over by personalities. We could have things in common, shared experiences and the like."Â
"I doubt you and I have anything in common, guy." You quip, shaking your head and feeling your damp hair brushing your neck. You swipe it back, behind your ears as he hums. Â
"You sure?"Â
"I won't like you anyway. You're annoying and invasive, you know that?"Â
"Annoying and invasive got you clean, fed, and is now finding you a place to sleep. I'd watch that mouth if I were you."Â
You don't like the way your stomach flutters at his tone, but you scoff anyway.Â
"Throwing it in my face only shows you're doing it to make yourself the good guy."Â
"Or it's me reminding you that you don't know me, and I don't have to do this."Â
"See my previous statement, guy."Â
He only clicks his tongue, shoving his hands in his back pockets as he shrugs.Â
"So what did you do? Were you always a professional loser?" You loll your head back, looking up at him as he runs his tongue over his lip.Â
"You're mean, you know that?"Â
"You'll learn to like it."Â
"No doubt about that, princess."Â
He pushes you behind him as he steps in front of you, a rockier path leading downwards appearing a few feet ahead. He reaches back, his fingers brushing your hip before you instinctively give him your hand. He grips it carefully, his other hand reaching back to hold your hip as he leads you down the unstable terrain.Â
"I was an architect with a Master's degree in interior design. I completed my degrees in three years because I was an overachiever, but that got me chances to design three buildings downtown and a few apartment buildings in the outskirts. I was working on a house before the outbreak started." His voice is straight, almost a bit solemn as he kicks a few rocks out of the way. "It was for my family, but you know how the wind blows."Â
You feel your chest tight as you reach the bottom of the terrain, his hand slipping off your hip, but you don't let his hand go as he moves to pull it away. He glances down at you, and you clear your throat as you drop his hand, rubbing your palm on the back of your shorts. Â
"I'm sorry for your lossâŠguy."Â
"Life goes on, princess."Â
You hate the way your heart sinks as he shrugs, before his hands tilt your shoulders to the right. You force one foot in front of the other, clearing your throat again and staring up at the trees surrounding you.Â
"How do you feel about mahogany?" You blurt, tucking your hands behind your back as he carefully maneuvers your shoulders to move you in certain directions. He snorts, "mahogany? The wood?"Â
"Yeah. Let's have a conversation."Â
"You feel bad now, don't ya?"Â
"Never fucking mind."Â
His laugh is full bellied as you stalk forward exaggeratedly, your shoes kicking pebbles and twigs out of the way as you worm your way along. He catches up to you in two quick strides, the heel of his boot nudging the back of your sneaker as you stop to climb over a fallen log.Â
"Stop that!"Â
"I like mahogany, but mostly for flooring, staircases and doors. Not so much for anything that's eye level or above, I think it's too heavy. It's too rich of a color to be so high, I think."Â
You feel your lip twitch as you manage to get over the fallen log, crossing your arms defiantly as you glance over your shoulder to see him doing the same.Â
"Hm."Â
"Disagree?"Â
"No."Â
He smiles inwardly, but you quickly face forward once more as a clearing comes into view. Running water can be heard in the distance, and you try to walk confidently as the path becomes muddy.Â
"How do you feel aboutâŠelm burl?" You try, any nonchalance escaping your throat as he hums next to you, his lips pursing as he shakes his head.Â
"I love the patterns on it, but I don't think it's ethical to use it. It's so scarce and deforestation is a problem as it is, I can't imagine using it willynilly. Or willingly, actually. There are better materials." Â
You blink up at him, your cheeks warming as he glances down at you. His brow raises, "what?"Â
"Nothing."Â
"It's something. What, you like burl?"Â
"No, I actually hate burl. I don't think it's worth the time it takes to harvest, and I don't like the fact that people think the scarcity makes it more beautiful. It feels superficial and it grosses me out when I see homes that have it because I just know they paid up the ass for it. I know it's a great wood for homes in terms of durability and even super moisture resistant but it's frustrating to see the ignorance go over people's heads." You huff, crossing your arms tighter as he nods slowly, a quick hum from his throat as you look away.Â
"Sorry."Â
"No, I like it. You've got passion."Â
"Whatever." You roll your eyes, feeling your ears grow hot as he scoffs, his hip bumping yours with purpose. You swat at him, his hand grabbing your wrist and pushing it away as he speaks.Â
"It's good that you're like that! I knew so many people in the industry who didn't care. You don't know how frustrating it isâŠor maybe you do, depending on who you know." He grouses, his lip jutted out in a pout as you stop at the edge of the path. Lower is more muddy terrain, but you're too in awe of the beautiful waterfall to even care.Â
"Woah." Your arms fall to your sides, your eyes wide as he stops next to you. Â
"It's pretty, isn't it?"Â
"Will you judge me if I cry?"Â
"Yes."Â
"You suck," you shove his arm lightly, before wrapping your fingers around the straps of your bag tightly. You watch the water flow, before feeling his hand on the back of your head. He turns it slowly, and you see a series of boulders leading up to the waterfall.Â
"Wanna see it up close, princess?"Â
You don't get a chance to respond as he takes your arm anyway, pulling you down the terrain and around the water. You try your best to keep up, carefully maneuvering over bigger rocks and shaking your arm out of his grasp, only for him to reach back again and you slide your hand into his. Â
Like it's normal.Â
Because it is.Â
"Be careful, alright? These are slippery." He pulls you in front of him as the boulders appear in front of him, moving your hands to hold onto the dry edges. You wedge the tip of your shoes into the gathered rocks beneath it, and he grips your hips to hoist you up easily.Â
And you ignore the stupid flutter in your stomach again, standing up straight and moving out of the way as he pulls himself up with ease. You flicker your eyes away from the bulge of his biceps against the fabric of his shirt, swallowing hard as you carefully make your way up the boulders. Â
The spray of the waterfall is cooling against your warm skin, your eyes wide as you watch it cascade over the rocky ledge. You carefully put your bag down as he reaches your side, your fingers poking through the running water. You crouch down, running your fingers along the jagged edge of the platform you're standing on.Â
"How'd you find this?" You voice is full of air, only to hear him hum behind you, the weight of his rucksack hitting the stone as he sets it down. You glance over your shoulder to see him staring at the water, head tilted to the side as he shrugs.Â
"I found it on the way down, actually. It was pouring and I couldn't risk sleeping in one of the trees or in one of the tents. I used to play a game on Nintendo that had a world with a cavern behind a waterfall and when I saw this one, I looked around. The cavern, I mean, and there's no bears or anything. Lots of stalactite, though; it's pretty cool." He nods, looking down at you. You must look amused, because he scoffs. "What's so funny?"Â
"You play Nintendo games?"Â
"I was a boy once! A teenager!"Â
"What game was it? Super Mario Odyssey? The first world has a waterfall. Actually, a couple of them do, I think." You turn your attention back to the water, only to feel him crouch next to you. He wraps his arms around his knees, sticking one hand into the water as he clicks his tongue.Â
"It was, actually. Nerd."Â
"No way, loser."Â
"Way," he chuckles, pressing his wet fingers against his neck before carding them through his hair. "I'm gonna check out the cavern, make sure nothing's in there. I'll catch a fish or something and we can eat before we turn in for the night."Â
"Oh, I'm not all that hungryâ" Your lie is cut off by the grumble in your stomach, and you give an exaggerated cough to cover it up before he nudges you with his elbow. He has a knowing look on his face, rolling his eyes at you as he stands up straight. He turns on his heel, and you watch over your shoulder as he takes a flashlight out of the pocket of his bag. He clicks it on, whistling to himself as he ventures fearlessly into the cavern.Â
You let your shoulders relax as he disappears, a breath falling from your lips as you sit on the ground. You tug your shoes off, tossing them to the side before laying on your back next to the water with your knees bent, crossing your arms on your chest. Closing your eyes, you let the anxiety of trusting a stranger seep out of your bones â because had he wanted to harm youâŠhe would've done it already.Â
Some people are good!Â
Your nose burns as tears line your lashes, but you find an odd comfort in the sound of the waterfall paired with crickets you hadn't heard the entire time you were alone. Practicing vigilance, constantly being on edgeâŠlack of sleep from almost falling off tree branches definitely left your body in fight or flight mode. You don't remember the last time you cried, either â likely even before the outbreak, if not the day you found out you got the internship in Germany.Â
"Fuck," You mutter, covering your face as you remember the letter you left on your desk, the envelope practically shredded from your excited hands. You'd even bought a frame to hang it over your desk, but it had been left dismantled for days while you called everyone who knew, while you celebrated and recovered from the gnarliest hangover you'd ever had. And it stayed there, when you escaped your roommates by a hair and fucked off into the woods.Â
Your mind races with what ifs. Â
What if you hadn't gotten out? What if you'd come home later like you'd planned to, having been asked to dinner by one of your group mates to compare notes? What if you'd been more prepared â the university had done everything to keep the students calm, promising a safe, virus-free environment. You'd packed a bag haphazardly, anyway, leaving it propped on your windowsill should you ever need it. You practiced constant distancing, staying two feet or more away from anyone at all times. Â
The outbreak at the University started with the football team. A nice boy named Jaehyun was in the wrong place at the wrong time, only to trail his way back onto campus during a tailgate and infect three other people before he was taken out by two cheerleaders with a crowbar. At least, that's how you remember it before you practically sprinted your way back to the dormitory, finding Jian and Jieun along the way and telling them what had happened. They immediately u-turned with you, and you all packed your bags that night. T-shirts, tank tops, underwearâŠsnacks and water.Â
Eventually, you'd be the only one to use yours. Shirts ripped from snagging on tree bark; snacks finished within three weeks of your escape. You rationed water so carefully that you were in a constant state of dehydration, until you found the stocked warehouse. There was only one person there, and she never spoke to you â ducking out of the facility within hours of your arrival. You gorged yourself on the bread and canned foods, spearing them open with your box cutter and drinking all the water you could reach for. Â
Until that place was raided by those things, and you once more narrowly escaped.Â
You'd been in the woods since. Alone, tired, hungry. Cold on some nights, having lost your only sweater to a tree branch tearing straight through it when you fell off. Your jeans were wearing thin, and the summer heat only made surviving all the harder â but for whatever reason, despite your pessimism, you couldn't bring yourself to give up.Â
You were meant for more.Â
"You alright?"Â
His voice startles you, making you jolt up. You clear your throat, running your hand through your hair as you nod almost too quickly.Â
"Yeah. Yep, fine. Is uhâŠare you good?" You curse yourself for stuttering, staring at the scar on your knee from when you fell off your scooter as a kid. He crouches down next to you again, facing you before you hear the click of the flashlight. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, his own glued to your face.Â
"You're not a very good liar, you know that?â His voice is softer, but you scoff as you tilt away.Â
"I'm a great liar, thank you."Â
"Tell me a lie right now."Â
"You're cute."Â
You roll your eyes as he gapes, shoving your knee with the end of his flashlight. "You take that back! I'm very cute!"Â
"Sure, guy." You snort, before tilting your head towards the rucksack. "Aren't you tired from carrying that thing? Don't you have like, shoulder pain? Shouldn't you lay down?"Â
"Worried about my well-being, princess?" He teases, and you raise a brow at him, an almost disinterested look crossing your features as you nod.Â
"Yeah, who else will lead to me safety? If you're exhausted, you'll make all sorts of mistakesâ"Â
"It would actually kill you to be nice, wouldn't it?"Â
His voice is still lighthearted, eyes warm as you turn to look at him. You run your eyes along his face, taking in his features before you blink slowly, meeting his eyes once more with a shrug of your shoulders.Â
"It might, IÂ don't know. I've never tried it."Â
"Might be a good time to start, pretty."Â
"Shut up," you roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the ground and grabbing his flashlight. You tug your shoes on haphazardly as he snickers to himself, and you feel his eyes follow you as you flip the flashlight in your hand. You click it on, shining it into the cavern as he gets up to follow behind you. Your eyes widen as you flash the light up to the hanging stalactites, your lips parting with a soft woah.Â
"Nice, isn't it?"Â
"Beautiful. It's shimmering, the salt. Do you see it?"Â
"It's even prettier when it's warmer light. We'll light a fire in here in a bit, you'll see."Â
You nod, carefully trudging forward, "do you think any animals have ever lived here? Bats, even?"Â
"If that were the case, I think we'd be surrounded by bat shit."Â
"Bat guano is actually very important for some cave-dwellers. Lots of animals eat it."Â
"Taking the phrase 'eat shit' to another level, huh?" He makes a sound of disgust, only making you chuckle as you shake your head.Â
"Well, the animals who eat it are inherently gross to the average person, anyway. They're detritivores, the bugs and stuff that eat it. They're eaten by spiders, and pseudoscorpions. Ever seen a pseudoscorpion? Cutest little dudes."Â
He doesn't reply, making you glance over your shoulder to see him smiling inwardly as he looks at the ground. You narrow your eyes but move your attention to the pebbled floor beneath you. You run the light over it, seeing the toe of your shoe incredibly close to an otherwise blind pseudoscorpion. Your eyes widen as you crouch, your fingers gently pinching its round body as you turn to him.Â
"Look! See? Pseudoscorpion; claws like a scorpion, but he's just a little guy." You smile widely, holding the light above the small arachnid. "Not dangerous to humans at all, either. Very helpful, they eat bugs and pests, which makes themâŠ"Â
You trail off as you notice how intently he's looking at you, his hands clasped in front of him. You clear your throat before quickly setting it down and watching it scurry away. "Anyway, uh. Yeah, so there was likely a bat colony here at some point. Maybe a couple big spiders, but they won't do anything to us if we don't bother them." Â
You nod, pressing your lips into a thin line before turning on your heel and venturing deeper into the cave.Â
"Why do you do that?" His voice rings out behind you, and you stop walking, glancing over your shoulder.Â
"Huh?"Â
"Why do you stop yourself from talking about things you like? Or get embarrassed by it?"Â
Your cheeks feel hot as you turn fully, but you keep a straight face as you tilt your head, opening your mouth to say something when you see him hold up the pseudoscorpion you'd put down. He holds it out to you, taking the flashlight from your hand and lowering the brightness to create a spotlight of sorts as you take the animal in your hand. He shines the light on your hand, eyes expectant andâŠwarm.Â
"They'reâŠuh, so they're synanthropic, or synanthropes. Like raccoons, that means they're technically harmless to us, but they've developed in environments near humans for so long that they can benefit from us without being a bother. Generally, that is." You nod slowly, before gesturing at the spindly arms the arachnid is holding up. "Their pinchers have venom they use to subdue their prey, usually smaller bugs like ants or mites, but it's not enough to cause damage to a human. They also have spider-like silk glands in their jaws, which helps them stay safe during winters. There are more than four thousand species of these things."Â
You clear your throat, "my father was an entomologist. He and I were really close before the outbreak, and he liked arachnids most. He was covered in tattoos of bugs, but he had one of these on his wrist for me, and he had a sequin spider on his chest and a peacock parachute on his arm for my mother. When I asked why I got this one, he said it was because I was half of him, and half of my mother; but that's a story for another day."Â
Pressing your lips together, you carefully place the arachnid back on the ground, watching it pinch at a passing ant. You let a smile cross your face, before feeling the heat of his eyes on you.Â
"I don't like bugs, personally." He starts, bringing the brightness back up on the flashlight and handing it to you. "I think my biggest fear is actually wasps."Â
You nod, biting back a smile as you shrug, "wasps are the Devil incarnate, so I don't blame you. Such angry things."Â
"Exactly! How is it my fault that I have to go outside? Should I just cease to exist for them?" He pouts, crossing his arms on his chest as you chuckle, tapping the flashlight against his arm before slipping past him. Â
"Let's get outta here, I'm starting to feel itchy." You say, carefully maneuvering your way back out of the cavern with him hot on your heels. The air outside is sticky, warmer than inside the dark cave, but it's welcome as you flick off the flashlight. "I'm getting tired."Â
"I'll get started on dinner, then." He nods, and you don't get a chance to say anything before he stops, looking at you over his shoulder, " and I'll listen to you any time. So justâŠtalk, yeah?"Â
Your eyes widen, but you can't reply as he makes his way down the boulders, pulling something shiny out of his pocket. You hear a click as he reaches the edge of the water, and you peer over the ledge to see him crouched, his hand stuffed in his pocket before pulling out a palm full of what looks like to be seeds. His eyes are concentrated as you lay on your belly, using your elbows to prop yourself up and watch him toss the seeds into the water. Â
Almost instantly, the surface ripples with fish â a quick flick of his wrist pinning one of the poor fish in place on the rocky spring floor. The rest scatter, his jaw tight as he reaches into the water from the shore and plucks the fish out, pulling the knife out and rinsing it in the water. He clicks it closed, shoving it back into his pocket before laying the fish on one of the boulders. Â
You watch him repeat the process twice, from different angles around the spring until he silently returns to the boulder with his pile. You keep watching as he examines the fish carefully, running his fingers over the scales and tosses one into the woods behind him with a tick in his jaw. He stills suddenly, looking around before meeting your eyes. The tips of his ears tinge pink as you blink at him, his voice clear as he speaks to you.Â
"Are you just watching me?"Â
You don't respond verbally, only nodding as a smile creeps onto your lips. He shakes his head, muttering to himself as he descales the fish quickly. Your eyes are low as fatigue begins to sink into your bones, before you hear his voice again.Â
"You're real pretty up there, but you'd be prettier if you gathered some wood. Hop to, princess." He calls, using his knife to gesture around himself. You scowl as he looks up, a toothy grin on display as he waves you down. "I can't have you falling asleep just yet, you'll miss dinner. Come on."Â
Scoffing, you ignore the heat in your cheeks as you push yourself off the ledge, carefully making your way down the boulders. You land on the ground with a crunch of twigs beneath you, making faces at him as you start picking sticks up. You hold them against your arm, examining them and plucking any remaining leaves off before you come across the fish he threw behind him. You glance up, seeing his back muscles tense beneath his shirt as you leave it where it is, his silver chain sparkling in the sun; picking up the sticks around it and covering it carefully.Â
"Why'd you kill it if you weren't going to eat it?" You ask as you near him, holding your collection in your arms. Your shoulder brushes his arm as you peer at the fish in his hands, "how do you know what fish is okay to eat?"Â
"You kind of just have to trust your gut and also, fully cook it. We've never had advisories around here, and there's no salmon in these areas. If you see a bear with tapeworm around, it's usually from the fish in the waters. Therefore, don't eat the fish." He says pointedly, carefully clipping the fins of the fish off, "you'll know what to do depending on what the conditions are. You have to be alert and pay attention to your surroundings."Â
"So, why'd you kill it?" You ask again, watching him look away as he sliced the head clean off with a shudder.Â
"It's either sick and dying or getting ready to die. It was bloated around the kidneys; it likely had disease. It wouldn't have spread to the other fish, but it's always best to put them out of their misery." He nods, before grabbing the head and throwing it as far as he could into the woods. You hear it land somewhere, but don't look away from his hands as you clear your throat.Â
"Have you ever killed anything else?" You ask softly, and he glances down at you with concern.Â
"Not people, if that's what you're asking."Â
Your face must show relief because he lets out a laugh of disbelief. "There's no way you think I'm capable of that. I have morals."Â
"I don't know that, guy."Â
"Well, now you know. The biggest thing I've ever killed was a trout when I was sixteen, and I cried the entire summer. I couldn't eat it, either; my mother made me soup for three nights." He rolls his eyes, and you look at the fish in his hands, holding out one of the sticks. He takes it, stripping it of the bark with his knife before spearing the fish on it. Â
"Then how do you know deer is good?"Â
"I'll only eat it if someone else takes it out. I'm good at a lot of things but I can't kill anything. Fishing is the closest I get to it, and even then, I'm only doing it out of pure survival. I've never been a good hunter; it makes me sad andâŠqueasy."Â
You nod, watching him behead the other fish before looking up at him.Â
"So, what about those undead things? Would you kill one?"Â
"I've had the pleasure of never coming across one. I think, morallyâŠ"Â
He trails off, spearing the fish with the stick before tossing the other head into the woods. He sighs, looking down at you.Â
"They're already dead. Out of survival, you have to do it if you're in danger. It's the only way I can justify it, if it were the case." He holds the stick of fish out to you, scooping the wood out of your arms as you take hold of the stick. "I have a lot of morals and values that I'm not willing to give up, even out of survival. I believe things should happen naturally, but I also don't believe anyone should suffer. That fish was suffering, and likely in pain. Those thingsâŠthey're rotting from the inside out, they're suffering and in turn, making others suffer. Full death is the only option."Â
You nod silently as you both climb the boulders, his hand on your back at an arm's length from behind to catch you if you slip. You both make it back to the ledge, and you glance over your shoulder to see him looking into the forest before scooting into the waterfall.Â
"The sun is starting to set, so we'll have dinner and then you can get some rest. I'll stand watch for a bit." His voice is a little flat as he makes his way towards you, and you feel a bit of guilt settle in your belly.Â
"Sorry if that conversation made you uncomfortable." You murmur as he walks by, and he waves you off as he slips into the cavern, only taking three steps into it before answering you.Â
"It doesn't. It's good to talk about what you think, even if you're not sure when you'll go through it yourself. Death is an uncomfortable topic for everyone, but there is growth in that discomfort. Death is not the end of life, or love, for that matter, but it is inevitable." He shrugs, putting the pile of sticks down before separating a few. You peek in, before he appears in front of you and flips open a pocket of his rucksack, procuring a box of matches. Â
"Morals, values, it's all growth. Both to keep them, and to release them. Death is only temporary, because you live on in those who knew you. That's why I'm trying to stay positive in these days, you know? It's hard to be sad when you're making yourself look at life from a different angle."Â
He kneels, striking a match and tossing it into the pile of sticks as you slink into the cavern. The crackle of the wood is soothing to your ears, and the flame grows bigger within a few seconds.Â
"If you always think, why not me? Or even, why me? You'll get nowhere. Those aren't answers you're supposed to have, because if it was meant to happen to you, it would have. You just have to keep your head up." He nods, skirting past you as he slips his matches back into the rucksack. He picks it up, along with your backpack, and pulls them closer to the fire. He pulls out a few washcloths, before untucking the sleeping bag he'd had strapped to the back of the bag.Â
"Here, sit." He unzips it, laying it flat on the ground before taking the fish from you. You glance down at it, watching him sit cross legged on the other side of the fire. You look at him for a second, watching the way he props two stones on either side to hold the stick of speared fish in place. Toeing your shoes off, you lay them off to the side before kneeling onto the bag. It's cool against your skin, and you almost lie down but keep your arms rigid at your sides as you clear your throat.Â
"Do you think that's easier for you because you have your life more figured out?" You ask, and he glances at you with an amused look. Â
"You keep talking like I'm just this experienced guy," he snorts, carefully balancing the speared fish over the flame. "I've had one job my entire life. I've had the same group of friends since I was a kid, and I've kissed one girl."Â
"Well, yeah but you've already done so much more than I could ever imagine. You've designed things and actually saw them come to life, you've helped people," You shrug, poking the fire with a stick before tossing it in to hear it crackle. "For example, I've never even kissed anyone. Now that the world is ending and allâ"Â
"The world is not ending, princess. You're being negative." He interrupts pointedly, and you give him a glare.Â
"Yeah, wellâŠI should be allowed to complain."Â
He only smiles inwardly, turning the fish over once. The smell is beginning to fill the cavern, your stomach growling loudly; your arms wrapping around you as he snickers.Â
"It'll be ready in a bit, don't worry." He says, tentatively pausing before you feel his eyes on you. You glance up from the fire, his gaze shamelessly falling over your face and shoulders as you lean back.Â
"Why are you looking at me like that?" You bring your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them before wrapping your arms around your shins. He just shrugs, shaking his head before leaning back on his hands.Â
"Why haven't you kissed anyone? JustâŠdidn't want to?" His head is tilted to the side, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as you stare up at the stalactite around the curve of the cavern. Â
"âŠI mean, I had chances. I just kind of kept dodging them." You say slowly, picking at a loose thread in the shorts you're wearing. "I've been on dates and stuff, and they'd always lean in, but I just wasn't that into them. And it's not like I value abstinence or anything, not that there's anything wrong with that but it's just not my vibe. I'veâŠfelt lust, and shit like that. However, I feel like a kiss should mean something, and if I'm not attracted to them enough, thenâŠ"Â
"That's one less step towards a kiss. Okay. I get it." He nods, "if it makes you feel betterâ"Â
"Don't try to relate to me right now. I'm sure you had girls throwing themselves at you." You scoff, and he rolls his eyes.Â
"Again, just the one girl, and I was with her for three years." He holds up three fingers, and you tongue your cheek before shrugging.Â
"Why'd you break up?"Â
He seems hesitant to answer, nibbling on his lower lip before looking up at the stalactite. You take the moment to peer at him in the flickering light of the fire, and you really look at him â soft lips, slope of his noseâŠpaired with sharp eyes, and strong brows.Â
Pretty.Â
"She wanted to get married." He says quietly, kicking at a bit of rubble. "I was fresh out of school, and I'd just started designing my first buildingâŠI wasn't going to have time to dedicate it to wedding planning. I wasn't sure if I would have time for her, but I tried my best. We got engaged anyway and I was always busy. It just didn't work."Â
"Who broke up with who?" You ask, leaning forward nosily as he tongues his cheek.Â
"I broke off the engagement." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't easy, but it also wasn't working. Sometimes I wonder where I would be if we had gone through with the wedding. Would I be a dad? Would we have fought as much as we did towards the end of it all? JustâŠso many questions that I also can't bring myself to care about because I'll spiral over nothing. It was two years ago, life goes on."Â
"Do you want to be a dad someday?" You grab another stick from the pile next to you, poking the flame as he takes the fish off. He shrugs, staring at the fish tentatively. He turns it gently, watching the flame lick at the skin of it before answering your question.Â
"My future wife has to want kids for me to be able to make that decision." He clicks his tongue, "no use in me wanting something when she's the one bearing them. I'd justâŠyou know. It's not fair to make that decision on my own."Â
"You think you'll get married? If the world doesn't end?" You continue messing with the fire as he turns the fish again.Â
"I meanâŠI hope. I made a bucket list on the first day of my freshman year in university, and it was the third or fourth thing I had on there." He carefully adds two more sticks to the bottom of the fire before glancing up at you. "Do you want to get married? Have kids?"Â
You dig your chin into your chest, smiling inwardly as you give a weak shrug.Â
"âŠI don't know."Â
"You're lying."Â
"I think I should focus on actually kissing a guy, first. Imagine if this outbreak hadn't happened. Maybe I'd be getting lots of dudes hitting my line in Germany." You roll your eyes, before sighing.Â
"I think I just want to fall in love one day. I was very focused on my studies my entire life, I've been to two tailgates, and I've been drunk twice in my life, and one of those was when I found out I got the internship. I've never kissed a guy, and I've never been a girlfriend, but that was my choice. And now, I don't have that choice, because the universe has just decided that it is fate for me. It's not like romance has ever been my top priority. I was loved by my friends and my family all the same, and the only love, or passion, or desire I truly had in life was design and architecture. God, I used to dream of my buildings being part of skylines and I went through a phase where I'd conjure up dream homes for my friends. I even promised that one day I'd build them, and I'd help decorate to their styleâŠand now they're gone. They're gone and I'm here, with a stranger and in a cave complaining about the fact that I'll now never get the chance to fall in love or kiss a guy; when neither will they, because they are gone."Â
You close your eyes momentarily, tucking your chin into your chest before you blink up at him. He's looking at you with a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he shifts back on his hands, a slight tilt to his head. You maintain eye contact, nibbling on the inside of your lip and poking at the fire with the stick in your hand.Â
"Tell me your name."Â
"Y/N." You speak plainly, making the choice to lay down and toss the stick into the fire. You cross your arms on your chest, closing your eyes. "Not princess, sorry to burst your bubble."Â
"Y/N what?" He leans over slightly, and you feel a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. You open your eyes, catching him staring down at you. He doesn't look away, his eyes incessant as you turn your head slightly so he's not upside down in your vision. Â
"What's it to you, guy?"Â
"The curiosity will kill me, princess."Â
"I literally just told you my name, you don't have to keep calling me that."Â
"I like watching you squirm, it's cute." He shrugs, carefully pulling the stick off the rocks and out of the fish, laying it flat on a washcloth and slipping out his knife. He sinks the blade into the flesh of the fish as you turn to rest on your side, your eyes heavy as he holds a piece of the fish on the blade out to you. "Careful, it's hot."Â
You lean forward slightly, biting down on the piece of fish with your teeth before pulling it into your mouth. It's hot, yeah, but it's juicy and even a bit sweet as you chew.Â
"Good?"Â
You only nod as you hold your hand out for another piece, the sound of the crackling fire making you sleepier by the minute. You both eat in silence, with him grabbing the end of the sleeping bag and pulling you to his side of the fire so he doesn't have to keep reaching over to give you pieces. You pick it off yourself, still laying as you eat despite him telling you it's bad for you.Â
"Is the sun down yet?" You mutter, wiping at your eyes lazily. He glances over his shoulder, the sun peering through the waterfall and creating a pattern on the walls of the cavern.Â
"Almost. Come on, I have to put the fire out and let the smoke air out. You can sleep in a little bit."Â
"You've said that twice now, guy."Â
"Sue me for wanting to spend time with someone." He scoffs, "and my name isâ"Â
"No, don't tell me. You'll get attached." Your sentence is almost interrupted by a yawn, but you force yourself off the sleeping bag, lazily dragging yourself towards the entrance of the cavern when you hear the hiss of the fire dying under the bottle of water he dug out of his rucksack. You hear the crinkle of the plastic before rustling, the smell of burnt wood wafting out of the cavern as he appears next to you with the sleeping bag. He spreads it out for you again, and you lay on your stomach as he moves to the side. He sits next to your head, a rag in his hand as he pulls the knife out of his pocket once more.Â
"What're you doing?" You ask tiredly, leaning up on your elbow to watch him.Â
"Just cleaning the knife. If my math is right, we'll be at the cabin in two days if we don't get any rain. If we do, it's three or four. I've got to ration things properly." He nods, and you peer at the knife. There's a corkscrew on it, and you forget the name of the style of knife but you smush your cheek with the heel of your palm as you point at it.Â
"Why do you need a corkscrew?"Â
"Do you always ask this many questions?"Â
"Well, guy, it's not every day we're being hunted by the undead, you know." You say pointedly, tapping his knee as he scoffs.Â
"Mingyu."Â
"Hm?" You look up at him with tired eyes, and he glances down before shaking his head with a sigh.Â
"That's my name. Mingyu."Â
"Okay? What am I supposed to do with this information?"Â
"Pft, I don't know. Maybe stop calling me guy?"Â
"And what, build a foundation of trust? You'd kill me if I got bitten by one of those rotting things." You huff, a hint of humor in your voice as you move to lay on your side. Â
"Uh, yeah. You'll be dead anyway, princess."Â
"I don't like your attitude, Mingyu."Â
"Sucks to be you, sweetness." He shrugs, and you let out an annoyed huff. You fold your arms under your head, using your bicep as a pillow. You blink at the running waterfall in front of you, the sun's rays bleeding through when you speak again.Â
"Where are you going to sleep?"Â
"Probably right here. I'm just gonna zip you up later, because it gets kind of cold in the cavern."Â
"Won't you be cold?"Â
You feel him shift next to you, your eyes looking up at him as he shrugs. "I can handle it. You already have goosebumps."Â
It's silent for a while. You watch the sun continue to set from behind the waterfall, the moon rising and illuminating the water. You blink tiredly, your body sore from the day but your fingers tap his knee gently as you push yourself up. He looks down at you, leaning back on his hands with a gentle smile on his lips.Â
"Yes?"Â
"Can we go to sleep now?"Â
"Yeah, you can go to sleep."Â
You shake your head, "that's not what I said."Â
He snorts, "what do you want from me, princess?"Â
"I want you to sleep! That bag is so heavy, I know you're probably sore all over and you're not admitting it to save face or something." You point an accusatory finger at him, and he purses his lips, nodding his head as if in agreeance.Â
"Wow," he says incredulously, "you're quite the mind reader. What else can you see? Can you tell my shoulders hurt real bad, too?"Â
"Mingyu!"Â
"You're so freaking cute, actually."Â
"Fine, freeze." You huff, laying back down and flipping the rest of the sleeping bag over your shoulders. You face into the cavern as he chuckles, patting the sleeping bag over your shoulder. Â
"I'll sleep soon. Just gotta keep you safe for a little longer." He admits softly, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before sighing. You don't respond, curling your knees to your chest and hugging yourself in an attempt to sleep. The last thing your eyes catch before you close them is the time blinking on his watch â 9:42 PM. Â
You manage to doze off for a bit, your back popping as you stretch your limbs slightly; only to feel Mingyu has disappeared from next to your head. You lean up a bit, the moon in a different part of the sky now before feeling the heat of his body on the ground. He's snoring softly but shivering, still wearing his boots but his watch is slipped off and next to his head. You grab it: 2:09 AM.Â
Groaning, you move to shake him awake when he jolts up on his own. He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes slightly bloodshot as he squints at you.Â
"Are you okay?" His voice is raspy, and you shake your head as you run a hand over your face. He shifts to sit up, when you drape the folded-over part of the sleeping bag out onto the floor and point at it.Â
"Lay down." You pat the bag, before sitting up on your knees and tucking your mussed hair behind your ears. He blinks at you, silently giving in and sprawling across the bag. You crawl towards his feet, untying the laces of his boots quickly before yanking them off.Â
"Leave them on," He mumbles tiredly, but you just pat his knee.Â
"You're shivering, you're tired and you're sore. Just take them off to sleep well." You murmur, bringing the boots up to his head and sitting them next to him. You tuck the watch into them, before laying back down on your side of the bag. "Good night, Mingyu."Â
You try to ignore how his name feels on your tongue, only to hear him whisper behind you as he turns onto his side, his breath hitting the back of your neck.Â
"Mmh. Good night, Y/N."Â
THERE IS A MOP OF HAIR UNDER YOUR FINGERTIPS AS YOU STIR THE FOLLOWING MORNING.Â
It's slightly chilly, your skin prickling at the soft breeze that blows through the waterfall, but the rest of you remains warm as you wiggle slightly. Your hips are achy as you strain your neck to see Mingyu's head laid on your chest, his arms wrapped around you like he was trying to protect you from something. Your legs are hooked at your ankles around his waist, holding him flush to your torso. Your hand in his hair is nothing to the one dipping below the neck of his shirt, imprinted with the pattern of his necklace and absolutely not comparable to his on your hip â under your shirt.Â
"Mingyu." You pat his shoulders, the man not stirring in the slightest. You pat harder, only feeling him inhale deeply, but not wake up. You let out a huff of annoyance, making a fist and hitting his shoulder with the side of your hand. He jolts on reflex, waking up almost instantly as his hand shoots up to rub at his shoulder.Â
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why'd you hit me?!" You refuse to let the rasp of his voice distract you, and you force yourself to focus as you scowl and measure the distance between you with a pat to his chest and yours.Â
"You're on top of me, dimwit. I'm practically roasting." You wipe sweat from your neck, the sleeping bag sticking to your damp back. His eyes widen, and he glances down at the hand under your shirt. He rips it away, pushing himself off you almost in a tizzy before clearing his throat, kneeling above you.Â
"I, uhâ"Â
"If you're gonna say you're sorry, just save it for when you actually fuck up."Â
"Still, I'mâ"Â
"Mingyu." You hold your hand up, watching the guilt flash through his features as you point your fingertips at him. "I genuinely don't care. I'm just concerned about the fact that you radiate so much fucking heat. Aren't you sweaty? Jesus."Â
You sit up, grimacing as you feel your shirt stick to you. You reach into his boot, fishing his watch out â 6:07 AM. You tap the face with your nail, "we should get moving. If today is anything like yesterday, I need to get up before I lose motivation and leave myself out on a platter for the undead."Â
"Even in the mornings, you just say the most insane shit." He mutters, rubbing at his eyes before sitting back on his feet. "Are you hungry? I made more porridge beforeâ"Â
"Will you catch another fish?" You ask quickly, sitting up on your knees and clasping your hands together. He gives you a deadpan look, and you jut your lower lip out in a pout, "come on, buddy! Just one fish, please? Please, pleaseâ"Â
"Don't beg, I haven't even processed your question." He grumbles, wiping at his eyes again, before stretching his arms over his head. His eyes are squeezed shut, a sliver of skin peeking out from his untucked shirt. "What if I just teach you how to catch one? It's easy."Â
"OrâŠyou can just catch it for me while I start another fire." You wiggle your brows, and he lets out a sigh as he stretches again. "C'mon! You've gotten me used to a certain lifestyleâ"Â
"Okay, okay." He lets out a sigh, rubbing his face before standing up. "Alright, checklist. Fish, porridge, bath. Oh, and changing your bandagesâŠwhat else? Oh! Laundry, too. We might get out of here closer to nine."Â
He shakes out his legs, marks from the sleeping bag imprinted on his skin. He takes his watch from you, slapping it on his wrist before lolling his head back.Â
"My back is killing me, I can't wait to get back to my bed." He huffs, twisting from side to side and you wrinkle your nose at the sound of the joints popping before his eyes widen and he glances down at you with an accusatory look. "For the love of God, please stretch before we head out today. You were kicking the shit out of me in your sleep last night."Â
"Is that why I woke up being melted into the sleeping bag?" You chide, and he just rolls his eyes before running a hand through his hair. Â
"Shut up."Â
"Mmh, I don't think so."Â
You giggle as he scowls down at you, and you stretch your arms over your head as he grabs his boots. He shakes them out, making sure no critters crawled in during the night before shoving them on. You reach over before he can bend, tying the laces quickly before patting the tip of the boot and pointing to the spring.Â
"Come on, fisherman. Bring me home something good."Â
"You're lucky you're entertaining."Â
"You can say I'm cute."Â
"And why would I lie like that?" He muses, chuckling as he skirts past your swatting hand and grabs his cap off the rucksack inside the cavern. He stretches his arms over his head one more time, letting out a pained grunt before rolling his shoulders back and making his way down the boulders. You peer over the side of the waterfall like you did the day before, sitting with your legs hanging over the ledge as you watch him pop his knuckles before crouching at the edge of the spring again.Â
You'd never admit out loud that watching the way his brain works is a littleâŠintriguing. The seeds, the quickness of his reactions, the way his eyes never lost focus despite the movement of the waters. Really, this is nothing that should impress you as much as it does â but you've also been alone for so long that the most entertainment you have is your brain replaying The Breakfast Club spottily as you roamed the forests aimlessly.Â
"What happened to starting the fire?" He calls from the same boulder he stood at last night, hand on his hip as he looks up at you. You shrug, pointing at your socked feet, "can't find my shoes."Â
"You mean you didn't look for your shoes. I moved them to the entrance before I went to sleep. Put 'em on, princess."Â
"What if I wash your clothes for you while you bathe? Will you gather the wood then?"Â
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he guts the fish and beheads it faster than he did the day before. He looks around, finding a stick at the edge of the spring and spearing it through. You watch with a bitten smile as he makes his way back up the boulders, holding the fish out to you with a feigned look of annoyance on his face as you take it.Â
"You're so annoying, stop smiling like that." He mutters, turning around as you chuckle. Â
"Thank you, guy!"Â
"Stop calling me that!"Â
You only laugh harder as you get up, propping the speared fish on the side of the cavern and pulling your shoes on. You grab your bag, opening it carefully and slipping your jar of honey into the pocket of his rucksack before digging out your dirty clothing and the bar of soap you had. You roll your intimates into your shirt, staring at the bunched pair of jeans at the bottom of your bag before pulling them out. You shove it all under your arm, glancing over the boulders to see Mingyu already climbing back up with his arms full of wood. Â
"Need some help?" You call, and he shakes his head, making it back with a tick in his jaw. He drops the wood, rolling his shoulders back slightly before clearing his throat. Â
"You should probably bathe; the fish can wait. Plus, then I can take your clothes," you hold your hand out, and he nibbles on his lip. Â
"I'll make the fish first, then I'll bathe. I don't want it to sit out for too long. You can wash your stuff first and lay it out in the sun so it can start drying. Use the bottled water, I've got a filter and we can fill up before we leave." He nods, almost to himself as you put a hand on your hip.Â
"At least give me your shirt and socks, guy. You're not going anywhere, anyway, you're gonna make the fire right here." You shrug, holding your hand out as he raises a brow.Â
"You just wanna see me stripâ"Â
"I'll fucking kill you, actually."Â
He laughs, dodging your attempt at hitting his arm swiftly. He gathers the sticks carefully, piling them together as you set your stuff down before moving to shake out the sleeping bag. You roll it back up, tucking it under the straps of his rucksack before plucking at his shirt.Â
"Give it here, fella."Â
He snorts, flicking his cap off before tugging his shirt over his head. You take it, your eyes not missing the deep bruising on his shoulders from the weight of the rucksack. You chew on your cheek as you take a closer look, your fingers floating over the skin when he clears his throat.Â
"The bag is heavy, but it's fine. I'm fine, plus we should be home by tomorrow night. Don't worry about it." He says softly, and you involuntarily let out a noise of distress as he unties his boot laces to hand you his socks. You take them, huffing as you make your way to the second boulder down â the biggest one, and you soak each item individually in the higher end of the spring water. You barely dip your underwear, not wanting him to see the lace in your hand.Â
Your knees dig painfully into the boulder beneath you as you lather soap all over the clothes, the smell almost sterile as you rinse them and wring them out repeatedly. The knee pain only stops when you tug your shoes off to wash your socks. You wring your underwear out the most, wanting it as dry as possible so the sun can finish drying it faster than the rest of the clothes. You lay everything out, the morning sun hitting the boulder just right as you manage your way back up to the cavern.Â
Your eyes linger on the bruises on Mingyu's shoulders, spanning down his back. You crouch behind him, tossing your shoes to the side and examining the purple and yellow splotches before you feel his hand reach back and pat your thigh.Â
"Stop it. You're making me self-conscious."Â
"I'm just admiring your back muscles." You blurt, his laughter immediately ringing out as he swats at your leg.Â
"Seriously, stop. Just come eat your fish, princess."Â
"What will you eat?"Â
"Don't worry about me." He says pointedly, before standing up and grabbing his rucksack. He digs through the front pocket. He procures a bag of what seem to be toothpaste tablets, and two toothbrushes (one used, one new) are seen through the plastic. Your eyes widen, and you almost topple over as you stand to hold your hand out.Â
"No please or thank you anymore, huh?" He snorts, pulling the bag open to give you the packaged toothbrush. You tear it open as he holds out two tablets, "chew them. They have fluoride so I wouldn't recommend swallowing it, butâŠyou do what you do, you know?"Â
You do as you're told, chewing the tablets until a paste forms and you scrub at your teeth for what seems like twenty minutes before the foam gets too much. He only bites back his smile as he does the same, before his eyes widen in realization and he pulls more bandages out of the bag. He holds his toothbrush in his jaw, grabbing your injured hand and peeling the wet bandage back. Your gash seems to be healing fine, but he dries the skin out with an alcohol pad before wrapping new bandage around it.Â
You end up swallowing your toothpaste like a lunatic, giving Mingyu the toothbrush to put away before plopping in front of the fire that has now slightly charred the side of your fish. You flip it over, waiting for Mingyu to sit with you as you speak.Â
"I used to be a masseuse, you know." You nod, and he seems interested as he nods, sliding everything but the moleskin bandages back into his pack and pulls out the same washcloth he used for the fish last night. He sits next to you, pulling the fish off the fire and sliding it in front of you before taking your foot in his hand, stretching your leg over his thigh.Â
"Were you? Was that your part-time job?" He asks, carefully peeling the bandages off your feet. You wince as he presses the pad of his thumb into the arch of your foot, nodding as you wave his hand away from your foot.Â
"I did it for three years, I think. Almost four, I made pretty good money, but I almost always needed a massage, too. I quit when I found out I got my internship," Your voice is soft, almost as though you're trying to butter him up for something. He seemingly catches on, pressing his lips into a thin line as you pick pieces off your fish to feed him and yourself.Â
"You don't have to do that for me, you know. Don't feel like you need to repay me or anything, I'm helping you because I want to and it makes me feel useful. Just let me do it." He says sternly, carefully sliding a bandage over the top arch of your foot. He wraps another on the side, your fingers holding a piece of fish to his mouth. He takes it, chewing almost angrily as you sigh.Â
"Don't you think that you should let people help you, too?" You ask, "I mean, what if it makes me feel useful? I may not know you all that well, but it doesn't mean I want to see you in pain."Â
"I'm not in any pain. It's just uncomfortable, it'll go away."Â
"Mingyu."Â
"Please, just drop it."Â
You huff, tucking your foot under you as he gestures for you to give him the other one. You glance at the watch â 7:03 AM, or something similar because his hand keeps moving as he wraps bandages around your feet.Â
"We're making pretty good time, I'd say." You nod at the watch, and he glances down at it with a semi-impressed look. "Maybe we'll be out of here by eight instead."Â
"Maybe. Eat up, I'm going to bathe." He murmurs, patting your knee before he slips away, taking a netted bag with him that you hadn't noticed him take out. You watch the way his back is stiff, the bruising patching up to the curve of his neck. His biceps are just as tense as he disappears around the waterfall, and you lean back on one hand as you pick at the fish in front of you. You sip your water diligently, hearing the soft running of the waterfall amongst the buzzing of flies and bugs. Â
The morning is quiet aside from the sounds of nature. You finish your breakfast, putting the fire out with the little water you have left in your bottle before reaching over to his rucksack and fishing out one of the apples in the netted bags. You wipe it across your shirt, sinking your teeth into it and holding it between them as you lay on the ledge with your foot hanging off the edge.Â
Mingyu returns shortly, hair dripping before he shakes his head like a dog, spraying the side of your leg as he makes his way up the boulders. The sun is significantly hotter now, so the spray doesn't bother you nearly as much, but you still kick the side of his thigh with your eyes closed.Â
"Come on, princess. We've got to get moving, and we only have one water bottle left so we gotta fill up before we leave."Â
You don't open your eyes, blindly feeling around for your empty water bottle and tilting it to the waterfall. The sound of water falling into the bottle is enough confirmation for you, earning a chuckle from Mingyu as he does the same. You can feel his presence around your head, before he takes the bottle from your grasp and finishes filling it for you.Â
"Can you get the clothes? I'll filter these while we walk."Â Â
You peel your eyes open, looking up to see him donning a form-fitting, sleeveless white shirt that nearly makes your eyes bulge out. You sit up quickly, almost choking around the last bite of your apple before you push yourself off the ground and scramble down the boulders, tossing the apple core far into the woods as you reach the clothes. They're surprisingly dry, almost hot to the touch as you fold them quickly and stuff them into your backpack. You hold your socks in your hand as you pull your backpack over your shoulders, tightening the straps before making your way back up to the cavern. You practically throw his socks at him, not catching the furrow of his brows when they land on his arm (and then, the ground.)Â
"What's got you so frantic? Take a deep breath."Â Â
"Nothing. JustâŠexcited to get the day started." You speak through your teeth, shoving your feet into your socks, not bothering to shake out your sneakers before pulling them on. You lace them up haphazardly, before looking into the cavern. There's nothing, but you still pat the side of the opening in gratitude before making your way down the boulders. "Uh, you take your time. I'm just gonnaâŠroam."Â
"Like hell you are, stay put." He scoffs, screwing a contraption on each of the water bottles before setting them down and grabbing his bag. You look away, focusing your eyes on the forest ahead of you and the sunlight spotting through the trees. "You need sunscreen."Â
"No, I don't."Â
"Being stubborn gets you nowhere with me. Get up here."Â
"Can't, sorry. Already said my thanks to the cavern, means I can't go back."Â
You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you imagine the irritated look on his face. You dig the toe of your sneaker into the ground beneath you, kicking at the dirt when you hear him move around behind you. His arm brushes your shoulder as he skirts past you, the bottles of water held tightly upside down by the straps of his rucksack as he grabs your shoulders and makes you face him.Â
"There's no trees for about ten miles with the route we're taking. If you don't put on sunscreen, you're gonna get a sunburn and I don't have anything to soothe it." He says flatly, his fingers covered in thick sunscreen as he presses them to your face. You let out a groan, rolling your eyes as he works it into your cheeks and forehead, trailing his fingers down your neck. You can feel your pulse pick up a bit, and you're hoping he doesn't as the tips of his fingers breach the collar of your shirt.Â
"Arms and legs. Sit." He makes you sit on the edge of the boulder, a scoff leaving your lips as he rolls up your sleeves slightly and spreads more of the sunscreen all over your arms and fingers, even working it into your cuticles. "Mingyu, I'm gonna be all sticky."Â
"Sticky beats blistering sunburn, plus this dries faster when you're not complaining."Â
"I'm not complaining!"Â
"Yes, you are, but I can handle it. So just let me take care of you, damn."Â
He rolls his eyes as he crouches, pushing the shorts up high on your thighs before wrapping his arms around your ankles. You glance down at him, and you must have some sort of look on your face because he holds the sunscreen up to you.Â
"Is this fine or do you want to do it yourself? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."Â
"You're not making me uncomfortable. I'm just notâŠused to this."Â
"Yeah, princess, no one is." He says pointedly, almost slowly as if he's talking to a child. You scoff, crossing your arms as your cheeks turn hot.Â
"That's not what I'm talking about." You grumble, your fingernails digging into your arms as he uncaps the sunscreen again, taking some in his hand before shaking his head.Â
"Then what are you talking about?" He slathers the cream on your shins, dipping slightly under your socks as you chew on your cheek. He reaches your knees, reaching behind them to coat the back of it before tapping the side. "Answer my question."Â
His fingers brush the inside of your thigh, your hand shooting out to grab his wrist as you take the sunscreen in your hand.Â
"The touching. I'm not used to the touching, okay?" You mutter, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you quickly cover your thighs in sunscreen, "you're so casual with it and I don't know what it's supposed to make me feel, and I don't want to think about it right now." Â
You cap the cream, shoving it into his chest before standing up and fixing your clothes to cover you. He blinks down at you, confusion and concern coating his gaze before he clears his throat.Â
"I didn'tâ"Â
"It's fine, Mingyu. I'm not uncomfortable, you're not in any trouble, nothing like that. It just makes me think too much. Now, let's fucking move." You gesture to the woods behind you, and he nods slowly, slathering the rest of the sunscreen left on his hands on his arms. He seemingly doesn't know what to do with his hands, crossing his arms on his chest before walking into the forest.Â
The first few minutes are silent. Just crunching of leaves and twigs under your shoes, his posture rigid as he tries to hide how often he rolls his shoulders back. You keep your eyes on the ground; your own arms crossed on your chest as he keeps about a foot of distance between you. His shorts are navy blue now; a cute little flower embroidered on the pocket with baby blue thread and the letters KMG.Â
"What's the K for?" You ask, and he glances at you over his shoulder.Â
"What K?"Â
"On the pocket of your shorts. KMG. MG is for Mingyu, right?"Â
You gesture at the embroidery with your pinky, and he reaches his hand back to touch the pocket before a look of understanding crosses his features.Â
"Ooh. It's Kim. Kim Mingyu." He shrugs, patting the pocket before crossing his arms on his chest again. You nod, "Lee Y/N."Â
"Nice to meet you, Miss Lee."Â
"Nauseated to meet you, too, Mr. Kim."Â
You miss the way he smiles inwardly; your eyes focused on the caps swinging from the back of his bag. You notice they also have his initials embroidered, as does his rucksack on the bottom left corner. Â
"Why is all your stuff labeled with your initials?"Â
"I went a little crazy when the outbreak happened, and all the things at the cabin that I took there in case of something like this look exactly the same. So, I hand-embroidered my initials on everything that was mine, and then everything else with whoever has it. There's a handful of guys up there, but you're the only girl I've come across thus far. When we get there, you'll get some clothes and a towel, and we'll pick a color and put your initials on them, and you can stay as long as you want."Â
He shrugs, your chest warm at the idea of having community again.Â
"As long as I want?"Â
"As long as you want, sweetness."Â
You bite back your smile, nodding to yourself, "do I get my own bed, too?"Â
"I believe so. If not, I'll just make some of the guys room together so you can have your own space." He glances down at you, "you can be happy about it, you know. You must've been very lonely out here by yourself. Don't think I didn't notice how tired you were, you were practically stiff from all the stress in your back."Â
"It was justâŠI felt a little pathetic." You start, "I wasn't prepared, but who truly is for something like this? We speculate, but we never actually think or hope it will happen. I was so sure I'd be in Germany, I thought my life was set in stone for me and I'd beâŠwell. Yeah."Â
"This idea you have that you can't be great because you didn't make it to Germany is a little concerning to me." He speaks softly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "I think you're being too hard on yourself. You've made it on your own for this long, I think that shows resilience. I don't necessarily commend you for making it this far with such little food sources, because that's dangerous but things are scarce and you're alive. You're still kicking, so who says you can't do bigger things? Better ones?"Â
"You should be a life coach."Â
"I was a cheerleader in grade nine, I know a thing or two about spirit."Â
You snort, "I was a cheerleader, too. I only lasted six weeks because I broke my ankle during a standing back tuck. I ended up having to get surgery; it was the worst pain of my life and my mother was furious about the money we shelled out for the uniform and summer camp." Â
He bites back his laughter, shaking his head before clearing his throat. "What other things did you do besides school and work?"Â
"You mean did I have any hobbies?" You tilt your head, trilling your lips and sucking your teeth, "I was pretty good at playing guitar. Electric, bass, acousticâŠmy mom taught me. And piano, she loved piano, all that classical mumbo jumbo but she loved rock. I was also an incredible masseuse, you knowâ"Â
"You just don't let up, do ya?"Â
"You're asking me questions, I'm just answering. I was a master assembler of furniture, I was also good at baking. I made a cake or a pie for me and my roommates every week. I'm an ice cream connoisseur, specifically Ben & Jerry's and my favorite flavor is Cherry Garcia. I also really like soup and stews. Soft tofu stew? Absolute gas, my man."Â
There's a soft glimmer in his eye as he hums, "anything that you wish you could do right now?"Â
"Listen to the radio. I'd sit in my room with my mom's favorite station on odd days and my dad's on even. Rock on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and dance pop on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then I'd alternate on the weekends. My dad loved Kylie Minogue, my mom was super into Janis Joplin."Â
"What's your favorite song? Of all time, and not your parents'. Yours." He looks around, carefully slipping in front of you as another hill is in your way. He starts reaching his hand back but quickly pulls it back to his side as he skillfully makes his way down, looking over his shoulder at you. You glance at his hand stuffed in his pocket, giving him an odd look before holding onto his elbow and making your way down. Â
"Of all time? Can I do top five?"Â
"Sure."Â
"Safe and Sound by Capital Cities, Ooh My Love by Stevie Nicks, You Don't Know My Name by Alicia Keys, You and Me by Lifehouse, Look On Down from the Bridge by Mazzy Star." You nod along as you speak, still holding onto his arm as you make your way through a vast field.Â
"You have a very 'divorced dad that's still in love with his ex-wife while trying to fit in with his kids' type of music taste."Â
You laugh as you register what he says, your fingers tightening around his arm as you shrug, "my parents used to sing together like they were going through a million and one divorces. Instead of fighting, they sat at my mother's piano and sang until they got over it. What's your favorite song? Top five?"Â
"Oh, boy." You wince, "what was she like? Was she nice?"Â
"Oh, the sweetest, really. Got along well with almost everyone. Smart, reliable, dependableâŠ" He trails off, shrugging his shoulders with a tick in his jaw. "She was great."Â
"So why didn't you try harder to make it work?" You ask softly, "I mean, if she was so great, and she sounds almost perfectâŠwhat happened?"Â
"I wish I could tell you." He lets out a sigh of defeat, clicking his tongue, "I felt like a jerk, and I constantly wondered if I'd done the right thing. I would get calls from her, and I was cruel to answer, knowing things wouldn't change and I was drowning myself in work to avoid my feelings of guilt. We stopped talking a month or so after, because I stopped picking up her calls. She moved to Taiwan just before the outbreak, she got a really good job out there working with the Society for Wildlife and Nature and I'm here. I abandoned the house project for my family because I needed time to process everything, and though I'm over it now and I'm moving onâŠthe guilt of never finishing that house eats away at me now."Â
"You're just a mess, huh?" You chuckle softly, patting his arm before shaking your head. Â
"We live with so much guilt, humans. We feel guilty about the things we do, the things we don't do, the things we think about and the things we don't. It's a never-ending cycle, and somedayâŠit ends. Yeah, your family isn't here anymore to enjoy that house. But you can still finish it, you can bring new growth there. You'll marry, you'll have a kid or two and that golden retriever that everyone seems to wantâŠand you'll heal because you'll see the space used for what you intended it for, you know? Togetherness, love, care and caution. Someone will trip up the stairs, and you'll have anticipated it. Someone will get shoved into a hall closet by their sibling and you'll have already pictured it because that's what a home is. Memories, good and not-so-good, tangible and in the mind, alike; because you are your family. And they live through you, still, and whatever you put into the world."Â
He doesn't speak for a minute, your hand still holding onto his arm as you both keep walking in the field. The silence is comfortable but thick, like one of you said something the other wasn't expecting and it's still suspended in the air, processing. You stare at the ground, watching your feet go in front of each other as the sun beats down on your backs. Mingyu rolls his shoulders back silently, and your fingers slip off his skin as you move to slip your hand into your pocket.Â
His fingers dart out of his own pocket, grabbing yours and interlacing them. Your fingers are stiff for a second, and you lean forward slightly to look at him â only for him to turn away. You frown, but curl your fingers around his handâŠÂ
And you ignore the way your heart quickens stupidly in your chest at his thumb rubbing circles into your skin.Â
The walk continues without much conversation, minutes turning to hours but his hand never letting yours go, even as he rolls his shoulders back and winces in discomfort. You feel a pang in your chest as he does it repeatedly, the sun moving overhead and making your skin grow hot. You ignore the fatigue settling into your thighs, leaning your head on Mingyu's bicep when he glances down at you.Â
"Your hair is scorching hot." He presses his free hand to your face, before reaching behind him and pulling one of the water bottles off his bag. He looks at it, the water clean on one side and the filter blinking green. He lets go of your hand, twisting the filter off and standing in front of you. "Close your eyes, this is gonna be cold."Â
"No way you're soaking me with that right now."Â
"I'm not, but your head is hot, and I have an extra cap. It's just to cool you down. I'll even give you a carrot if you just let me do this."Â
"Do I look like a horseâ"Â
He sprays you with the bottle mid-sentence, an unimpressed look on his face as you scowl. He does it again, and you just close your eyes as he runs his fingers through your hair. The water drips down your shirt, soaking through as you move your arms to cover your chest. He tugs a cap off the back of his bag, pulling it over your head before moving to tuck your hair over the backstrap in a makeshift ponytail. He swings the bag off, flipping it open and handing you a carrot. You stare at it, tonguing your cheek as he pulls the bag back over his shoulders.Â
"I'm literally soaking wet."Â
"The sun'll dry you out, don't worry. And you'll bathe later, so it's no big deal."Â
"Sure, no big deal. What about the carrot?"Â
"Eat it." He shrugs, holding the bottle of water in his fingers as he blindly feels around for your hand. You let him take it, rolling your eyes as he bumps your fingers with his thigh in every movement. You glance at the carrot in your hand, sucking your teeth before holding it up to him.Â
"You didn't breakfast."Â
"I wasn't hungry."Â
"Bullshit. Eat it."Â
"You eat it." He sticks his tongue out at you, but you give him a stern look that makes him roll his eyes, his hand coming to grab the carrot and he bites a piece off with his teeth. You take the water bottle from his hand, swinging it on your side as you keep your eyes trained to the trees in the horizon, your dripping hair keeping you cool in the beating sun. Â
"What are your hobbies?" You kick at the grass patches, and he hums as he chews.Â
"Well, I was just very go-with-the-flow. I liked cooking, I did almost all the cooking when I lived in the dorms with my roommates and when I moved in with my ex. I also drew a lot, I designed a few album covers for a few of my friends that were underground artists in college. I also play guitar, but just electric. I have a shit poker face, and I can't lie to save my life; so, I know better than to gamble with my friends, but I'm very hands-on. I like embroidering things, if it wasn't obvious, but I overall just like using my hands to do something. It keeps me busy and the end result is almost always something I'm satisfied with."Â
You nod silently, before clearing your throat.Â
"What was her name?"Â
"Mina. Jeong Mina."Â
"Mina and MingyuâŠM&M." You mumble to yourself, your fingers around the water bottle tightening slightly. The trees seem to be getting closer, and you stay silent for the rest of the walk, even when it feels like hours. Your hair dries slowly, your shirt drying even slower as you limply trek the last few miles with your hands linked between each other. Your back tenses as you hear a noise in the distance, but you see nothing as you look around slowly, even stopping Mingyu before walking into the shade of the trees. You glance around, your skin prickling but nothing catches your eyes until you hear Mingyu whisper in your ear.Â
"Don't move."Â
Your eyes dart around the field behind you, before you catch a sparkle less than half a mile away. You try to focus, but Mingyu's hand is pulling you slowly behind him as you realize that it's an animal, a bear. The sparkle is the eyes staring straight at you in the high afternoon sun as your breath hitches in your throat. You watch it move slowly, preparing to run as Mingyu's foot crunches something, and you both freeze as it keeps gauging your every move.Â
"When do we start running instead of standing here like idiots?" You speak through gritted teeth, now fully behind Mingyu and moving deeper into the trees. Â
"They're not usually around these parts, the bears stay closer to the waterâŠso if there's one, there could be more." He mutters, his hand tightening around yours as you pull on it. "Don't let go, okay?"Â
"Mingyu!" You grit, pulling harder as you turn to face into the woods. Yet another dilemma lays ahead â a mountain lion, watching you from the trees. Emerald eyes are set on your face, ears are set back, black-tipped tail flicking as you make eye contact. You must stop moving because Mingyu bumps into you, glancing over his shoulder to see the large cat's claws dig into the bark of the tree.Â
"We have a better chance with the lion that we do the bear. At least she'll give us a head start," you're breathless, not wanting any sudden movements to make it pounce. You feel your heart beating wildly in your chest as the lion glances down before making contact with your eyes again. You dare yourself to look down, seeing a deer carcass laying on the forest floor. Â
"Bear is turning around," Mingyu's voice trembles slightly, but you mention nothing as you stare up at the lion with the most courage you can muster. For whatever reason, you put your hands up, carefully skirting around the dead animal that makes your heart sink in your chest. It's nature, you tell yourself as Mingyu keeps himself close to your back, pressed into you so hard that you can feel his chest rising and falling with every quipped breath. The lion follows you with every step, occasionally glancing at the carcass beneath it as you make it to the other side of it. Â
"We're leaving now," you say to no one in particular, and the lion stares you down, lowering its head as Mingyu's fingers dig into your arm, his hand in yours tightly squeezing. You watch the lion's tongue peek out to run over its snout, before a lazy yawn guarantees your temporary safety. Mingyu pulls you deeper into the forest, but you don't turn around, even as the lion closes its eyes.Â
Your grip on Mingyu's hand is almost bruising as you turn slightly, a shiver running down your back as he lets out a breath. You don't want to seem weak â because you're not. You're strong, you've done this for months alone.Â
Emotions are not weakness.Â
"I think I'm gonna throw up," you mumble, your breathing shaky as Mingyu pulls you into his chest. His fingers are warm against the back of your neck, squeezing softly as your forehead rests against his shirt â you can feel how fast his heart is beating as his necklace digs into your face, hearing him try to regulate his breathing and wrapping his arms around you tightly. You swallow a sob, but he just pulls the cap off your head, resting his cheek on top of your hair. Â
"It's okay. We're okay, we're alive." His voice is full of air as he squeezes the back of your neck again, your eyes watery as you squeeze them shut, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as you let a breath out. He keeps you close until you've stopped trembling, his hand squeezing your arms and neck, running up and down your back. "God, that carcass made me so nauseous."Â
You let out a snort, the reality of it all hitting you in the face. You're actually in this world right now, surrounding by things that the government created to hurt its own people. You're in the woods with this stranger named Kim Mingyu, who is annoying to the point that it's slightly endearing, and you can feel your breakfast unsettled in your throat. You let out a humorless laugh, your shoulders shaking as the laughter takes over your body. Â
"What the hell is so funny?"Â
"I should be in Germany. That's what's so funny."Â
You pull back, wiping at your eyes as another hysterical chuckle slips from your lips. "I should be in Germany! Instead, I'm letting a man I don't know take me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere and opening up about myself when I could be falling in love and being successful in Germany!"Â
He nods, his hands moving to hold your cheeks. His thumbs stroke the skin of your face gently, before he lets go and tugs your cap back on. He grabs your hand, taking the water bottle from your other hand and slipping it back onto his rucksack.Â
"Come on, we're a few miles out from another cavern." He mumbles, holding your hand tightly as he pulls you flush to his hip, his eyes alert as you both move through the forest tensely. Every footstep is too sudden, your hands tight around each other and you mouth a silent prayer to whatever God is out there to calm you the hell down. Mingyu is in no better shape, opting to constantly glance down at you when he thinks you're not looking â but he doesn't break eye contact when you meet his. He only blinks at you, gaze roaming your face before turning back to the unmarked forest floor. Â
"Are you upset with me?" His voice is soft, meek even; your hand squeezing his lightly before you lean your head against his arm with a sigh.Â
"Never," you shrug. "It's scary. I'm scared, and you're just as human as I am. I could literally feel your pulse going crazy. We're fine. You don't have to be brave all the time, you know? Fear is human."Â
"You're like a quarter. Both sides different, but still the same coin." He sighs, lolling his head back before rolling his shoulders, not letting you question him about what that meant. "My back fucking hurts."Â
"Thought you said it didn't."Â
"Yeah, well sometimes I lie."Â
"To save face?"Â
"Absolutely." He nods, rolling them back once more. "I can't be a wimp in front of a pretty girl;Â it's like shitting my pants."Â
"That's a bad analogy, whatever the fuck you were trying to say."Â
"That it's embarrassing, princess."Â
"That's such a horrible analogy, Mingyu." You wrinkle your nose, choosing to will the flutter in your belly away as you reach a shadier part of the woods. He keeps you close to his hip as he peers ahead, your cheek beginning to stick to his arm as you both sweat. You can only imagine how much his back hurts, the heavy rucksack moving with every roll of his shoulders. You glance down at his watch, the blurry face reading 4:53 PM.Â
"We still have so many hours left to our day." You groan quietly, feeling his thumb rub at the side of your hand in attempts to comfort you. "How long until we get to this cavern?"Â
"An hour or so. Don't worry, you can lie down as soon as we get there." He nods affirmingly, and you sigh as you force your eyes to stay open, the heat making your exhaustion set in much faster. You remind yourself that Mingyu is just as tired, if not more, and in pain as you put one foot in front of the other for what feels like an eternity.Â
Eventually, another slight clearing appears. Your eyes widen as you take in the height of this cavern â seemingly man-made but ancient. The trees have grown around it, warping around the entrance and mosses have overtaken the exposed rock. There is yet another spring below, but you can't bring yourself to bathe. You're too tired, and unfortunately, still very shaken up â even as Mingyu's touch grows increasingly comforting.Â
And confusing to your wildly beating heart.Â
"Here it is," he says plainly, pulling you in front of him as you both make it to the steps. "This was made hundreds of years ago, passed through generations before the last owner died and left it to the people that live in the cabins up in the colony. We opened it to the hikers; there's a sign on the north hill for it. It's just kind of a refuge now; it's kind of an unspoken rule that we have to keep it clean and tidy if we want it to stay usable." Â
You nod along to what he's saying, your thighs burning slightly as you make up the stone steps with his hands on your lower back. The entrance has a battery-powered lamp hidden inside the corner, and Mingyu grabs it, turning it on and illuminating the entire cavern. There isn't much to see â some dying potted flowers in the corner, a small window with glued sticks as a muntin. As you step in; a hinged door, oddly shaped but perfect for the entrance. You step inside cautiously, your foot landing on a soft rug. It's almost like a small apartment, except there is dust everywhere and you're certain there is a spider in the upper left corner of the wall. You glance down at the rug; a large sun embroidered in orange thread staring back up at you as you look at Mingyu.Â
He's not looking at you; his eyes are closed as he leans against the entrance of the cavern â a weary sigh falling from his lips as he forces one foot in front of the other, stepping inside and letting his bag fall off his shoulders. He reaches to close the door, a wince crossing his features as he manages to drag the locks in place quickly.Â
"Hungry? I can go catch something, it'll be quick." His tone is pained as he rubs his shoulder with a grimace, and you just shake your head as you toe off your shoes, dropping your bag onto the ground with a stretch.Â
"Maybe later, I'm not that hungry." You let a shudder fall off your frame as you kick your shoes into the corner, grabbing the rucksack and hauling it against the wall. You tug the sleeping bag out, unzipping it and laying it out on the ground as Mingyu sits on a milk crate that's next to the lamp, fiddling with the brightness as you toss the cap on top of his bag. You pull the water out of his bag pockets, reaching into the main slot and pulling out two oranges.Â
"I thought you said you weren't hungry?" Mingyu's voice rings in your ears as you kneel in front of him, pulling at the laces of his boots. "Let me go catch somethingâ"Â
"Can you shut up?" Your voice is gentle, holding no malice as you tug his boots off one at a time. You toss them to the side of the room, watching him lean against the wall of the cavern with an uncomfortable sag to his shoulders. You pat the sleeping bag, "come. Lay down, I'll peel an orange, and you can sleep."Â
"I can peel my own orange."Â
"Or you can just let me do it for you."Â
He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you move out of the way, patting the sleeping bag again. He reluctantly slides off the milk crate, and you take his place as you sink your nails into the orange skin. He turns uncomfortably, grunting softly as he lays on his side, looking up at you. You raise your brows, smiling softly before crossing your legs at the knee.Â
"Something on your mind?"Â
"I didn't reapply sunscreen every two hours and we didn't stretch properly. Are you feeling okay?"Â
"I'm fine, gosh." You roll your eyes, carefully keeping the peel together as you move around the orange. He sits up painfully, "butâ"Â
"No buts, Kim Mingyu. I'm okay." You nod affirmatively, before pointing your pinky finger at him, "it's you I'm worried about. You and your back. I watched you walk down the boulders this morning, you hold a lot of tension in your traps and deltoids, and even a bit in your acromion."Â
"It's like you're speaking Klingon to me right now, princess." He blinks up at you with drowsy eyes, resting his chin in his palm as you roll your eyes.Â
"Your back, you hold a lot of tension in your upper back from the fucking bag." You jerk your thumb in the direction of the brown rucksack, but he just shrugs as if it doesn't make him want to stiffen forever. Â
"I'll just take a hot bath when we get back to the cabin. I'll be fine." He mutters as you split the orange in half, and you slide off the milk crate onto your knees in front of him. You offer a slice, only for him to open his mouth lazily. You slip it past his lips, before eating one yourself with a shake of your head.Â
"Hot bath is not enough, you need a cold one, too. Maybe even a massage, and I can help with that." You say pointedly, and he rolls his eyes again, turning away from you defiantly. You chuckle, leaning over his broad frame and holding another orange slice to his lips. He takes it, chewing carefully as you hold another in front of him. "What are you so afraid of? Relief?"Â
"Nothing, I'm just not used to the touching." He repeats your words back at you, and you scoff. Â
"You had a partner!"Â
"Two years ago, I had a partner two years ago. And what if I moan or something? Isn't that embarrassing?"Â
"That's literally normal. It's only weird if you make it weird, tons of people moan during massages. Even I've done it."Â
He pouts, his lip touching the side of your finger as you tap the orange slice to his mouth. He takes it, and you pat his shoulder. "It'll bring you lots of relief. I wouldn't offer if I didn't know what I was doing, you know. I'm not going to hurt you, not on purpose, anyway."Â
"I know." He mumbles, picking at a loose thread in the sleeping bag.Â
"Let me just work out a few knots," you whisper, hearing him groan exaggeratedly as you lightly tap your knuckles into his back. He sits up, meeting your eyes with a tired look in his, "what if you're a bad masseuse? What if you're just talking up your skills? I won't even know until my back still hurts in the morning."Â
"At least try me out, damn." You scoff in mock offense, shoving an orange slice in your cheek as you pluck at his shirt. "Take it off. Lay down on your stomach, and you can put your arms under your head if you want."Â
He tongues his cheek, "what if it hurts?"Â
"It's going to hurt a little bit. You're already in pain, but this will be more of a release pain. Not a pent-up pain," you shrug, before tilting your head towards his bag. "You have any oil or lotion in that bag? Even the sunscreen is fine, too, if you don't."Â
He shifts, thumbing at the hem of his shirt before sighing. "There's a bottle of almond oil at the bottom. It's in a bag so it wouldn't make a mess."Â
You nod eagerly, crawling over to it and flipping the bag open. You dig around through the items, your eyes widening at the hidden pistol at the bottom. It's covered with a sheath, seemingly never used as you hear the thwip of Mingyu's shirt being pulled off. You shake your head slightly, spotting the oil in a bag and grabbing it before closing the bag. You turn to see Mingyu's teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stretches his arms behind him.Â
"Stop stretching, fool. Lay down." You nudge his thigh with your foot, and he swats you away as he reluctantly does as he's told. You open the bag, taking the oil out to read the front, almond oil. "Oh, this is gonna smell so nice. At the place I worked, we'd heat this up and the rooms would smell for days."Â
You kneel next to him, popping the cap of the oil as he shifts slightly "We can stop any time, just let me know, okay?"Â
"Are your hands cold?"Â
"No, they just smell like oranges."Â
"Great, now all the bugs are gonna want me."Â
"At least someone does," you snort, earning a swat from his hand as you snicker. You pour a bit of oil on your hands, warming it in your palms as you lean over him. "Tell me about your life. Anything."Â
"What happened to not wanting to get attached?"Â
"Sometimes I lie."Â
You don't show any emotion on your face as he turns his head to look at you, only giving him a raise of your brows before tapping the side of your hand on his ribcage. "Go on. Talk to me."Â
He looks a bit skeptical, settling his head back on his arms as you slide your slicked hands onto his skin. He flinches slightly as you lightly dig your fingers into the tense muscles, running up the marks of the bruising. "UhâŠso I used to play football. That's how I got my scholarship."Â
"What position did you play?" You wrap your hands lightly around his shoulders, squeezing softly as he tries not to squirm, "I was a wide receiver for the first year, then a quarterback the rest of my time on the team. I would've made captain but I graduated early."Â
"Athletic, smart, hardworkingâŠand ridden with guilt. What a dreamboat." You tease, digging your thumbs into his shoulder blade. He scoffs, almost a grunt, "shut up. I'm sure you've got your own demons."Â
"Skeletons in my closet are few but sentimental," you admit, your skin prickling as you hear a soft gasp fall from his lips as you work through a small knot. "But we're not talking about me."Â
"Fine," he huffs, the heel of your palm digging just under his shoulder. "What do you want to know?"Â
"Whatever you wanna tell me. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Do you think you're a bad kisser? Do you have a favorite color? Ever considered modeling?" You shrug, all the questions nonchalant as he hums, "what would you do with your life if you weren't an architect?"Â
"Well, I'm not an architect anymore, so I'd probably be doing this." He says pointedly, biting down on his lip as you press your thumbs into his lower back. You tap the skin softly, making him jolt as you snicker, "what about the rest of my questions?"Â
"Well, let me get to them!" He squirms as you slide your hands deeper, your thumbs settling in the dip of his spine comfortably. Â
"You've got back dimples. Cute."Â
"Shut up."Â
"They're cute. You're so cute."Â
He doesn't reply, but you watch the tips of his ears turn pink as he buries his face into his arms.Â
"You fluster easily?" Your voice has a coolness to it that you've never heard, but you don't care as you watch the flush crawl down his cheeks. "Oh, you're adorable."Â
"Will you stop that?" His voice is whiny as you laugh, softly digging your fingers into the skin. "I like red. The color."Â
"Is there any other red?"Â
"You know whatâ"Â
"Shh, just answer my questions." You smile inwardly as you slide your hands back up, finding another knot under the bruises. You work your fingertips into the muscle gently, watching his brow furrow as he clears his throat. Â
"Ice creamâŠI like strawberry. Sometimes vanilla, but strawberry is usually the contender. There was a creamery I used to go to a lot as a kid, and I never chose the flavor because the auntie who worked there gave me strawberry the first time I ever went. So, I got it every time until we got an ice cream maker at the cabin, and we just started making our own." He sighs as the knot slowly starts to give, your palms hot against his skin, "as for the modeling, I did a bit of that too, for money. I posed for the photography students, and I was semi-nude for the art students for a semester."Â
"Semi-nude? You're so scandalous," you chide, smoothing your palms over his shoulders once more. He sucks his teeth in response, opening his mouth to say something but you hear his breath hitch as your fingers slide under the necklace, squeezing the sides of his neck. You lean down slightly, "so, are you a bad kisser?"Â
"You can't ask me that. It's in poor taste."Â
"Oh, you're such a bad kisser."Â
"What would you know, virgin?"Â
"Hey!" You pout, squeezing the back of his neck lightly, digging your thumbs into the skin as he bites back a groan. "I told you that in confidence!"Â
"Last I checked, we're here alone, sweetness. And you didn't tell me that, I just confirmed it." He grunts into his arm, a muttered fuck falling from his lips as you run your hands down his shoulders tightly. You feel your cheeks grow hot, shifting on your knees as you clear your throat.Â
"Yeah, well. It's one of my only secrets, so I expect you to guard it with your life." You grumble back, rubbing your hands down the length of his back with slight pressure. You squeeze his side, your fingers coming to pull at his necklace as you lean down further, "did you hear me, Kim Mingyu?"Â
"Yeah," his cheeks are burning red as his voice comes out a bit breathless, turning his head to face away from you. You lean over his body, finding his eyes open as he glances at you out of the corner of them. You give him a pointed look, making him huff as he closes them. "Yes, I heard you."Â
"Thank you."Â
"It's not like I was going to tell anyone, anyway."Â
"I don't know that," you say, leaning back onto your legs and patting the dip in his shoulders. "Feeling better?"Â
"I feel tired." He mutters, wrapping his arms tighter under his head as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. He lifts his head up, giving you a defiant look with pursed lips before clicking his tongue, "you're pretty good, I guess."Â
"You guess?" You snort, tapping his side. "I can keep going until you fall asleep, if you want. I'll turn the light off, too."Â
"What about you, though?"Â
"What about me?" You question, dropping the closed bottle of oil into the bag and sealing it, putting it aside as you peer at him through your lashes.Â
"Aren't you sore? Tired? Shouldn't you sleep, too?"Â
You shrug, "my bag isn't as heavy, and I just need to stretch a bit. I'll do it in the morning, probably take a bath, too. I'm just offering because you're actively in pain, more than I am. Just take it as a thank you."Â
"You don't need to thank me."Â
"But I want to, and this is the only way I can."Â
"Tell me about yourself instead. I'll take your thanks that way."Â
"Nope." You shake your head, untucking your legs from under yourself and stretching them out. You take your socks off as he sits up, a pout on his lips as he gets in your face.Â
"Come on! You asked me all those questions and IÂ answered!"Â
"You answered because you have no self-preservation skills. That's a problem."Â
"I've kept you alive for two days!" He shoves your shoulder lightly, and you turn your head to look at him, glancing at the spot where he touched your shoulder. He swallows carefully, fixing the sleeve of your shirt where his fingers wrinkled it. "Sorry."Â
"I kept myself alive for much longer, but fine," you roll your socks, squeezing your calves with your hands as you bend at the waist. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around your knees and bringing them to your chest. "What do you want to know?"Â
"Whatever you wanna tell me."Â
"You suck at this."Â
"You're so mean." He huffs, resting his cheek against your shoulder. You try not to stiffen, opting to continue running your fingers down your shins as you clear your throat, "Mingyu."Â
"Fine." He shifts, instead resting his chin higher up. "What's your favorite color? Have you ever considered modeling? Do you think you'd be a bad kisser?"Â
"You're so unoriginal." You snicker, making him scoff. "Fine, why are you braless in the middle of the woods?"Â
"First of all, a raccoon stole my bra, like, two weeks into this mess! That's not my fault!" You gape, your brows furrowing as you turn to face him. He's really close, his eyes boring into yours as you wrinkle your nose at him, "you're such a man. Of course you'd notice."Â
"Or, I have my chin on your shoulder, and I don't feel the strap."Â
"I could've gone strapless."Â
"There's no support in those things."Â
"You saying I need support?"Â
"I'm saying you seem like a reasonable person, and no reasonable person likes strapless bras." He rolls his eyes, and you bite back your smile as you turn away from him. "Are you going to answer my questions or not?"Â
"My favorite color is green. I was a nude model for a portrait class last year and no, I don't think I'd be a bad kisser. There is skill in the yearning." You shrug the shoulder he's not perched against, and he gasps in feigned shock.Â
"Fully nude?"Â
"Fully nude. It was a bunch of girls, and most of them were my friends, anyway."Â
"But you called me scandalous for semi-nude?"Â
"I'm a woman, it's different. Women have this gravitational beauty that men just don't possess. It's the same feeling you get when you look at, I don't know, the Northern Lights, or the moon, or the ocean." You quip, turning to face him again. "I'm sure you'd agree."Â
He tongues his cheek, eyes burning into yours before he shrugs. "I would but that's justâ"Â
"Shut up."Â
"But I have more questions."Â
"Then ask them, loser."Â Â
He leans his cheek against your shoulder, eyes round and wet as he stares up at your face. You raise a brow, your gaze pointed as he wrinkles his nose at you.Â
"What is your dream partner like?" His voice is soft, his arms crossing on his bare chest; the face of his watch blinking at 9:43 PM. You hum, your tongue darting out to wet your lips again. His eyes follow the movement, before shamelessly looking back up at you.Â
"I don't know, actually." You admit, "I just hope he's sweet. A nice guy, but he has to be nice to everyone, you know? The aunties, kids, animals, too, because I don't like assholes. Uhm, I like lip gloss, so he'd have to be okay with me wearing it, and I like it when they dress nice. Also, when they smell nice. And I like a man that can eat, too. I don't know." Â
"You wear lip gloss?" He's gentle as he asks, and you move away carefully. You grab your bag, leaning back with it in your lap. He lingers behind you, and you move back enough and bring your hand up to rest his cheek on your shoulder again. He goes without resistance, watching you open your bag and pull out the folded clothes. You reach into the bottom, taking out the sparkly pink tube of bubblegum lip gloss and holding it up to the light.Â
"I used to collect them before the outbreak. I had at least two in every bag, all sorts of flavors and colors. I don't like this one all that much, that's how you can tell I wasn't really expecting this to seriously happen." You laugh humorlessly, unscrewing the cap and giving it a soft sniff. It was brand new, still sweet with the scent as you close it.Â
"Put it on, let me see." Mingyu nudges you, and you scoff, "it's just sparkly. There's nothing more to it."Â
"Let me be the judge of that." He huffs, making you roll your eyes as you uncap it again, reluctantly putting it on. The formula is a little sticky, but it tastes fine as some of it seeps into your mouth. You wipe the corners of your lips, seeing Mingyu watch you intently out of the corner of your eye.Â
"Up to your standards, Mr. Kim?"Â
"You're so pretty when you shut up, you know that?"Â
He's rolling his eyes almost too hard, but you just smile widely as his cheeks flush once more.Â
"You've done that a lot, you know." You mention slowly, putting the things away in the bag and sliding the lip gloss on top before zipping it up and tossing the bag aside.Â
"Done what a lot?"Â
"Call me pretty. Five times, actually. And you called me cute three times."Â
"You're keeping count?" He asks pointedly, before you give him an annoyed look. "So what? I can't have eyes?"Â
"Sure, you can, I just know that you're gonna fall in love with me." You jest, hearing him click his tongue, "would that be so bad? I'd say I'm pretty cool, the aunties love Kim Mingyu. And I don't care if you wear lip gloss, I like the way it looks on you." Â
"You met me yesterday," you deadpan, and he gives you a look that says so?Â
"I can still think you're pretty. I can think whatever I want; which is why I think you're smart, and strong, and mean, and you're pretty but that won't change." He shrugs, "you'reâŠsomething. I can't quite figure it out, but I will."Â
"Or you could give up." You wiggle your brows, "it's not that serious. The world is ending."Â
"Then why are you so resilient?" He whispers, his eyes intense as he leans slightly closer. "Why are you so intent on staying alive if you're so convinced there is nothing to live for?"Â
You blink at him, lips parting before he leans forward slightly. Â
"If you didn't think there was something worth living for, you would've easily given up on yourself ages ago. I wouldn't have found you literally licking your wounds, and you wouldn't have let me feed you, or bandage you up. You would've looked that mountain lion in the eyes and taunted it, and then you'd be dead." He shrugs, his breath hitting your lips as your jaw tightens slightly. "So, stop acting like the world is ending. It's not. It doesn't end until you want it to, and even then, I won't let you think that way. Life isn't over because of this. Life doesn't end, ever. It keeps going, so you keep going."Â
He's so close that the tip of his nose brushes yours, "stop playing both sides of the coin. Either you're in it, or you're not. And as far as I can tell, you're in. So, stay in."Â
You can't tear your eyes away from him, your breath hitched in your throat as you stare at each other. A beat passes, a minuscule beat where you glance down at his lips â before you move back from him, wiping the back of your hand across your lips. Glitter smears over your skin with the thin layer of lip gloss, and you move behind him to turn the lamp off. He says nothing, allowing you to lay on your side and face the wall. You curl your knees to your chest, staring at the light bleeding through the window that illuminates the room. Â
He shifts behind you, a groan as he likely lays on his back. You say nothing, even when his voice whispers good night.Â
You can't sleep. Â
Mingyu took his watch off at some point, tossing it to the side and you saw it blinking lightly above your head, reading twenty minutes until one in the morning. His eyes are closed, back rising and falling steadily as you turn for what feels like the hundredth time, facing him as he sleeps shirtless and on his belly. You're shivering slightly, the cold of the night seeping in through the floor as you wrap your arms around yourself.Â
You think about what he said. Not because it bothered you, of course notâŠÂ
You just didn't like to be seen that way, to be perceived further than what little information you voluntarily offer about yourself: architecture student, design snob, mean girl who doesn't need anyone. You had a problem with accepting whether this was something you could be positive about, and you think that of all people, Mingyu could understand â a life set in stone, something you'd wanted for so longâŠjust ripped away. The idea of becoming great in what you wanted versus the reality in becoming great for survival were two different things, and while you knew you'd done well in keeping yourself aliveâŠa part of you wonders what would've happened if you'd made it to Germany. If the outbreak happened after you left, if you would've managed to escape the hurt in your chest when your parents on the island stopped picking up your calls.Â
Or the way your mind flashes the day you hit the pavement falling out of your first-floor window, falling away from your two lifelong friends that you'd never get to see again. All because of a loser in downtown that opened fire against public health for no reason other than stupidity and selfishness.Â
You simply wonder, but wondering does nothing for your bitter heart as you watch Mingyu sleep soundly; a shiver sweeping through your body as you give in to your heart's incessant tugging.Â
"Mingyu." You whisper, but he doesn't open his eyes. A huh is heard, soft and sleepy, before you speak slightly louder. "Mingyu."Â
He doesn't respond, only sighing and lifting his arm, his fingers beckoning you to come closer. You nibble on your lip for a second, before he reaches over and curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You move with it, letting him tuck you into his chest before pulling your side of the sleeping bag over your shoulder. You're engulfed with warmth, his arm holding you close to him as you feel him move your leg over his hip, your cheeks heating before you hide your face in the dip of his neck, his necklace cool against your lips and cheek.Â
"Sorry." You mumble, but he just squeezes his arm around you lightly before you feel the ghost of his lips on the shell of your ear. Â
"S'okay, princess. Can't sleep?" He sighs, his palm rubbing circles into your back as he drums his fingers in tandem. Your nose is filled with a mix of him as you bury your nose deeper into his neck, "it's just cold in here."Â
"You'll warm up soon." He mumbles, his hand sliding up to palm at the back of your neck. Your skin prickles slightly as he squeezes, breath hitching in your throat as your face is engulfed in a hot flush. His thumb traces circles into the side of your neck, "wear your lip gloss tomorrow. I like it."Â
"Think I'm gonna do stuff just because you like it?" Your voice isn't nearly as confident as you move back to look up at him, his eyes still closed as he shrugs.Â
"I think you should do stuff because you wanna, but if you want to do it because I like itâ"Â
"Mingyu."Â
He laughs tiredly, and you scowl inwardly as you rest your forehead on his bare chest. Â
"You're cute, Y/N."Â
"Why are you messing with me right now? Aren't you sleeping? Go to sleep."Â
"I can't sleep when you're tossing and turning. I was just waiting for you to tell me you were cold."Â
"Pft." You grumble, trying to turn out of his hold when he tightens his arm around you, sliding down a bit to be eye level with you. He's hovering over you slightly, eyes teasing, tired, as they look down at you. Your blush grows hotter as he blinks down, your fingers curling into fists as you lamely hit his shoulder. "You're taking advantage of the fact that I'm cold."Â
"If anything, I think you are doing that. It's been cold before, when you were on your own. You managed." He raises a brow, his fingertips drumming against your back again. "If you wanted to cuddle, you could've just said that."Â
"I don't."Â
"Then move."Â
He lifts his arm up, giving you a pointed look as you cross your arms on your chest. You chew your cheek, looking away from him as you click your tongue. "You're being mean."Â
"You're not being honest."Â
"Mingyu!"Â
"Stop whining and tell me what you want, babe." He quips, "you're cute."Â
"That makes four times, you know. Or five, actually." You mutter, clenching your jaw repeatedly to will the stupid flutter in your chest away before groaning. "Can you just hold me? Please? I'm tired and I'm cold and I just wanna go to sleep."Â
He doesn't respond, wrapping his arm around your waist once more and holding you close. Your cheek is smushed with his as your arm drapes around his side, your fingers dangling over his back. If he feels your lips curve into a smile against his jaw, he says nothing â but you feel his frame relax under the weight of your limbs wrapped around him, his arm under your head bending at the elbow to pat the back of your head. His fingers run through your hair soothingly, your eyes fluttering shut as you whisper thank you against his skin.Â
"Good night, sweetness."Â
MINGYU IS STILL ASLEEP WHEN YOU GET BACK FROM YOUR BATH.Â
You'd escaped his grip without waking him just forty minutes earlier â and you're grateful you did, because you can't be blamed for the insane butterflies filling your stomach. He'd been fully on top of you once more, his head resting between your breasts and his hand slipped into yours, pinning it next to your head. He'd been snoring softly, pouting in his sleep with every inch you managed to move away, but eventually turned on his side as you wiggled away. You took a deep breath then, covering your face with your hands and feeling the heat of your skin against your palms. Â
You can't lie and say you didn't curse everything that got you into this mess â but you absolutely hate the idea of the crush you knew was forming in your chest. A crush, your mother always said, is a lack of information. And boy, do you lack information right now.Â
But something about him makes you not want to care. You want to throw caution to the wind, you want to let him hold you close every single night, you want to rub his back until he falls asleep, you want to wear lip gloss for him, and you want him to kiss you. You want to kiss him, over and over until you canât breathe.Â
Until you need him to breathe.Â
You wonder if this shows how inexperienced you are, how easy it was for him to get into your head. His words, his helpâŠhis spirit and incessant need to keep going when the world is crumbling around him.Â
But he's just you in another person, isn't he? Smart, strong, resilientâŠand full of guilt. Â
So full of guilt â but his is from the past, and yours is from the present, from the thundering in your chest caused by him and his casual touching that you welcome without a word, by him and his ability to show fear despite wanting to be brave and succeeding.Â
Him, and how easily you felt seen, and how you've never, ever given in so easily.Â
Not to your feelings, not to your circumstances, not to a man. Â
You've religiously fought against every single odd in your life. Every single fight with your parents, every argument with your friends that left you in a puddle of furious tears, every single stepping stone that was set slightly higher for you because you're a girl. A girl with dreams and aspirations and a need to be the top of your class, the best in your department.Â
A girl with the incessant need to be great.Â
And you feel a little foolish to think that a few words from a man, a man you don't know, can make you realize that greatness can be found in anything. You hate it, honestly, because then, your mother is right. Your father is right, everyone who has ever told you to take it easy has been right â greatness is found everywhere, and your father's voice echoes in your mind from the night you left the island for Yonsei.Â
"You are going to shine, because you are a star. Stars shine everywhere, so just take it easy, kid. We'll be here when you get back, in all your greatness."Â
And now, they're gone.Â
Just like Jian, and Jieun.Â
Just like all the boys you never kissed, and all the boys that gathered the strength for weeks to tell you what Mingyu has been able to say so easily â that you're strong, smart, pretty. And you're only more skeptical of him as you realize just how easy it is for him to talk to you like that; like you're prey he's about to sink his teeth into, like you're going to fall in love with him and it'll be the best thing in your life for three months before he decides to find another, or that you're just simply not enough. Not experienced enough, not smart enough, not strong enough to keep maneuvering a world like this â where nothing is for certain.Â
Not enough.Â
You feel guilt seep into your bones as you glance down at him from your spot in the entrance, your hair dripping down your shirt â his shirt, the one he was wearing when he found you. The brown one with KMG stitched into his chest pocket, and the lace of your pink underwear peeking through the bottom as you feel your eyes burn with tears.Â
You move around quietly â covering yourself in sunscreen, peeling yourself an orange and grimacing at the taste after the toothpaste tablet. You wash your clothes, letting them dry on the steps, you stretch fully and even massage your feet lightly. You bandage your hand up, replacing your moleskins as silently as possible before slipping your socks on and tugging your jeans on. Â
You stare at the tube of lip gloss at the bottom of your bag, your heart fluttering as you swipe on a thin layer â before wiping it off with the back of your hand. You shove it back in the bag, your hands gripping the fabric before you toss it onto the steps and grab a carrot out of Mingyu's rucksack.Â
You watch the sun rise by yourself on the steps of the cavern, nibbling on the carrot when you hear a grunt from inside. You lean back slightly, peering into the entrance to see him stretching his arms over his head, his hair mussed with sleep. Â
He looks around for a second, patting the side of the sleeping bag when he sees you looking at him from the entrance. You give him a curt nod, pressing your lips together before tapping your wrist and looking away. Â
He moves about â you listen to him brush his teeth, put things in his bag, shoving his boots on before stepping out with an apple in his mouth and your shoes in his hand. His watch blinks 6:39 AM, and you feel him pull his cap over your head as you grab your shoes from him.Â
"Why didn't you wake me?" He murmurs, sitting next to you to lace up his boots. You scoot over slightly, your thigh still brushing his as you shrug, chewing far too much for your small bite of the carrot. He gives you a pointed look, sighing before turning slightly. "Did I make you upset? Did I do something? Say something?"Â
You don't respond verbally, shaking your head as you tug your shoes on; and that's when he notices you're fully dressed, and your hair is damp. He leans back slightly, your indifference making his eyes narrow as he studies you. You don't acknowledge it, tying your shoes and finishing your carrot in two bites. Â
"We should get moving." You murmur, and his brow furrows as you move to get up. His hand grabs your ankle before you can move away, looking up at you with confusion in his eyes.Â
"What's with you? Is this about last night?"Â
"What about last night, guy?"Â
"You tell me, princess."Â
You roll your eyes, shaking his hand off your ankle like a bug off your hand before turning to grab your bag. You slide it over your shoulders, hooking your thumbs in the straps before making your way down the steps. You stop a few steps from the bottom, looking over your shoulder.Â
"Come on. We don't have forever, you know."Â
Mingyu seems taken aback at your change in attitude, and you kind of applaud yourself for staying in character. You hear him slowly stand, and you make your way to the forest floor as he barrels down the steps. You walk forward until you feel him move you in the right direction, and then you pull away from his fingers. You roll your shoulders back, gripping the straps of your backpack as if they'll keep you sane.Â
You don't speak for a while. He gives you wayward glances that you don't bother meeting, holding his hand out with every hill that needs descending, but you don't take it. He grows a little stiff in front of you, awkwardly sliding his hands in his pockets as the sun starts to grow hot with the waning morning.Â
You look around diligently as you both walk, your eyes still a bit tired from your late-night tossing and turning. You'd woken up twice during your slumber, both cause of odd flashes in your dreams about the very same mountain lion you'd seen yesterday â only to be soothed back to sleep by the feeling of Mingyu's heart beating steadily against your ear. You scowl inwardly, keeping your eyes trained to the ground and kicking pebbles out of your way.Â
Mingyu stops abruptly, making you bump into his back, hitting your forehead on the clip that holds his sleeping bag. You grimace, rubbing at the skin when he turns around with a frown, his arms crossed on his chest as he peers down at you.Â
"I can't keep going in silence. Tell me what I did."Â
"Why do you think what you do is so important to me? Why do you think you're that worthy of having an effect on me?" You snap, sucking your teeth as you let your hand fall from your forehead, "not everything is about you. It's not like what I do will matter to you this much, so just leave me be."Â
"Oh, this is so about me." He scoffs, letting out a humorless laugh. "What the hell is the problem? What did I do?"Â
"You're confusing me! That's what you're doing!" You scream, screwing your eyes shut and covering them with your hands before letting out a defeated groan. "You ask me questions like you care, you touch me like it's second nature and you say nice things to me like you don't need reciprocity. You act like you're just this nice guy, and you tell me all this shit about how resilient I am as if I don't know. I know I'm strong, okay? I know I am, it's all I've ever been. I don't need you to tell me and I don't want to hear it anymore, because I want to have a chance where I don't need to be any of that!"Â
Your breathing is shallow as you wipe at your face, unaware at the tears streaming down them. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, and you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes so hard you see splotches of color amidst the darkness.Â
"I need you to stop acting like I'm the only girl in the world. The cuddling, the teasing, the casual touching, holding hands and all of thatâŠit has to stop. I can't do it. I don't know what it's like to be liked, much less to like someone. I have a weak mind and a weaker heart, and you're confusing me. Just let me be if nothing will become of it."Â
Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you can't bring yourself to look at him as you sniffle. You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, crossing your arms on your chest as you glance at his watch.Â
11:32 AM.Â
"Keep moving. It'll be lunch time soon." You murmur, pushing past him to keep walking in the general direction. You get maybe three feet ahead of him when he finally starts moving. He doesn't say anything, just stepping ahead of you and trailing to the left. You follow silently, aside from the sniffling â watching the way his hands palm at the fabric of his shorts before he just stuffs them in his pocket.Â
You entertain yourself by watching the time tick by on his wrist as you keep walking in silence â the sniffling stopping around 1:15 PM. You stop to eat, and he hands you things without looking at you; which somehow, hurts far worse than you could have imagined. He uncaps the water for you, he peels an orange for you, but he says nothing; only pulling his hand back if he brushes yours accidentally.Â
And suddenly, the fullness of your belly can't win over the emptiness in your chest.Â
You hadn't expected the day to go by so slowly. It feels agonizing â the heat of the sun on your back, the weight of your heart in your throat paired with a dryness in your mouth that no amount of water can quench. You ignore the worried glances he gives you as you bring the bottle to your lips again, his arms crossed on his chest as you cap it.Â
The walk is uncomfortable. Sure, the dense trees bring a comforting refuge from the sunâŠbut you can't stop thinking about him, even from ten inches away. You can't stop glancing at him every time he's in front of you, every time he instinctively reaches his hand out before retracting it, every time you almost take it. It's 3:29 PM before he finally speaks.Â
"You're not the only one with a weak heart, you know. You're confusing me, too."Â Â
It's all he says, keeping his voice gentle and quiet, his eyes trained forward as another clearing comes about. Instead of a field, you're met with what seems to be a newly constructed fence â heavy iron and lined with chicken wire at the bottom. He moves in front of the gate, kicking gravel around until the sparkle of a gold key catches your eye. You point at it silently, before he sees it and grabs it. He unlocks the gate, pushing it open slightly and poking his head in when you hear a shriek so loud that it makes you wince.Â
"You're back! Mingyu's back!" It's a man's voice, and Mingyu is pushed back by whoever it is throwing himself at him. He doesn't stumble much, wrapping his arms around the guy with a smile.Â
"I told you I would be, Chan. And we have company." He pats the man's back, who stiffens as more people gather around the open gate. More men stare back at you, their excited smiles turning to faces of horror as they lay their eyes on you. Gasps and chatter rise, and Chan embarrassedly drops from Mingyu's arms, avoiding your eyes as he clears his throat.Â
"Introduce her, idiot." One of the men with thick brows speaks up, a pouty look to his lips as he crosses his arms on his chest. Mingyu scowls, "mind your damn business, she's not here for you."Â
"It's not like she's here for you, either." Another one rolls his eyes, leaning against one of the posts. He's lanky, nimble fingers running through faded blond hair as he looks you up and down. "In jeans? You're brave. What's your name?"Â
Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as an embarrassed look glazes your face. "UhâŠ"Â
"Y/N. Her name is Y/N, now let us in. Don't you know? We're really tired." Mingyu speaks mockingly, waving them all back before grabbing Chan's wrist and pushing through them. You follow hurriedly, taking the key off the lock and holding it between your fingers as they let you slink past and one of the men locks the gate behind you. You lose Mingyu in the gaggle of men, chattering heard as they all push him towards the cabin that towers over you â four stories, you think. You can't see that high.Â
"She's cute," you hear someone whisper behind you, and you instinctively curl in on yourself before you hear a smack, followed by an ouch!Â
"Shut up. Leave the girl alone, she's needs to feel safe here."Â
"I just said she was cute! I didn't mean anything weird by it!"Â
"You're a guy, Soonyoung. We're all guys. She's gonna take a while to get used to us, so don't make her uncomfortable."Â
A grumble is heard, and you glance over your shoulder, the blond from before and another man with jet black hair behind you. Â
"It's okay. Mingyu's called me cute five times." You hold up five fingers, his name heavy in your mouth as the man with the jet black hair elbows the blond.Â
"See! It's not weird!" He scoffs, before holding his hand out. "I'm Soonyoung. This isâ"Â
"Minghao. I can introduce myself, thanks." He rolls his eyes as you turn to shake Soonyoung's hand, his fingertips cold against your skin. "You must've been scared out of your mind out there. Were you on your own?"Â
"Uh, it's not really scary." You shrug, before shaking Minghao's hand. "I was alone from the beginning, so I justâŠadapted, I guess. I almost didn't let Mingyu help me."Â
Minghao's eyes hold something you can't recognize, before his other hand covers yours.Â
"You must be tired. Let's get you inside, hm? Seungcheol is making dinner." He pats your hand, before pulling you forward. You follow behind him, but his hand in yours doesn't make you feel anything different. It's just like holding hands with Jian or Jieun, or your parents â warm, kind. Just supportive, really, a guide.Â
Holding Mingyu's hand makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.Â
Not that you have a crush on Mingyu, anyway.Â
You let them lead you to the front of the cabin, with Soonyoung taking the keys out of your hand and placing them in a bowl by the door. You step inside, immediately hit with a blast of cold air that makes your skin prickle. Minghao pulls you in, shutting the door behind you and pulling you closer, your hip bumping his as you walk through the open living room.Â
"You should settle in. Let's see if Mingyu has a room for you." He squeezes your hand softly, before pulling you towards a hall closet. You see Mingyu's back inside, sorting through piles carefully. Minghao lets your hand go, "come downstairs when you're done settling in. We'll get you some food and you can meet everyone."Â
"Okay. Uh, thanks, Minghao."Â
"No problem, sweetheart."Â
You miss the way Mingyu's back tenses at the pet name, but you turn back to see him holding a pair of navy blue shorts up. He shrugs, draping them over his forearm before grabbing a towel off the top shelf. He glances at it, touching the corners before putting it back and grabbing another one. He does the same, before nodding to himself and closing the door, a ring of keys around his wrist.Â
He doesn't say anything as he turns to you, tilting his head towards the set of stairs to your right. You ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he turns without speaking, two steps at a time. You follow silently, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of your jeans as you look down hallways upon hallways of rooms. Some doors ajar, most closed â but your thighs are burning as you reach the fourth landing.Â
"Jesus Christ, are we almost there?" You grouse, and he only chuckles inwardly before stopping in front of you. You frown up at him, but he just shrugs, leading you down the hall of several doors, before a blue one ends the hallway. The letters KMG mock you in white paint, before he turns to the one next to it. It's green.Â
"This used to be a bed and breakfast before it came into my family. Hence, all the rooms." He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. He holds the items in his hand close to his chest before looking through the keys with one hand, before finding one with a matching green stripe on the bow. He unlocks the room carefully, opening the door to show a fully furnished room with pale pink walls and a cherry-print comforter. You feel your chest tight as he slips inside, setting the items in his hands down on the white desk in the corner. Â
"There's pajamas in the bottom drawer, if they don't fit you, we can alter them. Uh, you have your own bathroom and a hair dryer, so don't worry about sharing. There's a radio, so you can listen to music or the news or whatever you want. There's a TV, and a VCR player because this place is kind of old, but everything still works. There is also a handful of different chargers in one of the desk drawers, I don't know if you brought anything with you but I'm sure you can find something compatible if you have a phone or something. The bed is yours, and so is the room, as long as you want it. And you get your key, so no one comes in here unless you want them to. Lights out by eleven, though, so just be a little quieter than normal if you're not going to bed. Oh, and there is a pair of slippers in the closet that you can have, so don't worry about walking around barefoot."Â
You feel a little silly as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, nibbling on your lip as tears fill your eyes. You try to blink them back as you look around the room, the bathroom door ajar next to a white dresser with painted cherries. Mingyu looks up from the keys, holding the one to the room in his hand when you let out a shaky breath. His eyes widen, and you quickly turn away from him, wiping at your eyes and fanning at your face.Â
"You can just leave the key." Your voice is thick, "thanks."Â
He doesn't say anything, but his boots are heavy against the wooden floor as he stands behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating off him, only to feel his hand pull at your backpack. You let him take it off, crossing your arms on your chest as you glance over your shoulder to see him hanging it on a hook next to the bathroom door. Â
"You don't have to stay, if you don't want to. You can pick any other room, but I chose this one for the sake of privacy. I'm the only other person on this floor, so feel free to move around. Just let me know, and I'll unlock another room for you."Â
You nod, almost scared to step past the threshold â almost like it makes it real. That you have a bed again, a door that locks, a place to shower whenever you want. He sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets before stepping in front of you.Â
"We don't have to talk, either, if you don't want to. JustâŠdon't miss meals, okay?" His voice is soft, and you bite back the words in your mouth as he skirts around you. Your hand reaches for him, your fingertips brushing his wrist. He stops, glancing down at you as you tear your eyes away from the room in front of you.Â
"Are you upset with me?"Â
He shakes his head, his own fingers tapping the inside of your wrist as he moves away.Â
"You set a boundary. No matter how I feel, I'm not going to overstep that. We're all good." He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He tries to move away again, but your fingers grab his elbow gently. He glances down at your hand, raising a brow as you quickly drop your hand. You clear your throat, and he turns to face you fully with a questioning look on his face.Â
"What do you mean, how you feel?"Â
He shrugs, the corner of his lip twitching into a lopsided smile. Â
"I think you have this idea of romance that's kind ofâŠmisconstrued. It's not always like the movies, and it's not always like the examples of romance we see around us. Our parents, friends, etceteraâŠromance is different for everyone."Â
You must look unimpressed, because he swipes his tongue over his teeth before he smiles.Â
"Are you seriously mansplaining romance to me right now?"Â
"No, I'm telling you that it's not the same for everyone. I think romance can happen fast, and I think that one person can experience different kinds of romance throughout their lifetime. I think there's romance in everything, including the way you're staring at me like I'm a dumbass."Â
"You are a dumbass." You mutter, "and I know what romance is. I know it's not the same for everyone, so you're just telling me shit I already know. So, you're a mansplainer."Â
"Sure, but I'm also absolutely enamored with you. Smitten, bewitched. Under your spell, even." He admits gently, before turning on his heel. "Think about that, sweetness."Â
You feel all the air sucked out of the atmosphere as he walks away, humming to himself as the keys jingle on his wrist. Your eyes are misty as you process the words out of his mouth, watching him walk confidently down the stairs like nothing has changed. You almost hate him, your heart beating normally just for a moment. Â
Just a moment.Â
The clock on your desk reads 9:22 PM.Â
Instead of going downstairs, you settled into your room a bit; after crying your eyes out in the shower, you diligently stepped out and did little skincare with what was stocked in the bathroom, and swiped on a thin layer of your lip gloss before getting dressed. Mingyu had given you three shirts, three pairs of shorts, a pair of long pants, a bunch of socks and a zip-up. You were given a pair of boxers, and you limply laughed as you pulled them over your hips before pulling one of the black shirts over your head, only to see KMG embroidered on the pocket in pink thread. You hold back your tears, opting to dry your hair in the bathroom before digging through the mess of cables in your desk for one to charge your phone. You manage to find one, plugging it into the wall before turning on the radio to 105.7 Seoul City Central â your heart skipping as My Kind Of Woman by Mac DeMarco starts bleeding through the static.Â
You leave it on, opting to pull the comforter back and examine the sheets when a bump in the hallway makes you jump. You still, feeling footsteps clambering on the wooden floor before you quietly tiptoe your way to the door.Â
"Get off me!" You hear bickering in the hallway, but you don't recognize the voices. You twist the knob of your door, peeking your head out to see three men wrestling as Mingyu holds a tray in one hand with an unimpressed look on his face. Soonyoung is amongst the men, as is Chan and another man you've yet to meet.Â
"I don't need a pack of wild animals following me to drop off food, you know." He puts his hand on his hip, steam rising off the plate as your stomach rumbles. The men on the ground continue horsing around, making Mingyu shake his head before rolling his eyes. You stare at the men on the ground with your brows raised, before your eyes flicker to Mingyu. He's watching them too, walking closer to your door before one of the men breaks free, and Chan starts screaming his head off as you cover your mouth with your hand.Â
"Mingyu! They're pinching me!" Chan whines, as he tries to crawl away. Mingyu snorts, switching the tray in his hand to the other side before helping him up. Soonyoung continues to pin down whoever is beneath him, earning a shriek along the lines of not the nipple!Â
"How many guys does it take to bring dinner up four flights of stairs?" You ask softly, and Soonyoung looks up from the man beneath him, nipples pinched painfully over the man's shirt. The man takes the chance and knocks him off, wrestling Soonyoung's arms to his sides and pinning them with his knees on either side. You cover your eyes as he twists Soonyoung's nipples through his shirt, a strangled yell ringing out as you bite back your laughter. Soonyoung manages to push him off, and they end up rolling down the stairs as you, Mingyu and Chan share a pursed-lip look until you all clear your throats in unison.Â
"Usually, just the one. But, Chan here has something he wants to give you." Mingyu tilts his head in Chan's direction, who smiles shyly as you look at him. You give him a soft smile, "nice to meet you, Chan. I'm Y/N."Â
"I know." He nods, before wincing. "I mean, it's nice to meet you, too. I justâŠI noticed you're not wearing earrings. I don't know if you wear them or not, but I have a pair I don't use. I just wanted to know if you'd like them." Â
He holds up a plastic baggie, a tiny pair of gold hoops with small rubies dangling off. Your eyes widen, and you hold your hands up as he shakes his head, tucking them into your palm, "just take them. We were all new at some point."Â
"I can't, reallyâ"Â
"Good night, Y/N. Rest well."Â
Chan waves as he skips off, leaving you with the earrings in your hand and Mingyu standing next to you. You look at the earrings in your palm, before trilling your lips as you look up at Mingyu. He's already looking at you, holding the tray out to you. Your eyes widen at the colorful array, reaching to take it before dropping your arms to your sides and moving out of your doorframe. He slips past, setting it on the desk as he turns the radio down.Â
"Dinner. Soft tofu stew, rice, half an orange, and this yogurtade thing that Junhui likes; he made it for you. He was the one with Soonyoung." He nods, "oh, and this. Cake. Dark chocolate with raspberry filling, from Joshua. You didn't meet him yet, but I said you'd be up for it tomorrow. Hope that's okay."Â
He gestures vaguely at the tray, "just leave it in the hallway if you don't want to go downstairs. I'll pick it up later."Â
He pats the back of your desk chair, pulling it out for you. You silently take the seat, crossing your legs at the knee as tears fill your eyes for the third time. He coos, patting the back of the chair again before turning to leave, "enjoy."Â
"Will you stay?" You blurt, looking at the earrings in your hand instead of him. You can feel the heat of his eyes, and you clear your throat as you shift in your seat, "I don't like eating alone."Â
He hums in response, tapping the door before slipping out. You look up to see him opening his own door, light filling the hallway as he ducks inside. He comes back with a chair in his hand, closing the door behind him and sliding it next to yours. He closes your door gently, leaning back in his chair as you reach for the utensils on the tray. You run the pad of your thumb along the engraving on the spoon handle, blowing a breath out through your lips before setting it back down.Â
âThanks. For everything, you know.â Youâre quiet as you stare at the steaming food, shifting slightly on the soft cushion of the chair. Your hair is still damp, your skin almost raw from how hard you scrubbed at yourself but it was the best feeling in the world. Your hands splay on your knees, tugging at the hem of the boxer shorts as he clicks his tongue.Â
"You don't have to thank me. Just eat." He nods at the food, his eyes averting as your phone buzzes on desk as it turns on. Hundreds of notifications fill the screen, making the entire table buzz incessantly. He reaches over, carefully silencing it before turning it over. There is a photo of you holding up your acceptance letter to the internship in Germany stuck inside your phone case â one you'd meant to send back to Jeju before the outbreak. You'd slipped in there for safekeeping, only for it to find a permanent home there when you assumed the island was destroyed.Â
You eat in silence, ignoring the tears building in your eyes as the warm meal fills your belly. Mingyu is quiet next to you, content with just sitting beside you and watching you eat, shifting slightly with every few bites. You only make it halfway through the slice of cake before you push it away.Â
"Full?"Â
"Very."Â
"Want me to take it down?"Â
"I can take it, just give me a minute." You shake your head, leaning your elbow against the back of the chair and using your hand to hold up your head as you look at him. He's relaxed, showered â donning another brown shirt, but in sweatpants and his watch is gone, replaced with a silver bracelet. His eyes are warm as you meet them, but you clear your throat and look away.Â
"Are they nice? The guys?"Â
"Oh, yeah. A little annoying and loud at times, but sweet. They like to have fun."Â
"Are you the only one who ventures the great outdoors for survivors?" You try to add some humor to your voice, but it's meek as you pick at your cuticles. He pulls your hands away from each other, and you instinctively interlacing your fingers with his. He doesn't pull away, watching you cross your legs at the knee.Â
"I don't want them to get hurt. A few of them were pretty banged up when I found them, and Chan was wandering around bear territory a few miles south of here when I found him. I actually found him a month before I found you, so he's relatively new. And the youngest, by far." He nods, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. "His parents were jewelers. He had a bright future coming his way, too, but the outbreak took his parents, his brother and the business with them. He's been alone since, butâŠhe's surprisingly positive. Quite the mood maker, actually."Â
"That's soâŠwow." Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you glance at the tray. "I don't know my way around."Â
"Come on, I'll show you." He grabs the tray with one hand, standing up carefully and keeping you flush to his hip. He barely makes it out of the bedroom when he glances at you, letting go of your hand and gesturing at the sweater you'd hung on the bedpost. "Put that on, you're not decent."Â
"I thought you said they were nice guys?" You raise a brow, but indulge him anyway, zipping the sweater halfway up before pushing in your chair and moving his out of the way. He rolls his eyes, holding his hand out for you to take. You interlace your fingers again, letting him keep you close as you both make your way down the stairs. You grow a bit wary as you reach the first floor, squeezing Mingyu's hand as you tuck yourself behind him â a group of men gathered on the living room floor with bottles of soju and empty Yakult scattered around a table with playing cards.Â
"Mingyu! Join us, Jeonghan can deal you in." Soonyoung calls, but he shakes his head, "Jeonghan is a cheater and I hate playing games with you, you're always on my dick about everything."Â
"He's just mad because he's bad at mafia." Minghao mutters, and you snicker inwardly as Mingyu pulls you into the kitchen. "Wait, is Y/N with you!?"Â
"That's none of your business!" He calls over his shoulder, rolling his eyes as you look around the kitchen, your eyes landing on the same man with the pouty lips scrubbing dishes with a set of pink dish gloves all the way up to his elbow. Mingyu sets the tray down on the island, and the man with the gloves looks up, brows furrowed, "this is Seungcheol. He's the oldest, he's actually an old friend from college. We played football together."Â
Seungcheol gestures at the tray, "I'm not washing that. Everyone eats downstairs."Â
"She's new, give her a break."Â
"It's not about her, it's about you. You made the rule, Gyu."Â
"Yeah, well. I didn't tell you to wash it, anyway."Â
Seungcheol tongues his cheek, shaking his head before directing his gaze at you. "Was he this fucking annoying when he was bringing you back?"Â
"Oh my God, yeah." You nod eagerly, feeling Mingyu's hand squeeze yours as Seungcheol laughs. "He was so annoying and invasive, asking me all these personal questionsâ"Â
"Asking your name is not invasive!" He refutes, but Seungcheol is only amused as you hold up your interlinked hands. Mingyu huffs, pouting as he lets go of your hand; only for you to find it again as he tries to move away. You keep him at your hip, the warmth of his body comforting against your back.Â
"Invasive." You reiterate, "but it's nice to meet you, Seungcheol. And I'll wash this, don't worry about it."Â
"Nah, just leave it. I got it." He shakes his head, taking the dishes off the tray before looking at you pointedly. "But no more eating in your room. That's how we get ants, and you need to socialize. I heard you were alone out there, that's not good for your mind."Â
"I'll try to eat down here more often, promise." You cross an X over your chest, and he nods, "rest well, okay? We can get better acquainted tomorrow."Â
"Don't call her that." Mingyu grumbles, pulling you out of the kitchen before Seungcheol can quip back. You let him pull you along, glancing at the men in the living room once more to see them all looking at you. You give them a quick smile, only for Soonyoung to point at you and turn to the group, and Minghao rolls his eyes as the man's name fall from his mouth as you and Mingyu reach the bottom of the stairs.Â
"Soonyoungâ"Â
"See, Jeonghan? I told you she's cute! And Mingyu's keeping her to himself! Look at him, practically dragging her like a hostageâ"Â
"Soonyoung, that's enough."Â
He pouts, crossing his arms on his chest as the other men glance at you.Â
"I'll be downstairs tomorrow, and we can all get to know each other. I swear I'm cool, I'm justâŠnervous." You give them a thumbs up, and Minghao just gives you a wave of his hand.Â
"We're not going anywhere, sweetheart. You take your time." He nudges Soonyoung with his elbow, "and stop calling her cute. She's a lady."Â
"Stop calling her anything that isn't Y/N. Her name is Y/N, call her that." Mingyu scoffs, earning an oooh from the group as he tugs you up the stairs. He tongues his cheek, grumbling to himself as you make it up the first two flights of stairs.Â
"What did you mean by saying that you're 'enamored' with me?" You ask as you reach the first step of the third floor, and Mingyu clicks his tongue, "just that. Enamored."Â
"Okay, yeah, but what does it mean?"Â
"Whatever you want it to mean, sweetness."Â
"Mingyu."Â
"It means I'd kiss you, if you let me. If you wanted me to." He says softly, shrugging his shoulders like it's not a big deal. "I'd kiss you breathless, if you wanted me."Â
You don't respond, your cheeks hot as you walk up the rest of the steps in silence. Your hand stays slotted in his, before you reach the fourth floor landing. Your hips bump as he walks you back to your bedroom, and you still in the threshold of the room. You glance around, and sure, it's yours â but it doesn't really feel like it.Â
"Mingyu?" You look up at him, nibbling your lip as he hums in response. You tug on his hand, wanting his full attention as you speak, "Mingyu."Â
"I'm listening, princess."Â
"Can I sleep in your room?"Â
"But I'm invasive?" He jests, and you scoff, pulling your hand out of his when he grabs your arm, pulling you into him with a chuckle. "You don't get to make fun of me in front of my friends and then pout when I do it back. It's unfair."Â
"I can do whatever I want," you huff, trying to twist yourself out of his hold when he spins you around to face him, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he looks down at you. You glare up at him, much to his amusement, "can I sleep in your room or not? I don't sleep well alone."Â
"I just don't know if we'll get any sleep if I say yes."Â
"You are so fucking annoying, Kim Mingyu. No wonder Seungcheol hates your ass."Â
"Cheol doesn't hate me, otherwise he wouldn't be here." He says pointedly, glancing at your lips before inching slightly closer, "and considering how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think you hate me all that much, either."Â
His fingers drum on the side of your neck, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he tugs on the collar of your shirt. Â
"Brush your teeth, turn the lights off. I'll make room for you."Â
He slips away, ducking into his bedroom without another word as your hands cover your face like you're trying to hide the stupid smile spreading on your lips. You let out a breath, doing as you're toldâŠand swiping on a bit of your lip gloss before grabbing your key and your phone off the desk and closing the door behind you. Mingyu's door is slightly ajar as you peek into it, your knuckles rapping against the painted wood as he's crouched in the corner of the room.Â
"Close the door, please." He waves you in, returning to his task. You look around the room, illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the window â a desk like yours, but his bed is bigger, the room is bigger. He's got lots of knick knacks lining the walls, and a bunch of photos. You stare up at them, seeing him pictured with a newborn baby girl; the image marked 2001.Â
"Little sister?" You say softly, and he hums. "Yep. She's safe, in Shanghai. She's there for school, I sent her money to stay over the summer so she wouldn't be trapped here during the outbreak. I haven't seen her since last spring. There's a landline downstairs, we call once a week when I'm not out looking for survivors, but my watch has a tracker that she can follow on her phone. It's fine."Â
You feel your lips curve into a frown as you cross your arms on your chest, but you nod anyway. Â
"Aha! Found it, I knew I had this somewhere."Â
You turn on your heel to see him holding up a vinyl â specifically, Stevie Nicks' 1989 album, The Other Side of the Mirror.Â
"Here, you can have it. You mentioned one of the songs on here in your top five." He holds it out to you, your eyes catching a silver reflection in the moonlight on the corner of the vinyl â an autograph.  Your eyes widen, and he taps your arm with it. "Take it."Â
"I can't."Â
"You can. I'm giving it to you, princess. Have it." He tucks it under your arm, and you jut your lip out in a pout as you hold it to your chest. Your nose burns as he laughs in disbelief, and you tuck your chin to your chest as a tear trickles down your face. "You're such a crybaby."Â
"Shut up!" You stomp your foot like a child, "my mom had this one, she stood in line for it. She said she'd give it to me when I graduated."Â
You sniffle, running your fingers along the cardboard as Mingyu moves around the room, opening the window and fluffing his comforter. Â
"You're shit at comforting people, you know." You mutter as he glances at you from the headboard, fluffing a pillow in his hand as you wipe at your cheeks haphazardly. He snorts, pulling at the pillow before dropping it on the bed.Â
"Literally, what do you want from me? Huh?" He shakes his head in amusement as you slide the record on top of his dresser, your forefinger tracing the autograph as he bumps your hip with his. He meets your eyes, his thumb brushing a stray tear off your cheek as you sniffle again. He slides his hand down your face, fingers curling around your neck as he pulls you close, leaning down. "You act like I can read your mind."Â
"You should learn," You grumble as he pinches your cheek between his knuckles, "that's what good men do."Â
"Okay, what good men do you know that can do that?"Â
"I knew my father."Â
"That's a good start."Â
"And I know you can learn." You mutter, before moving away from him and climbing into his bed. You throw the comforter over your shoulder, feeling the bed dip behind you as Mingyu yanks it back. "Mingyu!"Â
"You didn't even ask if I was ready to go to bed."Â
"Well, I'm ready. That means you should be ready."Â
"You're also in my spot, sweetness." His lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans down, his hand squeezing your side gently before patting your back. "Scoot over."Â
You move away begrudgingly, a scowl on your lips as you turn onto your back. He slides into bed next to you, opting to prop himself up on his elbow. You blink up at him, crossing your arms on your chest as he tugs at your sweater.Â
"Why do you still have this on?"Â
"Wouldn't want to be indecent."Â
He rolls his eyes, and you zip it up the rest of the way to make a point. "I'm just sleeping in here. No funny business."Â
"I never said we'd be partaking in any 'funny business' to begin with, sweetness."Â
"Yeah, well, you're looking at me like I mean something to you and I don't like it."Â
"You don't?" He leans slightly closer, and you bite back a smile as you press your hands to his chest. pushing him away lightly.Â
"No."Â
"You're lying."Â
"A little."Â
He takes your hands off his chest, pining them on either side of your head before interlacing your fingers. You tilt your head at him, "is this your way of keeping me all to yourself? Like Soonyoung said?"Â
"You wouldn't like any of those guys, anyway. Not the way you like me," He rolls his eyes, hovering over you. He runs his eyes over your face as you suck your teeth, stopping at your lips. "You're wearing lip gloss."Â
"Who said I like you in any kind of way? You're fucking annoying." You lie, rolling your eyes as you realize he's still looking at your lips. You nudge the side of his hip with your knee, "Mingyu."Â
"Hm?"Â
"Let me go."Â
"Not until you admit you think I'm at least cute."Â
"Oh boy, we'll be here all night." You sigh in feigned concern, before gazing back up at him. "How's your back? Still hurting?"Â
He shakes his head, "a lot better, actually. I guess you were right."Â
You huff, "you guess? I was right! Even with all my hard workâ"Â
"You enjoyed it, don't lie to yourself."Â
"That's not the point, dipshit. It's still work."Â
You turn away, "I used to charge a hundred and eighty dollars for a 90-minute massage, you know. I gave you one for free."Â
"Because you're a shitty business magnate." He smiles, and you tongue your cheek as his nose brushes yours slightly. Your breath hitches, "no, because I care about you. Sometimes."Â
He stills on top of you, eyes slightly narrowed as he scans your face. You nibble on your lip nervously, your knees twitching on either side of his hips as you avert your eyes to the headboard, littered with carved swallows. He lets go of one of your hands, instead cradling your cheek gently, his thumb pulling at your lower lip as he makes you look at him.Â
"Sometimes?"Â
"Well, we just met." You lose all confidence in your voice as you meet his eyes, so fucking warm as he looks at you. Warm and kind and comforting, invitingâŠcaring. Loving, maybe.Â
Hopefully.Â
"You don't care about that," He probes, eyes scanning your face, "you threw caution to the wind the moment you met me."Â
"I did." You admit in a whisper, your hand carding through his hair as you swallow hard. "It wasn't like I had much of a choice, though."Â
"You did. You could've not spoken to me at all, like you didn't speak to me for hours today until you yelled at me." He pouts, "eight hours, you know. Eight hours without talking to me."Â
You mock his pout, "so long, huh? Must've been the worst for you, poor baby."Â
"You're so fucking mean." He gripes, burying his face in your neck. You snicker to hold off a shiver that wants to snake down your spine as his lips brush your skin, "you like it."Â
"Shut up." He mutters. Your hand cards through the hair at the nape of his neck before plucking at the collar of his shirt, moving his necklace over your fingertips and dipping your hand beneath it. The bruises are still there, albeit a bit lighter as you rub the pads of your fingers against them. His breathing tickles you, making you squirm when he squeezes your hand. "I missed hearing you talk today. I missed you."Â
Your cheeks heat slightly as you shift beneath him, your fingers tracing random patterns into the skin of his back, "you met me two days ago."Â
"I don't care." He groans, "I wouldn't care if I met you this morning. Time is relative, anyway, because it feels like I've known you an entire lifetime. I like having you around. I like it when you're mean and that you smell like honey and that you're so fucking smart and I like you."Â
You sink your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from smiling, but your chest bounces slightly with embarrassed laughter. Mingyu pouts into your neck, your fingers slipping out from under his shirt to squeeze the back of his neck.Â
"Stop laughing at me!" He whines, sitting up as you slide your hand down his chest. You pluck at his shirt, opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone knock on his door. You roll your eyes as he looks over his shoulder, and you sit up on your elbows, his hand slipping out of yours to hold himself up properly.Â
"What's up?" He calls, and the man on the other side clears their throat.Â
"You sleeping yet? The guys wanna play a couple rounds of pool." It's Seungcheol, and you pull at Mingyu's shirt as he opens his mouth.Â
"Tell him you're busy." You whisper, your lips brushing his cheek as you talk. He glances at you, your eyes pointed as Seungcheol knocks again. "Tell him."Â
"Uh, sorry, Cheol. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Mingyu lies through his teeth, making the man on the other side scoff, "doing what? You just got back, pull your pants up and come join us."Â
"Do you really think I'm rubbing one out right now? I'm tired." He tries to defend himself, but you press your lips to his cheek. He stills, and you plant another one right on the curve of his jaw, the soft slope of his neck before your hand slides up and tilts his face towards you.Â
"Tell him you're busy." You say again, your lips touching his as you speak. He leans into it, but you shake your head, pulling back as you gesture towards the door. He groans inwardly, letting you pull away fully and speaking loud enough for Seungcheol to hear him as you move to tug your zipper down. Â
"I'm really tired, Cheol. Maybe another night. Promise."Â
"Lame. I bet if Y/N came down, you would too."Â
Seungcheol leaves with two knocks to the door, and Mingyu clicks his tongue, words dying in his mouth as you tug on his shirt again â only to be interrupted by two more. Â
"Mingyu! Stop being a bitch and come lose!" Soonyoung's voice rings through the door, making Mingyu turn to look over his shoulder again, "Hosh, I already said no. And you just want an easy win!"Â
"Mingyu." You whine quietly, wrapping your legs around his waist to get his attention. He tries to focus on you, your lips pouted as you brush them to his again. "Want you to kiss me. Please, please."Â
"So fucking cute." He mumbles, nuzzling his nose to yours, only for another bang on the door to make you jump. He groans, pressing his forehead to yours as Soonyoung hits the door yet again.Â
"Come on, Gyu! We haven't seen you in an entire week! What could possibly be more important right now?!" Soonyoung complains, jiggling the thankfully locked doorknob and Mingyu's brow furrows in frustration as he opens his mouth to retort when you roll your eyes, sitting up abruptly and slotting your lips with his. You kiss him softly, your hands holding his face as he melts into you, a satisfied hum sounding from his throat. He pushes you back against the bed, his hand sliding to your hip as you slide yours down his chest and around his sides to rest on his back. Soonyoung knocks again, and you pull away with a huff.Â
"Can you please go away? We're a little busy!" You call, your nails digging into Mingyu's back as Soonyoung's gasp is heard through the door. His footsteps are heard clambering down the stairs almost immediately, and you look back to see Mingyu a little dazed with glitter on his lips.Â
"Are you really that bad at games? I thought you were kidding when you said you don't have a good poker face." You huff, making him blink a few times before he shakes his head.Â
"No, I'm not bad at games. I do have a shit poker face, though, and they like embarrassing me about it." He mumbles, and you tongue your cheek when he leans down, brushing his lips to yours. "I don't believe that was your first kiss."Â
"Good thing I didn't ask," You mumble, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth and slipping your hands under his shirt. He's warm to your cool fingertips, making him flinch slightly as you laugh against his lips. "Take your shirt off. Wanna see you."Â
"You just wanna see me strip." He chides, and you raise a brow as you drag your nails down his back, earning a shaky moan against your jaw, his hand tightening around your hip. You brush your lips to his cheek, your hands bunching his shirt against his skin, "take it off. Please?"Â
He sits up on his knees, towering over you as he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You let your eyes roam shamelessly as he leans back over, your hands sliding up the hot skin as you sit up slightly. You kiss him again, slower â feeling your belly fill with warmth as his hands pin your hips to the mattress, sliding up slightly and bunching your shirt under his hands as your underwear grows damp. You feel him stop moving, only sinking down lower and the back of your head hits the pillows as he breaks the kiss, trailing down your jaw. You tilt your face away, giving him more room when he stops, lips brushing the shell of your ear.Â
"We have to stop." He mumbles, his thumbs tracing soft circles in your sides as you turn to face him. His cheeks are flaming red, your own warm to the touch as you clear your throat.Â
"Why? Did I do something wrong?" Your hands ghost over his shoulders, and he frantically shakes his head, his own hands coming to hold your face gently, "no, not at all! I'm justâŠ"Â
You look at him pointedly as he trails off, only raising a brow, "Mingyu, if you're pitching a tentâ"Â
"Why do you have to say it like that?" He whines, burying his face into your neck as you let out a chuckle of disbelief, your hands patting his shoulders, "how else am I supposed to say it? Boner?"Â
"What is wrong with you? Not like that!" He groans into your neck, making you laugh even harder as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press a kiss to his shoulder, your fingernails raking lightly against his skin as you let your head fall back against the pillows. You hum, "you act like you've never done this before."Â
"Not with you, I haven't."Â
You still slightly, giving him a soft sigh as you run your fingers down the back of his neck, before running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from your neck. He pouts at you, clearly embarrassed as you press a kiss to his cheek. He sits up slightly, holding himself over you as you run your fingertips down his chest, "We can fool around, you know. I justâŠdon't wanna go all the way yet."Â
âGot it.âÂ
âMaybe just the tip. I heard thatâs a thing.âÂ
"We're not doing anything you don't wanna do, I promise." He nods, and you smile softly, puckering your lips up at him. He meets you halfway, planting a chaste kiss on your lips, "this is all at your pace, sweetness."Â
You nod, a bit of insecurity washing over you as you look at the ceiling. "Was it bad? The kissing?"Â
"Absolutely not," he shakes his head, gently grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. You make eye contact as he huffs, "again, I don't believe that was your first kiss. Unless you're a fucking witch, of course."Â
"I just read a lot of books," You mutter, picking at your cuticles, "watch a lot of moviesâŠnot necessarily of the general rating variety."Â
"Books and pornography didn't teach me how to kiss. Say it like it is." He scoffs, and you raise a brow, "not everyone can be as good at applying knowledge as I am. Plus, I told you yesterdayâŠthere is skill in the yearning. And I don't watch porn!"Â
"Everyone's seen porn at least once."Â
"âŠNot me. I can't even spell pornography."Â
"You're such a liar, babe."Â
"M'not your babe." You grumble, biting back your grin as he mocks you, before pressing his forehead to yours. You blink up at him, sticking your tongue out as he squishes your cheeks in his hand. You swat his hand away, "not yet, anyway. I guess. Ugh, I hate you."Â
"First of all, I kissed you." You argue, poking an accusatory finger in his chest. He only grins down at you, kissing the tip of your nose as you wrinkle it.Â
"And you're so brave, sweetness. I can be a little softer, if you want." He states, his eyes searching yours as you smile, "I'm not gonna break, you know. You can be whatever you want. Be rough, even."Â
He clicks his tongue, ears tinging pink once more as he looks away. "We don't even know if you like that."Â
"You don't know if I like that. I know myself pretty well, I'd say." You shrug, "not having experience with guys doesn't mean I don't know what I like. I can explore on my own."Â
"Have you?"Â
"Wouldn't you like to know, dude."Â
"I would, yeah. And don't call me that."Â
He lowers himself slightly, holding his head up over your belly with his chin in his hand. You shift to look at him, sitting up on your elbows, "you know I don't care, right? I can help, if you want me to."Â
"I care." He says softly, "I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for, I'm never going to expect or demand anything from you. I justâŠwant you. We can talk about what you're ready for when you're ready for it, even if it takes years."Â
The idea of years by Mingyuâs side settles a bit of fear in your bones. The idea of years by Mingyuâs side, having known him for three days â something in his gaze truly does make it feel like a lifetime.Â
A lifetime of you and him. Of no engagement before you, of no other boys before him. Of learning all over again, with someone new...even if heâs the someone new for you.Â
You trill your lips to hide the smile daring to inch itself onto your face, nodding as you look down at him, running your fingers through his hair. "I would've been ready right now, if they didnât come banging on the door. Your friends are really good at killing the mood, you know?"Â
"They normally don't come all the way up here, I don't know what's gotten into them." He pouts, eyes apologetic as you chuckle, "they miss you, I guess. It's normal to be oddly attached to some cute guy that saves you in the woods."Â
"That feels backhanded, but I'll take the cute, I guess." He rolls his eyes, and you wrinkle your nose at him as you tug on the strands of his hair. He grunts, pulling your hand out of his hair and interlacing your fingers with his when he glances down at your body, suddenly letting go of your hand and hovering over you again as he speaks to you. "Why aren't you wearing pants? Did you go downstairs like that?"Â
"Yeah? It's not like I need them;Â it's just us here." You shrug, snapping the waistband against your hip. He scoffs, "next time, put a pair of pants on."Â
"Why, if you're just going to take them off me?"Â
"Y/N."Â
"So scary, ooh."Â
You smile, running your hands up and down his chest. You palm at his arms, raking your nails down the skin and watching it prickle. Your eyes trail all over him, biting down on your lip as you wrap your fingers around the base of his throat, tugging lightly at his necklace as the cross pendant dangles above your face.Â
"Wear pants when you go downstairs." He repeats, and you nod, thumbing at the pendant before making eye contact. You run your hands down his chest again, plucking at the waistband of his sweatpants, "can I see?"Â
He tongues his cheek, "maybe. What's in it for me?âÂ
"Does there have to be something in it for you? What, do you want me to beg?" You smirk, pulling at the drawstring to untie it. He shakes his head, "if you beg, I'll give in too fast. I'm weak."Â
"Good to knowâŠ" you click your tongue, toying with the drawstring as it comes undone. You tug on it, "just want you."Â
"Do you?" His lips brush yours as he leans down, your hands moving to tug your sweater off. It slips down your arms, and Mingyu takes it, tossing it somewhere across the room as you wrap your legs around his waist again. Your teeth nip at his lower lip before you kiss him gently, carding your fingers through his hair, "want to see you."Â
"You're looking at me right now, though?" He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your cheeks warm as you shake your head. His eyes are patient as he ghosts his lips over yours, smiling against them as you pout.Â
"Wanna touch you."Â
"Yeah? Where?"Â
"Everywhere. Anywhere you want."Â
"Take me to dinner first, why don't you?" He laughs as you let out a whine of annoyance, nudging his hip with your knee as he buries his face in your neck. He peppers a few kisses along the exposed skin, mumbling against it, âso pretty, baby.âÂ
âMingyu.â You draw out his name as he smiles against your clavicle, his hands sliding up your sides and bunching your shirt around his wrists as he brushes his lips on yours again. Youâre unamused as he pulls back before you can kiss him, but he shrugs.Â
âWhatâs in it for me, sweetness?âÂ
âUh, hot girl in your bed. In her underwear. At your mercy.âÂ
He gives you a deadpan look, ââat my mercyâ is a stretch, I think.âÂ
âWhat, you donât think I can be nice to you?âÂ
âNo, actually.âÂ
âYe of little faith,â you feign hurt, holding your hands to your chest as he shakes his head. He rolls his eyes, biting back a smile as your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweatpants. Your hands move to touch him; fingertips cool against his warm skin making him jerk away slightly. You wrap a finger with the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging on it gently, âwhat about these?âÂ
He opts to shrug, before his hand plucks at the hem of your shirt, âwhat about this?âÂ
âOh, this old thing? Got it from a guy who rescued me in the woods, and he was real cuteââ He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, muffling your laughter as you feel his hands push it higher. His thumbs graze the swell of your breasts as you shiver, his lips trailing down your jaw and nipping a soft mark under your ear. Your skin litters with goosebumps, âyou can touch, if you want.âÂ
âI want to take it off.âÂ
âThen take it off me, Mingyu.âÂ
He pulls the fabric of your shirt over your head carefully, letting your hair fall around your head before tossing it to the side and pressing a wet kiss to the column of your throat. His voice is a hushed whisper, âthank you.âÂ
Your words get stuck in your throat as he trails down your chest, kissing and nipping your skin; your fingers carding through his hair as his hands cup your breasts, carefully thumbing at your nipples. A shaky breath falls from your lips as he looks up at you through his lashes, tracing the left bud with the tip of his tongue before he pulls it gently between his teeth. The soft gasp that cuts through the air makes him chuckle, wrapping his lips around your nipple with a soft suck; your fingers tightening in his hair as your cover your mouth with your other hand.Â
He pulls at your wrist, interlacing your fingers and pinning it next to your head, âneed to hear you, baby.âÂ
âYou donât n-need toââÂ
âWell, I want to.â Heâs eye level with you, pressing chaste kisses to your face, âI want to hear you beg and cry and say my name like it means something to you. I want to know I can make you feel good.âÂ
He hovers over you slightly, his gaze raking over your flushed face. You canât keep eye contact, your voice lost on you as his fingers ghost over your skin, âif you want to stop, we can stop. Just say the word.âÂ
âI want you to touch me, Mingyu.â You murmur, his hand splaying on your hip as he kisses the apple of your cheek, âI am touching you, baby.âÂ
âNo, I want you to touch me.â Your fingers cover his hand on your hip, pulling it slightly lower. He raises a brow, dipping his fingertips beneath the waistband of your underwear as you nod, burying your face in his neck. He pulls the fabric down, and you lift your hips to help him slide the damp underwear down your legs. He tosses them somewhere, your thighs falling open for him as you plant soft pecks to the expanse of his shoulder; before feeling his cool fingertips dip between your legs and slide between your folds. You suck in a breath â your nails digging into his bicep as he collects your arousal on his fingers, and you hear a soft chuckle fall from his lips.Â
âLook at you, huh?â He whispers, tracing slow, tight circles into your clit. You whine into his neck, making him shiver as your teeth scrape the soft skin, âso needy.âÂ
Youâre almost embarrassed at the way your hips move against his hand; the room filling with the slick sounds of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge and your soft whimpers of his name and please, please donât stop.Â
âPlease, please?â He mocks you, his fingers slowing down to an agonizing pace as you feel the coil in your belly tighten. âPlease, please donât stop? Why?âÂ
âWanna cum for you,â your voice is shaky and barely above a whisper as he presses his lips to your hairline. You mouth at the column of his throat, âwanna be yours.âÂ
âYou are.â The rasp in his voice sends you over the edge, a choked mewl of his name falling from your throat as his hand tangles in your hair. He pulls you away from his neck as your thighs close around his hand, kissing you messily. Itâs all teeth and tongue, a touch of desperation when you feel his painfully hard cock against your hip.Â
âGyu,â you breathe out against his lips, nipping at the lower one to get his attention. Your hand trails down his softly chiseled chest before you tug at the sweatpants. His eyes are heavy with query as you press a chaste kiss to his lips, âlet me help.âÂ
âItâs okay,â he shakes his head, but his eyes betray him by fluttering shut as you palm him over the thin material. He tilts his hips away, pulling his hand from between your thighs and plucking at your lower lip with his fingers, âopen, pretty.âÂ
His eyes are low as you take his fingers in your mouth, snaking your tongue between them before he pulls them out and grabs your jaw gently. The kiss is slower this time â his lips sucking on the tip of your tongue as your stomach fills with butterflies at the weight of him over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as he moves to settle himself between your thighs again.Â
âDonât worry about me, alright? Iâll be fine. Just relax and let me know if you want to stop.â He plants a kiss on your hip, before wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you to his face. You suck in a breath as he drags his tongue through your slick folds, your thighs trembling slightly as he carefully sucks your clit into his mouth. Your head falls back against the pillows as he busies himself between your thighs; pulling a whimpered moan from your chest as your hand finds his hair and tugs hard. You earn a grunt, your free hand finding your nipple to pinch between your fingers as he traces your entrance with his tongue. You grind your hips against his face, feeling the way heâs humping the mattress beneath him in a desperate attempt to get some friction.Â
âMingyu,â your voice is airy as you manage to pull him away from your dripping center, âwanna feel you.âÂ
His eyes widen, his hands around your thighs tightening as he glances up at you, â...you said you didnâtââÂ
âMingyu.â You interrupt, your eyes pointed as you tug on his hair gently. He lets you pull him up, making his way up the mattress. Your hand pulls at his sweatpants, âplease. Iâm ready, I promise.âÂ
âY/N,â he sighs as you plant a kiss to his clavicle, âare you sure? We donât have to do this, and I donât haveââÂ
âI promise, I am sure.â You nod before stilling and meeting his eyes. He blinks at you, your hand still holding the waistband of his sweatpants, âyou...want to, right? I donât want to if you donât.âÂ
âI want you to be sure, Y/N.âÂ
âI donât like when you call me that, actually.âÂ
âYou called me guy for like six hours,â he snorts, making you pinch his hip and earning a squeal. He huffs, swatting your hand away from him before hooking his thumbs in his waistband, âyou are positive you want this? With me? Right now?âÂ
âYes. Take your fucking pants off, Kim Mingyu.â You roll your eyes, and he sticks his tongue out at you as he does what heâs told. He wraps his hand around his cock as he settles between your knees, your eyes widening slightly at the mess of precum on his lower stomach, âyouâre big.âÂ
He raises a brow, âhuh. Never thought of it that way.âÂ
âYes, you have.â You deadpan, the little smirk on his lips proving your point as you sit up, âbut...itâll fit, right? Youâll make it fit?âÂ
âThere is no way on this earth you havenât seen porn if youâre talking like that.âÂ
âConsider I used to read Wattpad?âÂ
âAnd somehow, thatâs worse.âÂ
You move your hand in a mock-talking motion, earning a roll of his eyes as he takes your hand in his, weaving your fingers together before pressing a kiss to your hairline. You let him lean you back against the mattress again, peppering the side of your face with his lips before feeling him speak against the shell of your ear, âjust let me know, okay?âÂ
You nod silently, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your folds. He keeps you close, giving you a tentative nip at the side of your neck.Â
"Gorgeous," his teeth scrape against your throat as you cant your hips up, your body begging for the weight of his cock against your clit. He pins you down against the mattress, mouthing at your neck with a slow roll of his hips against yours. A shudder runs down your spine as your nails dig into his back, whined sounds spilling from your lips as the room grows hotter around you.Â
"You sure you want it?" He pants above you, your thighs shaking with overstimulation as you rut against his weeping cock. "Just the tip, yeah?"Â
"All of it. Will you give it to me if I do?" Your voice is airy, your nails digging into his shoulders as he ducks his head down, connecting your lips in a searing kiss. His hips roll slowly, your skin prickling as he bites down on your lower lip, tugging at it before letting it spring back.Â
"Beg me for it."Â
"Mingyu," you whine, feeling his mouth hot and wet against your neck. His teeth graze against your collarbone, making you gasp as he lapped his tongue over the spot with a groan, "come on, pretty girl. Beg for it."Â
âPlease. Want you to fill me up.â Your voice is shaky as he sucks a mark into the base of your throat, your fingers moving to tug at his hair, âGyu, please. Need to be yours.âÂ
His lips are on yours before you can say anything else, carefully dipping the tip of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat at the slight stretch, and he lets his hand snake down and trace tight circles in your clit, âI know, baby. Just relax for me, yeah?âÂ
âKiss me,â you whisper, feeling his lips brush yours almost instantly. Heâs soft, interlacing your fingers for the umpteenth time that night as he licks into your mouth. You let him, sucking gently on the tip of his tongue as he carefully buries himself to the hilt inside you; stilling as he feels your fingers tighten around his, âyou wanna stop?âÂ
You shake your head, digging your nails into his skin as he moves slowly, kissing anywhere his lips can reach. Your fingers drag down his back as the burn ceases, your legs wrapping around his hips, âmove, Mingyu.âÂ
âYouâre so pretty,â he murmurs, giving a harsher roll of his hips. âSo pretty, made just for me, right?âÂ
âYes,â you gasp out, burying your face in his neck as he brushes that spongy spot that makes your vision blurry. Your voice is lost on you, choked whimpers of right there filling the room as Mingyuâs hands roam your body with a searing touch before he holds your jaw gently, brushing his lips to yours as he brings you closer to the edge.Â
âMine,â he whispers, pressing a wet kiss on your lips as you clamp down around him. âIâm yours, yeah? Just for you, baby.âÂ
He doesnât await your response, sitting up and pulling you onto his cock as your eyes prick with tears of pleasure. His ears are tinged pink as your moans of his name slip out, pleas of harder making him bite back a whine as his grip on your thighs becomes almost bruising. He pushes your knees to your chest, your eyes rolling back at the suddenly deeper angle. The familiar coil is building in your belly as his hand moves to wipe your tears, your own covering the back of it as you tilt your head to kiss his palm.Â
âSo good for me, yeah? Take my cock so well, angel.â His voice is soft, diabolically paired with the way his hips were meeting your ass with sharp thrusts. Your hand wraps around his wrist, pulling it down, and his fingers instinctively wrap around your throat with a gentle squeeze to the sides, âfuck, youâre so perfect.âÂ
His movements grow sloppy as the mix of sounds fills your ears â pitched whines from your lips, soft groans from his, the embarrassingly wet squelch between your legs that makes your cheeks hot as he teases you about it, tells you that youâre such a messy little slut.Â
âCome on, baby. Need you to cum for me, yeah?â His fingers find your clit, tracing tight circles as your gummy walls clamping around him â the heat in your belly flushes throughout your body with a choked mewl of his name. His hips stutter against yours, only making your legs tighten around him as he bent to kiss your lips, spilling inside you with a soft whine that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.Â
He stays sheathed inside you for a minute, his hands running up and down your sides as you limply try to kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hold him closely, nipping at his lower lip with a whispered thank you.Â
âTired?â His voice is low against your lips, thick fingers massaging your thighs as you nod silently, making him chuckle as he pulls you off the mattress, wrapping his arms around you and carrying you off to the bathroom as you lazily mouth at his neck.Â
âLetâs get you cleaned up, hm?âÂ
âWill you kiss me again?âÂ
âIâll kiss you all you want, princess.âÂ
Mingyuâs eyes are glued to your face in the dead of night.Â
The moonlight streams through the blinds of his bedroom, casting lines across your back and bleeding over your shoulders. Your lips are pouted, brows furrowed as your head rests on his chest. Youâre covered in another one of his shirts, but this one more personal â a âluckyâ one he had from before the world went to shit, covered in paint stains from his projects during college. Youâd pulled it from his drawer without a second though, thumbing at the frayed hem of the sleeve before pulling it over your head and crawling into his embrace.Â
Not a second thought before your eyes closed; your arm draped across his waist as you buried yourself into his side.Â
And Mingyu wonders if the feeling of not being good enough for you will go away. Â
Of knowing you were meant for more, for greatness. How your heart yearned for that internship in Germany, to go home to your parents and brag about it. He wonders if heâll get the chance to fall in love with you and truly fall in love with you â before you realize he might not be enough.Â
Mingyu is not all that experienced. In life, love, feelings. Sex, art, music. Mingyu knows one thing and one thing only, and thatâs the cadence of his heart â the steady rhythm never wavering. Beating carefully for over two decades, softly guarded albeit accepting.Â
That he simply wasnât man enough for a woman like her, but that she wished him the best â though, she would be the very best heâd ever come across.Â
She was right about one thing: Mingyu had never really felt man enough for a woman like Mina. He hadnât felt the earth beneath his feet for years before that final fight â simply flying by the seat of his pants and giving his all to everything he could. He burnt out, and he burnt out fast â his relationship crumbling before anything else could, and he remembers the way the diamond ring he saved to buy for six months bounced right off his chest as she threw it at him.Â
It sits somewhere in Shanghai with Minseo now. She was the first to know Mingyu had called the engagement off and comforted him by shipping over a container of almond biscuits from the local bakery. His parents had been supportive, even offering to pay his rent for a while if he needed a minute to figure himself out â but Mingyu did what he did best when he felt out of control: he started a new project.Â
He drew up blueprints for a house â a beautiful two-story for his parents, with rooms to fit him and Minseo should they want to visit and stay. He gathered vendors, he put in orders for materials, he even contracted Wonwoo onto his plan before the world around him also crumbled. He left the city with his best friend and Seungcheol, their arms linked and beelining for the cabin.Â
Mingyu has those blueprints still shoved in a shoebox in his closet. He brought them with him. He kept paint samples, a singular nail and a sample of mahogany wood heâd intended to use for a porch swing â one heâd pictured his parents sitting on and Minseo wiggling her way between them, but things didnât turn out the way heâd intended. Minseo was across the sea, and his parents were gone. Â
Mingyu had felt such an ache of despair in his chest that heâd been tempted to call Mina at the beginning of it all. She always knew the right things to say, especially in his moments of crisis â but he stopped himself from doing it. He deleted her number instead and made Wonwoo stay in the cabin with Seungcheol with the excuse of going out to look for survivors. This was his new project.Â
He found all the boys in different states. Hansol and Seungkwan had been together, sharing a backpack and taking turns doing night watches. Jeonghan and Joshua were tree dwellers, and theyâd hung around Minghao and Junhui often enough to lead Mingyu to the cavern they were all sleeping in. Seokmin had been the ray of light for Soonyoung, the both of them attempting to stay positive throughout their scavenging, and he remembers how Soonyoung burst into tears after eating a piece of fish roasted by Mingyu. Heâd found Jihoon on the west end of the mountain â carrying nothing but a bottle of water and a notebook, a pen slotted over his ear. Chan had been the fastest to warm up to him, badly bruised from several tumbles out of trees and all sorts of scraped up. Â
Then he found you â tired, hungry, and hurt. In jeans, and alone. Your eyes were distrusting, but there was something in them that made his heart lose that normal cadence heâd been so used to. The arch of your brows when he walked closer, the curve of your lips when you quipped back with a quickness he was not used to, and it made his head spin. The way your lashes kissed your cheeks as you slept...Â
The way your hands felt. Soft despite a couple scrapes, but you moved them with a flair only an artist has. You spoke coolly, your expressions fitting every word spilling from your lips perfectly. You were smart and convincing, and riddled with guilt. You were weighed down with the guilt of not graduating, of not making it to Germany, of not seeing your parents one last time. Of not knowing what youâre doing â even when none of it is your fault.Â
Mingyu thinks heâs fallen in love with you at first sight.Â
âWhy are you awake?â Your voice is raspy against his chest, his brows jumping as he glances down at you. Your eyes are barely open as you press a kiss to his skin, a terrible blush crawling up his cheeks and ears as he tries to respond. You shake your head slightly, patting his hip with your hand, âcat got your tongue?âÂ
âSorry.âÂ
âAnswer the question, guy.âÂ
âJust...thinking, princess.âÂ
You hum, carefully sitting up and looking down at him. Your hair is in disarray as you run a hand over your face, blinking a few times before tilting your head at him, âabout?âÂ
âYou.âÂ
He can see your face go through a range â confusion, contentment, skepticism. It settles on something he canât quite put his finger on, but you shrug, âwhat about me?âÂ
âAnything and everything.âÂ
âWhat, am I the girl of your dreams?âÂ
Your brow is raised, and Mingyu canât seem to find the words as you cross your arms. Your eyes are expectant, but Mingyu averts his attention to the ceiling fan â following the lazy spin of it when he feels you move closer, throwing your leg over his hip and hovering over his face.Â
âWhatâs your deal, Kim?â You ask, your hair falling into your face as he smiles. He reaches up, tucking it behind your ears as you carefully swat his hands away, âtell me!âÂ
âGo to bed, pretty. Weâve got a long day tomorrow.â He leans up, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips. You huff, your lips pouted as you get off him and lie down on your side, facing away from him. He rolls his eyes, turning over before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling your back to his chest. You donât resist, but you donât look over your shoulder as you make a show of closing your eyes and huffing again, before he presses his lips to the back of your neck.Â
âGood night, sweetness.âÂ
âShut up.âÂ
Mingyu cannot believe heâs fallen in love with you.  In three days, no less.Â
MINGYU DOESN'T KNOW IF LIGHT EXISTED BEFORE HE MET YOU.Â
Well, of course it did. Â
Maybe not as bright, not as welcoming, not as warm or moody. Maybe not in the way the sun illuminated your skin at dawn, seeping through the blinds and casting patterns on the curves of your nude frame. Maybe not in the way your eyes twinkled every time you looked at him, a shy smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you physically blocked him out of your view with your hand to finish whatever you were doing. Maybe not in the way your laugh rang out through the cabin and made his skin prickle, and maybe not in the way that he can't sleep when you're still awake because he swears, he can see your face through his closed eyes.Â
He didnât really know what the feeling was, but something stirred in his stomach every time he saw a sliver of skin when you stretched. Every time he saw you settle in your chair to eat dinner, every time you eagerly climbed four flights of stairs just to flop on his bed and make out until you were both too turned on to ignore it.Â
You turned into a different person then. Sure, you were confident, cocky even on a regular basis â but there was something that changed. You became an enchantress of sorts, and he couldn't bring himself to say no to you even if it meant he ruined his sweatpants and his sheets over and over again getting you off, even overstimulating you to the point of tears. He won't say no, because he loves the way his face grows hot when you say his name all sorts of low and raspy and how you didn't bother closing the door all the way anymore, your sounds bouncing off the walls shamelessly.  He kind of liked that someone got sent up to slam his bedroom door shut every night.Â
Itâs been three years since he met you in the woods. Â
Things had progressed slowly in the beginning, but he knew how you felt by the way you settled in his arms at the end of the night. You would kiss him good night, you would invite him in the shower with you, you would crawl into his lap if he was sitting somewhere â even if he was in front of the guys. No one said anything as you settled into his chest, his arms immediately pulling you closer as he continued his conversations.Â
And he felt something settle in his belly when he saw you getting along well with the guys. You became a master at beating Jeonghan at cards, and you would spend hours just sitting with Minghao in one of the basement corners talking about anything and everything. Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan would rope you into their hooting and hollering, and you would find an escape in Joshua or Wonwoo once your ears hurt from all the yelling. You, Hansol and Chan grew accustomed to falling asleep on the couch while watching old movies, piled on top of each other, and Seungcheol would be the one to throw a blanket over you. You added a touch of something to the group, but he found himself quietly staring at you from across the room when you would settle in the breakfast nook. Â
That was when you looked the calmest, other than right before bed. There was always a cup of untouched coffee sitting on the table, and a handful of blue pencils youâd found in Your knees would be pulled to your chest and holding a sketchpad heâd found in the back of his closet, specifically after you said you were bored while hanging off the edge of his bed two weeks into your time at the cabin â and youâd been glued to it. Youâd flip it closed if he came too close, and you would leave it in your room and hide your key if you were doing something else.Â
Youâd left for Germany six months ago, with a snug ring on your hand that meant you had someone back home waiting for you.Â
The country had fallen back in order, almost too soon after youâd situated yourselves in the cabin. Community clean-ups were organized as the same labs downtown tried to find any way to fix the damage caused. They were out billions of dollars, and eventually, things fell back into place. Hospitals were rebuilt, airports were reconstructed, and travel was reinstated. Diplomas and degrees were awarded to seniors who had been on track to graduate before the outbreak, and Mingyu watched you try on your cap and gown with a satisfied little smile.Â
And you got an email a few months later â congratulating you on your graduation and telling you that your internship in Berlin was awaiting your arrival. Â
Mingyu remembers it like it was yesterday â youâd almost thrown up out of excitement before something settled in the back of your eyes. Uncertainty, worry.Â
Guilt.Â
âItâs only six months,â Mingyu whispered as he cradled you in his arms, pressing a kiss on your temple as you cried quietly. âItâll fly by and itâll be like you never left.âÂ
You were on a plane the very next week. You held determination in your eyes then, even when glossed with a layer of hot tears that you refused to let spill. Until you got to Berlin and called him every night for a week straight â trying not to sob as he gave you updates on himself and the guys, and showed you designs. Heâd been hired to do a few projects around the city, finally putting a little extra cash into his pocket.Â
âYouâre almost home, just a few more days.â Mingyu had reassured you just yesterday, as he looked down at the designs on his workbench. Your designs â the ones youâd hidden before you rolled them up the week you left and handed them over at the airport.Â
âA project for us.â Youâd said, and heâd peeled them open (per your instruction) once you were in the air and on your way to Berlin.  Itâd been a perfect mix of your design and his old one â two floors, enough rooms to fit his sister and now, many brothers. A kitchen big enough for an island and to hold an annoying amount of boisterous people shouting about how hungry they are, and still â a cozy breakfast nook, one a lot like the cabin had: where you used sidle up to Mingyu and steal off his plate, kiss his bare shoulder, ask for a kiss. And his porch swing â big enough to fit you, him...and hopefully, a growing family.Â
âHowâs the house cominâ along?â Seungcheol asks, holding his daughter above his head as Mingyu crosses his arms on his chest. âLooks about done to me.âÂ
âIt is done,â Mingyu nods, âjust need to furnish. Paint, too...but Y/N is home soon, and I donât think Iâll have enough time to move everything alone. She might wanna help, anyway, so I guess itâs fine.âÂ
He feels his throat tight as he speaks, nibbling on his lip as he glances over at Seungcheol, who has a warm smile on his face, âthanks for helping me out. I thought I was going to lose my mind without her.âÂ
âYou put on a brave face for the woman you love, itâs only natural you freak out once sheâs actually gone. Plus...I think you got most of the jitters out when you put that ring on her finger. Nice job.â He shrugs, clicking his tongue as he looks up at the house again and turns his daughter to face it, âcan you believe Uncle Mingyuâs gonna make you a big house like this one? You get a room all to yourself, I never had one of those.âÂ
Mingyu snorts, âI never said Iâd make you one.âÂ
âAnd jealousy is a disease.â Mingyu stiffens, his fingers on his biceps tightening as he hears a car door slam behind them. Seungcheol smiles inwardly, hiding his face in his daughterâs hair as she lets out a string of incoherent babbling, something that sounds a lot like Y/N amongst it.Â
âAnd to think, I was going to ask you to design it.â Seungcheol teases as Mingyu forces himself to peek over his shoulder â seeing Chan smiling brightly as he unpacks the trunk of Seungcheolâs SUV. Tears blur his vision as Seungcheolâs hand moves to squeeze his shoulder, the rough denim of your jacket rubbing against his arms as you wrap your arms around his waist.Â
He wipes his face haphazardly, taking a deep breath before turning around and almost crushing you in his embrace. Your arms wrap gently around his neck as he buries his face in your hair, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo that heâd missed so much. Â
âIâm gonna put your bags inside,â Chan announces, âsince Mingyuâs gonna cryââÂ
âShut up, pipsqueak. When you find a girl worth waiting for, youâll cry, too.â Seungcheol snaps, balancing his daughter on his hip before grabbing your duffel out of the front seat. âTake your time, lovers.âÂ
Chan is heard in the distance asking why Seungcheol can tease you but not him, paired with a heavy hit of something and an oof as you tap Mingyuâs shoulders, âI canât breathe.âÂ
âJust a little bit more,â he murmurs, albeit loosening his grip as you suck in a breath, âI thought I was dying.âÂ
âPft, you canât die without me, Gyu. Also, I bought a Switch in Germany. Weâre playing Super Mario Odyssey and reliving the days we met, because I had a dream you didnât find me and I cried.â You ramble, âwe should get together with the guys, and we should order pizza, Iâm starving. I missed you, did you miss me? Oh, and IââÂ
Mingyu stops you with a kiss, cupping your face gently and pulling away before it can turn greedy. Your eyes are wide, âare you okay?âÂ
âDo you still hate burl?âÂ
âAbsolutely.âÂ
âOkay, good. Had to make sure Berlin didnât change your morals,â he mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them before holding you close, âI missed you.âÂ
Your smile is shy as you let him card his fingers through your hair, looking up at him through your lashes, âI love you.âÂ
âI love you more.â He peppers kisses to the top of your head, and heâs sure you can feel him smiling as he presses his lips to your cheeks and forehead, âlet me show you the house.âÂ
You nod excitedly, grabbing his hand and leading the two of you up the porch steps. He shamelessly looks at the fit of your jeans on your hips, âdo you remember when I posed the question of whether or not the virus was zoonotic?âÂ
âYes, and yes, my ass is hypnotic. That is precisely why I wore these jeans. God, Mingyu. Get with the program, learn my moves!â You scoff, and he ignores the bickering he hears in the newly built kitchen as he pulls you into one of the downstairs bedrooms, his hands tight on your waist.Â
âI love you, I love you, I love you.â He presses you against the door, his lips traveling the side of your face before meeting your lips in chaste, flirty kisses before resting his forehead against you. âI missed you, so much.âÂ
âEnough to catch me a fish, guy?â You laugh, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans, making him roll his eyes.Â
â synopsis: kim mingyu is a dear friend. a dear friend that spends nights in your arms, said nights set aflame with the tick tick tick of your gas stove when he makes you dinner, and searing kisses when he lays you down in your bed. yes, kim mingyu is a dear friend...and you wish he were more.
â genre: friends with benefits to lovers au; fluff, angst, some suggestive/smutty content.
â pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader
â word count: 11.8k
â rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
â warnings: they're stupid. literally so fucking stupid. fighting, mentions of infidelity, jealousy & insecurities. mildly sexual themes and content: brief p in v scene, there's a titty in his mouth, etc. kissing, pet names (babe/baby, sweetheart, honey, etc.)
â what to listen to: ribs - lorde ; starbright - dabin, trella ; people watching - conan gray ; hard part's over - hoang, page ; like real people do - hozier ; fineshrine - purity ring.
â author's note: thank you to @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr for these daisy dividers! that being said, this is not proofread, but it was beta'd by my dear @starlightkyeom. another fic for thee gyuldaengie ever, @gyuswhore because i posted late and i just love you that dang much. dedicated to em (again!) i love you. âĄ
KIM MINGYU COULD VERY WELL BE THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE.Â
Sweet, thoughtful, and delicate. Fragile, even: in ego, in sex, in love.Â
Sometimes, you think heâs made for you. Like Eve was made for Adam, by the rib. Sometimes you feel an ache in your left side, and you wonder if itâs the lack of Mingyuâs lingering presence â only to see him a week later, shown up to your front door with a beautiful bouquet and a bottle of wine.Â
Kim Mingyu is the petals of every flower in all the bouquets heâs ever given you. Velvety soft, perfectly cared for and beautiful.Â
But just as he is all those things â he is your Achillesâ heel. You can never say no to Kim Mingyu, can never admit that he something more to you than you care to acknowledge beyond just that â something more.Â
And just as easily as those flowers of yours were picked, they were tossed. Once they died, they served no value. Youâd watch the petals fall onto your desk for a while, dried and crisp; before inevitably swiping them into the trash can and dumping the dirty water into the sink. The vase waited, empty (like you,) to be refilled once Mingyu swung by for his bi-monthly fix.Â
It wasnât always like this.Â
You used to save some of the petals, some of the flowers themselves. Press them in wax paper between heavy books and forget about them until you read the books again. Youâd toy with the dried petals, before they eventually became littered around your apartment â in the form of coasters, framed on the walls, even a pair of earrings you once made at a crafts class.Â
Because in the beginning, in the very beginning â Mingyu was just your friend.Â
He was your very nice, very attentive friend that brought you gorgeous bouquets from his florist friendâs shop, always picked out by Mingyu himself â down to the colorful paper wrapping and satin bow. Youâd rarely see him more than once or twice a month as it was, because Mingyu is a very busy man â so the flowers were always accompanied with an apologetic smile and a quick kiss to your cheek. Youâd make dinner together, or heâd cook for the two of you; his presence warm and inviting even in your own home. Â
Heâd serve you a glass of wine or three, plate your dinner like youâre at a nice restaurant and hand you extra silverware in case one of you fell victim to his butterfingers â and he knew your apartment like the back of his hand. He knew you like the back of his hand.Â
Then, you kissed.Â
One time. By complete and utter accident.Â
You had moved into his typical cheek kiss in greeting, the both of you springing away almost immediately when you felt each otherâs lips. You both spewed apologies like geysers, talking over one another before you both laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.Â
âNo more kisses, got it. Couldâve said something earlier, you know.â He joked, but finally greeted you with a warm hug paired with a mumbled itâs so nice to see you that made your stomach flutter for the first time ever. You were wide eyed as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in the warmth of his body, in the soft feeling of his cashmere sweater that youâd given him for his birthday many moons ago.Â
Unfortunately, the attempt to make dinner together was awkward. You were both anxiously trying to keep things level, trying to crack jokes and talk about your lives outside of each other when you just sighed; your hands on your hips as you glanced at him in your pink apron that was much too small.Â
And he kissed you â this time, with purpose. He held your face gently between his hands, your own fisting the stupidly expensive cashmere sweater that left you without eggs and bread that month. Â
Dinner wasnât homemade, after all. Heâd turned the stove off in your frenzy to pull his belt off, his hands holding you flush to him as he led you both to your bedroom â where heâd shown you exactly why his ex-girlfriend canât leave him alone, and why your ex-boyfriend constantly felt inferior to him. He made it clear he wanted you, even if it was just for the night â and he wasnât about to fuck up the only potential chance heâd gotten.Â
You both fell asleep before either of you could say anything about the missed dinner, and the morning after was full of shy stares and a silent agreement â after you asked him if heâd even wanted to be your friend, if this was his plan all along. He admitted honestly that heâd never anticipated something like this and he never secretly wanted you, either â that heâd been your friend because he loves you, because youâre sweet and funny, because youâre you.Â
Twice a month. Dinner. Sex. Repeat. Just to get the taste of each other off your tongues, to fill the void of feeling someone next to you while youâre sleeping.Â
Eventually, you realized that things between you and Mingyu had grown to be just that â a fix. A bi-monthly, sometimes tri-monthly, fix; where he came to your apartment and still yielded those beautiful flowers. Heâd gotten more into making dinner on his own, and youâd choose somethnig to watch â and youâd spend an hour or so filling each other in about your time apart over the warm meal and some stupid movie, if not Gilmore Girls.Â
Until one of you leans in for the first kiss of the tumble, and the illusion of romance shatters at your fingertips.Â
Not because Mingyu isnât romantic; if anything, the guy could drown you in romance. In soft touches, in mood lighting, in catering to your every need while still meeting his own with little intereference. Heâs kind and gentle, with an edge that makes your skin prickle when he works you over with his tongue between your thighs after peeling your clothes off with needy hands. Heâs a bitch when his teeth nip at the skin of your thighs, his fingers digging into the meat of them like heâs scared youâll disappear if he makes the wrong move; and you can feel the way he smiles against you as he brings you to the first orgasm of the night.Â
Heâs yours when he kisses you like you mean everything to him, when he holds your knees to your chest while you cry on his cock. Heâs yours when he holds you close, massaging your hips and kissing the expanse of your bare shoulders.Â
And you are his.Â
You are absolutely, irrevocably his when he slips inside you for the second time that night â his teeth sinking lightly into your shoulder at how sensitive he is but he loves the way you feel. Shuddered whimpers will fill the room, murmurs of missing you when heâs gone as he nibbles on your earlobe; he leaves a mess between your thighs, snugly wrapped in your walls as you both drift to sleep.Â
Every. Single. Time.Â
Maybe itâs not all that romantic.Â
Maybe itâs just...sex. Casual sex that convinces you itâs more the moment you press your lips to his because youâre so certain Heaven is a place on Earth â and itâs in Kim Mingyuâs arms.Â
Thatâs where it all ends, anyway. Heâs gone in the morning without much conversation; youâll shower together like real couples do and heâs started keeping a few changes of clothes in your apartment. Youâll brush you teeth together like real couples do; heâll even rub lotion on your back before kissing the back of your neck and asking if you want breakfast. If you say no, he leaves.Â
If you say yes...heâll make breakfast, an entire spread. Heâll make coffee, and heâll sit right next to you in the cute breakfast nook that sold you on your apartment three years ago â right after youâd broken up with that ex-boyfriend that never liked Mingyu. For who he was, what he stood for or what he could provide...you werenât all that sure.Â
But you donât really care, either.Â
Mingyu helped decorate your apartment. He helped you make it yours and even slept on the floor of your bedroom with you when you were too scared to be alone on the first night. He didnât complain about his very obviously sore neck the next morning, only giving you a quick hug goodbye as he left to his apartment six blocks away for a shower â and returning within two hours to help you paint your bathroom.Â
They say that friends to lovers is the best way to go. Friends that know each otherâs coffee orders by heart, turning into lovers that deliver said coffee with a kiss on the lips. Friends that help each other pick an outfit for a night out, becoming lovers who take said outfit off at the end of the night with their lips running down each otherâs shoulders and other unnamed places.Â
Lovers, who mean it more than words can explain, and the warmth of a fire could never rival the true heat behind it â the three little words that linger on your tongue.Â
That stupid, stupid I love you.Â
But you are you, and Mingyu is...well, heâs Mingyu.Â
Youâre not sure what you are. Youâre certainly not friends, but youâre not lovers...youâre just Y/N and Mingyu, in limbo. No label, no questions and consequently, no answers.Â
And you want an answer. You want to know what itâs like for him to hold you closer when you move away to slip out of your bed in the morning. You want to know what itâs like for him to flip you onto your back and kiss you despite the morning breath, what itâs like to be Mingyuâs, eternally, and never have a way out.Â
But...you are you.Â
And you know better.Â
ITâS WEDNESDAY NIGHT WHEN YOUR PHONE PINGS ACROSSÂ APARTMENT.Â
You move out of the kitchen, making your way to it and grabbing it off the coffee table before flopping onto your couch.Â
NEW! (3) Messages From: Mingyu âĄÂ
[4:21 PM] hey, y/nÂ
[4:21 PM] just a quick question, are you free this friday?Â
[4:21 PM] no pressure đÂ
Youâre aptly draped across the couch for a distressed sigh as you read the messages. You throw your arm over your eyes, your heart beating just a little faster â there's a pot of stew heating up on the stove, and the whole house smells delicious as you close your eyes, knowing exactly how this could go.Â
Heâll show up at your doorstep, ten minutes before he said heâd be there. Heâll be wearing one of his nice shirts â maybe itâll be that baby blue one that you love â maybe itâll be the dark red that he always tucks neatly into slacks. Maybe heâll be dressed down, something you donât to see all that often â sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, but heâll still be carrying that stupidly large bouquet of flowers and a bottle of your favorite wine. Heâll kiss you hello again, but it wonât be on your cheek â no, heâll kiss your lips.Â
Heâll kiss your lips and hold your waist gently, pulling you into him. Heâll nip at your lower lip, inching his way into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before setting the flowers down on the foyer table and pulling away. Heâll say itâs nice to see you, that he missed you, that he wants to hear about your day before kissing you breathless.Â
Because heâs Mingyu.Â
âAnd Iâll fall for it every damn time,â you sigh, staring at the screen. Your fingers move quickly, typing a singular âsureâ, only to see his read receipt pop up before you can even sit up. Like heâs waiting for you to answer â sat at his desk, the one thatâs shoved in the corner of his office and way too cramped for a guy his size. The one thatâs piled high with confidential documents, that he eats his lunch at that he packs himself early in the mornings.Â
The one heâs sent you a few suggestive pieces of media from, the image of his silver watch moving up and down your screen still burned into your mind.Â
NEW! (2) Messages from: Mingyu âĄÂ
[4:26 PM] hm, donât know if i liked the way you answered that.Â
[4:26 PM] are you okay?Â
Are you?Â
You donât get much of a chance to reply before heâs calling you. You quickly decline it, texting back with the excuse that youâre in the shower.Â
NEW! (2) Messages from: Mingyu âĄÂ
[4:27 PM] youâre literally laying on your couch. you donât shower until six.Â
[4:28 PM] this is your âlazy girlâ time, youâve told me. i know.Â
âCurse your memory, Kim Mingyu,â you grumble, fumbling around to call him on Facetime. He picks up on the second ring, putting his AirPod in â but heâs not dressed the way he usually is after work. Or rather, during: heâs still got thirty minutes to his workday.Â
But youâre not complaining at the sleeveless white shirt, feeling your cheeks hot as he raises a brow at you through the screen.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You prop yourself up on a throw pillow, only for Mingyu to flip the camera and show the inside of your favorite grocery store, âwhat are you doing there? Itâs Wednesday, you should be at work.âÂ
âAnd you should tell me whatâs got you so pouty.â He says pointedly, propping you up in the cart as he grabbed a bag for tomatoes. Youâre silent as you watch him pick them out carefully, gentle fingers you miss wrapped around your throat squeezing the fruit softly. You blink as the thought leaves your mind, your mouth dry as you shake it off while he ties the plastic bag expertly.Â
âSo? Whatâs got you so iffy?âÂ
âNothing.âÂ
âYouâre a horrible liar.âÂ
Mingyu gives you a stern look as he hunches over the cart, pursing his lips as his eyes dart around the store for the next item to take him. Maybe peppers. Maybe a tub of soybean paste.Â
Maybe someone else to fill his bed, his heart. His stomach, with delicious meals he never lets you cook for him anymore because, in his words â you're tired. You work so hard and youâve had a long day, sweetheart. Just sit on the island and keep me company.Â
âNeed an answer sooner rather than later, sweetheart.â His voice is gentle as he grabs your attention again, only making you scoff as you wave him off with your hand.Â
âSeriously, Iâm fine.âÂ
âI dunno. First, you give me a one-word answer. Never in our six-year friendship have you responded to me that way, even when youâre in a bad mood.âÂ
You tongue your cheek as he stops the cart in the snack aisle, your eyes floating immediately to the cinnamon biscuits right next to his head. He reaches for them, tossing the box into his cart without a second thought before reading the ingredients on a box of almond cookies, ânext, you lie to me. A bold-faced lie, and to my face, at that.âÂ
âI lied to your phone screen, dramatic ass.â You mutter, watching the way his fingers drum against the yellow box. Heâs wearing the ring youâd given him for Christmas last year, the white gold snug on his thumb as he hums. He puts the box back, grabbing another with a click of his tongue.Â
âThat I pay the bill on, mind you. So, youâre wasting time and money instead of just telling me what your deal is.âÂ
âThere is no deal, Mingyu. Iâm not BOGO.â You snort, shifting on your couch and resting your arm under your head. He looks at the phone, tossing the cookies into his cart, âI should be glad, BOGO of you would kill me. Youâre more like buy one, get one half off.âÂ
âI think Iâm more of a buy-two, get one free.âÂ
âThatâs even worse. One of you is more than enough. And thatâs coming from me, someone who gets all of you regularly and happily, at that.âÂ
ââAll of meâ is a technicality.â You roll your eyes, only watching the tips of his ears turn pink as he analyzes yet another box. Crackers this time, cheddar ones. Not your favorite, and infinitely inferior to the Parmesan ones.Â
âBe realistic, thereâs no one but me. Youâre just for me.â He murmurs, but the microphone catches it anyway. You tongue your cheek as he puts the box back, instead grabbing the Parmesan ones and throwing them in the cart. Your cheeks heat slightly as he nibbles on his lip, likely deep in thought as he looks over his cart.Â
âEven if thatâs true, you could still be nice to me.âÂ
âIâm so nice to you! I make you dinner, I buy you flowers, and I check in with you regularly. I get you gifts, I fixed your leaky faucet, and I rewired your entire gaming system after you moved into your apartment and didnât want to figure it out. Iâm the nicest guy ever, especially to you.â He huffs, and you let out a chuckle that makes his lips twitch. He masks it by sucking his teeth, and you shrug with an amused look on your face.Â
âYou cook me dinner because you want to, you buy me flowers because you feel guilty and you check in with me because your job keeps you from actually seeing me more than once or twice a month. You get me gifts to make up for the fact that youâre not around as often, you fixed my leaky faucet because I practically begged you to, and you rewired my gaming system because you and Wonwoo wanted to play GTA for six hours.â You point your finger at him, watching the way he nods before picking up his phone. The camera pauses, the sound of Left Right by XG playing in the store the only sound coming from his end.Â
NEW! Message from: Mingyu âĄÂ
[5:10 PM] i also go down on you because i want to, and i fuck you because i want to. but i donât hear you complaining about that, hm?Â
âBecause I want it, too.â You ignore the heart surging on your cheeks as you watch the message bubble pop up again. Â
NEW! Message from: Mingyu âĄÂ
[5:11 PM] then be nice to me before i stop doing that for us, pillow princess.Â
âI am not a pillow princess! You just never let me do anything!âÂ
The camera unpauses, showing Mingyu rolling his eyes and feigning disinterest before he sets the phone back down, âtell me whatâs up or Iâm coming over impromptu. I wonât give you time to tidy up, either.âÂ
âYou wouldnât do that; you probably have a nice steak in your basket. You wanna go home and cook it and text me all about how Iâm missing out because I live six blocks away and wonât walk to your place because those heels I wear make me too tired.â You snicker, watching the way he mimics you and moves his hand in a talking motion. You only laugh harder, âMingyu!âÂ
âLittle louder, sweetheart. The neigbors know my name, anyway.âÂ
âKim Mingyu, I am a lady.âÂ
âA loud one,â he snorts, sucking his teeth as he makes his way down the liquor aisle. âAre you free on Friday or not? Enthusiastically free, happy-to-see-your-Mingyu free. Not that sure shit, have some respect.âÂ
âMy Mingyu?â You smirk, but itâs a front. Your stomach is fluttering like crazy and you watch the way he bites back his smile to raise a brow at you.Â
âYou know any other Mingyus?âÂ
âPark Mingyu from the finance team that has had the hots for me since before you moved to the city.âÂ
âHe doesnât count, heâs in finance. Youâd get bored in two days.â He rolls his eyes again, âyes or no, sweetheart? My schedule fills up fast and Iâm actively trying to get you in.âÂ
âMore like youâre trying to get in me.âÂ
âThat too, but all Iâm hearing right now is that you hate me. Thatâs not all I have you around for, you know.âÂ
You roll your eyes, sighing. Heâs raking his eyes over you through the camera, grabbing a bottle of wine off the shelf as if itâs muscle memory. The label reads EISA Cabernet â your favorite. Particularly, when he makes you a thick steak with scalloped potatoes and asparagus that almost guarantees you fuck him within an inch of his life.Â
And he never complains.Â
âWhatâs wrong with you?â Â
âNothing, Gyu. I promise.âÂ
He crosses his arms, âI donât believe you.âÂ
âThen donât.âÂ
âYou hate me.âÂ
âSometimes, when you make my steak too rare or you pull out.âÂ
âHaha, so funny.â He sticks his tongue out at you, and you can tell by the signs on the ceiling that heâs moving to the checkout line. âYouâre really not gonna tell me whatâs up with you?âÂ
âWhat do you want me to say, Mingyu? That Iâm in distress? That Iâm having a bad day?â You joke, before pouting exaggeratedly, âoh, please, Mingyu. Iâve had such a long, lonely day. Come over, I need you.âÂ
âStop that.â He huffs, crossing his arms as he leans on the cart. You laugh again, running your hand through your hair as you feel his eyes trailing you. You raise a brow as his eyes stop on your chest, and you dramatically cover the bit of cleavage your V-neck sweater shows. He scoffs, tonguing his cheek as he gets a register, carefully parking the cart. âTilt the camera to your face, I donât need strangers seeing your whole chest.âÂ
âItâs not even my chest, dipshit. Itâs my necklace at best.âÂ
âNecklace I gave you.âÂ
âNever pegged you to be a jealous, possessive man, Mr. Kim.âÂ
âYou donât know a lot of things about me,â he shrugs, and you stick your tongue out at him as he scans his things. He shakes his head as you watch him, your eyes shamelessly trained on his arms as he moves about, before he snaps his fingers in front of the camera, âmust you eye fuck me like that?âÂ
âListen, friends can admire one anotherâs beauty. Thatâs part of it.âÂ
âSure, sweetheart. Friends also tell each other whatâs bothering them, but I guess weâre not all that of friends, hm?âÂ
The double entendre makes you scoff as he swipes his card, his receipt printing loudly as he makes faces at you. You donât speak as he takes the receipt and tucks it into his pocket, listening to him sweetly thank the aunties at the exit as he leaves with his cart. He whistles, âso? Whatâs wrong with you?âÂ
You donât reply, simply turning onto your belly and resting your cheek against the heel of your palm. You prop your phone up against the armrest of your couch, making a show of pulling your sweater down enough that it shows the white lace of your bra.Â
âTease.â He chides as he pops the trunk, âcome on, tell me. Because youâre gonna piss me off and then weâre both in a mood.âÂ
âIâm really fine, Gyu. Iâm tired, Iâm gonna eat some leftovers...maybe watch a movie. It's just one of those days, you know?â You shrug, âitâs not like anything is particularly wrong. I just feel weird, and thatâs okay.âÂ
Youâre lying through your teeth, but he doesnât look all that convince anyway as you hear the timer in your kitchen start going off. You give him a quick smile, âmy foodâs ready, so I gotta go but Iâll see you on Friday, Gyu. I promise Iâm excited to see you.âÂ
âWell, youâd still need the context of whatâs happening on Friday, but sure.â He shrugs, âjust...are you sure youâre okay? I can cancel. Iâll work around you, honey, just let me know.âÂ
You smile inwardly, pushing off the couch and taking your phone with you into the kitchen. You prop it up against your toaster as you reach for a bowl on your tiptoes, âI would say no if I didnât want to see you, Mingyu.âÂ
âI know, butââÂ
âMingyu, baby, please.â You set the bowl down, putting your hands on your hips. Heâs in his car now, pulling his seatbelt on as he balances you on the steering wheel. Heâs pouting, âexpect that impromptu visit anyway.âÂ
âYou never follow through with those, so I will not be cleaning my apartment tonight and I will be in my PJs by nine.â You respond, crossing your arms on your chest as you watch him roll his shoulders back â the fabric of his shirt taut against his chest. He catches you staring at him, his ears tinging pink once more as you smile cheekily, âIâll see you on Friday. Drive safe, okay?âÂ
âI will. Iâll see you later, baby.âÂ
The call ends before he can see you process the petname. Your cheeks are hot as you stare at your home screen, a picture of you that Mingyu took at a burger joint after you and your ex-boyfriend broke up. You had a smear of ketchup on your cheek and Mingyuâs fingers pinching the other â he'd taken you out because you had been the one to break things off after yet another jealous fit about you being friends with Mingyu.Â
When you think about it, he ended up being right â just six months after the breakup, youâd slept with Mingyu for the first time. Â
Jaehyun had always been iffy about Mingyu, but you didnât understand it then, or ever. The two of you had been dating for six months when he met Mingyu, your friend of two years at that point. They met at your birthday party, and Mingyu had been incredibly sweet â he'd greeted him with a firm handshake, complimented his shirt and watch, and asked what he was drinking. Jaehyun had stiffened slightly, likely at the way Mingyu towered over him; but his face soured when Mingyu greeted you next, the way he always had.Â
With that damn cheek kiss.Â
His aftershave was particularly minty that night, and it made something in your stomach lurch but you ignored it. Jaehyun was quiet that entire night, even later when you were both in bed together and he was on top of you â he murmured it, effectively killing your buzz and starting a fight.Â
âI donât like that Mingyu guy.âÂ
Your relationship was no more than two years of weird jealousy afterwards. Jaehyun, however, was worse than you were in the weird terms and conditions of dating these days â he still followed his ex-girlfriends on social media and frequently engaged with their posts (you didnât care.) He still talked to his most recent ex-girlfriend's mother, who he claimed said that he was like a son to her (again, you didnât give a shit.)Â
It seemed to bother Jaehyun that you did not care what he was doing with his âfriendsâ of the opposite sex. He seemed annoyed that you could frequently hang out with your friends without caring about what he thought â posing in photobooths for pictures with your life-long friends Kwon Soonyoung and Lee Seokmin, getting dinner with your old coworker (and BFF-by-proxy) Hansol Chwe, taking shots with said BFF Boo Seungkwan at your favorite bar to celebrate his birthday...Â
Posting pictures of you and Mingyu at a farmerâs market the autumn before the breakup, trying spiked apple cider and pumpkin soup that you ended up bringing home for him to try.Â
Jaehyun didnât like that you had friends he didnât like. He didnt like that you had male friends period, but you simply did not care and especially not when he went on and on about Mingyu like he had a crush on him. You listened to his jealous rants about Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan and Hansol silently, merely peering up at him through your lashes and sipping whatever drink was closest. However, he really amped it up when he met Mingyu â and went as far as saying he was sure Mingyu wanted to sleep with you.Â
Only for you to find out in two weeks time that Mingyu had been across town that same night, breaking up with his girlfriend for saying the exact same thing about you.Â
She was so sure you wanted Mingyu.Â
And the truth was, youâd never thought about it â ever. Youâd met Mingyu in grad school, through Seokmin â and your first memory of one another was at a horrible group interview for an internship that neither of you got. You stayed in touch following the months after graduation, only getting closer as Mingyu moved to your city a year after and needed friends to hang out with.Â
You were almost always one of those friends. If you couldnât make it, he still made it a point to swing by your place and bring you something from wherever it was that heâd gone. Sometimes it was a thick slice of chocolate cake, sometimes it was an entire baked potato that heâd ordered to-go so youâd have something for lunch the next day. Sometimes it was just a handful of butter mints heâd stolen from the register attendant along with a colorful toothpick.Â
Mingyu is just like that. Sweet and caring and he is a good man. A Good Man, even, with capital letters and capital claim on your heart.Â
You sigh, turning your phone off and leaving it on the counter as you limply serve yourself your dinner. The stew isnât as filling as it wouldâve been had Mingyu made it, but you donât let your mind linger on him too much as you eat on your couch and watch a YouTube video dissecting Pretty Little Liars.Â
Because thinking about Mingyu is bad for your heart. You canât close your eyes when you do it, either â or his body flashes in your mind, the sounds he makes when heâs got your hands pinned to the mattress, the way he calls you baby between kisses that make your skin feel like itâs on fire. You canât close your eyes without remembering the smell of his aftershave filling your nostrils, his fingers tugging at your clothes or the way he coos when you beg him to touch you anywhere.Â
Or...itâs worse, and you remember how good a boyfriend he would be. How good of a husband he would be â always having a spare change of shoes for you in his trunk for those times youâd go out to dinner or to hang out. Always offering his jacket, always holding your hand when you cross the street, always pulling you close when someone thinks itâs okay to get too comfortable with you. How he smooths a hand over your hair out of nervous habit as you worm through farmerâs markets and malls, how heâs easily thrown you over his shoulder several times when youâre throwing an embarrassing fit at a pub or a bar.Â
When he kisses you slowly, in his car that smells like him and you before you both get down. How he thumbs at your earrings when youâre sitting next to him at a restaurant or the movies, and his arm is draped over your shoulders. How he speaks to you softly and listens to you intently â actively interested in everything you have to say and what it means to you.Â
How he cares.Â
It has to be torture, being involved with Kim Mingyu the way you are.Â
But is it torture, at hands so gentle? Lips so soft, words so sweet, a heart so full?Â
You donât think so.Â
9:32 PM.Â
Youâd finished dinner hours ago, and your television was quietly playing some random Spotify playlist. The Kill by Thirty Seconds To Mars is filling your ears as you trill your lips dramatically and scroll on your work laptop, finalizing a presentation while sprawled across your couch. Â
Against your better judgment, youâd cleaned your apartment haphazardly and you took a long shower â but like any girl awaiting potential company, you put on yet another sweater and a skirt (that you dug out of the back of your closet; one that youâd caught Mingyu staring at you in ages ago.) Your pajamas laid neatly folded on your pillowcase, and you told yourself youâd get in bed by 9:45.Â
Itâs unlikely that Mingyu will come by. You checked his location ten minutes ago, and he was at his apartment â likely cuddled up in his bed with all six of his pillows. Mingyu rarely leaves the house after eight on weekdays, anyway...unless heâs seeing you.Â
The time barely ticks past 9:33 p.m. when you hear a soft knock at the door â making you jolt up so fast, you feel something pinch in your neck. You still â glimpsing at the time on your laptop before checking your phone for any potentially missed messages. Mingyu usually texts you if heâs actually coming over...so it canât be him.Â
No lights are on in your apartment but your stove one, so it only makes the atmosphere more tense. You stand up quietly and set your laptop down on your coffee table before hearing another knock â louder this time, the clink of metal on glass making you jump.Â
âY/N, open this damn door.â Â
Mingyuâs voice on the other side makes all fear in your body dissipate in favor of annoyance, and you make your way over; unlocking the door quickly and huffing as you open it. Heâs leaning coolly against the frame, holding a bouquet as usual â but you put your hands on your hips as you look up at him. Â
You hate the way your cheeks grow hot at his soft smile.Â
âItâs not Friday, Kim Mingyu.âÂ
âI can still bring you flowers, baby.âÂ
âBlah, blah, blah.â You make a face at him, opening the door further to let him in and turning on your heel â only to feel his arm wrap around your waist and gently pull your back into his chest. He smells like that same aftershave, your skin prickling as you glance up at him.Â
âIs that how you greet your guests?âÂ
âYouâre hardly a guest, Mingyu. Guests donât know where my silverware is.âÂ
âOr that you keep lube in your nightstand.â He whispers, squeezing your hip as you swat at his arm. You scowl at him as he presses a kiss on your forehead, âI told you I was coming.âÂ
âItâs damn near ten at night.âÂ
âSo? I can just stay over.âÂ
âYou just wanna fuck me.âÂ
âOr I miss you, baby.â He murmurs, pressing another kiss to your temple. âI miss you a lot, actually.âÂ
âBreaking news: Kim Mingyu admits he misses his dearest, smartest, prettiest friend ever. More at eleven.â You snort, letting him turn you around as he smiles. You let him fully wrap his arms around you, your nose filling with that damn aftershave as he smoothly picks you up; your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck as he kicks your door shut with a kiss to your cheek.Â
âKim Mingyu does,â he replies gently, and you feel shy as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek before kissing it again. Once, twice, three times. âI stopped by Chanâs, but he only had these and a few others. You like?âÂ
You can hardly see the flowers, and Mingyu seems to recognize that as he flicks on your dining room light. Warm yellow rays fill the area, your eyes blinking rapidly to adjust as you glance at the flowers between you. Large white daisies are mere centimeters from your face, and you stop yourself from smiling to raise a brow at him.Â
âThese are your birth flower.âÂ
âYouâre supposed to like everything about me, and that includes my birth flower.âÂ
You roll your eyes, thumbing at the petals as he presses another kiss to your jaw, âyeah, theyâre cute. I like.âÂ
âGood, because I fucked up and also ordered another one for next week when Iâm not going to see you, so youâll be getting this twice but as delivery. I might get another just to apologize but thatâs a quest for Later Mingyu.â He speaks against your cheek, pressing kiss after kiss on the warm skin, âmissed you, missed you, missed you.âÂ
âYouâre smothering me!â You whine, feeling him pepper the side of your face with kisses, âMingyu!âÂ
âYou complain I donât see you enough, and you complain when I do. Youâre never satisfied,â he jokes, carefully setting the flowers down on your dining room table to hold you closer. His hands are gripping your thighs, the material of your skirt straining against them as you press a kiss on the column of his throat, âthank you for the flowers.âÂ
He shivers, âyou always say thank you. Donât thank me for the bare minimum.âÂ
âI donât get you flowers, Mingyu.âÂ
âYou should start. I like flowers and being smothered and impromptu visits with at my apartment with my dearest, smartest, prettiest girl, Y/N.âÂ
You roll your eyes, ignoring the fluttering in your belly as you shake your head, âyouâre impossible, Kim Mingyu.âÂ
âYeah, well...you love me anyway.âÂ
âThatâs an incredible assumption.âÂ
âShut up.âÂ
âMake me.â You scoff, limply shoving his shoulder. He sucks his teeth, kicking his shoes off and clearly choosing to ignore your bait as he tightens his hold on your thighs, âwhat are you doing here, Mingyu? Youâre not making dinner, and you clearly donât have a plan in mind...so what do you want?âÂ
He raises a brow, âI want to see you. Ask about your day. Also, steal some of those almonds you have hidden in your nightstand, next to your lube.âÂ
âYou just want me for what I can provide.âÂ
âI want you for lots of things and lots of reasons, but what can you provide that I wonât willingly give you, anyway?âÂ
You can smell the mint on his breath, like heâd brushed his teeth before getting to your apartment. Your eyes trail him silently, taking in the soft fabric of his casual t-shirt against the inside of your knees. Your skirt is starting to ride up, snug against your midthighs as you click your tongue in defeat.Â
âExactly.â He says pointedly, squeezing your thigh as he flicks the dining room light off again, making you tighten your grip around him as he moves to turn on the lamp in your living room. He looks over your head at the television with an amused look, âare you sure youâre not sad or something? Whatâs with the ambiance?âÂ
âYou insist something is wrong with me, but I promise you,â you lamely hit the side of your closed fist to his chest, âI am fine.âÂ
He gives you a knowing look in the moody lighting, before leaning down slightly. He glances at your lips, silently begging for a kiss only for you to roll your eyes and do the same. He smiles shamelessly, kissing you gently before looking around once more.Â
âItâs so dark in here.âÂ
âI was just finishing stuff for work.âÂ
âWhat have I told you about working off the clock? Stop working for free, they pay you shit as it is.â He squeezes your thighs for emphasis, and you suck in a quick breath involuntarily. You scrunch your nose as he grins, before smacking his shoulder gently.Â
âYouâre the last person who can tell me that, youâre a workaholic. I see you twice a damn month because youâre always holed up in that office.â You shove a finger in his chest, only for him to press another kiss to your lips as you pout, âMingyu!âÂ
âYou are so annoying, baby.â He murmurs, nipping at your lips like he might die if he doesnât. âYou canât even appreciate that I took time out of my very busy schedule to come see you. And letâs not forget you love my job when it means you get to see me in a suit.âÂ
âIâm going to ignore that for the sake of my sanity. What is so important about having dinner and jerking off for an hour that you think youâre doing me a favor?âÂ
âI do not jerk off for an hour.â He scoffs, "I merely think about you for forty minutes and then IââÂ
âEnough. The point is that you do it. Like a loser. Youâll get carpal tunnel, you know.â You say with a sniff, your lips twitching as he laughs. He makes his way to your couch, sitting on the chaise at the end of it. He leans back into the cushions, smoothly adjusting you on his lap as he stuffs a throw pillow under his head to look at you. âTell me why youâre here, Mingyu.âÂ
âIf you need a reason, itâs that I genuinely missed you. If that wasnât already obvious.â He speaks sincerely, raking his fingers gently through your hair and earning a shiver. He tugs at it lightly, smirking as you let out a quipped whine before smacking his hip, âI just wanted to see you.âÂ
âYouâre holding me hostage against you, Mingyu.âÂ
âBecause youâll sit a mile away unless I do. Itâs like you avoid me.âÂ
âI donât avoid you, idiot. You just radiate so much heat that it makes me wanna die, I hate sweating.â You remind him, lowering yourself so youâre chest-to-chest with him, but propping yourself on your elbows to still hover over him. He plucks at the hem of your sweater, dipping his fingertips beneath the fabric; cool against your hip as he tilts his head, âthat is true.âÂ
âI know.âÂ
âCan you hurry up and say you missed me, too? Iâm starting to feel a disconnect.âÂ
You purse your lips as you hold back your laughter, his pouted lips making you cover your mouth as you swallow your cackle.Â
âI did, I missed you.â You admit wholeheartedly, shrugging your shoulders as he tugs at the necklace he gave you, âof course I missed my Mingyu.âÂ
âNot Park Mingyu from finance, right?â He sulks, tucking his chin to his chest as you chuckle, pinching his cheek between your knuckles carefully.Â
âNot Park Mingyu from finance, no. Donât you know? Iâd be bored in two days.âÂ
âExactly,â he huffs, wrapping his fingers gingerly around your throat, âcan I stay? Or do you want me to leave?âÂ
âItâs always nice when you stay over. However, youâre late for dinner and lack of punctuality does knock ten points off for Kim Mingyu. Still in first place, but youâre pushing it.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â he nods, squeezing the sides of your neck gently before his lips plant a soft kiss on your forehead, âshould we go to your room?âÂ
âThatâs incredibly suggestive, Mr. Kim.âÂ
âItâs only suggestive if you make it suggestive, baby.âÂ
âYou calling me baby only cements my point.âÂ
âOkay, maybe. But you could have some mercy on me.â He mumbles, pressing another kiss to your nose. You raise a brow, âare you sure youâre not the one who has a problem? Youâve been in my face since you got here, Iâm literally on top of you. The world wonât end if youâre not touching me, you know.âÂ
âIâm just used to having you close.â He shrugs, âI missed you.âÂ
âMingyu, youâve said that so much that the words donât even sound real anymore. Youâve been here for ten minutes and youâve said it six times.âÂ
âSo? Is there a problem?â He mumbles against your lips, your breath hitching as he bridges the gap. His hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into the fabric of your skirt as he sits up carefully. Your hands palm at his chest as he pulls you impossibly closer, your skin littering with goosebumps as he slides his hands down your thighs. Your own shoot out to grab his wrists, pulling his hands away and pinning them to the couch before pulling away with a soft pant. He tries to kiss your jaw, his lips brushing your skin as you crane your neck away.Â
âWhat on Earth has gotten into you? Did you finally give into those stupid honey packs that Soonyoung was talking about the last time we all hung out?âÂ
He scoffs, âabsolutely not. You know I like this skirt, donât play coy.âÂ
You snort, dropping his hands to cross your arms on your chest. His fingers trace tight circles into your left knee, before he glances at your sweater with an amused look. He leans back on one hand, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he raises a brow.Â
âYou knew I was coming.âÂ
âNo, I didnât.âÂ
âThen you were hoping I would, baby.âÂ
âShut up. Youâre supposed to be at home, and I should be in my bed right now.â You mutter, tonguing your cheek as you see your laptop turn off due to inactivity out of the corner of your eye. You glance back at him, his eyes trailing the slope of your neck as you clear your throat and run a hand through your hair, âhow was your day?âÂ
âFunny you should ask. Kim Mingyu has had his first official bad day at the office.â He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line that makes you bite back a laugh. âPeople are entitled, and I usually get through it pretty well, but today was just off the damn charts. I was late to work this morning, and I had to push back a presentation because I fucking lost my thumb drive because I left it at home. An intern tried to tell me my numbers were wrong, when I checked the math not once, but three separate times. We got into a nasty argument, also something new for me.âÂ
He shrugs, âI sent her home early and I left an hour after lunch. Bought groceries, made dinner...life goes on but today was actually such shit. So...itâs nice to see you.âÂ
âI think you forgot âtried to flirt with Y/Nâ somewhere in there. I think during the whole âbrought groceriesâ part.â You let your cheeks warm as you tilt your head at him, only to earn a devilish smile paired with a one-armed shrug as he taps your knee with his knuckle.Â
âI didnât try to do anything.â He leans back on his elbow, sucking his teeth as you raise a brow at him, âI was merely stating facts. Iâm nice to you, and youâre a pillow princess. One plus one has always been two, baby.âÂ
âYou are nice to me, thatâs true. But youâre the oneââÂ
âA lady like yourself mustnât get her hands dirty for pleasure. Thatâs what Iâm here for.âÂ
His eyes are pointed, and you conjure an annoyed look as you poke a finger into his side. He squeals, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down on top of him, âstop that. Tell me about your day.âÂ
âNothing happened.â You shrug, pushing yourself up. Your hands are on either side of his head as you stick your tongue out at him, only for him to do the same and touch the tip of yours with his. You scrunch your nose as he snorts, before calling your bluff.Â
âYouâre lying.âÂ
âHm...I broke my favorite pair of earrings. I tripped going up the stairs when I came back from getting lunch at that bistro we like in downtown. Park Mingyu from Finance asked me to dinner. Nothing insane.âÂ
Itâs not a lie.Â
But itâs been a few weeks since it happened. It was a rare day in the office for you, and youâd been in and out of meetings all mornings â but he caught you just as you got in the elevator to meet Soonyoung for lunch.Â
Park Mingyu wasnât bad looking, and he was nice enough. He just...worked in finance, of all things, and had that same monotonous voice most finance men do. He didnât slouch, but his tie was almost always haphazardly thrown on and youâd fixed it for him one time â but you figured one time was enough to get him hooked.Â
Kim Mingyu is looking up at you through his lashes, his hands seemingly now lost on what to do as he pulls them off your waist. His eyes are darting all over your face â likely looking for a hint at you kidding. A quirk of your lip, a twitch of your brow, something â but the silence between you only gets thicker as his jaw grows slightly tense.Â
â...did you give him an answer?âÂ
âNo. I said Iâd think about it.âÂ
Mingyu scoffs.Â
He actually scoffs, like how dare you have the audacity to tell someone else youâd think about giving them a positive answer to their dinner invitation? How dare you, when you know youâd likely not like your food? And then itâs awkward for weeks, before you get a paragraph to your work number about how Park Mingyu is such a nice guy â from Park Mingyu himself.Â
The man beneath you runs a hand through his hair, and you sit up to allow him to do the same. He does, unzipping his sweater and shrugging it off before he tosses it over the side of your couch.Â
You resist the urge to run your hands up his bare arms, cursing the way his shirt fits against his chest so snugly.Â
âWhen did he ask you? During lunch? Did you go to the office today?âÂ
âTwo weeks ago.âÂ
You shift slightly in his lap, your cheeks hot as he stares at you. Thereâs a mix of emotions in his gaze â confusion, amusement...a bit of anger, you want to think.Â
A bit of jealousy.Â
âAnd youâre telling me this now?âÂ
âI didnât think I had to tell you. Weâre not...dating.âÂ
The word comes out choked. You feel it; he hears it, and your legs tighten subconsciously around his thighs. He glances down at them, his eyes catching a faded bite on your inner thigh from two weeks ago; his thumb pushing the hem of your skirt up high enough to make it visible to your eyes, should you look down.Â
âAre you gonna say yes?â His voice is level, but heâs not looking at you. In the low light, you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way he tongues his cheek before you feel his fingers tap your thigh, âare you?âÂ
Your throat feels dry as you steal a glimpse of the flowers on your dining table.Â
âY/N.âÂ
You let out a forced chuckle, âcâmon, you know me, Gyu. Heâs in finance. I really would get bored in two days. A few hours, even.âÂ
He doesnât seem convinced, âthatâs not a no.âÂ
âWhat do you want me to say, Mingyu?â You run a hand down the front of your sweater nervously, bunching the fabric in your palm as he leans forward slightly. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, not managing to shake his focus like the action usually would.Â
âThat youâll say no.â He says plainly, before scoffing as a smile of disbelief crosses his lips. âIn fact, I donât even know why youâre entertaining the idea of it when we both know youâd never say yes unless something happened between us.âÂ
For a moment, you dislike Mingyu. Your eyes narrow as you look down at him, tracing his features as he clicks his tongue.Â
âWhat is this âusâ youâre referring to?â You speak softly, but clearly â splaying your hands on your knees as you lean into his space. âWhat do you mean by âus,â Mingyu? What does âusâ mean to you?âÂ
âYou and I.âÂ
âWhat about you and I?âÂ
His hand leaves your thigh, and he has the gall to roll his eyes as he runs it over his face.Â
âYouâd never say yes to Park, because you have me. You donât need anyone else.âÂ
âWhat makes you think I even need you?âÂ
âThe fact that you melt in my hands the moment I walk through that door.â Heâs in your face, his breath wafting against your lips as he maintains eye contact. âYou forget the world exists when Iâm with you, and itâs the only time Iâve ever seen you relax. You love having me around, and you love me. You donât have to say it for me to know.âÂ
You want to pretend that he canât feel the way you freeze on top of him. His eyes widen slightly as you swallow carefully, âlove...is a stretch, Kim.âÂ
âWe both know itâs not.âÂ
âYouâre insane.âÂ
âThen what does that make you, hm?â His hands are back on you, massaging the tension in your thighs that only makes your back rigid. A shiver snakes down your spine as his thumb brushes the cotton of your underwear, âwhat does that make you, baby?âÂ
âI hate it when you call me that,â you blurt, and he has an unimpressed look on his face when you double down, âI hate it, Mingyu.âÂ
âYet, you pout when I call you Y/N.âÂ
âWell, just call me Y/N anyway.âÂ
You huff, moving to get up but he holds you in place â his grip firm as he pulls you into him. Your chest hits his as you avoid his gaze, your arms stiff between your bodies as you give up on getting off him.Â
âStill wanna tell me nothingâs wrong?â He mumbles, his eyes soft as he wraps his arms around your waist. You donât reply, tonguing your cheek as you feel the stupid burn in your throat as you focus your line of sight on the flowers he put on the table.Â
Cute. Soft. Delicate.Â
An extension of him.Â
You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as you speak quietly, âwhat are we doing?â Â
He sighs, resting his forehead against your shoulder, âI donât know. I thought Iâd have an answer by now.âÂ
âYou donât know,â you repeat, âbecause you didnât want to ask me or because you thought Iâd ask first?âÂ
âBoth.âÂ
âCoward.âÂ
The word is bitter as it leaves your mouth, but you canât move. You donât want to move â the fear of him slipping through your fingers overpowering as your hands grip his shoulders like heâs going to disappear. He leans into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. He doesnât say anything, but you feel his lips brush against your skin as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck, the smell of his shampoo making you melt into his embrace.Â
âTell me Iâm yours.â His voice is muffled against your neck, âplease. Please.âÂ
âI donât know if you are, Mingyu.â You canât recognize the sound of your own voice, thick and uncertain. His grip on you tightens, and you feel a shaky breath against your neck as you pull back, trying to meet his eyes. He stares at the necklace around the base of your throat, the seashell-shaped locket glinting in the light. Â
âI can be. I want to be.â Heâs barely speaking above a whisper as his fingertip taps the locket, hooking around the chain and giving a careful tug. âDo you know why I gave this to you?âÂ
You glance down at it, âbecause you were in Bali and it was on sale?âÂ
He snorts, the air around the two of you settling evenly on your shoulders, âno. Well, I was in Bali, but no it wasnât on sale and thatâs not why I got it.âÂ
âAll Iâm getting is that you went to Bali without me.âÂ
âYeah, well. I couldnât be around you in all those pretty dresses you wear when itâs hot out.â He sighs, âseashells are a symbol of love.âÂ
âDoesnât mean youâre in love with me.âÂ
He shrugs slightly, popping the shell open to reveal it empty, âitâs said that seashells are associated with Aphrodite, the goddess of love. That they represent the warmth and care and security of love, because they protect the pearl that grows inside that shell.â Â
He clears his throat, closing the locket with a click. Â
âThe point of the locket was to put a picture of us in there, someday. Itâs been six months since I gave this to you, and I think about it everyday.â He ducks his head like heâs afraid of the truth spilling from his mouth, but he canât stop talking. âSometimes, I think you were made for me, as stupid as that might sound. Like Eve was made for Adam, from his rib, or something like that.âÂ
You can feel your eyes burning as you watch him nibble on his lip, his hands restless as he moves them from around you to the hem of your skirt before gripping the cushion beneath you both.Â
âI donât know much about falling in love,â he admits, âbut...I know that you saved all the flowers I gave you, bits of them, even before we started doing whatever weâre doing. A part of me wants to believe that you saved them because you wanted to keep me around, even if it was just the flowers I gave you...because Iâve kept all the receipts from Chanâs shop when Iâve bought them. I always liked giving you flowers because you like them, but after the first time we kissed...it felt romantic and I just wanted to make your life even just a little brighter and, ugh, I donât know. Tell me Iâm ruining this and Iâll shut up.âÂ
You blink at him silently, shaking your head before sliding your hands down his arms, âhave I told you that you talk a lot?âÂ
âMany times.âÂ
âHave I ever told you to stop?âÂ
You raise a brow as you find his hand, slotting your fingers with his and curling them around his palm. His rings dig into your skin but you donât care, âcontinue, Mr. Kim.âÂ
âI hate when you call me that.âÂ
âI donât care.âÂ
âI know,â he rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are pink as you press your lips to them gingerly, âIâm not...itâs hard for me to make time for people. Youâve seen it, you know itâs true because Iâve only been able to get you in every couple weeks and trust me, itâs fucking torture. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder but I truly cannot fathom ever wanting to be away from you. It makes my chest hurt when I wake up after seeing you and I have to leave.âÂ
âYou donât have to.â You shrug, âleave, I mean. You can stay. Forever, if you wanted to.âÂ
His chuckle is almost humorless, âIâd never get anything done.âÂ
You nod silently, tracing circles into the back of his hand with your thumb before you glance up at him. You let go of his hand to cradle his cheek carefully, watching the way he leans into your touch. His arm wraps around your waist again, pulling you down with him as he lays back against the cushions once more.Â
âSo...I can be yours. If you want me to be. If youâll have me, rather.â Â
You donât respond, chewing on your cheek while pinching his between your knuckles. A silence blankets over you both, even as he brushes a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. You scrunch it, before resting your head on his chest with a click of your tongue, feeling his hand push the hem of your shirt up â fingers drumming against the warm skin of your hip.Â
âEarlier, you said I needed context for Friday. Whatâs that about?âÂ
âMy parents are in town.â He blurts, and your eyes widen as you jerk away from him, âI wanted you to meet them.âÂ
You scan his face, your lips parting as you sit up. Your knees dig into his hips as you run a hand through your hair, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.Â
âSurely they donât know weâre in this entanglement.âÂ
â...They think weâre together.âÂ
âMingyu!â You choke on his name, earning a wince as you give his shoulder a slight shove. He pouts, grabbing your wrists and pulling you back on top of him, âwhy would you tell them that?! Why do they even know about me?!âÂ
âBecause I love you.â His voice makes you still, his eyes serious as he bores them into you. A wavering uncertainty is laced in them, mixed with that same pure adoration that he always held in even a wayward glance your way. Your hands curl into fists, your nails digging into your palm before he forces them open and interlaces your fingers. His thumbs trace circles on the back of your hands, nervously nibbling on his lip before he clears his throat.Â
âI love you, and Iâm a coward but I cannot imagine being without you. It makes my stomach hurt to think about it, it makes me nauseous when I think about someone else having you the way I do. Someone else bringing you flowers and making you dinner and kissing you stupid when they donât deserve you to begin with is an atrocious thing to think about. I love you, and I want to be your emergency contact. I want to make you dinner and rub your feet and I want to put a shiny ring on your finger. I want to listen to you sing in the shower, I want you to tell me itâs not a duet when I join in and I want to make good on any and every promise I ever let fall into you. I love you, and I want you, only. For the rest of our lives.âÂ
Your nose burns as tears prick at your eyes, and you tear your hands from his to dig the heels of your palms into your eyes â coating them in said hot tears. Your voice is thick, âGod, you suck.âÂ
âI just put my heart on a platter for you.âÂ
âThatâs exactly why you suck, because now I canât tell Park Mingyu Iâll have dinner with him.âÂ
Your joke is ill received as he scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest as you wipe at your face haphazardly before leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. Your hands cradle his face gently, thumbs rubbing his cheeks back and forth as he sulks, âI love you, Mingyu.âÂ
âKim Mingyu.âÂ
âI love you, Kim Mingyu.âÂ
He lets you kiss him, uncrossing his arms and pulling you close. His fingers dip beneath your sweater, squeezing your hips as he teases his tongue into your mouth â minty and gentle as your hands move to tug at his shirt. He stops you by abruptly sitting up, cupping your ass as he stands from the couch. Your legs wrap around his waist as his lips trail your jaw, nipping at your neck as he takes you to your bedroom, nudging the door closed with his foot.Â
âWanna prove it?â Â
âNot a pillow princess, my ass.â Mingyuâs arm is tight around your waist, his hand holding your phone as your fingernails dig into his shoulders. âPretty girl gave up a minute in.âÂ
âIâm just used to a...certain lifestyle,â you whimper into his neck, before hearing the unmistakeable sound of a call dialing. You look over your shoulder wearily, watching Mingyu put the call on speaker. It picks up as he holds it to your face, pulling your head back gently by your hair, âtell him youâre having dinner with your in-laws.âÂ
âHello?âÂ
âH-Hey, sorry for c-calling so late,â you stutter, your eyes squeezing shut as Mingyuâs hips rock up into you slowly. âA-are you busy?âÂ
âNever too busy for you. Are you alright? You sound...choppy.âÂ
Mingyu gives a hard thrust then, a whine tearing from your throat as you attempt to cough, âsorry, Iâm g-good! I just w-wanted to let you know that I c-can't have dinner.âÂ
âOh...can I ask why? I mean, Iâve been pretty nice to you for as long as Iâve known you. Could warrant a date night.âÂ
âSheâs having dinner with her in-laws, bud. Tell him, baby.â Mingyu speaks clearly, an embarrassed moan falling from your lips as his grip on your waist tightens, âtell him.âÂ
âIâm having d-dinner with m-my in-laws...â You pant out, your lips brushing his neck as your hand blindly reached around to hang up on the Finance Guy rambling about how you led him on. Mingyu tosses your phone to the side as his hand snakes between you to cup one of your breasts in his hand, âyou might have to quit.âÂ
You nod breathlessly as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, âthey pay me shit anyway.âÂ
âNew position at my firm opened up.âÂ
âGod, shut up and fuck me.âÂ
He chuckles, flipping you onto your back smoothly and pressing a kiss to the side of your face.Â
âPillow. Princess.âÂ
âTHREE YEARS IS A LONG TIME WITH NO RING, MINGYU.âÂ
Mrs. Kimâs eyes are pointed as her son tongues his cheek, and you bite back your smile as you tip your wine glass towards your lips.Â
He had mentioned theyâd say something along these lines â of course, he only mentioned more details of the ârelationshipâ they knew on the car ride there. Everything in the storyline was essentially the same, if you ignored that Mingyu admitted heâd fallen head over heels in love with you after the first time you slept together and the two of you had only been officially in a relationship for the last thirty-six hours. Â
âY/N just started a new job, Mom. It wouldnât be wise to...take that step in this juncture of her career.â Heâs spitballing, and his sister nearly spits her wine out across the table as Mr. Kim snorts. âItâs true! Babe, tell them!âÂ
You fail at holding in your laughter, your shoulders shaking as you nod, âI did just get a new job. But I agree, three years is a long time without a ring.âÂ
âBabe.âÂ
âIâm just saying, you could put some pep in your step.âÂ
He sulks in his chair, barely sinking down two inches as everyone at the table bursts into fits of giggling, âIâm trying to take your life into consideration, too!âÂ
âTime is money, Mingyu.â You say, pinching his cheek between your knuckles. You lean over, pressing a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek â leaving a stamp of your lipstick on the skin as the waiter returns with the check. Mrs. Kim smiles as you reach for it instinctively, the grin only growing wider as Mingyu snatches it out of your hand and shoves his card inside the booklet before you can even protest.Â
âAt least tell me heâs taking good care of you.â Mrs. Kimâs voice is soft as you all step out of the restaurant, and you feel your cheeks heat in the cool November air as you nod.Â
âMingyu is a good man,â you start, patting his arm. He beams with pride, before sticking his tongue out at his sister that makes a gagging face. You snicker, squeezing his bicep gently, âif it were up to him, I wouldnât lift a finger.âÂ
âBut itâs not.â He sighs dramatically, âshe lets me make dinner and thatâs it.âÂ
âLet is the wrong word. He barges into my apartment with groceries and I feel bad for the guy,â you feign a pout, earning a scoff from your boyfriend as his parents share a warm look, âbut...I love him. What can I do, say no to a nice steak and a foot massage?âÂ
âYes.â Minseo pipes up, before Mingyu scowls. You snort, checking the time on your watch before his parents lean in to hug him good night. You try to stand to the side, but his sister pulls you into the familial embrace. Â
âWeâll catch up with you both in two weeks. Mingyu, get the girl a ring!â Mr. Kim gives your shoulder a soft pat, and Mrs. Kim slips something into Mingyuâs pocket. She tries to be discreet, but your eyes dart to her hand as she waves goodbye. You do the same, your face hot at the idea of marrying into such a loving family.Â
Mingyu slides his hand in his pocket as you both walk to his car, his eyes widening as he pulls it back out. Two rings glimmer in the moonlight, ones youâd complimented on his motherâs hand at the beginning of dinner.Â
âLittle soon for marriage, huh?â He thumbs at the diamonds, and you chew on your lip as you look at them. Your eyes flicker to his, a sparkle of excitement as you see him already looking at you. You clear your throat, holding your left hand up, âwell...we can just see if they fit.âÂ
âAnd if they do?âÂ
âThen I guess weâre engaged, oh boyfriend of three-years.âÂ
âI was nervous!âÂ
Your laughter rings out in the nearly empty parking lot, âwell, I love you, anyway. Three years or two days, you said forever and that youâd make good on that.âÂ
âI did say that.â His hands are gentle against yours, trembling slightly as he slides both rings on. They fit snugly at the base of your finger, and you wiggle them with a little smile on your face.Â
âWe can just be âengagedâ for like, two years. No one suspects anything then, wedding planning takes ages.âÂ
âOr we can get married in six months. I have contacts everywhere and thatâs when youâll have enough PTO accrued for a honeymoon.âÂ
âYouâre crazy.â You scoff, âcrazy and calculated, Kim Mingyu.âÂ
âCrazy in love with you, but sure.â He rolls his eyes, opening the passenger door for you. âMrs. Kim Y/N, in six months. Pencil me in, babe.âÂ
âIn your dreams.âÂ
Kim Mingyu is the love of your life.Â
Sweet, thoughtful, and delicate. Fragile, even: in ego, in sex, in love.Â
You know heâs made for you. Like Adam was made for Eve. He still shows up with a bouquet every week, but your kitchen is now shared and nicely stocked with your favorite bottles of wine.Â
Kim Mingyu is the petals of every flower in all the bouquets heâs ever given you. Velvety soft, perfectly cared for and beautiful.Â
And just as he is all those things â he is your Achillesâ heel. You can never say no to Kim Mingyu, but you can finally admit that he is something more to you..perhaps, everything. Â
Friend, lover, soulmate â all in one. A BOGO deal, youâd say, and heâd argue heâs at least a buy two, get one.Â
But, no matter what â Mingyu knows exactly who he is in your life, and you in his. Glued together at the hip, working together (though you get to boss him around and he never thought heâd be into that, a thought penciled in for much, much later when youâre both working âovertimeâ â read: his head between your thighs at your desk with your office door locked.)Â
Friends, lovers, soulmates â married (six months in, just like heâd said) and in love, two idiots held safely in the otherâs ribcage.Â
đđđ đŹ â Fluff, I.T.! Wonwoo x Not techy! Reader, Office Romance, Meet-cute, Strangers to lovers (real), Reader be a little obsessed with deep voices, 18+, Porn w/ Plot
đđ â 9k
đđđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ â MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, finger fucking (f. receiving), masturbation (f. doing with âsomehowâ the help of other), public-risk intimacy (Iâm so sorry..), grinding, protected sex, rough sex, neck grabs/choking, restraining hands, voice kink, mirror sex, coming untouched, body worship, dirty talk, praising, spanking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, hail your queen position, doggy style, pinning her, mentions of bar and alcohol, intoxicated sex, smoking, shotgun scene, aftercare
đ§ â Kiss me thru the phone by Soulja Boy, Sammie âź Shut up and listen by Nicholas Bonnin, Angelicca
đ/đ â Heyy, advance happy halloween (or happy halloween if itâs already that time in your zone)!! Iâm not sure if Iâll be active tomorrow since I'll be out (guys have fun toođ) â but anyways!! thank you so much for all the love and support lately. I had so much fun doing kinktober this year. I hope you enjoy this one!! I also wanted to thank @svthub nothing I really am just happy to be part of it and everyone for being so welcoming and nice!!
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âWelcome to the necessary weekly meeting!â Soonyoung announced dramatically, arms wide as you walked into Jihoonâs condo. Jihoon, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a laptop and a frown, didnât even look up. âItâs literally just us hanging out because you two canât function without supervision.â
âExactly!â Soonyoung grinned, patting the seat beside him. âNecessary.â You dropped your bag on the couch, laptop under your arm, and sighed. âIf this is a meeting, Iâd like to file a complaint. My wi-fiâs been dead for three hours.â
Jihoon groaned. âOh no.â Soonyoung perked up. âDonât-â But you were already reaching for your phone. âI think Iâll just call-â âDonât say it,â Jihoon warned.
â-tech support,â you finished innocently.
Soonyoung threw a pillow at you. âYou donât need tech support for everything! Last time your charger wasnât even plugged in!â âIt was plugged in,â you argued. âJust.. not all the way.â Jihoon muttered, âYouâre single-handedly keeping that hotline employed.â
âTheyâre nice people!â You defended yourself, booting up your laptop. âBesides, they actually help instead of mocking me.â âOh please,â Soonyoung teased, leaning closer. âJust say you have a voice fetishâ
âI do not?!â
Jihoon snorted. âYour face says otherwise.â You huffed, glaring at both of them. âYouâre just jealous because no one picks up when you call for help.â âYeah, because we donât break technology by existing,â Jihoon shot back.
The argument went in circles until Jihoon ordered takeout just to shut both of you up. When it arrived, everyone ended up sprawled in front of the TV, eating noodles and teasing each other between bites.
By the time you headed home, Soonyoung made you promise â hands clasped together dramatically â âDonât. Call. Tech support. Tonight.â You rolled your eyes. âIf you just helped me with my problem-â âI canât help you, Y/N.. I have my own problems,â he said, feigning exhaustion. âYouâre so dramatic.â âJust promise.â
âOk.. ok jeez I promise not to call them.â
You did.
When you got home, your apartment felt unusually quiet. Too quiet. You dropped your keys, kicked off your shoes, and flopped onto your bed, staring at your laptop like it was your sworn enemy. The wi-fi symbol blinked mockingly at you. Still dead. You worked at Jihoon's. What's wrong with you?!
You tried everything: restarted, reconnected, even whispered, âPlease work, Iâm begging you,â like it owed you emotional support. Still nothing.
Soonyoungâs voice echoed in your head â Donât call tech support tonight. You sighed, staring at your phone. He didnât have to know. âJust one call,â you muttered, already pressing the number.
Beep. Beep.
You leaned back, half-asleep, bracing for the hold music and robotic voice menu. Then.. âGood evening, this is Jeon Wonwoo from customer support. How can I help you tonight?â
You were stunned.
God damn the voice.
Low, calm, a little tired but velvety â the kind of voice that could make tax advice sound seductive. âOh. U- Hi,â you managed, blinking at the ceiling. âMy laptop refuses to connect to the wi-fi. Itâs being dramatic.â
A small laugh slipped through the line. âLetâs see what we can do. Are you sure itâs your wi-fi and not your laptop? Have you tried connecting it to another network?â âPositive,â you said confidently. âIâm very tech-savvy.â âok..,â he said, amused. âCan you check your network list? What do you see?â
You peered at your screen. âUhm-â You frowned. âI donât see my wi-fi name. Just.. my neighbourâs? And something called âNETGEAR32â..what the fuck is this?â You whispered the last sentence, but figured he heard it, the way he laughed on the other line. Wah! The laugh is even hotter.
âHmm. Could you tell me what your router looks like?â âItâs that little black box with the blinking lights, right?â âYes,â he said slowly. âWhere is it?â You turned your head toward your bedside table. âItâs right here. Wait..â you reached out and realised it wasnât blinking at all. Just off.
You picked it up and froze. âOh my god.â âWhatâs wrong?â âItâs- ahm.. uh- huhâ you coughed. âItâs not plugged in. Because I moved it earlier so I could vacuum.â There was a pause. Then his voice came through again, thick with restrained laughter.
âYou vacuumed your wi-fi?â âDonât say it like that,â you protested, cheeks burning. âIt sounded responsible at the time!â He chuckled â a low, genuine sound that made your stomach twist. âYouâre the first caller Iâve had tonight who turned off their wi-fi for cleaning purposes.â
âSee? Iâm helping the world one spotless floor at a time.â âSure,â he said. âTotally not creating your own emergencies.â You pouted even though he couldnât see you. âYouâre judging me.â âIâm observing,â he teased. âWith admiration.â
You couldnât help but laugh. âYouâre rude. But also kind of charming.â âThatâs a first,â he said softly, and you could hear his smile through the line.
The wi-fi reconnected instantly once you plugged it back in, but neither of you hung up. At one point, he asked, âSo do you always call tech support after vacuuming?â
âOnly when I make life decisions that backfire,â you said. âWhich is often.â âGood to know,â he murmured, voice lower now. âGuess I should keep my line open then.â Fucking voice.. fucking hellllll- this is testing me.
You laughed, heart racing a little too fast for a call that started with a wi-fi crisis. When the line finally went quiet, you didnât move for a while. Your wi-fi was back.
But you had a new problem
you couldnât stop replaying his voice in your head.
âBelieve me, Soonyoung, the voice. I just know he looks hot.â You were sprawled across your couch, phone on speaker, while Soonyoung sat at the edge of the coffee table, eating crisps and giving you a look that screamed disbelief.
âThere are literally thousands of tech support agents, Y/N,â he said, crunching loudly. âHow confident are you that youâre even gonna get-â
âGood evening,â the speaker crackled, and that low, familiar voice filled the room. âThis is Jeon Wonwoo from customer support. How can I help you tonight?â Soonyoung froze mid-bite. Then he mouthed, damn.
You grinned, triumphant. âHi,â you said, trying not to sound too excited. There was a pause â and then, that voice again, soft and amused âYou again?â Soonyoung slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh.
You cleared your throat, pretending to be professional. âYes, me again. I, um.. I think my keyboardâs stuck.â Soonyoung buried his face in a pillow. Stuck? Really? he mouthed, horrified. You whispered back, âWhat?! Thatâs the only thing I could think of!â
Wonwoo mustâve heard the shuffling because he asked, âKeyboard stuck how?â You blinked at your laptop. âLike- itâs not typing?â âDid you check if itâs connected properly?â You poked at the keys. âYes?â âOkay. Is it wireless?â You squinted. âI mean it doesnât have a wire.â
Soonyoung groaned into the pillow. âAlright,â Wonwoo said, patient as ever. âCan you check the little switch under it? It might be turned off.â You flipped it over. The red light was off.
âOh.â
âFound the problem?â he asked, amusement dripping through the line. â..Possibly,â you admitted, turning it back on. Soonyoung whispered, âYouâre gonna die alone.â âDonât be jealous,â you muttered back.
âWhat was that?â Wonwoo asked, still smiling through his words. âNothing! I, uh, I fixed it. Youâre a genius.â âI do my best,â he said modestly. âThough you might be setting a record for repeat callers this week.â
You snorted. âOh come on, Iâm not that bad.â âI didnât say bad,â he teased. âJust dedicated.â Soonyoung mouthed, oh my god heâs flirting. You kicked him under the table. âWell,â you said lightly, leaning back. âThank you again for your very professional assistance, Mr. Wonwoo.â
âMy pleasure,â he said smoothly. âBut I should tell you â youâre gonna get me fired if you keep calling this much.â You grinned. âThen Iâll have to find another HOTline to talk with.â That made him grin â a low, surprised sound that sent goosebumps up your neck.
Before he could say anything else, you hung up, giggling, tossing your phone onto the couch like it was on fire. Soonyoung stared at you, jaw dropped. âYou did not just hang up on him after saying that.â
âI did,â you said proudly, hugging a pillow. âYouâre insane.â âI think Iâm in love with his voice,â you ignored him. âYeah.. definitely insane.â Soonyoung groaned, throwing himself back dramatically. âJihoonâs never gonna believe this.â
Meetings were bad enough on their own.
Delayed meetings, however, were a special kind of torture.
You sat in the conference room with your coworkers, nursing your second cup of terrible coffee while everyone complained about the same thing.. the companyâs internal program being down.
âThis is the third time this week,â Hansol muttered beside you, spinning his pen like he was auditioning for a stress commercial. âDidnât the IT promise to fix this permanently?â You sighed, leaning back. âApparently the main IT guyâs out of town. Theyâre sending someone else from the other branch.â
âGod,â Hansol groaned. âIf this takes longer, Iâm fake fainting just to go home early.â A few desks away, someone joked, âMaybe we should just call tech support!â Hansol smirked and nudged you. âHey, thatâs your thing, right?â You gave him a look. âShut up.â
Before he could tease you again, the conference room door swung open. âSorry for the delay,â a deep, calm voice said. âIâm from the external IT department â Iâll be fixing the system today.â
You froze.
No way.
The pen slipped from your hand. Hansol glanced at you, confused, as you slowly turned toward the door. And there he was.
Jeon Wonwoo, in the flesh.
Tall. Dressed in an office lanyard, white button-down shirt, rolled-up sleeves, soft eyes framed by dark-rimmed glasses. The same low, polite tone â the same one that had once asked, You again? through your phone speaker.
He didnât even look in your direction, busy setting his laptop bag down near the projector. But you were already spiraling. Hansol whispered, âWhatâs wrong? You look like youâve seen a ghost.â You grabbed his sleeve, dragging him closer, whispering, âThatâs him.â
âWho-â âTech support voice guy.â
Hansol blinked. Then his eyes widened. âNo way.â âWay,â you hissed. âOh my god, heâs real. Heâs here. Iâve literally flirted with him over my wi-fi and fake keyboard issues.â
Hansolâs face twisted between amusement and disbelief. âYouâre kidding. The guy you said had a voice that could fix your life? Thatâs him?â âShut up,â you whispered harshly, elbowing him as quietly as possible.
But of course, Wonwoo glanced up right at that moment â and his eyes landed on the two of you whispering near the door.
You panicked and pretended to cough. Hansol, because he loved chaos, gave you the most suspiciously innocent smile possible. Wonwoo tilted his head slightly. Then, with that same even tone, said, âSorry, could someone show me where the main server is located?â
Hansol grinned, standing immediately. âY/N can show you.â Your head whipped toward him. âI- what?!â âSheâs great with.. tech support,â Hansol said, barely holding back laughter.
You shot him a death glare before plastering on the fakest smile known to man. âRight. The server. Of course.â You led the way down the hallway, pulse hammering, mentally screaming the entire time. Behind you, you could hear the faint sound of Wonwooâs footsteps â steady, unbothered.
And when he finally spoke, the air shifted. âYou work here?â he asked casually. You swallowed. â..Apparently.â There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he replied, âGuess I shouldâve known. You sound familiar.â
Your brain short-circuited. Does he recognise me?! IS THAT POSSIBLE?? Fuckk! Oh my- do I even look good today?! You laughed a little too quickly. âDo I?â
He hummed softly. âYeah. Canât quite place it though. Maybe Iâm wrong.â Good. Keep it that way. You stopped by the room, pushing the door open and praying your soul wouldnât just exit your body on the spot.
âHere it is,â you said, stepping aside. âThe, uh.. problematic area.â Wonwoo smiled faintly â professional, polite â but something about it made your heart stutter anyway. âThanks.â
You nodded, pretending to check your phone just to avoid melting under his presence. Hansolâs text popped up almost immediately
Hansolie: đ sooooooo howâs ur âwifiâ?
You typed back furiously while walking back to the conference room.
Y/N: shut. up. hansol.
â
The elevator doors slid open to the scent of roasted beans and caramel syrup â the unofficial perfume of your companyâs lobby. You needed caffeine. And possibly divine intervention. After all, youâd just spent the entire morning trying not to think about your crush slash former tech support.
âHey, Y/N!â the barista chirped as you reached the counter. âThe usual?â You nodded, rubbing your temples. âYeah, but can you, like.. make it extra strong today? Emotionally and spiritually?â
He laughed. âGot it. Double shot, emotional damage edition.â âPerfect,â you sighed. âOh, and can you add a little cinnamon instead of cocoa powder this time?â âGot you.â He scribbled the note on your cup. You stepped aside to wait â and thatâs when you heard it.
âCan I get a flat white, please?â
That voice.
You turned, and there he was â standing just a few feet away at the other end of the counter, sleeves still rolled up, work lanyard hanging loose around his neck. Wonwoo.
He looked effortlessly calm, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone while he thanked the barista with that same low tone that made you weak in the knees.
You blinked, heart stuttering. âOh,â you blurted before your brain caught up. âYou- uh.. coffee?â
Smooth. Very eloquent.
Wonwoo glanced up, a little confused. âMe.. coffee,â he echoed, lips curving. You wanted to melt straight into the tile floor. âHi,â you said, trying to be casual. âAgain.â
âHi,â he returned, equally casual. His voice softened. âYou on break?â âYeah, trying to survive another meeting that couldâve been an email,â you joked. âYou?â âRunning system checks upstairs. Thought Iâd double check whether the server is plugged before your company crashes again.â
You gasped in mock offense, not fully understanding what he meant. âHey! It wasnât my fault this time.â He chuckled, stepping closer as the barista called both your names. You picked up your drink at the same time he reached for his â your fingers brushed for half a second.
And you definitely felt that.
âThanks,â you mumbled, gripping your cup a little too tight. He tilted his head, smiling teasingly. âSo.. howâs your technology lately?â You froze. âWhat-â
âThat wi-fi working fine?â he asked innocently, sipping his coffee. âKeyboard behaving?â Suddenly your jaw could hit the floor.. hiding your face with your hand. âOh my god. You know itâs me.â âI just figured it out after you showed me the room earlier,â he admitted, smirking. âYou have a very.. recognizable voice.â
Oh yeah..? and you have a hella attractive voice.
âGreat,â you muttered. âSo now the tech guy knows âthe girl who vacuumed her wi-fiâsâ work address..â He laughed quietly. âCouldâve been worse.â âI was trying to clean responsibly!â you protested, half laughing, half dying inside.
He leaned a little closer, eyes glinting with amusement. âYou really do make my job interesting, you know that?â You tried not to look at his mouth when he smiled like that. âIâll take that as a compliment.â âIt is,â he said easily.
For a second, neither of you said anything â the buzz of the lobby filling the space between you. Then your phone buzzed with a message from Hansol
Hansolie: boss asking where u r đ
You sighed. âDuty calls.â Wonwoo held up his cup. âSame here.â You both started toward the elevators, walking side by side until the hall split. âGuess Iâll see you around, Iâll be the IT for weeks, fortunately.â he said.
You grinned, stepping backward. âFortunately?â He smirked, tone low and teasing. âYeah.. this time, you donât have to press any keys to talk to me.â You turned away, trying not to smile too hard â and totally failed.
Itâs been a week.
A very long, very confusing week.
Because somehow, ever since that coffee encounter, your team and the IT team have been glued together. Every project update? Theyâre there. Every department sync? Theyâre in the room. Every âquick check on the systemâ? Itâs him.
You tried to act normal â really, you did â but it was hard to stay composed when his voice kept floating across the room. Smooth, professional, occasionally teasing when heâd call out, âY/N, can you test the connection for me?â Yeah. Connection. Sure.
And of course, Hansol noticed. He noticed how youâd suddenly straighten in your chair whenever Wonwoo spoke, how youâd take exactly 0.5 seconds too long to respond. âYouâre down bad,â he whispered during one meeting, and you kicked him under the table hard enough to rattle his pen.
Even worse, Wonwoo didnât seem fazed by any of it. Heâd walk past your desk with that tiny, unreadable smile â the kind that made your brain lag. Heâd drop by for âroutine checks,â which, suspiciously, only seemed necessary near your cubicle.
By Friday, your nerves were shot. Youâd memorised the sound of his footsteps, the shape of his laugh, and the way he said your name like it was something erotic. Or maybe thatâs just me whoâs thinking that..
You werenât sure which was worse â that he might notice, or that he already had.
â
Youâd left the office hours ago, but Wonwooâs voice lingered in your mind like a ghost. Back in your apartment, you changed into comfortable clothes â an oversized shirt and didnât even bother to put on some shorts. You poured yourself a glass of wine, settling on the couch with your laptop, trying to focus on a show. But your thoughts kept drifting back to him.
His smile, his laugh, the way his hair fell across his forehead. You remembered the sound of his voice, the way it echoed through the empty office, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.
You took a sip of your wine, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. This is ridiculous. Is the aircon even on?!
You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling a warmth spread through you. You couldnât believe you were getting turned on just by thinking about his voice. You felt embarrassed, foolish even. But the warmth didnât go away. Instead, it grew stronger, pooling between your legs.
âI canât believe Iâm doing this,â you muttered to yourself, but your hand was already sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear. You werenât even touching yourself yet, just pressing your palm against your core through the fabric. âIâm getting horny over someoneâs voice..?â
Just say you have a voice fetish â Soonyoungâs voice suddenly echoing in your head that made you feel an overwhelming rush of embarrassment and arousal. You pushed your underwear to the side and slipped a finger inside yourself, that deep voice. âFuck..â
Slowly pushing it in and out as you imagined Wonwooâs voice whispering dirty things in your ear. Your other hand reached up to pinch your nipple through your shirt, twisting it gently. You were getting wetter by the second, all from thinking about a manâs voice.
Your mind started playing tricks on you. You pictured his long fingers as he fast-typed on a keyboard. You bit your lip, moaning softly. âGod,â you whimpered. Your hips lifted slightly, pushing your finger deeper, thinking it was Wonwoo who was finger-fucking her.
One finger wasnât enough. You needed more stimulation, more pressure. You cursed under your breath, frustrated that your own hand wasnât enough to get you off when just thinking about Wonwooâs voice had you soaking wet. âDamn it..â
â
I stopped moving my finger, my heart racing as reality crashed back in. What the actual fuck was wrong with me..? Getting turned on over a voice?! What the hell. Over Wonwooâs voice specifically??! Ughh god.. I quickly pulled my finger.
âMaybe I should..â my heart raced at the thought. âHmm.. should I?â I donât know what to do. But Iâm burning and it hurts already, I need to get by.
This is insane. âNo. I wonât do it,â but the thought only lingered on me and Iâm going crazy. This is desperate.. yet also fucking hot.
My fingers trembled as I slowly dialed a number.. his number. Each digit felt like a step closer to crossing a line I wasnât sure I could uncross. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Fuck.. fuck.. fuck! My heart is pounding so much and my free hand is already sliding back into my underwear.. ok maybe Iâm not that good of a person- but I need this! Iâm gonna go nuts!
â
âHello?â His deep, husky voice came through the phone, sending a jolt straight to your core. You let out a shaky breath, your finger now slowly circling your clit as you held the phone between your shoulder and ear. âHi..â You whispered, already lost.
âHey,â he said softly, unknowingly pushing you further towards the edge. âEverything ok?â He asked, you could hear the concern in his voice. Your hips lifted slightly, pushing your finger inside your clit. âMhm,â
âYou sound distracted.â He paused, you could hear him moving around. âWhere are you? I can barely hear you.â His words sent a shiver down your spine. You were silent for a moment, your finger moving faster. âI'm.. in bed,â you whispered, your voice hoarse.
Wonwoo hummed, âIt's late. You sleeping?â You bit your lip, debating whether to tell the truth. âNo,â you admitted quietly, your hand moving frantically now, your legs spreading wider. Wonwooâs voice was just too good, too enticing.
âWhat are you doing then?â He asked, suddenly curious. His voice dropped lower, unaware that he was talking to a woman on the verge of orgasm on the phone. âBecause- Iâm alone," you confessed, your breath hitching as your finger rubbed faster.
âAw, are you bored?â He asked gently. âKind of-â You whispered, your other hand squeezing your breast through your shirt. âNeed someone to talk to?â He offered, making small talk while you edged closer to coming.
âActually- hmmâ You started, then bit your lip hard to stop yourself from moaning. Your finger was slowly pressing onto your G-spot, your thumb circling your clit exactly how you liked. âYeah?â Wonwoo encouraged conversationally, âWhat is it, Y/N?â
âNothin- ahh.. mhmmâ You whispered quickly, trying to hide the fact that you were about to cum hard on the phone with him. âJust- just thinking about stuff.â Your legs were shaking now, your hips moving in time with your hand. âLike what?â He asked, genuinely interested.
âStupid stuff..â You breathed softly. âLike.. Like-â You trailed off, getting closer. âYeah?â He chuckled, unknowingly pushing you towards your orgasm with his deep voice. âRandom stuffâ You moaned softly, then covered your mouth quickly.
He hummed on the other line, pressing, âRandom stuff like..? Y/N.. are you ok?â You were so close now, your hand moving desperately. âShit-!â You whimpered into the phone, your body tensing up as you came hard, silence filling the line except for your quick pants.
You quickly ended the call, your cheeks burning red as you tried to catch your breath. You cursed yourself, throwing your phone aside and collapsing back onto your bed. âWhat the fuck did I just do?â You hissed at yourself, feeling both embarrassed and satisfied from that crazy spontaneous orgasm.
He didnât catch me right..?
â
He looked at his phone, a slow smirk spreading across his face. The call ended abruptly, and he knew exactly why. His mind filled with images of you touching yourself to his voice, coming undone alone in your room. He chuckled lowly to himself, getting hard.
âY/N L/N, what are you even planning to do?â
He said, dragging a hand over his face, clearly flustered and unsure of what to do next. No.. correction, he is sure of what heâs gonna do that night.
The week after Wonwooâs temporary contract with her company ended felt weirdly quiet. No passing glances in the hallway, no low voice echoing across the conference room, no reason to hang around the break area pretending you needed another coffee.
Work picked up, deadlines piled, and life moved â or at least pretended to. You told yourself it was fine. Totally fine. People came and went, right? He was just one of them. Except your brain didnât seem to get the memo. Especially with someone, you had an intense orgasm without him even knowing, or thatâs what she thought.
Every time someone with a low voice spoke during a call, your heart did that stupid thing â the half-second jolt before realising it wasnât him. You hadnât texted, hadnât even tried. It wasnât like you owed him anything. Also, youâre too embarrassed to contact him anyways.
And so, you buried it â until Soonyoung decided to ruin your emotional stability for sport. âItâs Friday,â he declared, barging into your cubicle with the enthusiasm of a man whoâs never known shame. âWeâre going out. Jihoonâs coming. No excuses.â
âI have emails to-â âNope,â he cut you off, snatching your mouse and dramatically logging you out. âYouâre touching grass tonight, whether you like it or not.â
Which is how you ended up at a crowded downtown bar, squeezed between Soonyoungâs chaos and Jihoonâs eternal disapproval. The music was loud, the lights warm, and the air smelled like beer and bad decisions. You were halfway through your drink when Soonyoung suddenly went still. âDonât panic,â he said.
Your stomach dropped. âWhy?â âBecause.. hot people incoming. Specifically, men who look like they pay taxes on time.â You turned and froze. Him. Again.
He was walking in with two other guys â one with long hair and a mischievous grin.. definitely trouble, the other already laughing at something. Wonwoo looked the same â relaxed, slightly tired, effortlessly attractive in a black long sleeves that fit a little too well. Of course. The universe had a sense of humour.
Jihoon noticed your expression instantly. âOh no,â he muttered. âWhoâs that?â You tore your gaze away too quickly. âNo one.â Soonyoung squinted. âThatâs tech support voice, isnât it? You mentioned before that you met him already!!â âLower your voice!â you hissed, smacking his arm.
But fate, being a little shit, made eye contact inevitable. Wonwooâs eyes swept across the bar â and landed right on you. A flicker of recognition passed through his face, followed by something dangerously close to a smile.
You panicked and looked away. Pretended to study the drink menu like it held the secrets of the universe. âOh my god,â Soonyoung whispered gleefully. âHe saw you.â âShut up.â
He didnât. He wasnât wearing his glasses.
A few minutes later, laughter rippled from the next table â Wonwooâs group had settled just a few seats away. You tried not to stare. Really, you did. But when you heard his laugh â that same quiet, low sound you remembered from the phone â your whole chest ached, and also down there..
Jeonghan, his long-haired friend, caught you looking. His lips curved into a knowing smile before leaning toward Wonwoo to say something. Wonwooâs gaze flicked your way again, heâs now wearing his typical glasses, that you swear you just want him to wear while-. Soonyoung caught that, too. âYup. Heâs looking. Heâs so looking.â
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. âI hate this. I actually hate this.â Jihoon sipped his drink calmly. âNo, you donât.â And maybe he was right â because when Wonwoo finally stood up, drink in hand, and started walking toward your table, your pulse went wild.
You straightened instinctively, heart hammering. Soonyoung muttered, âOh my god, heâs coming over-â âHey,â came that familiar voice â smoother than you remembered, and a lot closer.
You looked up, every thought in your head dissolving into static. Wonwoo smiled. âDidnât expect to see my favourite caller here.â Soonyoung choked on his drink. Jihoon muttered, âI need another round.â
And you? You just tried to remember how to breathe.
You blinked up at him, trying to play it cool even though Soonyoung was grinning beside you like a proud parent. âOh, hi.â Wonwooâs lips curved slightly. âYou donât call anymore.â You tilted your head, shy but smiling. âWell, I donât need help with anything regarding my technologies, so..â
He took a small step closer, the corner of his mouth lifting. âI meant my personal number. After you ended the call, leaving me behind, you never called again.â You froze. The words hit like a slow echo, sinking into the quiet thrum of music around you. You blinked at him, unsure if you heard right, if he was teasing or serious â until you saw the faint glint in his eyes.
And suddenly, the flash of that night came rushing back. The memory of his voice. The way your breath had hitched, every pressed your fingers made, every moan, every shiver.. everything. The stupid thoughts that followed. Your chest felt hot.
âI- excuse me,â you muttered quickly, voice a little too thin as you slipped past him. The cool air outside hit like a reset button, sharp and grounding. You walked to the bar side, where the noise softened into background static, and pulled a cigarette from your bag with shaky fingers.
The flame flickered when you lit it. You inhaled, letting the smoke fill your lungs before slowly exhaling toward the empty road. The night air wrapped around you, quiet, still. Then.. a low chuckle behind you.
âYou smoke?â
You turned slightly, startled. Wonwoo stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, the faint streetlight catching in his hair. He looked amused â but not judgmental, just curious, his tone lazy and warm. You blinked. âOnly when Iâm trying to forget embarrassing things.â
He laughed quietly, walking closer. âSo thatâs what I am?â You took another drag, eyes flicking toward him. âNo.. fuck- sorry. I really just am trying to forget something I didâ
He tilted his head, smirking faintly. âLike.. touching yourself with the help of my voice?â Your jaw almost hit the floor. You believed it did. You couldnât even move nor talk, cigarette on your fingers, smoke curling in the space between you.
He took a step closer, closing the gap between you both. His smirk grew wider as he reached out and gently took the cigarette from your fingers. He brought it to his own lips and took a drag before exhaling slowly. âYou know what I think?â
âI think you should do something for me. You left me aching that nightâ He took another drag before offering the cigarette back to you. When you didnât take it as how shocked you are, he held it there teasingly. âShotgun.â He said lowly, his face inches from yours. âCan you do a shotgun?â
The sudden request snapped you out of your stunned silence. You blinked rapidly, processing his words. âShotgun?â You repeated dumbly, finally taking the cigarette back from his fingers. Your hand brushed against his briefly, sending a spark through you. âYou want me to-â You paused, then laughed nervously.
He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. âYeah, you know what I mean.â He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. âCome on, donât tell me youâve never done shotgun before.. you even played without who youâre thinking ofâ
You raised an eyebrow, ego rising, and took a long drag of the cigarette before exhaling slowly in his direction. As you did, you reached up and wrapped your hand around his nape, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden contact, a small jolt running through him.
You brought the cigarette to your lips again, taking a deep drag before sealing your lips around it and hovering around his mouth. You held the smoke in your mouth for a moment before exhaling slowly into his mouth, sharing the hit with him in a perfect shotgun pass.
Wonwooâs eyes remained on yours as the smoke filled his mouth, your lips dangerously near his. It was intimate and unexpected, the act of sharing a cigarette like this. His hand instinctively gripped your wrist where it still rested on his nape, holding you there.
Before you could pull away, Wonwooâs free hand suddenly gripped your hip possessively, pulling you closer as he went in for a kiss. The cigarette fell forgotten to the ground between your feet as his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to gain better access to your mouth.
The smoke from the cigarette was intoxicating, but it was nothing compared to the taste of his mouth. Wonwooâs lips moved urgently against yours, his tongue pushing past your lips to explore your mouth with an intensity that left you breathless. The taste of tobacco mixed with his own unique flavour drove you crazy.
â
Fuck, this girl can kiss. My mind was spinning as I devoured her mouth hungrily, my hands gripping her tightly. The taste of cigarettes and something uniquely hers exploded on mine, making my head swim. * deepened the kiss further, my tongue dominating hers as I pulled her flush against me.
This is driving me insane. Sheâs insane.
Ever since that night, I couldnât just take her off my mind, much worse, she didnât even bother to reach out. She made sure she got the pleasure she needed and threw me. Now thatâs hot of her.
I broke the kiss briefly as my hands framed her face. I quickly removed my glasses and set them aside. My vision was indeed blurry, but it only seemed to heighten my senses haha, this is driving me crazy. I captured her lips again immediately, my touch turning almost desperate as I kissed her.
The taste of her mouth feels like I needed her to survive.
And Iâm not even gonna complain about that.
â
Wonwoo forced himself to break the kiss, his chest heaving as he looked at you through his blurry vision. Your lips were swollen and kiss-stained, a few strands of hair sticking to your flushed cheeks. He blinked rapidly to clear his sight, needing to see your expression clearly.
Your soft voice asking âWhat do you want to do.. Wonwoo?â snapped something inside him. His hands suddenly gripped your face harshly, thumbs pressing into your cheeks as he groaned possessively before crashing his lips back onto yours brutally. He wanted to fuck you right there against the wall. But he controlled himself.
He broke the kiss again, his face inches from yours as he panted heavily. His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower to your collarbone before pausing at the hem of your skirt. âCan I..â He swallowed hard, his fingers curling slightly into your thighs. You nodded.
His eyes darkened as he watched your expression. His hand slid, then lower, pushing past your panties easily. He checked once more if you were okay with this â non-verbal, just watching your body language. You widened your thighs slightly, giving him better access. His mind went blank.
He pushed two fingers deep inside you without warning, his other hand gripping your hip possessively as he pinned you against the wall. His eyes never left your face, watching for any reaction. Like how your pleasure is his pleasure.
Your eyes fluttered closed as you gasped sharply at the sudden action. Your back arched slightly, pushing you further onto his fingers. A small whimper escaped your lips as he began to move his fingers in and out of you, his thumb pressing down on your clit.
âDid you imagine my fingers fucking you like this when I called you and hung up without saying a word?â He asked gruffly, his voice laced with jealousy on your fingers. His fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot that made your legs tremble. âFuck, youâre so wet.â
âFucking your own pussy thinking it was me? Hm?" He growled, his face hovering over yours. He picked up the pace, his fingers moving in and out of you at a brutal pace. You could only whimper and shake your head, too overwhelmed to speak, too scared to be caught.
He noticed the change in your insides immediately, your folds tightening around his fingers as you began to clench. His eyes darkened with lust and satisfaction. âWon- I.. Iâm closeâ You barely managed to say, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.
One of your legs lifted completely off the ground, wrapping around his waist instinctively as you gripped his shoulders for support. Your fingers dug into his muscles, holding on for dear life as he finger-fucked you against the wall. âDamn, look at you,â he groaned.
Just as you were on the verge of coming apart, Soonyoungâs voice echoed down the street. âY/N! Where are you?â His fingers froze inside you, your orgasm hovering right at the edge but not allowed to fall over. You froze completely, looking into his eyes, shocked.
You quickly shushed Wonwoo, your hand pushing gently against his chest. âPull out!â He pulled his fingers out immediately, his other hand quickly adjusting your clothing back into place. You smoothed down your hair and shirt before stepping away from him, your leg still slightly trembling. âComing!â
Wonwoo chuckled softly against your ear as he whispered just loud enough for only you to hear âYou are indeed coming..â His smirk was pure sin. You let him be and walked towards your friend and acted like nothing happened.
âWhere have you been? Jihoon thought you got kidnapped,â Soonyoung said the moment he spotted you. âIâm not even that drunk yet,â you replied, looping your arm through his. âOh, I know,â he said with a grin. âand I thought you were busy, you know.. fucking.â
You choked on your own saliva and smacked his arm. âSoonyoung!â âWhat?â He just laughed and slowly pushed you inside the bar again.
And before you even went inside totally, you swore you spotted Wonwoo standing against the door, his head tilted back slightly as he slipped two of his fingers into his mouth, sucking it clean. His eyes locked onto yours, his smirk widening as he watched your mouth go open.
âWhereâs Soonyoung?â Jihoon asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You giggled, already drunk. âProbably busy making out with someone,â you replied, downing another shot. âJihoon.. Iâm going to sit at that table,â you pointed at one across the room. âOki?! Donât find me.. eheâ
Jihoon just shook his head, a small smile on his face as he watched you jog away giggling. âHave safe sex.â He called out after you, his voice getting lost in the loud music of the bar. You waved him off without looking back, your giggles echoing as you made your way to the table alone, a man on the couch, smirking, eyebrows raised as he watched you walk towards him.
âDrunk enough to come at me, Y/N?â Wonwoo said, his arms spread on the back of the sofa, looking intently at you as you sat on one of his thighs and leaned into him. âBut sober enough to know what Iâm doing..â
Wonwoo chuckled, his arms wrapping around your waist. âEven hotter,â he murmured against your hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.
He leaned in for another kiss, but you pulled back slightly. âHow did you know I was touching myself during our call last time?â You asked softly, searching his face for answers. His smirk returned slowly as he pulled back slightly too. âLove.. it was so obviousâ He paused.
His fingers gently scanned your face, his voice low and husky as he continued, âI could hear you whimpering softly, your breaths hitching. I knew exactly what you were doing.â His thumb lightly brushed against your jaw as you opened your eyes again to look into his.
You pulled him into a heated kiss, your lips pressing urgently against his. Wonwoo groaned instantly, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he pulled you closer. The kiss was demanding, passionate, and full of unsaid words. You could feel his erection pressing against your hip, hard as a rock.
The kiss became more intense, tongues dancing aggressively. You started grinding against him slowly, feeling his hardness through his pants. He broke the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, one hand gripping your hair while the other squeezed your ass, pulling you harder against him. âYour place or mine?â
âYours..â You said as you leaned wanting to continue the kiss, yet he stopped the kiss as he pulled you up and guided you towards his car. He quickly unlocked his car and pushed you gently inside, he held onto your jaw, kissing you torridly, then pulled away and closed your door.
He walked around the car and got in the driverâs seat, his heart pounding with anticipation. The drive to his place was a blur of speeding streets and red lights. His hands gripped the steering wheel and your thighs, dangerously close to your cunt, tightly, trying to focus on the road instead of the throbbing in his pants.
â
Your jacket hit the living room floor. His shirt was thrown somewhere between the kitchen counter and the hallway. Your bra was tossed near the stairs while his belt buckle echoed loudly. Your pants were kicked off near his bedroom door. His boxers hit the floor just as you slammed him against the wall for another deep kiss.
You pushed him backwards onto the bed, naked except for your underwear. His hard cock stood up proudly, leaking pre-cum. Instead of straddling him immediately like he expected, you climbed on top of him slowly, grinding your covered pussy against his cock teasingly. âY/N.. stop torturing me.â
He went feral as you positioned yourself on the bed with your hands above your head, giving him full access and a clear view of your body. âGood idea.. how about torture me instead,â you smirked.
âIâm going to torture you so good,â he muttered as he ripped your underwear completely off while kissing you. Before you could even move, he was positioning you in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, making you sit on his lap with your legs spread wide.
You could see your entire body reflected in the mirror â your spread legs, his muscular arms wrapped around your thighs keeping them open. Your breasts were beautifully free as he kneaded them slowly from behind. You watched yourself being used in this position. âLook at yourself,â he whispered. That made you shiver.
âGod, I love this view,â he whispered against your neck, making you arch your back slightly to press your ass against his cock. âYou see how wet you are? How your pussy is just dripping?â He pulled your hips back slightly so your reflection showed your wet slit clearly.
âAnd your perfect tits..â He squeezed them harder, leaving red marks. âI could fuck you like this all night, watching you watch yourself get destroyed.â His hands slid down to your inner thighs, spreading you wider, you shut your eyes and exhaled a very shaky one.
He slapped your breast hard enough to leave a handprint, making you gasp and your eyes fly open instantly. âUh-oh.. eyes on the mirror, loveâ He kissed and bit your earlobe roughly. âWatch how wet you are and Iâm not even holding youâ
âYou know Iâm not going to touch your pretty little pussy until you beg,â he whispered, his hot breath fanning across your neck. He proceeds to rub himself against your back, teasing you with the head of his cock. âYou want me to touch you?â You nodded desperately. âThen cum.â
He chuckled darkly, his voice seductive. âYouâre shaking so bad, love.â He pinched your nipple, making you gasp and your body tremble even more.
âWonwoo.. pleaseâ You begged him. âImagine what it would feel like inside you.. but no, love. Youâre gonna cum from my words alone.â He rubbed against your back again, his voice like a drug, making you whimper. âMhmm- ughh.. ah Wonwoo-â
âYouâre so close, I can tell,â he murmured, his hands slowly sliding up your body from your nipples, over your collarbone, until his fingers wrapped gently around your neck. He applied the slightest pressure, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel owned. âGo on, princess. Cum then Iâll fuck you senselessly,â he whispered.
His breath on your neck, sucking on it, at the same time watching your back arch, your hips tilt back instinctively looking for friction, your fold lips swelling and getting wetter by the second without being touched. âI can see your clit throbbing, Y/N.â
âThen.. d-do something about it..â âShhh.. moan for me... arch that beautiful back... your cunt is twitching so fucking adorably, youâre making me want to put it inside alreadyâ His grip on your neck tightened slightly as he watched you fall apart from his words alone.
You let out a desperate whine, your hips moving on their own now, searching for something to grind against. He leaned in closer, his tongue flicking out to lick the inside of your ear, making you shiver even more intensely. âSuch a good girl for me,â he whispered.
Fucking voice of yours.
Your body snapped tight as if electrocuted. You threw your head back with a silent cry. Your cunt twitched hard, releasing wetness down your thighs without anything inside you. Your back arched sharply, breasts pushing out, neck exposed as you rode out your unexpected orgasm from just his voice and minimal touch. âJesus..!â
âUghh- ahh fuck.. mhmm-hmmâ He chuckled as he watched your reflection in the mirror, his eyes intense and hungry. Your moans echoed through the room, desperate and needy sounds that only turned him on more. He kept his hand gently wrapped around your neck even after your orgasm subsided.
âMy turn,â he groaned, pushing you down onto your knees without warning. He spread your legs wide apart with his knees, using his cock to spread your cum-coated fold lips open. Without hesitation, he pushed inside you hard and deep. When did he even put on the condom?? âFuck,â he groaned loudly, feeling your warmth inside that almost made him feral.
He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock as he kneeled behind you. Your reflection in the mirror showed your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and your breasts bouncing with each thrust. âYouâre tight like how I imagined you to be,â he grunted, slapping your ass hard.
âSo fucking wet and sticky from your cum,â he groaned, watching his dick disappear inside your slit in the mirror. âAnd itâs gripping me so fucking tightly.â He reached around to press your clit, making you whine and push back onto his dick harder.
Youâre long gone.You felt his cock stretching you open again after cumming so hard from just his words earlier. Each slap on your clit sent electric shocks through your sensitive body, making your walls flutter around him even more tightly. You watched helplessly in the mirror as he fucked you ruthlessly from behind.
Your breasts bounced heavily with each thrust, your hair messy and wild. You felt his balls on your slit with every deep push inside you. He was hitting that spot deep within you that made stars explode behind your eyes. You moaned loudly without inhibition, pushing back eagerly onto his cock.
Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of your hair roughly and pulled your head back, forcing you to arch your back and lean onto him. His other hand reached around to squeeze your throat gently as he started fucking you even harder and faster. The mirror reflected your desperate face, mouth open in a scream of pleasure and pain.
âWonwoo..â you moaned, eyes shut. âThatâs right.. moan the name of the guy inside you right now.â He said, not letting his eyes leave the mirror even for just a second.
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â he whispered on your ear, his fingers tightening around your neck as his hips snapped forward, burying his wrapped dick deep inside your folds, which tightened as well along with his orgasm. You felt his hot cum shooting inside the condom. I wonder what it feels like without the condom..
He let out a few more hard thrusts, making sure both of your orgasms are satisfied. Pull out, throw the condom, and put on a new one, your eyes solely on the mirror, watching his movements from behind.
Then, suddenly, lifted you up in his arms. Without a word, he pinned you against the mirror, your leg wrapping around his arm and the other one on his shoulders instinctively. âFucking hell- Wonwoo! Didnât even wa-wait..â He started pounding into you with brutal force. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room along with your moans and his heavy breathing.
His cock was rock hard again inside you, hitting that spot deep inside that made your vision blur. Now itâs not just him who has a blurry vision. He leaned in, crushing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss.
His tongue invaded your mouth, mimicking the movements of his dick as he continued to make love with you. You could taste the saltiness of his sweat and the faint hint of tobacco on his lips.
You were overstimulated beyond belief, your body shaking and twitching with every thrust. Your cunt was so sensitive from the multiple orgasms that even the slightest touch made you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. His kiss was suffocating, his tongue overwhelming your mouth.
Your nipples were hard and aching, rubbing against his chest with every rough thrust. You felt your cunt clenching around him uncontrollably, milking his cock for more cum. Your entire body was on fire, every nerve ending sparking with intense pleasure.
He pulled back from the kiss to watch you with heavy-lidded eyes, his gaze flicking up to the mirror behind you. The glass shook and rattled with each thrust, reflecting your contorted face and the way your body bounced against his. He grinned, seeing how thoroughly fucked out you looked.
âFucking look at yourself,â he growled lowly, his voice rough and commanding. âSee what a mess you are? Getting destroyed by my dick.â His hand reached up to your face, pushing his thumb to open your mouth. âYou like that?â You sucked on his thumb, making him smirk.
Your eyes rolled back, your body convulsing as you came suddenly on his cock. âShit-â your pussy clamping down so tightly he swore he thought his dickâs gonna be cut in half. He watched in the mirror as your entire body shook with pleasure. âCuming without saying, huh?â
âYou like my voice so much?!â He groaned, not slowing down his thrusts even as you spasmed around him. He adjusted his angle slightly, hitting that spot that made you scream even through your sensitivity. Heâs catching his high as well.
His hips are moving slower but more deep now. âStill squeezing my cock like youâve never cum before.â He bit your lip hard as he felt his orgasm building. âGonna fill this condom so fucking much..â
âAhh-!â He moaned loudly, screaming your name, burying his face in your neck as he started coming hard, his hips jerking forward as he pumped his cum into the condom. You could feel the warmth even through the rubber, his thick cum filling it to the brim again, like he hadnât just filled you minutes ago.
Morning light filtered through the curtains â pale gold, slow, almost shy. You stirred against the sheets, the faint scent of coffee and clean linen hanging in the air. The space beside you was warm.
Wonwoo lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, scrolling lazily through his phone. His hair was messy, eyes soft when he noticed you blink awake. âGoodmorning,â he murmured, voice lower than usual â rough with sleep. What the fuck.. heâs voice could be deeper????
You only hummed in reply, burying your face halfway into the pillow. The ache in your body made everything feel heavy but oddly peaceful. You shifted a little, noticing the fresh bottoms you had on, the faint scent of soap clinging to your skin. âDid you..?â you started.
He chuckled quietly. âYeah. You knocked out last night. I didnât want you waking up sticky, so I took care of it.â You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. âYou really didnât have to-â âI wanted to,â he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âYour glasses didnât fall last night..â You said, trying to prove a point. âOh is my glasses, one of your fantasies as well?â He teased that made you and him laugh.
Silence stretched for a moment â comfortable, slow. Then you reached across the bedside table for your phone. He watched you, eyebrow raised. âAlready checking your emails?â âNope.â You grinned sleepily, fingers already dialing.
He frowned. âAre you seriously calling someone right now?â
You pressed the speaker button and looked at him. The phone rang once before his phone, somewhere on the nightstand, began to buzz. Wonwooâs brow furrowed even more. âAre you calling me?â
You smirked as his screen lit up with your name. He picked up, lips curving. âWhat is this..?â
You smiled into the receiver, eyes still on him. âJust making sure I donât have to press one again for tech support.â He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned closer.
âGood,â you said softly. âBecause when I dial a number, I like it when itâs your voice that answers, not an automated machine.â Wonwoo chuckled, setting his phone down and brushing his thumb along your jaw. âThen I guess Iâll keep the line open for you.â
You met his gaze â lazy morning sunlight spilling over both of you â and smiled. âMhmm. Because I think I might need tech support again.â He laughed against your lips. âFor what?â
âFor whateverâs wrong with my heart,â you teased.
Wonwoo only kissed you in reply.
đ/đ â reblog with tags and feedbacks are so much appreciated, it motivates me a lot â€ïž See yâall in my next one (part 2 of ..shhh)
âwonwoo,â you say, not bothering to muffle your yawn. âlet's sleep?â
wonwoo's fingers don't stop stroking your arm, and while it gave you tingles the first few minutes he did it, you're ten seconds away from falling asleep right now.
âjust a few more pages,â he murmurs, voice warm and velvety. it only makes you sink further into his chest, eyes struggling to stay awake.
âyou said that two chapters ago!â
âjust one more, and i'm all yours.â he breaks away from the page he's reading to drop a quick kiss to your forehead.
âstop playing dirty,â you grumble, leaning up for another kiss. he obliges, pressing a kiss to your nose this time.
âyou're making it a little hard for me to focus, sweetheart.â
âgood. that's how it should be.â
wonwoo chuckles. âfine. come here,â he says, leaning down so he's eye level with you. before you can do anything, he presses a kiss to your lips. it's hard to remember anything at the moment when you're surrounded by his warmth and the subtle scent of cologne.
âis that enough to placate you for a while?â
you shake your head. âyou drive such unfair bargains, you know that?â
âonly when it comes to reading.â
you know how much wonwoo loves reading, and how much he's in his element with a book in his hand. but you can't get over how good he looksâstill warm from his shower, hair damp and messily combed with his fingers, and very much smelling like your bodywash. it drives you a little insane, so you settle for holding his free hand and tracing his fingers as you watch him read.
he flips a page. then two. then five. you close your eyes. when you open them, you're not sure you can keep track anymore.
you know wonwoo's not going to snap out of it. suddenly, you get an idea so silly, you wonder why it didn't occur to you before.
âbaby,â you say, nudging him.
no response.
you poke his side. âbabe.â
âhmm,â he says back, not looking at you.
ânonu. light of my life.â
it works. he turns to you, a smile on his face. âyes, sweetheart?â
âcome here?â
he leans down instantly.
you move your hands forward, as if trying to hold his face, but end up plucking his glasses off his face gently. he blinks owlishly at you, eyes no doubt adjusting to the sudden shift to 480p vision.
âwho's not playing fair now?â he asks, but you hear a note of amusement in his voice.
âi need you right now, more than you need that book,â you say, setting his glasses on the bedside table.
âoh?â he asks, setting his book asideâfinally. âtell me more.â
ânot like that, silly. just...want to sleep.â
âthen you have me,â he says, slipping under the covers, arms finding you and pulling you closer to him. âhowever you want.â
the first time you tell mingyu you love him, it's completely unexpected. for you both.
picture thisâyou're finally recovering from a fever that's troubled you for the past week, body tired, head feeling loopy, eyes begging for sleep every waking moment.
your boyfriend of just a few weeks, mingyu, dropped by your place the second he heard you were unwell.
he's been at your place for a few days now, somehow familiar with all the edges and corners of the apartment you call home. the extra mug you bought in case you broke your usual one? it's his now. the little space you had left in your cupboard after filling it with your products? it's home to mingyu's spare toothbrush.
everything that was once yours has slowly become his too, in the period of just a few days. and you have butterflies in your stomach about it.
moreso over how easily mingyu has managed to fit himself into your daily life. this six foot-two gentle giant of a human, with muscles that could probably lift your car, but would never harm a fly even if it scared him, is sitting on a chair by your bed, watching you have the soup he made for you.
you blink, still unused to the attention. âgyu, could you just...give me a few minutes? i'm trying to eat here.â
his moves from your eyes and lands on your blanketed legs instead. âsorry, i'm just...i'll leave the room if you want?â
you pat his arm. ânot needed. you're a really good cook, by the way.â
you know it. you know he knows it. everyone he's friends with knows it. and yet he blushes under your gaze, shy like you accidentally blurted out how handsome you thought he looked, back when you met him for the first time.
âit's just soup.â
âthat you made for me. it's better than just soup, gyu.â
as you finish off the last of your meal, you take in the sight of your room. mingyu's folded all your laundry, arranged your desk for you, and even kept out a hoodie in case you feel cold.
there's an unnamed feeling in your throat as you look at mingyu relaxing in your chair. he looks like he's always meant to have been here.
âgyuââ
âi wanted to knowââ
âyeah?â
âno, you first.â
âmingyu...â
âplease. what i'm about to say is very silly, so i don't mind you going first.â
before you lose your courage, you gather your words together. âi'm...kind of glad that my last date failed.â
mingyu blinks. âwhat?â
âbecause i managed to find someone i really love.â
saying it out loud feels like you've given up a part of your heart you can't take back. but you don't regret it, mainly because mingyu looks like he has stars in his eyes.
âsorry it took me a little while to say it back to you,â you say, setting the bowl back down on the bedside table, because mingyu looks like he's going to shoot out of his seat any moment. âbut i mean it.â
mingyu's gripping the armrests of your desk chair. âsay it again?â
âi love you.â
âagain?â
âi love you.â
âonce more?â
there's a stupid smile on your face nothing could ever dim. âi love you, kim mingyu.â
hours later, you wake up to the feeling of mingyu's warm arms wrapped around your body, head resting on his chest.
âgyu?â
âmm?â
âwhat did you want to say to me? you know, before i told you i loved you?â
âi...can't remember. but it doesn't matter. it was silly, anyway.â
âreally?â
âyeah. also, you love me. what's better than that?â
đWho: Jeon Wonwoo (Seventeen) x female reader
đWhat: Angst, dark themes (check warnings), fluff, supernatural, suggestive (18+). Strangers to friends to lovers. Immortal crypt spirit Wonwoo. Human reader.
đWord count: 25.3k
đWarnings: Readerâs family are toxic/manipulative. Human sacrifice (no physical harm/violence). Implied grooming for sacrifice since childhood. Spirits/ghosts. Loneliness/abandonment. Loss of time/disconnection from the outside world. Mentions of sex, including thoughts (no portrayals/smut). Yearning. Age gap. Mentions of death. Mentions of past battles and related deaths. Heartbreak/emotional pain. Minor, non-descriptive injury. Portrayed, non-descriptive death. Reader death (natural causes), but itâs still a happy ending!
đSummary:
Since the dawn of time, humans have sacrificed their brethren for the sake of the âgreater goodâ, and the reasons often differ from good health and protection to monetary wealth. But no matter the reason, humanity still believes in exchanging the life of a living, breathing being for the sake of granting a wish.Â
Unfortunately, your family still believes in human sacrifice, and as the only young adult of your bloodline, youâre next in line to be tossed aside for this long-standing tradition.Â
Doubly unfortunately, you donât know about it until itâs too late.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.
Masterlist
A/N- This story has been in the works for a while, but I stopped writing it because the timing felt off, and then I just got stuck and unmotivated. But the absolute sweetheart @mylovesstuffs has been so supportive and encouraging about this crypt spirit Wonwoo idea that Iâve finally managed to finish it! So, thank you, Celeste, for being the reason this story is finished, and for helping me with it at the last minute, I appreciate you endlessly đ„șđ
Ever since you were a child, youâve travelled to the family crypt once a year to pay your respects to your ancestors and thank the crypt spirit for protecting your bloodline for the past centuries.Â
Though, it seems as if you are the only adult in your family who doesnât believe that there is a spirit watching over your family. When you were a child, you believed in it the way all children believe in whatever their parents and trusted adults shove down their throats. But you grew up and came to question that which you canât see and have no proof of.Â
When you had said as much to your parents as a teen, they were beyond offended and went on a long spiel about the good fortune your family has, the health in all of your bodies, and the love you share. You have doubts against all of those points, but it was then that you realised that youâre alone in your disbelief of the spirit of the crypt and have kept your thoughts to yourself ever since.
As soon as you were old enough with sufficient funds in your bank account from tirelessly working, not some gracious blessing by the crypt spirit, you left the family home and lessened your contact with your family. You knew that your views are far too different to truly be at peace in one anotherâs presence any longer.
Still, you truly do love your family, despite their misguided beliefs. So, you attend family gatherings, send birthday and holiday well wishes, and, reluctantly, join them for the annual trip to the family crypt. To pay respects to long dead relatives you can never remember the names of and to thank the spirit you donât even believe in.Â
Youâve been taught all about crypt spirits since you were little. Their whole deal is looking after the remains of a particular bloodline from the safety of the crypt assigned to them. How theyâre assigned exactly, nobody has ever been able to tell you as much. Which had probably been the start of your suspicious doubts about this whole crypt spirit business. Regardless, you know that they apparently endure an eternal existence in one building, surrounded by caskets of remains, and the souls of those too stubborn to let go of this world.Â
Honestly, it sounds like a sad life, or un-life as it may be. When you still believed in them, you always made sure to make something extra special for your familyâs crypt spirit to leave on the yearly excursion in hopes of cheering them up.Â
However, itâs been well over a decade since you stopped believing.Â
Today, as you follow your parents into the crypt with your aunt and her family behind you, your hands only hold an old, wooden box.Â
You have no idea what is in the box. Your mother had shoved it into your hands upon leaving your parentsâ house half an hour ago and then batted your curious hands away when you tried to open the latch to peer inside. Apparently, itâs a very special gift for the crypt spirit that your family must leave every fifty years. Itâs the first youâve heard of it. Then again, youâre only half that age, so youâre not surprised itâs new to you and simply accept it.Â
It isnât until all of the gifts and offerings are placed down in the centre of the stone table in the middle of the main crypt chamber, and you realise that thereâs no space left for the box still in your hands, that you turn to your mother on your right to question her.
âWhere is this supposed to go?â you wonder, half certain that your uncle has taken up the space the box belongs due to his excessive gifts this year. Which, you are pretty sure, are supposed to sweeten the spirit into blessing his new business. The third this year, but heâs positive he wonât get scammed again. But he will because heâs a fucking idiot.
âIâll show you after the thanks,â your mother responds quietly, before patting your hand on top of the box with a little smile sent your way. Something odd flashes in her eyes, something strangely sad and her touch lingers for a moment too long. But then sheâs facing forward to where her own mother stands in her usual space near the table to lead the annual thanks to the spirit.Â
You know thereâs no point in trying to talk any further, itâd earn you nasty looks and a slap over the back of your thigh in scold, so you copy everyone else and give the head of the family your full attention.Â
At this point in your life, you could recite the whole speech yourself if you desired to, though you truly do not want to do that. But it does mean that you donât have to give your full attention to repeat the mantras in all the right places without drawing attention to yourself for misspeaking, which means your gaze can wander without risk.Â
It's always struck you as odd, that every single year the crypt is perfectly clean when you all arrive. There are no cobwebs, no dust and dirt lingering at the edges of the room, no leaves blown in through gaps and cracks that you know must exist in a building as old as this. Your family crypt has been in this very spot for at least two centuries now and your family is proud of the structure being entirely original, so you know that time wouldâve claimed some of the stone. There has to be cracks in the slabs and stones. Yet, you see no dirt.
Which wouldnât be odd if you had ever heard of any of your family visiting the crypt outside of the annual trips. But as far as youâre aware, this one day a year is the only time anyone comes near to this old building.Â
For a family so obsessed with the thought of crypt spirits and respecting ancestors, none of them seem to care to give them attention past words and thoughts all other days of the year. Itâs just another reason you stopped believing a long time ago. Surely, if these spirits really exist, they wouldâve shown some anger to your family over the years for not keeping their home clean.Â
Then again, maybe thatâs why your family never seems to quite have the luck and good fortune they claim to. Always missing that one last number on the lottery. Always being in front of the person in line who wins a yearâs worth of coupons in restaurants. Always catching the edge of clothing on sharp corners they shouldâve missed and ruining fancy garments. Things you notice but your family never seems to register.Â
It kind of drives you crazy that they ignore the obvious things in front of their own eyes yet believe in invisible beings with no proof. Youâre just glad that you donât have to deal with it that often. Itâs the little blessings that make all the more impactful differences, you find.
Even though your eyes are wandering around the main chamber, youâre not really focused on what youâre looking at. Youâve seen it all before and nothing ever changes. Even your grandmother still wears the same elegant, purple velvet dress she has been wearing since you were little. You could probably perfectly replicate the scene with pencil and paper if you werenât such a terrible artist.Â
Yet suddenly, just after youâve passed your uninterested gaze over the gate at the side of the chamber, the gate you know leads down into the catacombs and hasnât been unlocked since your great uncle passed away before you were born, your mind registers the face peering back at you.Â
Immediately, your eyes dart back to the gate. But even as you flicker your intense focus over it, peering carefully into the darkness beyond and paying extra special attention to where your mind had told you a face peered around the corner of the wall, you see nothing.Â
In over two decades of coming to the crypt, you have never seen anything present other than your family, no hints of their beliefs having even the slightest hint of merit. Yet nowâŠ
You must just be tired.Â
Youâre mentally exhausted from work and spending the previous few hours with your parents while your mother reminded you of all the family held true about the spirits of the crypts. All things you know well enough and had tried to tell her as much, but she insisted that you needed to hear it once more before the ritual started. In the end, you had relented and let her drone on and quiz you.Â
Over the past year, sheâs tried extra hard to bring you back home, and to spend more time together. But you can only handle so much of her growing insistence that you need to embrace the spirit that resides over your family crypt. Youâve learned to just let her get it over with, lest you want to turn a ten-minute update phone call into an hour-long lecture when you have much better things to do.
Deciding that it mustâve just been your mind playing tricks on you, you do your best to push the image of those barely visible features out of your mind and focus on your grandmother instead.Â
Once the final thanks has been said a handful of minutes later, all at once, in eerie synchronisation, your entire family turns to look at you. Even the children.Â
Suddenly, you think youâre missing something very important.Â
âWhat?â you mutter uneasily and try to step back instinctively. Yet your mother puts her hand on your back and urges you forward with a firmer hand than sheâs ever used on you. âWhatâs going on? Ma?âÂ
âItâs time for the offering,â she answers while leading you over to the gate.Â
âThe box?â you ask, glancing at it, then over your shoulder to your family. You spot the back of your father as he rapidly leaves the crypt while everyone else continues to stare at you in a rather unnerving manner.Â
âYes, sweetheart, the box,â your mother confirms and taps your back, prompting you to turn back around and realise that the gate is now open, yet you hadnât heard a single thing. There wasnât a creak of metal, no clack of a key in the lock despite the fact you can see it in the lock right now. There shouldâve been a noise, even a new gate would make noise.Â
Are you really that tired to have not heard?
âDown there?â you gawp in disbelief while motioning to the stairs. You canât see down them without stepping forward onto the landing at the top due to the fact the stairs go down to the right, but you know itâs dark, like really fucking dark.Â
âYes, this is a very special offering, sweetheart. Itâs a great honour to be chosen.âÂ
âThen Iâm sure someone else will love to do it!â you chirp and try to hand the box over, but your mother steps back. âI donât even believe in all this! Make someone who believes in this shit deliver the old, creepy box down the old, creepy stairs!âÂ
âThe reason you donât believe is the reason you should be the one to do it,â your grandmother speaks up as she shuffles closer. âI watched my brother take his own box down those steps fifty years ago tonight, and now, it is your turn.â
âYour brother?â you question. âThe one who died fifty years ago? Is this how he died? He fell down the stairs and broke his neck?â
âWe should just push her,â the asshole teen boy of your oldest uncle declares, making you glare at him; though you feel smug when your uncle smacks the back of his sonâs head and hisses at him not to be disrespectful. You knew you liked that uncle for a reason. Though, the guilt in his eyes when he looks at you makes you question his title of favourite uncle as your heart twists uneasily.Â
âCome, sweetheart. Here, you wonât go blindly,â your mother encourages as she offers you a wind-up torch that she procures from her little cross body bag. The torch is practically the same size as the bag; it must be all it contains and something about that feels very strange to you. âAt the bottom of the stairs, keep walking to the end of the hall then turn right. You will enter the main chamber where the family crest is carved into the floor; place the box in the centre.â
âThis really seems like something someone else should do,â you try to refuse, yet your mother places the torch on top of the box then moves even further away than she previously stood.Â
âIt has to be you, my little one.â She hasnât called you that in an awfully long time and certainly not in such a tender voice.Â
It doesnât feel right. None of this feels right.Â
âI-I come right back, right? Itâll just be a few minutes,â you reason and rearrange the box into your left arm so that you can pluck the torch off of the top with a shaky grip.Â
âYouâll be okay, I promise,â your mother says, yet her voice wavers and you just know that sheâs lying.Â
âMaâŠâ you whisper.
âGo,â she replies just as quietly, though it does nothing to hide the tremble in her tone.Â
You want to argue, every instinct in you is telling you to drop the box and run out of there, to get as far away as possible. Yet there is another part of you, something in you that you canât name, nor have you experienced before, that is telling you that you need to do this. Even if you donât truly know what this is yet. But youâll know soon, youâre certain of that.
âI love you,â she says as you take your first step onto the landing at the top of the stairs.Â
You pause and look at her, see the tears in her eyes. âDo you?â you canât help but wonder, because with everything in you, you know that whatever this is that youâre being forced into, it canât be something that someone who truly loves you is capable of.Â
âWith my whole heart,â she insists and steps closer naturally.Â
âNo, youâve always loved this more,â you argue softly before turning away to press the button on the torch and shine the beam down into the darkness. Before your mother can formulate a response through her pained gasp, you descend the steps.Â
Despite it all, despite the fear in your veins and the heart breaking in your chest, you canât help but notice how odd it all is as you walk further underground and along the stone hall, until the candlelight from the crypt chamber no longer reaches your back.Â
Itâs cooler down here, of course it is, but itâs not the damp cold you expected, nor is it cold enough to make you wish you had worn a cardigan or jacket over the elbow length sleeves of your dress. Thereâs the expected earthiness of being underground, even with the stone in between the dirt and yourself, but itâs not unpleasant.Â
Yet, the biggest oddity of all, the oddity you havenât seen the full extent of yet due to your limited lighting, is that itâs as clean as the crypt above. Thereâs not a single speck of dirt or cobweb in the entire catacombs as far as you can see, and even further to where you canât see. At least, not yet.
Although itâs incredibly fucking creepy being underground in stone rooms you can barely see, you donât hesitate; having decided to just get this over and done with so that you can shortly go home and promptly cut all contact with your family from this day onwards. You move as quickly as you can without risking getting hurt in the low lighting; following the directions your mother gave you until you locate the crest carved into the large stone slab in the centre of the room. Carefully, you crouch down and place the box as perfectly in the middle as you can before turning and rushing out.
You donât look back, but if you had, you wouldâve seen the figure step onto the crest and pick up the box.
The toes of your heels catch on the steps a few times as you rush up them, but for the first time in your life, you manage to catch yourself every time and make it up to the landing. Where your heart promptly drops into your stomach.Â
The candles are still lighting up the chamber. The offerings are still neatly set up on the stone table. The fresh flowers and garlands are still decorating the space. Yet you are the only one left to witness it. Your family is gone, and worst of all, the gate is closed.
âNo, no, this isâŠno, they wouldnât take it this far,â you mutter out in desperate disbelief. You lift one trembling hand to grip the ornate metal of the gate with hope in your chest that this is just a joke and it will swing open when you pull it. It clunks as the latch catches in its frame, holding the gate securely in place. âNo. No, no, no.â You grab the gate with both hands as firmly as possible with the torch still in one hand and shake at the gate as hard as humanly feasible.
âStop that,â a sudden male voice makes you stop with a shriek and turn to peer down the stairs. The beam of your torch lights up a figure standing at the bottom and looking up at you with dark, stern eyes.Â
With another shriek, you launch the torch downwards without thought, trying to defend yourself, yet the torch clatters onto the floor and the man is nowhere to be seen.Â
You swear at your own idiocy as you watch the light flicker out before only darkness greets you down the stairs. Itâs frankly put, terrifying, and to make things even worse, your phone is in your fatherâs car so you canât even use the torch feature from that either.Â
Throughout your whole life, there has been a rule that no electronics, especially phones, are allowed in the crypt to not risk disruption during the ritual. Youâve never thought anything of it; it makes sense really. It would be disrespectful to have a phone start to ring and ruin the thanks. Yet now, you wish you hadnât accepted that rule so easily. Accepted any of the rules and traditions so easily.
Thereâs a part of you that tells you not to turn away from the stairs, not now that youâve seen that face much more clearly: the sharp jaw and short, dark hair. He looked so real, sounded so real; you canât accept that it was just your imagination again. But you need to try and find a way out and itâs certainly not down those steps.
So, you take an unsteady inhale to gather your nerve and turn back to the gate to peer through in hopes of there being something within reach that you can use to break the lock and free yourself. You donât dare rattle the gate again.
You look, and look, and look, and yet, you find nothing.
The candles lighting up the crypt are the same brand and style as your family has been using for some years now, ones you even buy yourself purely because theyâre easily available in most stores, so you know that each candle burns for four hours.Â
The last candle on the table flickers as you stare at it forlornly before going out, leaving only smoke and darkness behind.Â
For three hours, youâve been sitting on the stone landing, leaning against the gate, and hoping that some kind of miracle will occur and free you. Someone has to clean up all the food and burned-out candles, there has to be some kind of groundskeeper who will be by and can free you. Someone will come by any second. Right?
Without the candles, you canât even begin to guess how much longer you sit there with your eyes closed so that you donât have to see the never-ending darkness enveloping you. It could be ten minutes; it could be an hour or more. You have no idea. But it gets too much to just sit in silence. You know it will drive you crazy, so you need to do something to try and keep your sanity for a little bit longer.Â
Even when you open your eyes, you canât see a thing and itâs utterly terrifying. If there is one thing that will make this a little easier, itâs light. You donât have much hope in you that the torch still works, you had heard it crack against the stone floor after all, but itâs your only option.
Carefully, you shuffle along the ground on your backside until your feet slip down onto the first step. Then, you slowly descend, feet tapping at each step until theyâre steady in place before moving further.Â
When your feet donât slide off anymore, you know youâre at the bottom of the stairs and stop for a moment to gather your nerves again. This is where you saw that man standing. You have no idea who he is, ghost or spirit. Or something else, something worse. You just hope with everything in you that he isnât evil and watching you ready to strike.Â
You were always told that the spirit of the cryptâs entire purpose is about protecting the bloodline, your bloodline, meaning it would logically go against his very purpose to hurt you. Which would be comforting if you had confirmation of the manâs reason for being here. But you donât, so there is still fear in your heart making every movement hesitant.
After timidly crawling around on your hands and knees and blindly patting the floor for long enough that your knees hurt from the hard slabs, you finally feel plastic under your hand and quickly grab the torch. When itâs in your hands, you lean back onto your knees to fiddle with it and wind up the crank.Â
Suddenly, now that youâre no longer facing downwards, you realise that there is the faintest glow coming from the room up ahead. It should feel ominous, you think, seeing the soft light at the edge of the archway into the room, but it doesnât. Itâs oddlyâŠwelcoming.Â
You remain in place for a moment or two, then get to your feet, wincing at the pain in your knees as you do. Once youâre standing at your full height and have the torch gripped in both hands in a strange method of self-soothing, you edge towards the room.
Part of you expects to see the man inside of the room, so it takes a silent little pep talk to yourself before you can make yourself peer around the arch into the room, only to find it empty. Oddly enough, the light isnât coming from in here but another hallway.Â
âOh, Iâm going to die,â you mutter to yourself as you force your feet forward to enter the room and approach the hallway. The light is brightest at the other end, yet still, there doesnât seem to be a light source there, just another hallway. âAt least Iâm already in the tombs,â you muse and tighten your hold on the torch before bravely walking forward.
You pass a few small tombs on your way down the hallway, none of which are lit but the light somehow reaches them enough that you can tell that theyâre all impeccably clean and empty of life. Well, if you can even call a spirit or ghost a life, that is. Youâre not sure what theyâre classed as exactly, especially crypt spirits, but you donât think itâs really all that important right now, if at all.
At the end of the hall, the light is brighter to the right, so you turn and follow it to the other end of the short hallway, then down another, and another, until you finally find the source.Â
You come across a large room, decorated beautifully with various materials. Silk draped artfully from the arched stone ceiling and wrapped around columns. Velvet cushions of varying colours sizes dotted comfortably around the space. Rich, dark wood carved into various pieces of furniture.Â
Everywhere you look, there is more to see and boggle your mind. It seems impossible to find all these beautiful items so deep underground. Especially when you know that your family doesnât bury the deceased with anything other than the clothes and jewellery on their body.
âWhat the fuck?â you whisper incredulously and step into the room to try and get a better look.Â
Now that youâre further in and the large shelving unit isnât blocking the view to your right, you can see another archway further down the wall, like the multiple on other walls, yet this one also has light coming from within. Curiously, you follow it.
âOkay, what the fuck?â you gawp as soon as youâre at the doorway and notice that this is, without a doubt, a kitchen.Â
Itâs perhaps only a third of the size of the room behind you; nevertheless, it still feels spacious and bright. Yet cosy, with a large, circular table taking up most of the space and surrounded by multiple chairs, outdated counters around the edge of the room, an old wood-burning stove against one wall, and even a sink with taps.Â
Thereâs steam coming from the pot on the stove and now that youâve seen it, you can suddenly smell something mouthwatering. Youâre not sure whatâs cooking, itâs never been your forte, but you know when something smells delicious.Â
Too hungry and intrigued to be cautious, you walk over and lean closer to get a better scent without lifting the lid. You may not know much about cooking, but your parents scolded you many times in your earlier life for removing lids and opening oven doors when they had been cooking; so, you know that you could run the risk of ruining whatever is bubbling away within the pot by removing the lid.Â
Deciding that standing here will just make you hungrier, you turn with every intention of returning to the main room, though the sudden presence in the archway makes you freeze in place.
Itâs the man, and heâs staring at you with those intense, dark eyes.Â
âH-hi?â you offer after swallowing thickly. âAre you the crypt spirit?âÂ
The man, or spirit may be more apt, doesnât respond for a moment, just stares at you intimidatingly before he nods, and his posture deflates a little as he sighs. âMy name is Jeon Wonwoo. I have been watching over your family for almost eight centuries now.â
âEight centuries? The crypt is that old?â you gawp in utter shock.
âNo. I was your ancestral guardian before I became your crypt spirit. I was the one who you all prayed to and asked to come to the living realm to guide your ancestorsâ souls to the afterlife. Now, however, I am stuck here, thanks to your ancestors building this place.âÂ
âOhâŠsorry?âÂ
He waves a dismissive hand. âYou were not the one to trap me and I have spoken to those ancestors since; I guided them after all. They did not know that building the crypt would force me to be tied to this world and have apologised profusely. I hold no resentment and have grown accustomed to my home.âÂ
âThey built this for you?â You motion vaguely around the kitchen and to the room behind him.
âNo, I once had the ability to do that myself; to manipulate the sacred space of the catacombs.âÂ
âBut you donât now?âÂ
âNo.â
âWhy not?â
âYou do not seem to be scared of me any longer,â he comments and moves further into the kitchen, so you step aside to let him access the stove when he motions to it. âI may not be able to manipulate the catacombs to such a degree any longer, but as far as you are aware, I could still hurt you.âÂ
âIâm going to die down here regardless of what you do or do not do to me, Jeon Wonwoo. Iâm the type of person to quickly accept the inevitable.â
âIs that why you remained on the stairs for four hours?âÂ
âIt was light.âÂ
âAnd then it was not.âÂ
âAnd then it was not,â you agree, yet have nothing more to say on the matter because heâs right. You hadnât accepted your situation then and still held onto hope. But now that youâve wandered the catacombs deep enough that you know you wonât easily find your way back, you know you wonât be able to leave this place.Â
âYou must be hungry, sit.âÂ
âHow did you get food down here?â you wonder as you do as told and move to the table to sit on one of the cushioned chairs, so that you can watch his broad frame move to fill the two bowls he plucks from one of the under-counter cupboards.
âI am not a ghost, I need sustenance as much as you, so the catacomb provides. As long as I am here, food will appear.â
âOh, so you are a living being,â you comment with a hum. Wonwoo glances at you curiously before stepping aside to open the bread bin. He pulls out the loaf from within and cuts off a few generous slices. âI was wondering what a spirit is classed as; if you are alive or ghost-like.â
âWhy would you give food offerings to a being that has no use for it?âÂ
âHumans are stupid.âÂ
The way Wonwoo laughs makes you perk up; itâs such a lovely sound and you suddenly want to know what he looks like when he laughs. You imagine his handsome face looks even prettier lit up.
âYou are a human,â he points out.Â
âI didnât say Iâm not stupid. I must be, Iâm here, arenât I?âÂ
âNo, you are perhaps the only one in your family who is not stupid,â he corrects as he turns and carries a plate of sliced bread in one hand and two spoons in the other.Â
He places the plate on the table then offers you one spoon before placing the other in front of a chair a few away from your own, further around the table so you will be able to see one another as you eat without being as far away as possible, while putting himself directly opposite you.Â
âIâm the only one who didnât believe in you,â you point out as he returns to the counter to grab the two bowls.Â
âIt is not stupid to not believe in things you have no proof for.âÂ
âStrange thing for a spirit to say.â
âPerhaps,â he agrees, placing both bowls down then moving to fill two glasses with water while you peer into your bowl at what looks like some kind of stew or soup. All you know is that itâs a warm orange-red, has lumps of what looks like vegetables, and smells delicious. âWhat that also means,â Wonwoo starts as he returns, putting the glasses down beside your bowls before finally sitting. âIs that you do not believe in the ridiculous human sacrifice nonsense.âÂ
âHuman sacrifice?â you repeat dumbly and lift your head to look at him instead of staring hungrily at the meal before you. âThey sent me down here for you to kill?!â
âNo, no.â He shakes his head slightly. âNot at all. Even if I wanted to kill you, I could not; it goes against my very purpose. I think your family must know at least that much.â
His assurance does calm your sudden disbelieving anger. Something about Wonwoo feels so genuine that you donât doubt him even the slightest bit. He could probably tell you that the world is a giant computer simulation, and your entire life is nothing more than lines of code you could never comprehend, and youâd just nod and accept it. Though the way his gaze keeps flickering distrustfully to the broken torch on the table makes you wonder if he knows anything about modern technology. Probably not.
âFor some bizarre reason, a few decades after building this crypt, your ancestors decided that I require a human for company, so they started a tradition of sending an adult down into the catacombs every fifty years to live the rest of their days with me.âÂ
âYou donât want the company?â
âWhy would I want the company of humans who will wither away before my very eyes? I have had to burn seven of your ancestors so far. You will be my eighth when your own time comes.â
âWhen will that be?âÂ
âI am not psychic,â he deadpans and picks up his spoon, then uses it to motion vaguely at your bowl before dipping it into his own. âEat; before it gets cold.âÂ
âOh, right, thank you,â you respond gratefully and do as told, making a soft, appreciative noise when you have your first spoonful. âThis is delicious.â
âThank you, but were you never taught to not talk with your mouth full?â
Youâre already too busy spooning food into your mouth to respond.
After dinner, you help Wonwoo clean up; learning where everything goes, and how he likes to clean. And unintentionally staring in awe at the taps long enough that he questions you.
âAre these no longer in use on the surface?â he wonders, gently touching the cold tap with the slightest hint of a pout on his lips. âThese are a wonder in of their own. I cannot imagine how you can live without them, and I refuse to change them. I do not have the power any longer to do it even if you ask.â
âNo, itâs not that, we still use taps just like these, but Iâm just wondering how the fuck you have working plumbing down here.âÂ
âYour great uncle showed them to me in his mind after a few decades with me; he was beyond fed up with the pump. When I saw this marvel, I copied them to the best of my ability with the limited knowledge he had. I do not know any more than the taps; that they are metal, and one produces hot water and the other cold. I know nothing of plumbing.â
âWait, are you telling me that there arenât pipes bringing the water? It just appears?â
âI can only replicate what I can see.â
âHoly shit, thatâs insane.â He frowns at you. âThatâs a compliment,â you insist, assuming his expression to be offence and proven correct when the furrow in his brow smooths out. âSo, you can make anything?â
âNo, not now. My powers are too weak, too limited these days.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âYour family stopped loving me.âÂ
âWhat?â You look at him puzzled and ignore the hint of pain on his features as he turns and heads out of the kitchen. Of course, you follow. âMy family practically worships you.â
âThat is not love. That is for their own gain; always praying for wealth or beauty, nothing meaningful.âÂ
âThey believe you bless us with good health.â
âIâŠI do what I can,â he admits with a forlorn sigh and stops at the shelf to take a frame down to show to you.Â
You look at it and are surprised to recognise the ugly ice-lolly stick frame. Itâs stained partially red from all of the colourings in the frozen treats you had made yourself ill to consume and make this very frame. The drawing within looks the same as the day eight-year-old you drew it; a vague humanoid shape holding hands with a little girl under the sun with creepily big smiles on the faces. But theyâre happy. Theyâre supposed to be happy together.
âYour family loved me once, but it faded long before your own did. I used the last of my power to retrieve this from where it had been in the crypt chamber for five years. The last time I was loved by your family.âÂ
âI stopped believing in you,â you admit. âAnd because of that, you lost your power?â You frown guiltily at him and hand the frame back, so he puts it back in place with nothing but love in the way he handles the almost two-decade old frame stuck together with PVA glue and a childâs love.
âNot entirely. I still have some, otherwise I would fade away. As long as your family continues to visit annually and pray to me, I will exist and have some power. But it is the love of the family we protect and guide that gives us true power. I lost that, for a long time. But when you were a child, you loved me and that gave me the power to see into your great uncleâs mind and recreate the kitchen and bathroom. I am truly grateful to you for loving me for long enough to allow me to learn of a modern toilet and bring one into my home.â That makes you laugh and now, as he sees you laugh, you are blessed with Wonwooâs smile for the first time.Â
You were right, he truly is beautiful when he smiles.
Time passes differently underground. Of course, you have no way to see outside, to watch the sun and moon chase one another across the sky, so you canât tell how the day progresses. Wonwoo, however, knows. He still has enough magic in his body to just know these things. He makes sure to feed you three meals a day and send you to bed at what you assume must be a reasonable time.
It had been very strange to get used to the bedroom that he had presented for you to live in for the rest of your days. He made a point of showing you the springy mattress on the metal bedframe, both of which creak with every movement, but he had looked so proud that he has a modern bed for you that you havenât complained once in the past weeks of living together, even if your back constantly hurts.
So, you take up spending time in the main room; that large, beautiful room where Wonwoo is often found sprawled over cushions reading yet another book. At first, you hadnât been that interested in the books, but with little else to do, you pick books off of the shelves to work your way through.
The days donât seem to drag as much when you can look up and see Wonwoo absorbed in a book across the room. Just knowing that youâre not alone helps. Even if some days you barely say a few sentences to each other, itâs still comforting to occupy the space together.
Still, some days, you canât settle on a book, and you donât want to bug Wonwoo to entertain you, so you retreat to your uncomfortable room to play those same records and have staring contents with posters that reign supreme in the sport.Â
âYou can remove them, you know,â Wonwooâs voice pulls you away from where youâre glaring at the biggest poster of David Bowie; you think itâs from one of his albums. Itâs a famous photo of the man with a colourful lightning bolt painted over his eye, but youâve never been a fan of the man. Although you can now sing along to some of his songs, you still wouldnât say youâre a fan. If anything, you think you might even dislike him and his music now due to the forced proximity. Still, you donât have any other music to play, so you reluctantly listen to the vinyl record with his name on it and mumble the words back at him to pass the time.
âWhat?â you ask, rolling your head on the rug under you to look at him in the doorway.Â
âThose posters, they were your uncles, I donât care for them. You can remove them. This room is yours to do with as you want; if you do not like the posters, you can remove them instead of glaring at them all the time.â
âI donât glare all the time.â
âEvery time I pass your room, you are glaring.â
âWhy do you pass my room?â You give him a puzzled look.Â
âTo get to the library.â He lifts the book in his hand; the one he had been reading earlier when you gave up reading your own book and retreated to your room.
âThereâs a library?!â you sputter and abruptly sit up.Â
âOf course, where did you think I get my books from?â
âThe shelves in the main room, or your bedroom, not a fucking library!âÂ
He sighs. âWas cursing necessary?âÂ
âYes!â You jump up and turn the record player off before urging him to show you the way. âYou shouldâve told me about the library, Wonwoo!âÂ
âI assumed you wouldâve discovered it on your own,â he admits as he obligingly walks down the hall and motions to the room at the end to allow you in first.Â
You step in and gasp at the sight of the shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls, plus even more stacks of books on the floor around the room due to running out of shelf space.Â
âI have never told you that any room is off limits to you, just warned you not to venture out of our living area lest you get lost in the catacombs.â
âYou have never told me I can go wherever I want to either,â you reason as you run your fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf closest to you.Â
There doesnât seem to be a system in place, at least not that you can tell when there are multiple languages present and you only know your native tongue. You really canât tell what these books are about, nor if theyâre in some kind of alphabetical order.Â
âIâm like a vampire,â you add. âI need to be explicitly invited to a place to step inside.â
âWhatâs a vampire?â he queries, making your head snap around to look at him in surprise. There is the slightest purse to his lips, showing that heâs pressing them together.Â
âWonwoo!â you exclaim, when you realise that heâs trying not to break and laugh at his own joke, and then you realise why he would find this so funny. âYouâre literally carrying Dracula!â You point at the book in his hands, and he cracks, laughing and leaning over with the force of it. âHonestly, your sense of humour is so outdated.â
âI am almost nine hundred years old,â he reminds amidst his laughter and walks into the room to put the book on the shelf and start to look for another to catch his attention.
âYou look good for it,â you comment casually, unaware of the way Wonwoo immediately looks at you with widened eyes and a blush tickling his cheeks. Though, he quickly rushes to hide around the other side of the unit in front of him out of your sight until the pink leaves his skin.Â
The two of you peruse the shelves in a content quiet for a while until you pop up behind Wonwoo to ask him a question about the book in your hands. Your sudden appearance makes him shriek and panic, abruptly shoving the book in his hands onto the shelf. Though in his rush, he fails to make it secure, and the book falls down to the floor between the two of you.
For a few tense seconds, you both stare at it. Without warning, you dart down to reach for the book. Wonwoo shrieks again and rushes to grab it first, using a little of his power to pull the book across the stone to him before you can grab it.Â
âThatâs cheating!â you accuse as you straighten up.
âI donât know what you mean,â Wonwoo replies as he shoves the book under his shirt by the button open near his collar. You watch the book drag down the inside of his shirt and stop at the waistband of his trousers, where he always neatly tucks his shirts into.Â
âIf you think Iâm afraid of playing dirty, you really donât know me,â you point out while stepping closer to him. Wonwoo steps back with eyes wide and both hands over the book at his stomach. âAre you going to be a good boy and give me the book or am I going to have to take it from you, Jeon Wonwoo?â you question as his back hits the shelf and he yelps softly at the contact.Â
Itâs beyond amusing to you to see the ancient spirit being so skittish. Itâs the most entertainment youâve had in the past weeks, and you decide right here and now to make it a habit to play with Wonwoo like this.
âIâŠâ Wonwoo starts yet trails off when you step even closer until your left foot finds a place partially between his. His wide eyes dart down between your bodies then back up to meet your gaze.Â
You just about manage to catch sight of his suddenly very pink cheeks before he vanishes. Youâd yell out and call him a cheater again if something hadnât hit your foot when he vanished, drawing your attention down to where the book he had tried to hide is now half propped on your left foot.Â
âHuh,â you muse and reach down to pick it up curiously. The golden writing on the spine is in another language, so you almost give up on finding out what exactly Wonwoo had tried to hide from you and pretend he hadnât been intrigued by. Yet you still open the book and immediately, a grin lifts your face as you understand. âOh, Wonwoo, you horny fucker,â you snigger, noticing the illustration of a man and woman having sex on the first page you see. You turn the page and find that this must be some kind of smutty novel, or a guide on how to have sex, based on how the illustrations change as if walking the reader through the stages and movements.
You flick through the pages a little more then get bored and decide to put the book away and return to your own task. Wonwoo can collect his porn in peace later, and youâll only tease him minimally. Mostly because, based on the pictures, it seemed rather vanilla and Wonwoo had been pretty flustered for something so innocent, at least by your standards.
By the time you pick a book to take to the main room, Wonwoo hasnât returned to the library and has instead decided to read one of the books from the shelves in the main room, where you usually get your own reads from. At least, heâs pretending to read.Â
Even once you sit down and open your own book, in your periphery you can see him repeatedly looking over at you from over the top of his own book. Though you donât point it out and just giggle quietly to yourself before focusing on your story.
Months pass with Wonwoo. Over time, youâve explored your home and discovered that there are many things stored around; more records, even more books, various art supplies, and plenty of older games and activities. Each of which Wonwoo obligingly sits and patiently teaches you to play, regardless of how long it takes or how many times you get the rules wrong in your effort to learn.Â
During the months, the two of you get closer, which was bound to happen after living with someone and having only them for company, but you hadnât expected how quickly it would happen.Â
Clearly, Wonwoo hadnât expected it either, as one day, some months in, when he tries to use his power to playfully steal your favourite huge cushion away before you can reach it to sit on, the cushion moves a lot faster than expected and pelts him in the face.Â
âHoly shit!â you exclaim and crack up, almost falling over from laughing so hard. Especially when Wonwoo just gawps dumbly at the pillow covering half of his body where heâs now slouched against his own pillow pile.Â
âYou love me,â he blurts, instantly shutting you up.
âWhat the fuck, man?!â you sputter.
âYou think of me as your friend?â he asks in surprise.Â
âWell, yeah,â you confirm.Â
âAnd you love me.â
âWhoa, dude, I do not fall that easily, take it a step back. Youâre pretty and all, but down from your self-appointed pedestal, thanks.â
âYou think Iâm pretty?â he asks quietly.Â
You just nod silently, trying to wrap your head around this whole conversation. It feels rather surreal and youâre starting to wonder if he had hit his head when the cushion smacked into him. Can spirits get concussions?Â
âI think youâre beautiful,â he informs honestly.
âOh, uh, thank you.â You shuffle your weight from foot to foot awkwardly and look away shyly. âBut uhm, just because I think youâre pretty, it doesnât mean Iâm in love with you or anything.â
âI know.âÂ
âThen why did you say that?!â You look at him frustratedly confused.Â
âI said you love me, not that youâre in love with me. Do humans no longer platonically love their friends?â
âOoooh.â You understand as your eyes round out slightly. âI see. Yes, yes, we do. Sorry, people tend to mean romantic love, so my mind automatically went there. Yes, I do love you platonically, what has that got to do with anything?â
âI told you; when your family loves me, my powers come back.â
âWait, that still applies?â You rush over and yank the cushion off of him to drop onto at his side with wide, excited eyes. âEven though Iâm down here with you, loving you still affects you?â
âAs long as you are alive, your love for me will always affect me.âÂ
âThen I guess thereâs only one thing for it,â you decide and take his face into your hands, making his eyes blow wide and cheeks warm under your palms. âYouâre going to have to make me fall in love with you, Jeon Wonwoo.â
âWhat?!â he sputters and removes your hands from his face. âWhy would you even suggest such a thing?!â
âI imagine the more I love you, the more of your power returns, right?â He nods. âThen we can have so much fun! You can raid my mind and make so many things to improve our home!âÂ
âYou do not like our home?â He frowns, almost pouting offendedly. âI have worked hard to build this home. I love this home, why donât you?â
âI do, actually. Itâs beautiful and I feel more at home here than I ever have anywhere,â itâs only as you say those words that you realise the truth to them. âHuh, thatâs true.â
âDid you intend to lie?â He frowns further, more genuinely upset this time at the thought of you lying to him; something you havenât done so far, and you canât imagine a situation where you will feel it necessary to lie to the man either.Â
âNo, no, not at all,â you assure and wiggle your arms a little so that he removes his hold from your wrists. Though, you grab his hands before he can move them away to hold them in your own.Â
Itâs the first time youâve held hands, but the sight of Wonwooâs shy, diverted gaze and red tipped ears makes you internally promise to hold his hand at every available chance. Heâs so easy to fluster, itâs so endearingly cute.
âI just meant that I hadnât realised until I said it. Perhaps when I was little I felt at home with my parents, but then I grew up and realised how obsessive they are about all this. Even my dad follows it all despite not being part of the bloodline. But here, I feel safe, comfortable, happy. I feel like you accept me entirely and enjoy being by my side. Thatâs all Iâve ever wanted, all Iâve ever needed in a home, and now I have it, with you.âÂ
âOh.â He lets out a breath and slowly nods. âI canât recall my childhood, or much of my human life, but I think I may feel the same way. I canât remember ever being this happy and content in eight hundred years.â
âOkay, this is really sweet but Iâm very stuck on what sounds like you were a human once?â You gawk when he just nods. âWhat the fuck, Wonwoo?â You let go of his hands to hit his shoulder scoldingly.Â
âWhat?!â he exclaims and grabs your hands before you can hit him again.Â
âWhy did you never tell me?!â
âI wasnât aware it was something you care to know!â
âOf course it is! I want to know everything about you, idiot.â
âOhâŠI didnât realise. You never asked.â
âWell, I didnât know that you were human to ever ask about.â
âAll spirits are, at least guardian spirits. I donât really recall much of my life, only glimpses and vague memories, but I think I was spoiled, not a nice man, so I was punished upon death to live as guardian to one of the bloodlines I wronged.â
âYou were shitty to my ancestors so now you have to watch over their shitty descendants; that sucks.â
âSometimes. I must admit, many of your family have been terrible people,â he agrees and looks at your hands that are once again in his own. Bravely, he adjusts his hold until your palms can comfortably press together. âBut knowing you makes it worth it.â As Wonwoo lifts his head to look at you with a gaze so earnest, your heart skips a beat.Â
You think heâll make it so easy to fall for him.
A whole year passes with Wonwoo growing stronger and stronger as your love for him grows bigger and brighter with every smile, every day spent simply existing together.Â
You never thought you could fall in love so peacefully, so entirely without any fear or attempt to stop it. But it feels right, like perhaps you were always meant to love Jeon Wonwoo.
Sometimes, you do wonder if he knows the extent of your love. Obviously, he knows that itâs pretty extensive at this point; he can feel it and regularly shows off his growing powers by surprising you with new items in your home. Items he saw in your uncleâs mind yet never had the power before to create, including a hot tub that he refuses to go near.Â
Though, he also refuses to go into your own mind to recreate anything youâve seen, no matter how much you pout at him. You really want a new bed, but he has never given you the chance to even say that and instead has the habit of vanishing whenever he thinks youâre going to ask him to delve into your mind, without explaining why he wonât even take a peek for one item.Â
Based on how Wonwooâs power and general aura has grown exponentially in the past year, he must know that your love passed platonic some time ago. But he never mentions it, never shows any sign of being aware. At this point, you canât tell if itâs because he genuinely hasnât put those pieces together in his innocence, or if heâs taken up being skilled at tricking you just to prevent making things awkward and bringing your unreciprocated feelings to light.Â
If heâs not going to mention it, you sure as hell arenât either. You may not be ashamed of your love or care that he doesnât return it, but you certainly donât want to face rejection. You may be comfortable in your own skin, but even you would be embarrassed by the man telling you that he doesnât return your love.Â
It feels unnecessary at this point, anyway. Youâre happy with the way things are, happier than you have been in a long time.Â
At least, normally you are.
Of course, with it being a year to the day that your family locked you up in the catacombs with their only offers of sustenance being on the other side of the locked gate, it means itâs time for the annual family trip to the crypt.Â
Although you closed your heart off to your family when the last light of the candle burned away that day, today, your heart aches.
The gentle call of your name makes you look away from the mocking eyes of David Bowie on your wall and to Wonwoo in the entranceway. He has a box in his hands that you havenât seen in a year. âI think perhaps itâs time to give you this.â
âThe offering?â you mutter confusedly as you sit up and cross your legs, so Wonwoo walks over and places the box on the bed in front of you carefully.
âYou were the offering; this was always for you.â
âFor me? Then why did you hide it from me?â
âIt wasnât hidden. Itâs been in my room waiting for you, but you never go in there.â
âIâm a vampire,â you remind, and he chuckles. âIf it was mine, you shouldâve put it in here.â
âI almost did at first, but I thought you were doing well without it. Though today, you miss your family knowing they will be above us soon, so this might help. Or not. I havenât looked inside but I know these boxes are always sent with the sacrifice to offer comfort to them as they pass their years stuck with me underground.â
âOh.â You reach for the box and flick the latch.Â
As soon as you start to open the lid, Wonwoo chooses to vanish instead of walking away like he usually does, unless to escape your teasing or line of questioning. Youâre not sure why exactly he left like that, maybe nothing more than just because he wanted to give you privacy and panicked that you were opening the box, or maybe something else. Though the first option seems the most likely for your oddly skittish friend.
Choosing to ignore his behaviour, like you often do, you focus on opening the small chest. Although there is an envelope on the top with your name written on the front in your motherâs handwriting, your attention is drawn to the worn face of the ragdoll underneath. You havenât seen the doll in such a long time.Â
It was your favourite toy as a child; you carried it with you everywhere and couldnât sleep without it, and would cry for hours if you ever misplaced it. Thinking about it now, you canât recall when you outgrew the toy exactly, but you know that when you found it in a box of old toys when you were an angsty teen, you had tossed it in the box for donation and hadnât thought about it since. Now, as you stroke your fingers over the worn-soft face of the doll, youâre silently glad that your parents didnât listen to you and saved your childhood comfort.
Under the doll are some family photos; one for every annual trip to the crypt, showing the progression of your familyâs growth and age, with you right there in the centre between your grandmother and mother. Until now, youâve never noticed that you were always placed in the centre despite almost everyone else changing positions around you. Only your grandmother and mother remained in place at your sides and all of your blood relatives just fit wherever suited them at the time.Â
Until now, you hadnât considered once in the past year that maybe it hadnât been a spontaneous decision to sacrifice you out of all of the adults of your bloodline. Yet now that youâre thinking about it, it makes sense.Â
You always thought that itâs just because your mother is the closest to your grandmother as her eldest that you were raised with the most fanatical upbringing. Your mother had always drilled the importance of the yearly visit and ritual into you at every available opportunity. And ever since you were old enough, she would quiz you and give you homework to write your own essay of thanks to the crypt spirit on a weekly basis. None of your motherâs siblings have raised their children in the same way, even if they all believe in the spirit too. You just thought she was intensely devout.
But maybe itâs always been much worse than that. Maybe, she has been raising you for the sole purpose of sacrificing you one day.
Now that youâre thinking about that possibility, you can so vividly remember the time your mother had admitted to you that she never wanted children, and had never been a maternal woman like her sisters and friends. When you asked why she had you if she didnât want children, she smiled, cupped your too young cheek, and simply said âfor the love of familyâ. You had assumed she meant the family she made with your father, the three of you, but now, now youâre wondering if she had always meant the bloodline. Now youâre wondering if the only reason she birthed you was to give you away to a spirit one day in the misguided belief it will benefit the bloodline.
With that thought in mind, you pack everything back into the box and take it to find Wonwoo. Heâs not in the main room so you assume heâs cleaning the catacombs, and you donât want to go wandering around the halls looking for him and risk getting lost. You know he would find you once he realises that youâre not at home, but that could take a while; he has a lot of halls and tombs to clean.
Although the hot tub itself is wonderful and Wonwoo had managed to create it with multiple settings so that you can adjust it to how youâd prefer, there is something important he failed to factor in when creating the hot tub; suitable clothing for you to wear in it.Â
When Wonwoo had seen the hot tub in your uncleâs memories, he hadnât seen anyone but men using it, wearing swimming trunks Wonwoo had assumed were simply shorts. So, in his innocence, he had assumed that you can wear your own shorts and t-shirt in the hot tub. It hadnât occurred to him that you would need something else, and he had vanished when you tried to explain to him what a bikini is.Â
As you strip down to bare skin and clamber into the heated, gently bubbling water, you muse if the reason Wonwoo refuses to enter this room, other than his distrust for modern technology, is that he knows the hot tub implies you will be naked and that flusters him greatly. Even if he has no issue with going near the bathtub or shower, at least you assume so as heâs always clean, but maybe thatâs just part of his spirit powers.
Sometimes, you do ponder what exactly Wonwooâs powers are. You know that he can manipulate your home within the catacombs when heâs strong enough. And he can always repair and clean all of the catacombs and crypt; hence why itâs always clean despite your family only visiting once a year.Â
You also know that Wonwoo cannot enter the crypt himself. The gate is imbued with some kind of celestial power that keeps him trapped in the catacombs. He canât reveal himself to the bloodline unless guiding them, so he canât even leave the catacombs when they open the gate for the sacrifice to descend the stairs.Â
Whenever he cleans the crypt, he has to stand on the other side of the gate and summon a crypt cleaner to clean the sections that he canât see himself to send his magic to. It used to take a lot out of him, but now that heâs full of your love, he finds the task much easier and only looks a little run down after cleaning the crypt chambers.
But other than those things, you donât know if Wonwooâs powers extend further. Youâve never explicitly discussed how he watches over your family, how he âdoes what he canâ in regard to giving your family good health, or how he guides the deceased to the afterlife. At least you know that one day, youâll have the answer for the latter when he has to guide you. You just hope you have plenty of time with the man before then.
The thing about Wonwooâs creating the hot tub, other than the no swimwear issue, is that despite it logically being water focused; therefore, all the normal water rules apply, Wonwoo had forgotten that aspect when creating the hot tub. Which means that this water doesnât have the habit normal water does of making your skin wrinkle.Â
Many days youâve spent enough time relaxing in the water with your mind wandering down various paths without realising how long youâve been inside, until Wonwoo knocks the door timidly and tells you that itâs time to eat or go to bed.
Today is no different. You know youâve been in the water for quite some time, and your stomach is starting to tell you itâs getting close to lunch time, when thereâs an almost too-quiet knock on the door.Â
You lift your hand out of the water to eye the perfectly smooth skin of your fingertips as you remain silent, just to mess with Wonwoo and force him to knock a little louder and call your name through the door.
âI canât hear you!â you call and reach over to turn the bubbles up. You can hear Wonwoo talking through the door; you can actually clearly hear him questioning why you left the box in the main room, but you need a pick-me-up right now and flustering Wonwoo is a sure-fire way to brighten your day. âSorry, Wonwoo, but I really have no idea what youâre saying, youâll have to come inside!â you sing-song and move over to the side of the tub facing the door to cross your arms on the edge and rest your chin on them to watch the door intently.
Honestly, youâre pretty convinced that Wonwoo will just give up and leave, that heâll simply wait until you come out of the room of your own accord to talk to you then. Yet, after a few anticipatory moments, the door handle tentatively turns and your eyes light up.
You canât help but giggle as Wonwoo shuffles awkwardly into the room with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He has the chest in one arm as his other hand remains gripping the door.
âShut the door, youâre letting all the heat out,â you scold. Itâs not true at all, thereâs no chill entering the room at all. Itâs always at the perfect temperature and Wonwoo knows that; heâs the one who designed the room that way. Yet he obeys and closes the door before pressing his back against it and holding the box with both hands. âWhatâs the matter, Wonwoo, something in your eyes?â
âN-no,â he stammers and lifts the box a little. âWhy is this not in your room?âÂ
âI donât want it.âÂ
âWhat?â His features scrunch in confusion. âWhat do you mean you donât want it?âÂ
âI mean what I said.âÂ
âButâŠitâs for you.âÂ
âNo, itâs to make those people who are supposed to be family feel better about bringing me into this world for the sole purpose of sacrificing me.â That makes Wonwoo open his eyes to look at you incredulously. His eyes widen fractionally at the sight of your bare, glistening arms, yet he canât see the rest of your body, so he manages to only softly blush shyly and keep his eyes open.
âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean Iâm always in the middle of those photos and my mother always said sheâs not maternal, never wanted kids, yet she had me âfor the love of familyâ. Which Iâm pretty sure means this; sacrificing me for the sake of appeasing you.âÂ
âAre you certain?â
âIt makes sense.â You shrug and motion vaguely to the box. âLook for yourself at those photos and try to tell me itâs not suspicious that Iâm always pride of place.âÂ
Wonwoo holds your gaze for a moment before nodding slightly then lowering to sit on the floor and open the box. With gentle hands, he moves aside the doll to pick up the photos and look through them carefully.Â
âSee, everyone but my grandmother, mother, and I change place.âÂ
âI see,â he mutters. âThat is strange,â he concedes and puts the photos away, plucking up the envelope instead. âOh, you did not read your letter.â
âI donât want to. Either itâs lies about them loving me, or the truth.â
âYouâre not curious?â
âCurious? Yes. Willing to read the words? No.â
âPerhaps, I could read it to you?â he offers and looks back up at you. âThen you will know for certain.â
âJust read it and summarise, I donât need it word for word,â you agree and move to another side of the tub so that you can lean back against it slouched down, only your shoulders and head above the water. Wonwoo immediately looks away as soon as you start to move so that he wonât see anything even if you sit upright.
Heâs quiet for a minute or so, eyes stuck to the letter as he silently reads it before he lets out a disappointed breath. âYour suspicions arenât explicitly confirmed, but it does seem like youâre correct. She states that this is your fate and such crap.â
You gasp and look at him in amusement. âJeon Wonwoo! Did you just drop a very minor curse?â
âThe situation calls for it.â
âWatch out, youâll stop using coasters next, you bad boy,â you tease, giggling at the red that tinges the tips of his ears. âAnything else in that letter?â
âIt does state that if you had a family of your own, children to look after, they wouldâve sacrificed your childfree aunt instead.âÂ
âSo, Iâm only good to sacrifice or raise children.âÂ
âThatâŠseems the gist of things, yes,â he confirms and folds the letter up to place it back in the envelope, then puts that in the chest to close it. âWhat shall I do with this now?â
âI donât care right now.â
âIâll put it somewhere for safe keeping until you decide.â
âAnd if I donât?â
âThen you donât. This isnât the only one of these I have down here.â He pats the box before getting up with it in his hands. He looks at you, seeming to have forgotten that youâve moved, and immediately freezes.Â
âAre you a virgin?â you suddenly query. Wonwoo squeaks and vanishes, taking the box with him, making you snicker and assume it is a confirmation to your suspicion, however an unintended confirmation. Itâs no wonder he reads such vanilla porn.
Although you still canât tell the passage of time down here, you know when your family arrives at the crypt due to the fact Wonwoo sits at your side on the pillows in the main room and takes your hand into his. He never usually initiates affection, only blushes and accepts your own, so you know this is him comforting you.Â
âYou can feel them?â you assume, giving up on your book and instead leaning closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder.Â
He hums in confirmation and holds your hand tighter. âWhat would you like me to do?âÂ
âWhat do you mean?â
âTo improve our home.â
âOh. Iâve always wanted a huge bed to spread out on.âÂ
âA bed? Thatâs all you want?âÂ
âWellâŠâ For a second, you almost consider explaining to him what sex toys are, but you think that is too far and just nod. âYeah, I saw this bed in a movie before; Iâve always wanted it. Can you recreate something from a movie I saw?â
âWhat is a movie?â You lift your head to peer at him suspiciously, expecting this to be another one of his jokes about being old and out of touch with modern living, yet he looks entirely serious.Â
âOh, a moving picture to tell a story. Movies are usually somewhere between an hour and four hours long, but an hour and a half to two hours is the average length.â
âAre you telling me that not only have humans developed instant portraits but moving ones too?â he gawps at you in awed shock.
âI guess you can put it that way,â you giggle amusedly.Â
âWhy do all of your photos not move if that is a possibility?â
âAh, movies are shown on TVs or in cinemas, not on pieces of paper or in frames.â
âWhat are TVs and cinemas?â
âIf you look in my mind, you can see; Iâm not going to be able to explain it to you.â You motion to your head. Wonwoo glances at your head with an uncertain frown. âWhy are you so against looking in my mind, Wonwoo? I am entirely consenting.â
âBecause it becomes so easy after the first time. I have to create a link between our minds and thatâll mean I will be able to access your mind at any point.â
âI have nothing to hide.âÂ
âYou will have no true privacy. I wonât purposely enter your mind without consent, but sometimes if Iâm relaxed enough, my own mind opens up and travels, connects. I know that it will be a constant fight around you to keep to myself, Iâve never been so comfortable with someone before.âÂ
âThat doesnât bother me.â
âIn those moments, it wonât just be your memories I see. Iâll see your thoughts too.â
âYou can read minds?âÂ
âOnly if the connection is strong enough. IâveâŠIâve never done it before, but I know I will with you.âÂ
âMakes me feel special,â you joke softly.
âYou are to me.âÂ
âOh.âÂ
Thereâs a moment here. Of sparks and racing hearts. Of flushed cheeks and a tightened hold of anotherâs hands. Of gravitating fractionally closer, before he looks away and plucks your book from your lap to look at in a slightly trembling hand.
âWonwoo-â you murmur softly, wanting to bring that moment back and wondering what it will take. Although it was only a glimpse of something between you, you think that something could be exceptional, if only it would happen.
âA bed?â he asks, returning to the previous topic.Â
âA big comfy bed, with a wooden frame.â
âOh,â he frowns slightly. âYou donât like the metal one? I thought it is very modern, and you would like it.â
âItâs noisy and the mattress isnât comfortable.â
âWhy have you never told me?â He looks at you.Â
âWell, at first, it was just because you looked so proud of it that I didnât want to upset you, and then I figured thereâs nothing to be done about it. But then when you got strong enough, I tried, but you always vanished or changed the subject when I tried to bring up you going in my mind to see the bed I want.âÂ
âI apologise. If I knew it is so uncomfortable, I wouldâve done all I can to change it. Iâll create a wooden framed bed which I hope will be comfortable for you.âÂ
âDoes that mean youâll look in my mind?â
âNo.â He shakes his head and hands you your book back as he leans back against the pillows propped against the wall behind you both. âI have seen many beds in my time; I can recreate one of those.â
âMany beds, huh?â you tease but he misses the insinuation and just hums in confirmation, making you giggle.Â
Wonwoo glances at you curiously but instead of questioning you, he just smiles and then motions to your book. âRead to me.âÂ
âI donât have a very good reading voice,â you warn as you put another pillow on your lap so that you can prop the book on top and hold the pages open with one hand, just so that you donât have to let go of Wonwooâs hand still clasped securely in your own.
âYou have a beautiful voice, all of you is beautiful,â he disagrees softly, making you look at him and find him looking at you in a soft, tender kind of way that makes your heart race all over again. âI could spend forever listening to you talk about whatever makes you happy.âÂ
âI donât know enough about you to talk about you forever,â you retort, and giggle when his cheeks visibly warm.
âI- that- you-â he sputters before pointing at your book quickly and looking away. âR-read.â
âWhatever you wish, my dear Wonwoo.â You hum and turn your focus back to the book to do as asked, while Wonwoo watches you with adoration in his eyes and truly willing to spend forever like this. As long as heâs with you.
As more time passes with Wonwoo in the catacombs, you learn more about the man and he you. But what you feel the most important out of your newfound knowledge is that without a doubt, the spirit returns your feelings.
You canât say that he is definitely wholeheartedly in love with you like you are him, but after almost two years together, youâre very positive that all of his shy blushes when he initiates affection first and tender smiles when you catch him watching you, can only mean one thing. Unless those things suddenly change when a human becomes a spirit and spends centuries stuck underground, but you donât think so.
Still, despite being certain that Wonwoo loves you and knowing that itâs impossible that he doesnât know that you are head over heels in love with him, nothing has happened between you. There have been a few instances where heâs lingered and youâve waited, but he always turns away, or vanishes, or changes the subject so abruptly that you can only dumbly blink at him as your mind tries to figure out what the fuck just happened.
Although you have the rest of your life to spend by Wonwooâs side, the rest of your life to love and be loved by him, youâd rather not have to wait the rest of your life to hear him admit to the words.Â
Part of you, a rather big part admittedly, wants to grab Wonwoo by his stupidly handsome face and kiss him until the confessions flow effortlessly from your tongues. And also, that your tongues wind up in each otherâs mouths. Youâd really like that.
But the other part of you, the logical part of you, knows that doing as much would make Wonwoo freak the fuck out.
If youâre going to do it, you need to ease him into it. Baby steps, so to speak.
So, one day when you sit down next to him to read like you do every single day, you press a quick kiss to his cheek nonchalantly before focusing on your book. No sooner have you found the place where you last read to, Wonwoo vanishes, and you sigh.Â
âOkay, even smaller,â you mutter and get comfortable in place to try to read your book while your mind is distracted wondering how youâre supposed to take a smaller step than kissing his cheek.
The same evening of the day you kiss Wonwooâs cheek, you find out that perhaps, you took the exact right step, despite the fact the man hasnât shown his face until he calls you for dinner.
Every single day, Wonwoo cooks for you; he insists on also laying the table and serving you himself. And today is no different. Everything is set up on the table already and Wonwoo is hovering behind your chair when you enter the kitchen.Â
You eye the meal set up on the table. Itâs much more extravagant than heâs made in a while. âWere you stress cooking?â you wonder as you sit in your chair and let him tuck you in.
âNo,â he replies too immediately to be honest. You snicker, though cut off in shock when he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before darting away to take his own seat.
For a moment, you can only stare across the table at his reddened cheeks and downturned eyes as he pretends to be entirely focused on serving the various dishes between you, always spooning your share onto your plate before he even thinks about himself.Â
When youâve fully registered that Wonwoo had actually reciprocated your affection from this morning, you stretch your legs out to tap your foot against his, making him look up at you with wide eyes.Â
âThis looks delicious, Wonwoo, thank you.âÂ
âO-of course,â he replies and shyly moves his foot closer to allow your ankles to lock together under the table while he goes back to dishing up. But now, thereâs a content little smile turning his lips up and you think that things will fall into place soon enough.
In some ways, things between you and Wonwoo change drastically after the day you first kiss one anotherâs cheek. At least, drastically for a shy, centuries old spirit who is skittish at best when physical relationships are even vaguely referenced, and infinitely skilled at disappearing at worst.Â
Every single day, Wonwoo kisses your cheek, sometimes multiple times, and he has even started to kiss your head when you rest it against his shoulder while curled side by side on the pillows to read. He doesnât even hesitate to hold your hand anymore; he even bravely laces your fingers together to secure the tender hold.
Yet, in other ways, nothing has changed.Â
You havenât discussed what it all means; that your feelings passed platonic long ago and are clearly very mutual. A few times, youâve tried to bring it up. Yet, every time your voice turns serious, and you look at him so earnestly, Wonwoo clams up and vanishes; sometimes with a little squeak if heâs extra taken off guard.Â
Despite how youâd love to climb into his lap and make out with his pretty face, you know thatâs far past his comfort levels and youâre okay with that. You can take it as slow as he needs, even if youâd rather the only slow is more in the slow and deep way involving zero clothing and your legs wrapped around his waist.Â
Youâre more than willing to take it a miniscule step at a time, but you need to hear him say it. You need to hear him admit that he has feelings for you. Of course, Wonwoo saying âI love youâ is the ideal scenario, but you will accept him simply saying that feelings exist in a romantic manner.Â
Although youâre pretty damn confident about how mutual your feelings are, thereâs still a small, insecure part of you that taunts you with his inability to be honest about his heart. And unfortunately, that little part is starting to spread its thin, spindly fingers out to try and claim more space for uncertainty to grow.
It takes you some time of thinking on it, of not rushing through the mental process of trying to come up with a way to get the words from the man, before you realise that maybe trying to coax him into talking isnât the way forward.Â
Perhaps, the best course is to bare your heart first and hope that he will follow suit.
One night, while youâre both getting up from the pillows ready to head off to your beds, you decide that despite being pretty sure that you have plenty of time left with Wonwoo, that thereâs no time like the present.Â
âI love you,â you declare, abrupt in that the room was quiet before and there was no warning that you intended to speak. Yet your tone is still soft, still gentle to not disturb the calm of the room in hopes that Wonwoo wonât be so startled.
Instantly, he lifts his head from where heâs just gotten to his feet after neatening the pillows. His eyes are wide and a little wild, and lips parted ever so slightly. He looks like he wants to say something; that there are a million thoughts behind his eyes but heâs unable to catch any of them to create a response.
âNot just as a friend, though I do also treasure you in that way too. But I mean that Iâm completely in love with you and want to spend the rest of my life loving you and being loved by you in return. Iâm not expecting you to say anything back right this second, you can have time to gather your thoughts, but Iâd like to know how you feel, Wonwoo,â you make sure that your tone is serious, yet still soft, still cautious of scaring him away. You want him to know that youâre being honest and that this is important to you; but that wonât matter if he vanishes before you can get your point across. âI can take things at your speed, but I need to know that this means to you what I think it does; that you feel the same way about me as I do you.âÂ
Even though you usually kiss his cheek, and gain a kiss in return, every night before you part ways to go to bed, tonight, you donât. Wonwoo is still staring at you as if he is frozen in place as his mind tries to decipher the meaning of life itself, so you really donât think itâs wise to touch him right now.Â
âSleep well, Wonwoo,â you finish with a little smile then turn and go to your room.Â
As you get ready for bed, you feel oddly lighter than before your confession. You hadnât expected to feel this way because youâre positive Wonwoo already knew of your feelings. The man can literally feel your love, so he certainly already knew. But something about speaking the words aloud pushes those sharp fingers of insecurity away from your heart and allows you to breathe a little easier.Â
Just as you clamber into your big, comfy, wooden framed bed, thereâs frantic knocking on your bedroom door.Â
In the three years youâve lived here with Wonwoo, he has never knocked on your door like that. In fact, heâs never knocked on your door before. Your door is always open during the day when youâre awake, and heâs never had a reason to talk to you at night.
As quickly as you can, you shove the duvet out of the way and scuttle to your door to open it.
Wonwoo still looks a little wild, his eyes are still wide as they land on you, but thereâs something new in them. Something determined that shines a little darkly and makes your heart thrum.
âI love you,â he rushes out firmly before deflating slightly, as if it took a lot of strength for him to admit to those words. âI have never wanted to spend an eternity by someoneâs side until I met you. You are everything I never knew I wanted, everything I never knew I needed, and I never want to let you go. I hate your family for the pain they caused you, but I will forever be grateful to them for sending you to me. I love you with everything in me, and I will continue to for the rest of my existence. I wish I could spend all of my endless years with you, but I canât, and it makes my heart ache to think of the day I have to let you go. However, until that day, I want to give you all the love I have. Will you allow me that honour?âÂ
You blink at him dumbly for a moment before you slowly nod, unable to actually gather the words on your tongue. Though, by the way he lights up and smiles so brightly in a way youâve never seen him before, you think heâs more than okay with your silent agreement.Â
âIâve never kissed someone on the lips before, but I would really like to try, may I?â he requests, stepping closer and gently touching the tips of his fingers to your jaw, coaxing you to tilt your face towards him.
âPlease,â you whisper, trembling fingers grasping onto his shirt over his chest. For the very first time, youâre the flustered one between you; mind still whirling with the genuinely unexpected and heartwarming confession, not to mention his request to kiss you added on top.Â
None of this is going how you played it out in your mind, how you thought tonight would go, and your heart and mind is a mess of Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, but thereâs nothing you would change given the chance.
Wonwoo smiles at you softly, looking more like his usual shy self now as he carefully cups your face in both of his warm palms. You can feel the slight quiver of his fingers as they press gently against your skin, a sign of his nerves as he leans in.Â
Ever so carefully, Wonwoo brushes his lips against yours, almost testing the waters, before he tilts his head a little to the right and kisses you so tenderly that you think you would melt into a puddle by his feet if he wasnât holding you. Your knees feel weak, and your cheeks are warmed so ridiculously for such an innocent and short kiss.Â
Itâs more perfect than any first kiss you couldâve imagined with him. Even your fantasies of climbing on his lap and sliding your tongue into his willing mouth canât compare to the truth of the simple and undeniable love of this kiss.
Somehow, when your eyes meet again after heâs pulled back, you think you love him even more than before. Your heart swells and he takes a shaky breath as his chest expands as if he feels it too. You think that by the way his heart races under your palms, he most certainly does.
Considering how shy Wonwoo had been for the first three years of your time together, you really had thought that was a good basis for assumption to how heâd be once in a relationship with you. You assumed, that if anything, heâd be even shier thanks to the added layer of affection and commitment between you.
But as it turns out, you do not know Jeon Wonwoo as well as you had thought.
The very morning after your exchanged confessions and sweet first kiss, Wonwoo greets you with his lips against yours and a hand on your waist. After breakfast, while heâs leaning around you to pick up your dirty dishes ready to take to the sink, he kisses you again. As he sits by your side for your morning reading session, he kisses you yet again, sweet and simple. When youâre both in the library looking for your next reads, he kisses you against the shelves with his arms bracketing your head and chest brushing yours. And so, the habit continues throughout the day, all the way until he kisses you at your bedroom door before going to his own for the night.Â
And the next day, the cycle repeats.
Of course, you never once refuse his enthusiastic kisses that grow braver and braver each one. Thereâs not a single part of you that wants to refuse, and youâre more than happy to accept him as far into your personal space as he wants to be. Even if itâs highly unexpected, but definitely a pleasant surprise.Â
Though, as the days pass and Wonwoo gets more confident, more adventurous with how he kisses you and how his hands press and pull your body to his heartâs desire over your clothing, you realise that youâre going to have to do something you really donât want to do.
Youâre going to have to stop him.Â
Sure, youâre thoroughly enjoying this, and he is too based on the increasing frequency and urgency of his lips against yours, but you donât want him to get ahead of himself. Heâs never admitted to having zero sexual experience before, but based on the confession that he hadnât kissed anyone before you, you think itâs a pretty logical deduction that Jeon Wonwoo is a virgin.Â
An almost nine hundred year old virgin.Â
Youâre probably more into that than you could ever admit. Thereâs a part of you that really doesnât want to stop him, that wants to push him down the next time he groans softly against your mouth as his hands explore your body, that wants to show him what heâs been missing out on and absolutely ruin him. You just know heâd look so fucking beautiful with pink staining his cheeks, your claims blooming red and purple over his body, and eyes blissed out and glued to your body as you ride him until your body gives out. You think itâd be a great way to go out, honestly.
But unfortunately, you love the man far too much to not at least try to have an honest conversation about it all before climbing onto his lap and letting him experience things that his innocent, vanilla porn reading mind could never imagine.Â
You want to blow his mind as he blows his load, so to speak. But first, talking.
âSweetheart,â you start, putting a hand to his chest to stop him leaning in again. Some time ago, possibly ten minutes, possibly longer, Wonwoo had backed you against the corridor wall just outside of the hot tub room before you could enter and immediately attached his mouth to yours. Of course, you hadnât argued at all and had happily pulled him closer encouragingly. But now, your conscience is waving the morals flag and reminding you that you should be the bigger person right now, as the experienced one.
âDonât you want to kiss me?â he asks, frowning at you, looking very much like a sad puppy. It almost makes you remove your hand and let him lean back in to steal your breath away all over again with his thorough kisses, but you remain strong.Â
âI do, a fucking lot, but we need to talk.âÂ
âAbout kissing?â He tilts his head slightly, utterly confused and only furthering the puppy likeness.Â
You suddenly imagine him wearing a collar and your brain short circuits for a few seconds until he tries to lean in again, assuming your silence means youâve given up on talking. Though him pressing against your hand to try and get closer brings you back to reality, and you nudge him back again.Â
âMy love,â he complains. âI want to kiss you.âÂ
âI know, baby, I know,â you coo and cup his face. âBut we need to talk.â
âAbout what?â he asks, sounding impatient.
âThat before me, you hadnât kissed anyone.â
âOhâŠâ Suddenly, he leans away, pushing away from the wall where heâs leaning on one arm, and removing the other from around your waist as he puts space between you. âI didnât realise it was so obvious. Iâm trying hard to learn.âÂ
âNo! No, no! I didnât mean it like that!â you insist and push away from the wall yourself so that you can take his hands into yours and squeeze reassuringly. âYouâre not bad at kissing, like, not at all. I thoroughly enjoy the way you kiss me, Wonwoo.â
âOh, thatâs good.â He perks back up a little and adjusts his hands in yours to slot your fingers together and hold you more securely. âThen what do you mean if not that Iâm bad at kissing?â
âWell, based on how much you back me against the nearest surface and kiss me so heavily, Iâm pretty fucking sure you want to have sex with me, right?âÂ
Wonwoo blinks at you a few times dumbly as he takes in your words and accepts that youâve seriously said them to him. Then, his cheeks suddenly bloom pink, and he shyly looks away to a low spot on the wall behind you to your left. âU-uhm, y-yes,â he admits in a nervous stammer. âIf-if you would like that-that.âÂ
âIâve wanted to climb you for years; I most certainly want that.â
âClimb me?â he questions puzzled as he looks at you, too bewildered by your words to be shy.
âFuck you.âÂ
âOh!â he squeaks and looks away again, blush darkening beautifully.Â
âBut based on the fact youâre new to kissing, I think itâs safe to assume youâve never had sex either, correct?â Wonwoo hesitates before nodding, unable to look at you or verbally confirm your words. âWhich means, I think we should talk about it; our desires and interests before we get that far. We need to be on the same page.âÂ
âIsnât that clear?â He looks at you again, once again puzzled and so innocent. âWe wish to have sex; that is our desire, is it not?â
âYes, but there are many ways to have sex, sweetheart. Some people like it rough, others donât. Some like to involve toys, others donât. And many other things that we will need to discuss, but for now, we need to discuss expectations for our first time together. What exactly do you want to happen, Wonwoo?â
âIâŠwant to have sex with you?â He tilts his head. âI donât understand what youâre asking.â
âOkay, bluntly; is all you want right now is to put your penis in my vagina?â Wonwooâs eyes bulge and his whole face pinkens, tips of his ears so red they practically glow with heat. âWow, if you blush so dark at that, you really arenât ready for anything more.â
âThereâs more?!â he sputters, practically shrieking.Â
âWell, have you heard of oral sex?âÂ
âOral? That means mouthâŠâÂ
âMmhmm,â you confirm and tug him closer as your lips turn up a little in a slight smirk. âUsing the mouth to make your partner orgasm.âÂ
âH-how?â
âWell, for example, I could take you to your room right now, lay you on your bed, pull down your trousers, and fill my mouth with your cock.â Wonwoo inhales sharply, fingers curling into the backs of your hands and lips popping open. âI could explain how I would bring you to orgasm that way, but Iâd much rather just show you, if youâd let me. Can I show you, my love? Will you let me make you cum with my mouth?âÂ
âFuck.â Itâs the first time youâve heard Wonwoo swear, and it makes your blood fizzle with rapidly growing desire. Now that youâve heard how good the curse sounds in Wonwooâs low, aroused voice, you know that youâll do everything you physically can to hear it again.
As soon as he nods in consent, youâre dragging him to his room to push him down onto his bed, more than just a little excited to do your best to earn curses and moans to fall beautifully from Wonwooâs lips.Â
And earn them you do, repeatedly. Itâs better than you couldâve ever imagined.
Time with Wonwoo passes in a way that feels slow, like a calm river gently flowing along as you float atop, curled up safely in his arms and holding him in return. Itâs a content kind of life you live with him.
Yet, you age and are reminded that as much as you donât want it to, your time with Wonwoo will inevitably come to an end.
Although youâre pretty certain that Wonwoo canât feel your emotions, he always seems to know when that sour little stone in your heart weighs you down with the reminder that this, as much as youâd love it to, isnât eternal. Only Wonwoo is.
You would accuse the spirit of reading your mind, but you know he canât. He still refuses to look into your mind, even if heâs tempted to for the sake of learning more about movies, so he hasnât created a mental connection with you.Â
Still, after five years, he just knows you.Â
âMy love,â he says softly while watching you look at your reflection in the mirror on the dressing table in his room. Well, your shared room, but originally just his. Yet now, heâs added extra touches to make it suitable for you both, brought all of your belongings in, leaving your old room to David Bowie on the wall.
âMm?â you respond, prodding and pulling at your face, at the delicate wrinkles beginning to fall into place with age, with the smiles and laughter Wonwoo brings to your being every single day.Â
You donât hate the blooming wrinkles for what they are; proof of how happy you are. That even though you havenât seen the sun or sky in five years, thereâs nowhere in the world that could create these growing signs of a joyful life on your skin. Yet, at the same time, you hate them for reminding you that youâre nothing more than a human; destined to grow old while Wonwoo remains eternally thirty-six and has to watch you die one day. It's not fair to either of you, but you canât do a damn thing about it.
âCome to bed, beautiful,â he requests softly, having watched you for the past almost ten minutes, watched your lips turn down the longer you observe your reflection in the ornate mirror.
You donât argue, you never have it in you to refuse Wonwoo, especially when he makes his wishes in such a tender tone; latches his wants directly to your heart and makes you unable to do anything but bend to his will. Itâs not his powers at work, just you being utterly whipped for Jeon Wonwoo. If he was anyone else, you would rather it was his magical, mystical, spiritual powers manipulating you instead of you just being a giant fucking simp for the man. But itâs Wonwoo, so you oblige willingly. Always happy to make him happy.
As soon as youâre under the duvet, Wonwoo dims the light and settles down at your side where he belongs.
For a few minutes, you lay there, both on your sides facing one another as your gaze turns unfocused as you think. For his part, Wonwoo just watches you, silently and patiently waiting for you to be ready to either talk or curl up in his arms to go to sleep.Â
When you let out a soft exhale, sighing a little and blinking your eyes back to him instead of staring over his left shoulder, he knows youâre ready, and by the way you remain where you are, he knows itâs not to sleep.
âWhatâs on your mind?â he questions, lifting his left hand from the mattress in between you to tenderly brush your hair back from your face, tucking the choppy strands behind your ear to not interrupt his view of you even a little.Â
A few days ago, you handed Wonwoo a pair of scissors and told him that you had full faith in his ability to not make you look utterly insane. He had zero faith in himself, but he still gingerly cut away at your hair until you were content with the length. He still thinks he did a terrible job and should never cut your hair for you again. Though, his unskilled job has at least lessened the strands that hang around your face, so when you inevitably ask again, he knows heâll say yes. Just so that he can make more of your features unobscured to his adoring gaze without having to constantly push your hair aside.
Still, heâll never cut away any more than this, if he did, he wouldnât be able to brush your hair back and let his fingers trace over your skin. Heâll take any chance to admire your beauty and caress your skin, even if that means making chances for himself by leaving your hair just a little too long to not fall across your face and threaten to poke you in the eyes when you lay down. A perfect excuse to reach out and touch you.
âDo you remember what you wanted your future to look like when you were human?â you ask, tilting your head back a little to see him better.
âNot really,â he answers honestly, no hesitation in talking about his life those centuries back. It always makes your heart warm a little when he responds so openly regardless of what you ask; even his painful memories of battle and losing friends and family arenât off limits when you ask. âI was more career focused.âÂ
âGeneral Jeon,â you hum, remembering that Wonwoo had once told you that he had been so close to reaching the rank of general before he died in a battle he wasnât even supposed to be present for. But he had been over ambitious and stubborn, insisted he should be there because he knew it would better his chances of promotion. Yet the information hadnât been accurate, and he and his men had been ambushed and quickly overwhelmed. Wonwoo doesnât know what happened after that, if any of his men survived, or if they all perished thanks to his egocentric orders. You know that he has never let go of that guilt, but he also doesnât have the strength in him to try to learn what happened, even when he couldâve found out in those years before he was bound to the crypt.
âI donât think I ever considered anything else in detail. I only have a vague memory of wanting to climb the ranks until I was satisfied.â
âNo intention of falling in love and starting a family?âÂ
âNot that I recall. I was never interested in romance growing up. Neither did I have interest in peering into the brothels with the other boys to get a glimpse of the scantily dressed women. I just wanted to train, and study maps and battle strategies.â
âNerd.âÂ
Wonwoo sighs, making you giggle. His unimpressed look melts away and he smiles adoringly at you. âI will happily be your nerd, if you continue to giggle that way.â
âYou already are, no backing out now.â
âI have no intention of doing so,â he assures and moves closer, smoothing his left palm over your waist and to your back to bring you close enough to tangle your legs together under the duvet. âIs that what youâre thinking about? The future you wanted?â
âI never had a specific plan in mind. I was content to just exist and live a happy life. The details never mattered to me. Except one thing.â
âFamily,â he finishes, making you look at him as if heâs crazy. âWhat? You didnât want to have your own family, children?â
âIf it happened, sure, but it wasnât a thing. I never fantasied about it or anything.â
âThenâŠa husband?â
âYouâre shit at guessing, you know?â you deadpan, and he pouts a little. You canât resist leaning in to press a soft kiss to his protruding lip, then giggle when he pulls you back in with his hand on your jaw to make you kiss him properly. Not that he ever needs to make you; youâre always more than happy to kiss Wonwoo at every available opportunity.
When heâs satisfied that youâve made up for your teasing kiss, he loosens his hold and allows you both to settle your heads comfortably on the long, plush pillow spread across the head of the bed for you both to share.Â
âWhat did you fantasise about then, for your future?â he inquires curiously, hand settling on your waist under your sleep shirt where his fingers trace soothing patterns mindlessly against your skin, one of his favourite hobbies.
âI always wanted a cottage.âÂ
âA cottage?â he repeats, raising a questioning eyebrow.Â
âYeah. Every time I saw them in the older movies, those cosy little cottages with their cute gardens, and thatched roofs, and shutters on the windows, I always imagined living in one. Waking every day to the view of the countryside, going downstairs and making breakfast in a little kitchen, not too little, but not too big. Cosy. The whole house would be cosy. Always just a little below comfortably warm, so that Iâd have an excuse to start a fire in the fireplace and curl up on a comfy chair in front of it and watch the flames dance. And nowâŠâ You let out a breath, lips turning down at the corners. âI can so easily imagine you there by my side, taking turns to read passages from the same book aloud, fire warming our feet and nothing but time left.âÂ
âThat sounds perfect, my love,â he says with his heart aching and knowing that yours is doing the same judging by your downturned expression.Â
It sounds like a dream; living with you in an actual house, somewhere where the two of you could step outside into the fresh air to lay on the grass and watch the clouds when the weather is nice enough to. Where you could go for walks hand in hand down country lanes, stopping to point out little animals and insects to one another. Where he could pick wildflowers for you every day and present them to you with the breakfast that heâd bring you in bed, so that youâd wake up and never doubt his love and devotion to you. Where he could learn to grow a garden lush and thriving, yet incomparable to your beauty no matter how many variations of colourful and delicate flowers that he filled it with.
âYouâd like that, a cottage in the country?â you ask, smiling a little as your mind wanders further with the life that you canât help but imagine with the man you are so wholeheartedly in love with.
âIâd like anywhere as long as youâre by my side.âÂ
You shove him gently, smiling pleased by his words while he chuckles at your smile, looking nothing but entirely endeared even as you roll your eyes. âCheesy fucker.â
âMm. You make me like this,â he declares. âI think a sweet little cottage in the countryside sounds perfect. I would love to try to grow my own crops, to make even better, fresher meals for you.âÂ
âMaybe I could take up painting as you tend the garden,â you suggest.
âYou could paint the landscapes we decorate our home with,â he agrees.
âNo,â you scoff. âIâd paint endless portraits of you. Youâd be the prettiest view even there.â
âAh.â He blushes, still shy when you compliment him so intensely, sounding so confident of your own words. He no longer argues with you, he even believes you now, that you really think heâs that beautiful, believes that he is. âI donât think Iâd like to have paintings of my face everywhere.â
âI plan to become an expert at nude portraits,â you say with a salacious smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at him for comedic effect. It creates the intended outcome, and he laughs.
âOkay, darling, I look forward to your masterpieces. Youâll have to paint a self-portrait for me to have on my bedside table.â
âIs it not enough to sleep next to me every night? You need me on the bedside table too?â you joke, shuffling closer and finally wrapping your arm around his waist. It makes Wonwoo relax, unaware that he even held any tension until it melts away with your hand caressing his back and your lips curled up into a sweetly happy smile as you peer at him with sparkling eyes.
âI need to have your beautiful face everywhere I turn,â he declares, trying to sound serious, but heâs smiling too much.
âAh, should I paint a fresco of us on the ceiling above our bed? A tasteful, erotic scene.â Wonwoo just laughs before he kisses you, overcome with his love for you.Â
When the kiss naturally breaks, he starts to talk about the library in your shared cosy home, leading to further discussions of the hypothetical future while both of you giggle and smile, even as sleep tries to drag you under. Thereâs no rush to fall asleep, not when neither of you want to miss a moment of this.
It's a wonderful thought; imagining the happy ending you couldâve had together if you met as humans. But you didnât. You didnât meet as humans, and you donât get your happy ending.
Although you spend all night exchanging sweet words and designing your dream cottage together, it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.
When you were a teenager, you had a friend who didnât believe that love and happiness could ever last.Â
She came from a broken home; not because her parents were divorced, they were married and had no intention of parting ways, but because they remained together despite clearly no longer holding an ounce of love for one another.Â
Your friend watched her parents fall out of love as a child, watched their happy home turn into a darkened shell of what once was. And she lost the ability to believe that love really means anything; to believe that itâs real and can last more than a handful of bittersweet years.
You had never agreed with her. Even as a teen, you didnât think it was right for her to have such a negative outlook. That her parents arenât proof of anything, that they arenât the rule to love, but simply two people who just werenât suited to one another anymore.
Throughout your life, even as you distanced yourself from your family, you didnât believe her at all. Even when your family sacrificed you and you realised that their love for you wasnât what you thought it was, and yours for them vanished in the blink of an eye, you believed that she was wrong.Â
You believed that love looks different for everyone, but it can last; even with time passing and people changing and growing, love can remain.
Then, you met Wonwoo, fell in love, and you knew she was wrong.Â
Every day you wake next to him and love him a little more. Every time he smiles at you, you know that nobody will ever make you happier. You know that as long as youâre by his side, youâll always know love and happiness.
You love Wonwoo with everything in you and he says he feels the same. He shows you that every single dayâŠ
At least, he used to show you that.
It takes you a little while to notice it, but Wonwoo starts to withdraw from you. Such minuscule increments at a time that you donât notice at first.
Donât notice that his eyes no longer shine as bright when he looks at you, the gradually muted edge to his smile when you say, âI love youâ.
âLook at this, Wonwoo!â you enthuse, showing him your latest attempt at painting his portrait. Itâs terrible, really utterly atrocious, but he smiles at you and accepts the little canvas into his hands as if itâs something precious. His gaze runs over the messy brush strokes and incorrectly mixed shades as you rest your chin on his shoulder from behind. âI think Iâm finally getting that spark in your eyes right.â He doesnât respond, just hums, gaze glued to the eyes that no longer reflect his own. âIâll work on it. I have the rest of my life to stare at your pretty face and learn to recreate it on canvas.â
âYeah,â he agrees softly as you pluck the canvas back into your own hold, ready to bounce back off to your recently created art studio.Â
âI love you,â you sing as you skip out of the room, smiling as Wonwoo returns the words, yet you donât look back and because of that, you fail to notice the weight pulling down the corners of his smile.
Donât notice that he doesnât reach for your hand at every chance anymore, that he slips away more often than necessary to clean the catacombs.
Just as you sit beside Wonwoo on the pillows, a book already open in one hand and the other left free for him, he closes his own book and gets up. You look at him puzzled and let out a questioning noise.
âIâve just remembered, itâs been a while since Iâve cleaned the Eastern most corridors,â he states, putting his book aside for later. âI wonât be long,â he says, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to your lips, but you donât realise that he was going to walk away without even kissing you if you hadnât puckered your lips at him in a silent request.Â
âOkay, Iâll keep your seat warm,â you declare cheekily while shuffling around to lay across the space he usually occupies at your side, but he walks away and you donât even realise the significance of that.
But now you know.
Now youâve noticed him pulling away and feel so stupid for not noticing sooner. For not paying better attention and tightening your grip before he could slip between your fingers.
Now youâve noticed and can only watch as the distance grows little by little. You donât know what to do to fix it. You donât want to let him know that youâve noticed, in fear that it will be the final push he needs to admit that he no longer wants to be with you. That he was wrong and his love and devotion to you isnât eternal.
Now youâve noticed, and you feel so stupid for not believing your friend when she said that love and happiness never lasts.
In the end, you donât get the chance to gather your nerves and ask what went wrong. In the end, Wonwoo takes a look at you, at your pale skin hidden from sunlight for eleven years, at the lines on your skin showing the passage of time, your withering life, and he breaks.
âI canât do this,â he chokes out as he watches you collect your nightclothes from on top of the dresser, beside where his own still remain neatly folded ready for him. Side by side like every night for the past years. Side by side like you belong with him, but he canât face that anymore.Â
âDo what?â you ask, putting down the bundle as you turn to look at him puzzled and concerned, hearing the broken edge to his voice. Though, one look at him, the pain in his eyes as he looks at you as if itâs the last time, and you know. âOh.â You feel the strength rush out of you and you have to take a step back to lean against the dresser behind you, lest you collapse into a boneless pile on the floor. âY-you donât want me.âÂ
âI do,â he insists, getting up from being perched on the end of the bed to approach you and hold your face so securely that despite the past years of watching him slip between your fingers, you believe him. âI never want to be without you, my love. I said that and I still mean it with all of my heart. You are my heart. I canât live without you.âÂ
âThen what do you mean, Wonwoo? If you mean that, why have you been pulling away for so long?â You want him to argue. You want him to tell you that youâre fucking crazy for suggesting that heâd do such a thing. You want him to tell you that youâve been imagining it. But he doesnât.Â
Wonwooâs expression turns guilty as his thumb strokes under your eye. âI am so sorry for that; that you noticed. You must be hurting.âÂ
âI am. So, tell me why and we can fix it, we can make us both happy again.âÂ
âIâm happy with you, Iâve never not been happy with you.â But the sadness weighing down the edges of his mouth and eyes down tells you another story. âAnd thatâs why I know I canât keep you here.âÂ
Your heart stops for a second as a cold fear takes over your body. Your hands tremble as you lift them towards his hands, yet before you can make contact, he lets go and rushes off. âWonwoo!â you yell desperately, scrambling to rush after him but he doesnât slow down.Â
For the first time in a decade, you leave your home and enter the catacombs, following Wonwoo through the seemingly endless corridors while your calls of his name grow more and more panicked.Â
Thereâs something twisting and turning in your chest, dancing at the edge of your mind, taunting you with a suspicion you canât understand with the terror growing thicker in your veins. You know with everything in you that whatever Wonwoo is planning, itâs not good. That whatever he wants to do, it will change everything irreversibly and hurt in a way that youâre not prepared for.
Your mind is whirling too much to even realise that Wonwoo isnât vanishing like he easily could, that heâs staying within your sight; far enough that you canât reach him no matter how hard you push your legs, but still close enough that you donât lose track of him. Heâs purposely leading you through the catacombs, but youâre too full of fear to notice.
Itâs only when the air becomes lighter and you recognise the barely visible crest under your rushing feet that you realise where Wonwoo is going. Now that youâre crossing the main chamber of the catacombs, Wonwoo darts off, practically sprinting out of sight.Â
You can hear his frantic footfalls slapping down onto the stone steps. Somehow, you manage to push yourself faster in your sudden bout of extreme fear and stumble to the bottom of the stairs just as he reaches the landing at the top and comes to a still in front of the locked gate.Â
âWhatâre you doing?!â you yell in alarm as Wonwoo grabs onto the gate, skin sizzling as his hands glow with the visible use of his power. Youâve never seen his power before, only how it affects your home. This is something different, something incredible. Something insanely fucking dangerous. âStop it!â you scream, running up the steps as fast as you can, toes of your shoes catching on multiple steps and barely managing to catch yourself as your wide eyes remain glued to Wonwoo.
âNo!â he grits out through teeth pressed so tightly together that you fear they will crack and fall apart under the pressure. Your heart feels much the same right now as you watch the man you love with everything in you putting himself through such agony.Â
âWonwoo, stop it!â you reach out but canât touch him. Heâs emitting so much power right now that itâs creating a physical yet invisible barrier around him. A shield of pure mystical energy that a mere human such as yourself has no chance of breaking through. âYouâre going to kill yourself!â
âIâm already dead!â he snaps, looking at you with eyes so dark with the power flowing through him that he doesnât look like the man you love.Â
You take a step back and almost lose your footing on the steps, almost tumble back, but something wraps around your waist, something that feels like a manifestation of his love as it pulls you safely upright. When your eyes meet his again, theyâre softer, scared, and desperate, yet so full of heart-breaking adoration that you wonder how you thought for even a split second that this isnât your Wonwoo.Â
âBut youâre not,â he continues, voice a lot quieter now, trembling around the edges with the weight of the decision heâs made, a decision he still hasnât let you in on. âI canât watch you waste away at my side. You deserve a good life, the best life. I want you to have it.âÂ
âI want to be with you, thatâs all I want.âÂ
âI know, I know you do.â He lets go of the gate with one hand, reaching out to you to gently brush his fingers over your cheek while his eyes roam your features as if heâs memorising every single atom of life within you. âI want you by my side too, my love. I have never loved anyone the way I love you, and I never will again, no matter how long I live. And thatâs why I canât let you squander your limited years with me.â
âIt-â
âMy love, please,â he pleads, using his power to pull you in closer so that he doesnât have to remove his reverent touch from your cheek, his right hand still pulsing with light against the gate. You expect him to say something more, to try and explain himself further, beg you to understand, but he doesnât.
Wonwoo leans in and presses his lips against yours as if itâs the first time. As if itâs the last time.Â
Your heart breaks and swells all at once, overflowing with your love for him, and perhaps, that was your mistake here; allowing him to kiss you knowing how it always sends your heart into overdrive with pure unyielding affection and adoration for the man holding you so tenderly.Â
Youâve always known that your love gives Wonwoo power, that it makes him strong, though you never knew it was something to wish to avoid. You never before thought that Wonwoo would ever use your love for him against you.
With your thundering heart strengthening him, Wonwoo succeeds in emitting a pulse of pure mystical energy that blows the gate right off its hinges, sending it flying across the crypt and crashing into the opposite wall. Immediately, the crypt around you starts to tremble; dust and little pieces of centuries old stone begin to crumble down around you.
You barely manage to blink at Wonwoo in fear before that same invisible force wraps around you and rushes you through the crypt, past the entrance doors that blow open as you near, and deposits you on the grand stone steps outside.
âWhat are you doing?!â you screech, trying to walk forward and return to your love regardless of the crypt falling down, falling to pieces in front of your very eyes.Â
Your heart is shattering, tumbling to the ground with the pieces of ancestral stone as the air between you and Wonwoo grows thicker with dust. You can see him watching you, can see the sad smile on his lips, the shine on his cheeks as tears stain them. You want to run to him, want to wipe away his tears and hold him close, even if it kills you. But you canât. Wonwoo has created a shimmering barrier in front of you, protecting you from harmâs way. At least physical harm because you know that your heart has never hurt like this. You know it never will again.Â
Heâs tearing your heart in two and yet, you still love him with every broken piece of you. You want to stop so that he no longer has the power to keep you away and you can return to him, but that very urge only proves that your feelings havenât wavered the slightest amount.
âWonwoo, please,â you desperately beg, words thick and choked out with the tears clogging your throat and spilling freely over your cheeks. âI love you so fucking much, please donât do this.âÂ
âI love you the same, sweetheart, thatâs why I have to do this,â he responds, voice so gentle yet perfectly clear to you, as if heâs standing right in front of you, as if he never forced you apart. As if heâs not making you watch him be buried alive.Â
âThat makes no sense!â you yell, slamming your palms against the barrier.Â
âTo love is to let go.â
âNo!â Your legs give out under you, weakened by the pain coursing through your body from your chest, and you drop to your knees, eyes still glued to him. âWonwoo⊠Please, donât let me go,â you sob, using what little strength you have left to stay upright, fingers doing their best to dig into the barrier and let you through. But itâs too strong.
âI have to,â he whispers, voice trembling as his own pain becomes too much to hold back. His hands curl into his shirt over his chest as he struggles to stay where he is, as he fights the urge to run to you because he knows he canât. He still canât leave the crypt even with the gate destroyed. Heâs no longer trapped in the catacombs, but heâs still bound to this space, and trying to fight that would only shorten the time he has left to look at you.Â
âI-I donât want to lose you.âÂ
âYouâll see me again, in a long time. You need to live a long, happy life, okay, my love?â he requests, sniffling around his words. âThen when we meet again at the end, you can tell me all about the world as I guide you to the afterlife.â
âThen-then weâll be to-together?âÂ
Wonwoo doesnât answer, but the sad downwards tilt of his mouth speaks volumes. When your time comes to pass on, youâll see Wonwoo again, yes. Heâll take your hand and guide you to your afterlife, but that will be the last time you ever see him. Heâs a crypt spirit, an ancestral guide, he isnât allowed to rest. He hasnât been granted his afterlife because he has to guide your bloodline.Â
You shriek and jerk forward when a large slab falls from the crypt ceiling directly behind Wonwoo. Inches away from landing on him. âYou need to leave!â you scream.Â
âI canât, sweetheart,â he reminds sadly, raising a shaking hand slightly to at least protect himself with a shimmering barrier. He canât die, but he can still get hurt, and although he doesnât care about that for his own sake, he doesnât want you to see him injured. Heâs already hurting you enough as it is, he couldnât live with himself if he forced you to watch him bleed.Â
âWonwooâŠâ You want to beg and plead with him, yell at him to at least try to leave. He blew the gates off, something he shouldâve never been able to even touch, let alone manipulate like that, but he did.Â
Surely, if he tries hard enough, he can leave the crypt. Right?Â
Yet, as much as you want to say the words, want to believe in them, you know deep down that thereâs nothing Wonwoo can do. Heâs trapped for all eternity thanks to your family.
It's as you remember that, that something occurs to you.
Abruptly, you stop crying and straighten up, chest shuddering and breath coming out in uneven hiccups still, but the tears cease as a surge of hope gives you strength. Wonwooâs eyes widen a little as he watches the strange change in your demeanour.
âY-youâre here because of my family,â you recall. Wonwoo nods slowly. âBecause we want you to remain and watch over us.âÂ
âSweetheartâŠâ Wonwoo says, shuffling forward, feet breaching the border between catacombs and crypt chamber ever so slightly as his heart twists with worry and fear of what youâre working towards here. He isnât sure what youâre thinking, but his heart seems to be three steps ahead of his mind and panicking.Â
âIf one of us sets you free, removes your ties to the family, you can leave.â
âNo, no, my love, no,â he begs, rushing closer, dodging the pieces of the crypt suddenly falling heavier between you as he desperately tries to get to you and stop you. âI-I wonât be able to guide you!âÂ
âIf I donât free you now, no-nobody will. Youâll be stuck here forever. You deserve to rest, youâve paid your dues, Wonwoo. You showed me a love I never wouldâve had otherwise.â
âPlease, sweetheart, donât,â he sobs pleadingly. âWe wonât see each other again!âÂ
âI know,â you say and smile at him, full of love and a pained acceptance for what this means. But you love him too much to force him to live a life of painful solitude after youâre gone. He deserves to know peace and to have his own afterlife. âTo love is to let go.âÂ
Wonwoo opens his mouth to argue, to plead some more as he stumbles forward, reaching out towards you in a last desperate attempt to stop you before you can say the words.
âJeon Wonwoo, I set you free.âÂ
For the last time, Wonwoo vanishes.
Watching Wonwoo disappear into thin air is a memory you will never escape. The fear in his eyes, the pain, the silent scream of betrayal. Itâs haunted you ever since that day, but you donât regret it, even all these years later.
Not a day has gone by where you havenât thought about Jeon Wonwoo, havenât felt your old, barely patched together heart ache for the man who you still love with everything in you.Â
Decades have passed; youâve travelled the world, made memories, met people, adopted some animals, lived in multiple different houses, and yet, youâve never really found a place where you belong.Â
Not that itâs been a bad life, not at all. Youâve kept Wonwooâs words in mind and done all you can to experience all humanly possible in your limited time. Youâve been happy, even experienced love multiple times, but itâs never lasted. Not when your love is still at home in Wonwooâs heart, wherever he may be.Â
You often ponder about that; what Wonwooâs afterlife is like. You hope itâs a good one, that heâs happy there, genuinely happy. You donât want him to have forgotten you, but you hope that heâs not lingering on what canât be.Â
Then again, wishing for him to have accepted that youâll never see each other again is rather hypocritical of you when youâve never been able to give your heart to another, and every night dream of a life with Jeon Wonwoo. A life you will never have, and youâve accepted that, but you still dream.
Still, no matter how far you go, you always return here; to this heap of rocks that means nothing to anyone but you anymore.
âI wonder, can you see the stars tonight, my love?â you question once youâve settled your old body down on the dusty steps, leaning back against the same old slab youâve used as a back rest for almost six decades now. Your walking stick lays at your side, too far out of reach to be of use again, but you know that doesnât matter. You know you wonât need it again.
The wind blows gently against you and although you know Wonwoo is no longer here, you always like to imagine itâs him responding, showing you that he hasnât forgotten you.
âItâs the last time Iâll visit you,â you declare after a while of calm, content silence. Peaceful last moments. âI donât know what my afterlife will look like, but I hope I remember you still. I hope thereâs a shrine I can visit to talk to you. I know you wonât hear me, I know you donât now, but I still wish for it.â You lift a rapidly weakening hand to brush your fingers over the stone under you. âI still love you with everything in me, Jeon Wonwoo, and I always will. Wherever you are, I hope you know that.â
Youâve pondered this moment for a long time, what itâll feel like; if it will hurt, if it will be like falling asleep, if youâll even feel the moment it happens.Â
In the end, it feels natural.Â
You get to your feet, feeling decades younger and turn to look down at where youâre laid perfectly still, eyes closed and looking nothing but content. Like youâre taking a nap in the arms of your lover. Peaceful.Â
âIâve always known it,â the voice coming from behind you makes your chest tighten and eyes widen. You had thought that a ghost wouldnât have a heart to beat, but you feel it thundering against your ribs as you shakily turn around and let your disbelieving gaze settle on the man before you.Â
Heâs still so beautiful.Â
âW-Wonwoo,â you choke out.
âHello, my love,â his voice wavers while his dark eyes shimmer as they take you in. As soon as he takes a step, you do the same and throw yourself into his opening arms with a sob.
There are so many things that you want to say, questions on the tip of your tongue, but you donât voice them at all. You hold on so tightly to the man youâve missed so dearly for the past fifty six years and melt against his chest as his arms clutch onto you as if heâs missed you just as deeply.
Although you know that it hasnât been a simple short few minutes that youâve been standing and holding onto one another, you know that itâs been quite a stretch of time, it doesnât feel long enough. You never thought youâd see Wonwoo again and you had genuinely been okay with that, but now that youâre back in one anotherâs arms, you never want to let him go.Â
âPlease donât,â you whisper pleadingly when he tries to loosen his hold and create a little space between you. You grip onto the back of his shirt, the same shirt you had once admitted you liked the best on him, and he had worn it at every chance after that.
âItâs time to go,â he says softly, hands sliding across your shoulders and down your arms where theyâre wrapped around his waist to gently unwind them from him.Â
âPlease-â
âYou donât have to worry,â he promises, lifting your hands to cup his face, making you lean back to look up at him, uncaring that your cheeks are slick with tears you hadnât thought possible for a ghost to cry. At least youâre not the only one who has visibly felt their emotions; his eyelashes are clumped with his own tears and eyes a little red. But heâs smiling as he turns into your palm to press an adoring kiss in the centre.
âBut-â
âDo you trust me?â
âWith everything in me,â you answer without hesitation, without any hint of doubt for the man. You have full faith in him and always have, even now.Â
âThen donât fight it. Take my hand and let me guide you like Iâve been waiting to for all these years.â
There isnât a falter to your steps when Wonwoo steps back, lowering your hands and lacing the fingers of your left hand with his right. You follow him, eyes locked onto him, and he smiles in relief.
He pauses just to lift your connected hands and press a kiss to the back of yours before he turns and starts to walk, and you follow.Â
Youâd follow him anywhere, even if your mind is reeling with the image of stepping into your afterlife with your hands empty and no one at your side. But your heart doesnât doubt him. Your heart trusts him, still beats in time with his, and where Wonwoo is involved, your heart has always reigned supreme.Â
Wonwoo had never told you what itâs like to guide a soul to the afterlife, how he does that other than taking their hand and walking with them. You hadnât known how he accesses the afterlife; if thereâs some kind of door, a portal, or something else. And honestly, even now, youâre not sure how it works.Â
You walk alongside Wonwoo, eyes glued to him and savouring every moment you have with him, uncertain which will be your last. You miss the moment you step from the living world into the next. You donât even realise that you have until Wonwoo comes to a stop and turns to look at you with a nervous, shy little smile.
Silently, he motions forward with a tilt of his head, making you look forward and realise that youâre no longer in the cemetery you know so well after ninety years of life. You donât know where you are, but itâs beautiful.Â
The air is crisp and clean, the sky bright and blue, the grass so green and alive and dotted with masses of beautiful flowers of all types, many youâve never seen before. Itâs like something out of a dream and a part of you feels like youâve been here before, like maybe you did dream this up once upon a time yet forgot it, like most dreams.Â
Though the landscape isnât even the point of focus, the thing that really catches your eye, that makes your breath stutter in your chest and eyes to prickle with a fresh round of tears, is the sweet little cottage in front of you.Â
Ever since you were a small child, youâve wanted to live in a cosy little cottage like youâve only seen in movies, like you hadnât found the likes of no matter how hard you looked over the past decades. Nothing ever lived up to the image you painted in your mindâs eye, an image that Wonwoo had helped create as you spent nights tucked up together painting a mental picture together of a future life, a home you both knew youâd never have.
Yet here it stands before you.Â
âSay something,â Wonwoo requests barely above a whisper, hand holding tighter to yours when you just stand and gawp disbelievingly at the home before you for a few beats too long.Â
âItâs beautiful,â you manage to get out breathlessly, and feel Wonwoo relax at your side. You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows furrowing. âI donât understand, Wonwoo. Whatâs going on? How are you here right now? Why are you not in your afterlife?â
âI am now,â he turns and takes your free hand, gently encouraging you to face him fully. âWhen you freed me and I lost my tie to the human realm, I was sent to the spirit realm and put before the Grand Council; the spirits who delegate a spiritâs position and can approve or reject the termination of a bind, like you did for me that day.â
âThey rejected it?â you assume, gasping in horror.Â
âNo,â he reassures, still smiling his precious, adoring smile as he watches your expression morph with every emotion in your chest. âThey said that I had long paid my dues and could pass on.âÂ
âButâŠyou were the one to guide me.â
âI was the one to reject it.â
âWhat the fuck?!â you sputter, making him laugh. âWhy the fuck would you reject it?! Are you insane, Jeon Wonwoo?!â
âBecause I have never stopped loving you,â he says as if itâs the simplest thing, a natural fact of the universe. Jeon Wonwoo loves you; everyone knows it. âIf I passed on that day, I knew I would never see you again, not the real you; just a poor imitation in my afterlife that could never hold a candle to you. But if I remained and continued to watch over your bloodline, I would one day have the chance to see you again.âÂ
You blink at him as you try to wrap your head around his words, what they mean exactly, how heâs still here right now. âBut the crypt was destroyed, where have you been?â
âBefore the crypt was built, I could travel between the spirit and human realm as I wished, travel where I wished as long as I still fulfilled my duties. Iâve been watching over your family, but mostly, Iâve been by your side.â
Your breath catches in your throat as the meaning to his words settles in your mind. That through the past decades, youâve never truly been without your love, even if you hadnât known that. âAre you serious?âÂ
âI am.â
âFor the past sixty years?â
âAt every possible moment. Admittedly, I did leave when you took bedfellows.â His features twist with distaste at the memories of witnessing you taking lovers over the years. It makes you giggle and his expression melts as he leans closer to you as if enchanted by your melodic laughter. âEven though I didnât enjoy those aspects and always wished it was my hand you held and arms you slept in, I have never been truly sour about it. Iâm glad that you found others to love and lived a full life. All I wanted was for you to be happy and healthy, and you have been. You travelled and experienced so many things. I experienced many with you too, even if not in the same way. It felt as if we experienced them together, and Iâve been happy to have you in what way I could these years.â
âBut I never knew you were there.â You frown. âAll the times Iâve talked to you and wished to hear you talk back yet only heard the wind.âÂ
âI know, sweetheart. I always responded, always wished you could hear me, but it wasnât time.â
âUntil now.â
âUntil now,â he agrees. âIâve been waiting to guide you and Iâm beyond glad that it happened naturally after a full life.âÂ
As happy as you are to see him, to know that his devotion and love has never wavered, youâre still so confused about why heâs standing by your side in the afterlife. âWhy are you still here?â you blurt suddenly, unable to hold back the question anymore.
âDo you not want me here?â he questions, frowning and suddenly looking hesitant, as if he had never considered that possibility.
âOf course I do, idiot!â you exclaim and watch his shoulders loosen as the sudden weight on his chest flies free with his momentary fear that you donât want him to remain by your side despite still loving him. âIâm just so fucking confused! I thought you donât go to the afterlife with the souls you guide!â
âI donât ordinarily,â he confirms and steps a little closer until the toes of your shoes are touching. âWhen I returned to my role as your familyâs ancestral spirit, I struck a deal with the council.â
âWhat kind of deal?â
âThat I would return to the role willingly, for as many years as it takes until I can guide you as my final crossing, and thenâŠI will stay by your side and share your afterlife with you.âÂ
âWhat?â you murmur in shock, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. âShare it with me?â
âYes, but only if you truly want me. If you donât, wellâŠyou do want to spend your afterlife with me, yes?â
âI never want to be without you again,â you answer honestly, nodding firmly and holding on tighter to his hands. âDonât you dare leave me, Jeon Wonwoo.â
âI wonât. I promise, Iâm here for all eternity by your side.âÂ
âGood.â You nod in approval. âWhat would happen if I said no?â
âOh, I wouldnât have an afterlife. I would simplyâŠcease to exist.âÂ
âAnd you agreed to that?!â you baulk. âWonwoo!âÂ
âYou love for me didnât waver even as I forced you away. Even as I held you back and made you watch the crypt begin to bury me, you still loved me so strongly that I had the strength to hold you back. Even after that, even after freeing me and I was sent to the spirit realm, I still felt that love. I knew in my soul that you will always love me, and I put my entire faith in that remaining true until now and for even longer. For all eternity.âÂ
âI would say your faith in me is crazy, but considering weâre here right now and I still love you as much as I always have, if not more, youâre clearly much wiser than me.â
âWell, I am over nine hundred years old,â he jokes, grinning teasingly as he leans down, closer to you.
âGod, youâre so fucking old,â you groan playfully before tilting your head up to kiss him as if itâs the first time all over again.Â
At least this time, you know you never have to worry about a last kiss. You have all of eternity to kiss every inch of his pretty face, and body, to your heartâs desire. Something you will certainly take advantage of at every opportunity.Â
And there really is no time like the present.
âSo, Iâve got my thirty-something-year-old body back,â you declare as your arms loosely wrap around Wonwooâs neck. He tilts his head to the side, curious and silently questioning where youâre going with this as his fingers curl into your hips to hold you that bit closer. âIf I recall correctly, there should be a huge bed in our dream home, correct?â
âYes, that is what we discussed,â he confirms with a nod, eyes flickering a little as his mind starts to catch on to what youâre edging towards.
âWell, then I think that the combination of a young body again, a big bed, and sixty years apart means we have a lot of catching up to do, donât you, my love?â
You can see the moment it all clicks into place in Wonwooâs mind. His eyes widen as they light up in understanding, before his eyelids turn heavier, eyes darker, and lips tilt up in a smirk that never fails to make you feel weak in the knees.
âOh, that we do, sweetheart,â he agrees and slides his hands down to the back of your thighs to pick you up as effortlessly as he always has. Youâre momentarily very glad that his spirit strength has remained the same even now, but then heâs slotting his lips against yours and leaving you unable to do anything but wrap yourself around him and lose yourself in his touch.
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