_nanajeong

24 | WP: bb_nanajeong

[nana-jeong]

NAVIGATION

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𐙚 about me

𐙚 about my writings

𐙚 masterlist

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╰┈➤ linktr.ee

WE ARE

THE BOYZ

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝓔𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰!:･*.ೃ࿔⋆❀ °

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

hi~~ this with Ms menace sweets & crashout jealous jae pls!

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSmwqasjF/

when I think she's bad, y'all find ways to make her worse lollllll

link!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ men my gf shouldn't know ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Hanging out with your boyfriend was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it was completely ordinary, totally normal, super routine. Sitting in front of his TV, with only the preface of "you better not disappoint me"? Not normal.

He taps away at his iPad, humming in satisfaction which you quickly learn must be because of the screen that now reads, "men my girlfriend shouldn't know." You bite back a giggle, masking a smirk as you roll your lips in, already knowing that Fratboy!Jaehyun won't be very happy with the outcome of this nonsense he's set up.

"Here we go," he starts, swiping on his screen so that the face of Hudson Williams appears, "who's this?"

Your spine goes straight, eyes alight with excitement as you fight the urge to squeal excitedly. "That's Hudson Mildred Williams," you answer calmly, unable to fight the bright smile on your face, hell, you can't even take your eyes off the screen.

"Not off to a good start," Jaehyun tuts. The screen changes to one of Michael B. Jordan, "who is this man."

You turn to him with a smile, "MBD."

"Phew," Jaehyun sighs, "you got it wrong."

"Nah," you shake your head with a dreamy sigh, "it stands for: My Baby Daddy."

"No!" Jaehyun yells, changing the slide to one of a familiar face.

You deadpan as you turn to look at your boyfriend, "you know he and I are married. You're setting me up."

"You are not married to Choi Minho. Another miss." He replies with a disappointed shake of his head.

The next picture has you whirling around in shock, "I'm expected not to know one of the most beautiful men in the world?! Jae, please don't play with me right now. And you chose a picture of Zayn with the perfectly fallen curl of hair? Puh-lease, you're disappointing yourself."

"Last one, last chance to redeem yourself," Jaehyun tells you with a sigh, swiping to reveal the last man.

You burst out laughing, curling forward, "the Gojo Satoru. The baddest bitch from the show you put me on? You just felt like getting mad huh?"

"You weren't supposed to know them all," Jaehyun replies, his lips pressing together in a disappointed frown.

You shrug nonchalantly, "if anything, you should be really proud that you have a girlfriend so in the know, so in-tune with pop culture. Not a lot of people can say that. I think I should be disappointed in your lack of pride for me."

He breathes out a chuckle of disbelief, there's no way you've just turned this back on him. Yet there you are, sitting in front of his TV, one hand resting on the animated, white-haired man's torso with a look of discouragement.

You extend your hand expectantly, "now, give me your iPad so I can add more hotties to my Sexy Men board."

He waves you away with a smack of his lips, "go bother someone else with your nonsense. You failed the test, you don't get rewarded with iPad time."

You roll your eyes, "none of my boyfriends you showed me would treat me like this."

[chocojae]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 — jeong jaehyun

summary ▸ despite finding love and comfort in the stranger by the sea, jaehyun decides to call it quits just so he could return to his ever so perfect idol life. Now, three months later, he is back at her doorstep with overflowing feelings and a track titled forever only.

genre ▸ idol! jaehyun x female reader | idol au | strangers to lovers to exes to lovers au | angst | fluff | slowburn

word count ▸ 11.5k

warnings ▸ profanity | alcohol consumption | mentions of — injuries, bleeding (jaehyun), insomnia | reader has mommy issues (+ doesn't know jae is an idol for the plot) | themes of depression, jae seeks a therapist

luna’s note ▸ the original fic was just post breakup and making up, but I wanted to include ' what was their relationship like" (so it would hurt more to write about their breakup) and thats how it got to 'strangers to lovers' . i poured my heart into this piece and i hope you enjoy it ♡

THE WATER SEEMED SO PEACEFUL AND CALM, UNLIKE JAEHYUN.

The whisper of waves crashing fills his ears and he closes his eyes, enjoying the serene moment. The moonlight shone upon the sea, the reflection of the moon so beautiful that one could swoon over it.

Jaehyun has a denim jacket thrown over a simple white tee. It’s 1 in the morning and he should have not been here, far from the city in a quiet town he’s not even sure someone lives in.

He should have been in his bed, taking a rest because this day was just gonna be as hectic as yesterday, if not more. He wishes he could take a break, he really does but it’s his life that won’t allow it. 

Jeong Jaehyun is an idol, quite a famous one at that. He has a million fans who adore him and a team who stays by his side even at the worst times. He has the looks, he has the talents, he has the money, and he has the love of his fans. That should be enough to make him happy. Right?

Jaehyun’s expression drops at the thought. He ponders over it for a little while. Is he really not happy but just…..sad? He quickly shakes his head. No, there is no way. He is happy, it is just that today’s just one of those where you feel down and just can’t help it.

He roughly opens up a beer can, chunking the liquid down his throat in one go. Jaehyun’s mind was messed up. He didn’t even remember the number of cans he had consumed this night.

Tears burned his eyes. He looked down at the ground, a tear slipping down his porcelain skin. He closed his eyes shut before trailing them to the sea. And then, he felt at ease. 

The water looked so alluring, so tranquil that it called out to him, wanting to lure him inside. It seemed as though one dip and Jaehyun was going to forget everything that troubled him.

The desire to just sink in the water became so strong that he slowly stood up, the can dropping to the sand with a soft clash. Jaehyun soon started making his way towards the sea lazily. Should he really do this? Is this decision right? Jaehyun wasn’t sure but it seemed as though he was hypnotised, his legs were moving on their own, refusing to listen to him.

One foot in and he could feel the coldness of the sea. Somehow that coldness felt like a warm hug. He looked down. His foot was under the water, the sand tickling him. He liked the feeling so much.

He should dive in, one dip should not hurt him. His brain was shutting down as walked forward, his legs in the water. With each step, the water rose, up to his ankles, up to his knees, up his waist and soon he was neck deep in it, eyes closed as he relished in the moment. It felt so peaceful— like time had stopped, like all his worries had vanished, like the cruel world couldn’t hurt him.

His clothes were all drenched, sticking uncomfortably to his skin but he didn’t care, for all he cared for was the warmth and comfort the sea gave him. In a matter of seconds, he was completely under the water with no visibility. Why couldn’t he stay here forever? It would be pretty nice to be in a place where nothing could bug him. 

His eyes were getting heavier with each second passing by. Jaehyun couldn’t keep them open even if he tried. His body was exhausted and needed some rest. In a matter of seconds, his eyes gave up and his body sank in, deeper and deeper.

Jaehyun knew exactly what was happening, but he did nothing to help himself. Suddenly he heard a splash and the next thing he knew was two arms wrapping around his waist. His eyes shot open, looking over to meet the unexpected guest.

That person dragged him up to the surface and once she did, they both gasped for air. Jaehyun looked over to the person, his wet bangs blocking the view. From what he could get a glance from, his “saviour” was a woman.

His body suddenly became stiff, what if, what if you were a… stalker? Millions of scenarios flashed in his mind. If this leaked out Jaehyun would be in great trouble and his “perfect” idol image would be ruined. After all, which perfectly fit and content idol would choose to drown in the sea?

“Are you fucking insane?” You spat at the man beside you, your voice laced with anger and frustration. With his wet bangs covering half of his face and your hair in front of yours, you weren’t able to make out his face completely. The dim night light wasn’t so convenient in this situation either.

“What the fuck were you doing in there? You could have died!” Jaehyun scoffs at your words and it confuses the shit out of you. He has the audacity to what, scoff? Just after you saved his stupid ass?

“Died? Like d-i-e-d, died?” He said and mockery was visible in his tone. Jaehyun knew what he was doing. His voice and words were sharp, and curt. He knew he was acting like a jerk, but if you were a stalker and got to know that he did nothing after literally drowning himself, you could spread it and easily spoil his image. 

He has to be cautious, no matter what. “Miss, I don’t know who you are but you should not meddle in someone’s business. I wasn’t “dying” or “drowning”, I was just taking a dip.” 

Your expressions dropped at his words. He was taking a dip? Damn, now you feel stupid. But hey, this isn't really your fault. What would you expect if you were just passing by, heard a sob, saw a man with two empty beer cans lying at his feet and the next thing he did was gradually sink into the sea? Of course, you would freak out. 

Your silence made Jaehyun feel relieved. At least you bought his words. “Oh.” You thought aloud, still in the water beside him. Nice, now how the hell do you get out of this awkward situation? Your eyes roamed around. Beer cans. Your eyes lit up as you turned your face towards the man beside you, who, surprisingly, was already walking towards the shore.

You followed soon after. “Taking a dip doesn’t give you the right to throw trash here. “ You rolled your eyes, ears not missing the frustrated sigh of the man beside you. The stupidity from the event before was still within you, but hey, at least you pointed out how this man was trashing your sea. It’s surely gonna make you feel a bit better.

Jaehyun was bothered, almost annoyed as to why you were here. He just wanted to be alone this night, but the universe decided that this wasn’t a good option. Are you actually a stalker? 

“Pick up the trash before you go away.” How awkwardly could you have uttered these words? It feels right to leave this way since you have nothing to do with this stranger and the fact that you embarrassed yourself in front of him was already your cue to leave him alone. 

Not to mention the fact that this rude stranger couldn’t even say a ‘thank you’. You know you were mistaken, but still. 

The soft sound of footsteps against the sand makes Jaehyun look up. He figures you’re leaving and soon feels relieved. Once he makes sure you are no longer in his sight, he turns around and slumps down to the ground beneath him.

He continued gazing at the water for a while and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Water weirdly gave him a sense of comfort he needed and he does not want to go away from it.

His arms were thrown over his knees and his eyes took in every bit of the beauty nature offered him. Jaehyun worried about you. What if you had followed him all the way from his apartment?

A gentle, cool breeze was what it took to shut down his thoughts completely. You were a complete stranger to worry about at this moment. And even if you were a stalker, Jaehyun’s sure you are just not worth worrying about when he has the sea laid in front of him.

He loves the feeling the water gives him. At that moment, Jaehyun makes up his mind. He is going to visit this place whenever his schedule allows it. He spent about an hour sitting in the comforting silence and when it was time to leave, his gaze landed on the empty cans. Pick up trash before you go away. Your words rang in his ears making him roll his eyes.

“Great.” He muttered under his breath, picking up the cans and tossing them in the garbage can nearby.

“Are you a stalker?”

“EXCUSE ME!?” You looked at the rude stranger (who has now been termed as a jerk in your book) with shock painted all over your face. How dare he? He still looked at you with those dim eyes of his, waiting for a reply.

You scoffed. “And why would you assume it?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, glaring at you. ”Because you keep following me.”  

“I keep following you?” He has to be kidding you. Why would you follow this rude man? Does he think the world revolves around him? 

He nods his head, standing up and facing you. “I have been coming here for a month now,” Jaehyun tilts his head, hands in his pocket. “And whenever I am here, you are too.” 

You chuckle, passing him a smile. “Oh, so that’s the reason why you think I am following you!” Jaehyun becomes confused at your reaction. “I hate to break it to you, but I live here. Live as in l-i-v-e. I am not “following you” or “stalking you”, I am just taking a walk here.” You mimicked his words from your first meet, eyebrows rising in bliss to hear Jaehyun utter the same “oh” as you did. 

“Whenever I went out for a walk, I, unfortunately, saw your face. Every single time.” You paused. You wished you had a camera with you to capture the face Jaehyun gave. So helpless and taken aback. You won’t lie, you kinda felt proud of yourself.

Jaehyun was in disbelief. Do you seriously not know him, or are just pretending to not? “Whatever.” He whispers, more to himself but your ears could catch it.

“Still don’t believe me? I live right there.” You pointed to a house in the opposite direction. “It’s a less populated area but people do live here.”

Much like how you felt, Jaehyun feels dumb. So you actually live here. He cleared his throat, eyes darting back to the sea in an attempt to ignore you.

You squint your eyes at him. So this man couldn’t even say ‘sorry’ now? You don’t even have empty beer cans splattered on the ground so he could point it out. Talking about beer cans, you noticed he didn’t have any alcoholic beverages this time and seemed quite sober. 

That’s good. At least you won’t have to drag his ass out if takes a “dip”. 

You shook your head violently, getting rid of those thoughts. Why do you even care? Jaehyun sneaks a glance at you. Shit, you are still here. He doesn’t know how to deal with his situation, so he just crosses his fingers and prays you would go soon. 

Jaehyun swings his arms back and forth, taking tiny steps left and right. He froze when it finally clicked him. You want an apology. He locks gaze with you who had her arms crossed, a sly smirk he is sure he will grow to hate. How annoying can you get?

“I am sorry.” His voice was low and though you clearly heard him, you leaned in. “What? I couldn't hear you.” As annoying as it can get, Jaehyun thinks to himself, twisting his body towards you.

“I am sorry.” He repeats again, this time a little louder. 

“Oh yeah, for what?” Jaehyun, frustrated, closed his eyes shut.

“I am sorry for assuming you are a stalker….” Your smile broadened, a feeling of satisfaction washing all over. You hummed, taking a step closer. 

“As you should be,” You paused, examining Jaehyun’s expression. Seeing you stare at him, Jaehyun rolled his eyes. You are so irritating it makes him want to rip off his hair.  “Mr. jerk.” You finished, and Jaehyun was taken aback.

You passed him a quick smirk before running away, leaving him dumbfounded. Jaehyun was still trying to process what just happened. So not only are you irritating, you are rude too? The universe has to be kidding him. 

Surprisingly, you and Jaehyun crossed paths very often. It was as if every power in the world wanted you to see each other’s awful faces. You both pretended to puke at the sight. Even if any of you tried to visit the sea at a different time, you would still meet and thus, had no choice but to get used to it.

For you, Jaehyun roaming-around near the shore in the dead of night was a normal thing now. While for Jaehyun, you lingering behind him like a bothersome ghost was now a day to day routine. 

Jaehyun and you never talked after the latest incident and while you wished it would remain that way, looking at the scene before your eyes, you are afraid that is not going to be the case.

With the breeze cutting through your ear, you stared at Jaehyun in horror. Your eyes trailed down to the red liquid flowing down his hand. Jaehyun was bleeding. You know Jaehyun wouldn’t want you to interfere in his matters but how could you not when he was just standing with the red liquid smearing on his hand?

You jogged towards your house as fast as you could, banging the door open and rummaged through your stuff to find the first aid kit. You rushed back to Jaehyun, the sound of your rushed footsteps making your motives clear.

 You sat beside him, gently taking his wounded hand in yours. “Please don’t tell me you were just testing your strength like the time you were trying to take a dip.” Jaehyun didn’t say anything, eyes glued to the sand. He doesn’t know why he is letting you do this, but the way you ever so tenderly treated his wounds, it made his heart twitch. He was happy to know that you cared, even if you resented him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, his voice low. There was a hint of confusion in his voice, eyes finally taking a look at you. Your movements slowed down. Yeah, why are you doing this? The question left your brain hurting. 

“Maybe because I love guilt tripping myself. If I did nothing, my brain would replay this exact moment again and again to remind me just how much of a jerk I am to ignore a bleeding person.” You pressed the antiseptic harshly against his skin, making him slip out a low hiss. You wondered what caused him to do this. “And partly because you make me somewhat curious.”

“What?” You sighed, dragging your gaze upwards. As soon as your eyes met his, you froze. It was your first time clearly seeing his face and under the moonlight, he looked surreal. He was definitely one of the most gorgeous men you had laid eyes on.

As soon as realisation crashed upon you, you blinked quickly, shaking your head to get rid of your high thoughts. Have you gone crazy? Why would you think that this jerk is handsome?

You quickly glanced at him once more, biting the inside of your cheek. Okay, he is handsome. You pressed your lips into a thin line, heat rushing to your cheeks. You hated how he was the one making your body react this way.

"Because you have intentions of polluting the sea once again, don't you?" Jaehyun looked at the crushed can, shutting his eyes close. Brave of him to assume you were a decent human being. You are always going to be like that, aren’t you?

The metal top of the can had cut through his palm, adorning him with a fresh, deep wound. The antiseptic was burning into his skin. He was suddenly feeling dizzy.

Jaehyun stared at his bruised hand blankly. Why did he do this? Sure, he was frustrated after his manager screamed at him for not doing better because he was trying his best, but he was an idol. An idol who was supposed to maintain his perfect image no matter what. An idol who is not supposed to adore cuts and scratches on his body.

He withdrew his hand from yours within a second of realising that, and the scoff that made its way to your face was quite visible despite the dim light.

He knows you are trying to help him. You even tried to help on your first encounter. But he won’t let you do it again. He doesn’t know why it's always you who gets to experience his miserable side.

Jaehyun shifted in his place uncomfortably, he was still skeptical of your identity. What if, despite you confirming that you lived here, you were sent by his manager to keep an eye on him?

“You are ungrateful.” You whispered, tossing him a cloth and a healing cream. Jaehyun watched as you stood up, hands gripping the aid box’s handle tight. His eyes followed your figure until it became smaller and he wondered if you got hurt by his actions.

Once he couldn’t make you out anymore, he glanced at the things you’ve left for him. Carefully, and with much struggle, he applied the cream on his wound and tied it tightly with the cloth. 

“Where were you at night?” You froze, eyes meeting your grandmother’s kind ones. She had a smile on her face, as she waited for your reply. When you took a little too long, she spoke. “Was it because you couldn’t fall asleep?” 

You diverted your gaze from her concerned eyes. “How did you know?” 

She shrugged. “I heard the door bang loudly at night and I was worried if someone broke in, until I saw it was you, coming back with the first aid kit. Why the kit though, did you see someone injured?” You closed your eyes remembering the night prior. “I did.” 

 Your grandmother chuckled. “Seems like you don’t like that person.”

“Yes, I don’t.” You confessed immediately, looking at her once again. “He is arrogant, a jerk and literally all the synonyms of rude.” 

“He?” Your grandmother was now interested in the talk.

You nodded. “Yeah, he. He is a man that has been visiting the sea for a couple of days. One night he almost drowned, told me he was just taking a dip and the other night, he bled. When I tried to help dress his wounds, he just withdrew his hand.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, and did I mention he loves polluting the sea?” 

You paused. “And he didn’t even thanked me.”

“Thank you.” You almost choked on your saliva. You couldn’t believe your ears. Did that rude man just say thank you?? As in an actual thank you? Are you sure you aren’t dreaming?? You stared at Jaehyun in disbelief, eyeing him up and down like he was a ghost.

Jaehyun pressed his lips in a thin line, waiting for your response and when he saw you looking like you were complementing if it was actually him or not, he turned away, back facing you.

“What did you just say?” 

“Thank you.” He repeats and you dramatically cover your mouth with one hand. The night earlier after you had left, Jaehyun had felt bad. Maybe he should have thanked you for what you did. 

“Y—You know that word?” You asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I am hearing that from your mouth.”

“You can pretend you didn’t hear it, if that’s the case.” Jaehyun now thought that it would have been better had he kept his mouth shut. 

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way I am going to forget that. With the new information that you have basic atticates and still chose to not put them in action, I could see you are a bigger jerk than I presumed to be.” He turned to glare at you and you passed him a mocking smile. 

No one could have ever thought this would be the start of a “friendship” between you, or in other words, Jaehyun would console you while your wet face would be pressed against his shirt.

“I hate my life, you know.” You hiccupped in between your sobs, vision blurred by your tears. 

Jaehyun sat stiff beside you, gulping as he was unsure of what to do. He had found you sitting on the same spot he sits at and when you spotted him, you scoffed and yelled: "Aren't your visiting days monday, thursday, saturday and sunday? Why the fuck are you here on wednesday? To annoy me?”

Turned out you were drunk, very drunk. He couldn’t spot any bottles beside you so he assumed you drank at home and came here to take a walk in the dead of the night, like you always do. 

He was irritated by your crying and so decided to shush you, but well, if shushing you meant sticking close to you with your head on his shoulder, your tears drenching his shirt, he has made a grave mistake by visiting on wednesday.

“Even though you are rude and arrogant and a jerk, I am going to rant to you—”

“Woah, woah. Why are you—.”

“BECAUSE I WANT TO! NOW SHUT UP YOU ARE ANNOYING ME!” You shouted, wiggling on your spot and then took a deep breath.

“So, listen here Mr. Jerk. See, my life right now is a mess, a complete mess. Why? That’s not something I am gonna tell you, you should know how to respect other people’s privacy—”

“I didn’t even asked—”

“Shut up!.” You paused. “ My family has a reputation, and for fitting that reputation you gotta have a job that the society thinks is woah. Are you getting what I mean? And I don’t really have interest in those types of jobs, so that’s why my mother decided what I gotta do with my life and destroyed my passion. Seems cool, right?” You chuckled. “ Now, she’s back, and I— oh fuck, I…..I don’t know what to do.” Your voice weakened, the grasp on Jaehyun’s handkerchief getting tighter.

“She was absent as a mother figure for my whole life and now she’s back, just to mould me into a perfect daughter. I hate it. I hate her.” 

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to do, he glanced over at you who still had her eyes closed and warm tears flowing through them. Your hand was clutching his handkerchief tightly.

He swallowed the bile harshly. “It’s..it’s not like you don’t matter…uhm, you do. Like, you give me some sort of company, even if it's annoying ” Your sobs had paused, and your eyes were now open. “Think about your grandma, your family, your friends, don’t they make you feel like you matter?” 

“I don’t have friends.” You lifted your head off his shoulder, Jaehyun relaxed instantly. “But my grandmother makes me happy.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. 

“So think of it, would your grandmother be happy if you vanished?” You shook your head. “She wouldn’t be.” 

From that moment on you talked about your grandmother (non stop), from her favourite colour to the way her eyes light up whenever she smiles, you told everything about her to the man next to you. 

You even went as far as to narrate her love story and you’re pretty sure if your grandmother comes to know of this she would smack you in the head with all the force she had.

You prated on and on, and then, you passed out. 

…….yeah, just like that.

Jaehyun was struggling to carry you on his back. It was the dead of the night and he was there knocking on people’s houses to ask if they knew where you lived, apologising for the inconvenience caused. While there were only a couple of houses in the area, they were scattered far apart. Luckily, one of the men knew where you lived.

“Ah, isn’t this Mrs Ahn’s grand daughter?” Relieved washed over Jaehyun at the man’s words. He could finally drop your heavy ass off his body. That relief soon was robbed away when he looked at how far your house was located. He sighed, thanking the man and then dragging you with him. God, he is definitely gonna need to spray a ton of back relief formula.

“Who— Oh my, is that Y/N on your back?” Jaehyun passed your grandmother a nervous smile, nodding his head. “What happened to her?”

“She got…uh, she passed out.” 

“Oh, dear! This is bad! please come.” Jaehyun accepted the invitation in an instant, dropping you immediately on the cream-coloured couch and letting out a sigh of relief. All those gym days and yet you still made his back ache. 

“I am sure carrying her wasn’t an easy task. Would you like to have something? Tea, coffee?” Jaehyun shook his head. “Then how about water?” 

“That will do, thank you.” While your grandmother went inside to fetch water, Jaehyun sat next to your spread-out figure, too exhausted after carrying you. His eyes scanned the surroundings. There were pictures of you everywhere. In one of the frames, you were smiling with your teeth on full display, your hair a mess. Jaehyun smiled, it reminded him of his carefree childhood.

“Dear, dear! I’m sure you are exhausted as hell. You couldn’t have found our house in a single try.” Your grandmother’s voice boomed. “What’s your name, child?”

“Jaehyun.” He quietly whispered, eyebrows furrowing when he saw the sparkle in grandmother’s eyes.

“Oh, are you perhaps the guy that has been visiting this sea recently?” Jaehyun nodded, he was surprised your grandmother knew about him. He wondered what you told her about him, but knowing you, you had probably told her all about how Jaehyun was a jerk. 

“I am Mrs. Lee and my grand daughter has been mentioning you quite often these days.” She chuckled, her laughter echoing. Jaehyun smiled. It warmed his heart to hear her laughter, seeming like a single hug from her would erase all his worries and pains. Mrs. Ahn handed out the water to Jaehyun with wrinkled yet soft eyes. 

A small talk turned into hours of gossip sessions filled with laughter and love. The heat of the coffee mug on Jaehyun’s fingertips was as warm as Mrs. Ahn’s presence. She radiated warmth and comfort, personality the epitome of sunshine. Tears almost formed in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at home.

You greeted the morning with a stinging pain in your head, eyes not adjusting to the bright light escaping from the curtain. Everything was shaking, everything was blurry. God, just where were you?

“You’re up? I made you hangover soup, kiddo.” Your grandmother’s voice echoed to the room, the realisation that you were spread out on her couch hitting you. Oh, what a fool you were to fall asleep here—

Wait. 

Sudden flashes of yesterday’s night flooded through your brain, the pieces uncoordinated but still clear enough to make out how you made a fool out of yourself and let a stranger carry you all the way home. 

A gasp escaped your lips, cheek burning up from embarrassment. Just why all these things happen to you. 

“Grandma, have you ever seen a clown emoji?” You mumbled while staring at the ceiling. “That’s exactly what I am feeling right now. Exactly.” Maybe you should apologise to Jaehyun? Or maybe just bring a futuristic gadget to wipe off his memory? You don’t know.

Jaehyun’s bare feet came to a halt. Though he hadn’t looked back, he was sure he could sense your presence a few metres away from him. “Can you stop that?” His voice made you flinch, the susurration of waves filling the silence that followed. When you didn’t respond, he looked back, hands behind his back. 

For a moment, you stared into his brown orbs, the breeze gently swaying his hair. Then you diverted your gaze to the sandy ground below, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes any further.

Jaehyun patiently waited for you to take a step, start a talk, anything. Though in the back of his head, he knew why you were here. 

Taking slow, small steps towards Jaehyun, you stretched out your hand. “Here.” 

Jaehyun raised his eyebrow in surprise. It was his handkerchief, neatly ironed and folded.  He could smell the eerie smell of detergent from it. He took it without a word, a faint smile appearing on his face.

“About last night…” You started, bile building up in your throat. “I…I hope I hadn’t said something really stupid.” You continued a few seconds later, eyes squeezed shut as you waited for his answer.

He chuckled. “To your dismay, you did. First, you called me a jerk.” He took a step forward. “, shouted at me saying I should respect your privacy when I hadn’t even uttered a word and,” Another step towards you, the distance gradually closed. “Then proceeded to tell me your whole life story, contradicting your statement. I wanted to laugh at you for that, but the atmosphere was not quite appropriate for it.”

“I strongly believe saying that you are a jerk is not stupid. You are a jerk, it’s a fact.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah? At least I am not like someone who gets drunk and starts babbling nonsense sentences, and uses incorrect grammar.”

“I was drunk, okay!?”

“Yeah, yeah. Now can you get lost? You’re annoying me.” Rude. 

“Then why the fuck would you say that you like my company, and that i mattered?” Just exactly the words to make Jaehyun dead in track.

“I thought you didn’t remember anything.”

“There are still some rough patches, but this memory is as clear as the sky.“ Red crept over your cheeks. How could you forget? It was one of the nicest things someone had told you. Jaehyun's lips bloomed into a smile, an expression so soft you swear you were imagining it. 

“Do you think I am jerk—”

“Of course.” You answered in a heartbeat, face stern. Jaehyun stared at you for a while before curving his lips into a smirk. 

“Oh yeah? Grandmother Ahn said otherwise last night.” Your face scurried, confusion evident on it. You clearly remember telling your grandmother he was a jerk. 

“You said I was handsome.” 

“What—” You choked on your saliva. Your grandmother said what? “Hey, that's completely a lie! She only told you that because she didn’t want you to be hurt by my actual opinion!”

“Liar.” A teasing smile was all he gave before turning away and pacing forward in an attempt to run away from you. 

“Jaehyun! Where the hell are you going!? Come back here, we need to clear things up!” 

Days with Jaehyun by your side were peaceful, the chilly breeze didn’t seem to be bothering anymore, the moon and stars weren’t your only company anymore. Jaehyun was too.

You liked his company, and maybe you even liked him. Because you couldn’t stop giggling when you were with him, your stomach wouldn’t stop turning and your eyes would never seem to leave his. 

Yes, you liked him, just a tiny bit, but it was still enough to summon all the warmth and love in your heart when your gaze landed on him. Whenever his hand would touch yours, you would freeze, sparks flying all through your body as you would stare at the unaffected Jaehyun rambling about the importance of fruits and why you should eat them.

Everynight, you would wait for him to show up, walking the lengths of the sea in a gentle motion, fixing your hair when the breeze messed them up. 

Your nights earlier were consumed by looking at stars in gloomy sky, by hearing the soft clash of waves and wondering whether the water would be the one to lure you into eternal sleep. But now these same nights were marked with looking at the stars in his eyes and wondering if his touch would be as warm as the brown of his eyes. 

You hated nights, but if they meant sitting by the beach with Jaehyun and hearing his baseless arguments against the big bang theory, you wish the sun would never rise. 

“So, tell me what has led to you having late night visits at the sea.” Jaehyun looks a bit taken aback. He tears his gaze away from you, directing them towards the reflection of the moon in the water.

There’s silence. And it’s not comfortable. You shift upon the realisation. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s okay.” Jaehyun heaved a sigh, his back hitting the sand bed. 

“Do you like music?” 

“Music? Of course I do!” What about it?”

Jaehyun heaves a sigh. “Well, you know. I love music— correction: i loved music. It transported me to another world, where all my worries just scummed. When I would hear the faint of music, it silenced my thoughts, and it brought me peace. So I decided that in the future, I would explore music more, and build my career around it. And so I did exactly that.” Jaehyun didn’t want to continue, because he knew that all this talking would make him realise the thing that he had hidden deep inside him — he doesn’t like his idol life. 

He knew it deep down, but he will never, never, accept it. Because the moment he decides to accept how miserable his seemingly sparkly life actually was, will be the moment that he will realise how his sufferings and sacrifice to enter into the idol world were not worth it. All those years of brutal training and lost youth, they were nothing if they couldn’t fetch him real happiness. 

He couldn’t just accept that all his effort over the past ten years was nothing. It would break him, and he wasn’t ready for this. He won’t ever be ready for this.

“I— I am just tired right now since my manager says I am not quite improving. So I come here every now and then, the sound of the waves— it’s music, it gives me peace.” His lids fall shut, ears taking in the crash of waves against land. His eyes opened up as quickly as they had shut when he felt the warmth of your hand on top of his. 

The small gesture was completely unexpected, but Jaehyun welcomed it. The skin of your hand against his was so comforting, it calmed him more than the waves could. He could feel the warmth of your hand traveling through his body. 

With each passing second, the sound of waves began to fade and the thumping of his heart became evident. Blood rushed to his face. He liked this feeling — your touch felt so pleasant that it took all the strength in him to not intervene his fingers with yours.

That night, neither of you said anything else. It was a cold night but the pounding of your hearts and the hold of your hands made your body burn. You were right, his touch was just as warm as the brown of his eyes.

From that night onwards, something inside Jaehyun changed. His visits become more frequent and longer. Your fingers “accidentally” brushed against each other a lot more, and so did his smiles.

You were his safe place. Whenever he was with you, every worry, every doubt just disappeared. Even though Jaehyun didn’t share much about his life, you knew the raw, authentic parts of him.

Parts that were imperfect. Parts that were messy. Parts that made him Jaehyun. 

“Which one would you like to buy? It’s my treat!” Jaehyun smiled seeing you squeal at his words. You examined all the delicacies your local bakery had to offer. 

“Can I just take everything? They all look so tempting!” 

“No. I am not that rich.”

“You are so mean.” Jaehyun chuckled seeing you throw a glare at him. Your heart melts seeing his dimples poke out, face softening as your lips curl into a smile. How can you not adore this man? Just look at his dimples. 

The bakery owner giggled at the sight in front of her. “It’s nice to see couples coming here.” Even though she whispered to herself, both him and you caught her words. The chuckles died down, and— was Jaehyun blushing? You squint your eyes. His ears were definitely red. Wait, does that mean that he likes you too? The red on your cheeks deepens, and you are sure he notices, because as he walks you to your house, he turns you to face him.

“I like you.” There, he said it. Your mouth parts open in utter disbelief. Oh fuck. Did he just confess? Your lack of response sent Jaehyun into a spiral of thoughts. Has his confession been too soon for your liking?

“I— Are you joking right now?”

“Why would you think I would be joking about my feelings, Y/N?” He heaves in a deep breath, biting his lower lip. “I like you. You give me comfort, you make me forget about all my worries. With you, I don’t feel like I have to pretend that I have no imperfections. With you, I can be silly and goofy. With you, I feel loved.”

Your grip on your bag tightens, his words still sounding like a dream to you. “Jaehyun,” You trail, taking a step closer to him. It’s impossible to ignore the longing in the eyes of the man in front of you. He leans down until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “I like you too.” You breathed, taking a pause to press your lips against his.

Jaehyun smiled, his thumb lifting your chin up. “I know, you were not really discreet in hiding that.” In an instant, his lips were on yours. You closed your eyes, your bag dropping on the ground as your hands slowly made their way around his nape. 

His lips were soft, perfectly moulding with yours. You could feel him smile as your hand tugged at the strands of his hair. He pulled you closer by your waist, his kiss so gentle and full of love that you felt euphoric. The synced thumping of your hearts, the adrenaline rush, sent sparks flying your body. 

You didn’t want to let go, holding onto Jaehyun as though he was the air you breathe. His free hand reached out to grab yours, caressing it before intertwining your fingers. He was on cloud nine, he could taste the lingering vanilla of the pastry you had and it made him dizzier. 

You pulled apart to catch your breath, panting and blushing. Jaehyun locked his forehead with yours, light giggles escaping his lips seeing how flushed you looked. He loved this sight, and lord, he can get drunk on it.

Months went by in a blur. You were on cloud nine, so in love with the man who held your hand delicately every time his gaze met yours. You were glowing from the inside, overwhelmed with all the right feelings. 

Everything was going smoothly, as though your story was one straight from the fairytales, until nct’s popularity increased and so did the pressure on Jaehyun. He no longer had time to visit you, and whenever you asked him about his idol life in the hopes to lessen his burden, he would immediately change the topic. You saw less of Jaehyun each passing day. You tried arranging dates with Jaehyun but it all boiled down to him being busy due to his packed up schedule. Eventually you noticed that his schedule was no longer an actual reason, but just an excuse to avoid you. 

You wondered how long it would take you to save your relationship that's falling apart, until one cold night Jaehyun appeared at your doorstep unannounced. One look at his clenched face and you knew. 

“Let’s break up.” The words that left his mouth still sounded like a thunderclap.  Your expression dropped, mouth ajar as you stared at the man in pure horror. You searched his eyes for something— anything that indicated he was joking, that he loved you like you did. To your dismay, you found nothing but orbs so dark that you could feel a shiver run down your spine. 

“What?” Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill. The lump in your throat grew heavier as your hands curled up into a fist. The aching rhythm of your heart took over your ears, eyes getting red. 

“Why?” Your voice gave in, barely above a whisper as you watched Jaehyun heave in a breath. His palms get clammy.

“You know my life is hectic. No breaks, no rest. I was looking for an escape like a madman, and I found one in you. Initially, it felt good. I was happy, you made me forget about my tedious life. But as my schedule got loaded up I realised that being with you…..It doesn’t bring me any joy. It’s taking a toll on me.” 

The words that seemed to escape his lips so easily, went through your heart like a dagger. He was lying, wasn’t he? How can it be that you bring him no joy? You saw his crescent eyes, his pearly smile, the smile whiskers that you found so adorable — every time he was with you. 

You were desperate to save your relationship, so much so that started sputtering anything that could make him stay. 

“Jae, if it’s about how hectic your schedule is, you don’t have to visit me here! I can always come to you—”

“No, you don’t understand—”

“I get that being in the spotlight is tiresome. You are exhausted and you want to rest. B—But what’s the need of breaking up? If it’s about visiting and spending hours talking with me at the beach, we don’t have to do it. You don’t have to come here for weeks, a month even. You can rest at home, we can always talk on chat. I promise I’ll keep it short so you don’t have to invest too much of your time in it. But, please, don’t break up. We can work this out.” 

“We cannot. I cannot. This relationship is draining me out. I have already made my decision Y/N, I have put a lot of thought into this. I am sorry but you cannot convince me to change my decision.” Your hands frantically grasped the doorframe to balance yourself. You cannot win this. You cannot make him stay. 

Sacred and unsure, your hands feebly make their way to cup his cheeks, and that’s when Jaehyun’s armour breaks. His hand rests on yours, fingers interviewing and you could feel his tough frontier shatter for a moment. 

A moment so vulnerable that he couldn’t help but gently press his lips on yours, tenderly taking you in for what felt like the last time for you both. His actions betrayed his words. His kiss was slow, soft, compassionate, so in contrast to his cold, sharp edged words. 

When he reached out to cup your face and felt the warm liquid on your cheeks, it broke him. But he had no right to feel so, for it was him who made you cry. How can he stay with you, how can he give you the love you deserved when he couldn’t even man up to accept his own feelings? 

At one end, his ego was shifting the blame on you, whispering every night to him that he needs to stay away from you if he wants to continue living his “dream life” in satisfaction. On the other,  his sane self was also telling him to stay away from you for he had done nothing but hurt you these past few months. You deserve better, and he needs to better for you.

And in the haze of shared kisses and cries, drunk of the delicate grip on your waist and fingers tangled in your locks, you knew Jaehyun loved you. But you can’t make decisions for him, and so despite your will, you had to let him go.

Jaehyun bangs the door to his apartment harshly as his mind flashes an image of you teared up. Despite spending weeks trying to convince himself he doesn’t find solace in you, his heart aches seeing you like that. And he had made that very clear with the sentimental kiss shared. 

Being with you made him realise how happy he can be if he left his idol life behind. All the fame, the wealth, it was worth nothing if he wasn’t happy. But he still cannot accept that it’s not you that no longer brings him joy, but his picture perfect life that robs him of happiness. 

Until the time he navigates his emotions, till the time he learns to accept, or learns to improve himself mentally, Jaehyun decides to stay away from you.

It's been weeks since you stepped outside of your room. You occasionally heard your grandmother cursing at Jaehyun in the loudest voice possible, hoping you would come out and join her. She would often complain how the tv wasn’t working properly, or how she couldn’t reach the container on the top shelf — anything that could possibly make you abandon the confines of the room. 

You found solace in your acrylics and oil pastels, painting your feelings on the canvas. It was the only thing that kept you sane. At times, you often wondered how Jaehyun was doing. Was he doing better? Had he found his joy? 

You knew it was understandable for Jaehyun to take a break considering his deteriorating condition recently, but you were sore that he had chosen to battle on his own and not with you on side. Even though you were sure he didn’t mean most of his words, you still found yourself tear eyed whenever you revisited the conversation.

Jaehyun had given you some of the sweetest memories, he had been the source of your happiness and had become an integral part of your life. To have him ripped away from you hurt like hell. 

At nights when your eyes would hurt from staring at the creaks of your ceiling, you would take a stroll down the shore. The salty taste of the air would coat your tongue and your eyes would glisten at the flashes of his smile, the whispers of his voice telling you he loved you. 

You missed him, and wondered if he felt the same.

Jaehyun doesn't feel the same, he feels worse. 

He should have known that cleaning his apartment on a sunday morning just because he wanted to be “productive” and get his shit together after the break up would make things worse for him.

He stares awfully long at the lavender coloured album titled “her”, which he had found on one of his shelves, sitting pretty and luring him near. 

With his hand practically shaking, he mustered up the courage to flip to the first page of his loved album, pupils dilating as his eyes landed on the first pic of you under a street lamp, the soft light illuminating your features and enhancing your appearance. You were smiling for the camera, eyes twinkling.

He remembers that day vividly: when you both pretended to be strangers in your own hometown just to get lost in the familiar streets. It was a simple excuse to be in each other’s company for a little longer. You were wearing a white top paired with a denim skirt, hair blowing with the breeze. 

He misses you. Quite rich coming from the man who suggested that you should part ways since ‘he no longer finds joy in you and being with you just added to the toll his schedule gave.’ 

Jaehyun hated the words he spat the night he showed up unannounced at your house. They were too cruel, all lies. He hopes you know he doesn’t mean any of that and one day, you will find in your heart to forgive him. 

When the night comes, jaehyun would lay in his bed and wonder if had made the right decision— if he was ever going to get better— and if by the time he does get better will you still love him— have you moved on— do you hate him— has the sweet memories with him now left a bitter taste on your tongue—

A train of thoughts that never halted. 

It’s been two months since your breakup and it’s been quite tough for Jaehyun. He has been dealing with insomnia, messing up dance steps, hitting the wrong notes and even fainting. 

After the members gave him an earful, he finally decided to meet a therapist secretly, thrice a week. Jaehyun did not miss the pitiful glances thrown his way wherever he opened up.

One thing the therapist encouraged him to do on a daily basis was writing down his feelings on a piece of paper. Jaehyun thought it was just a simple task but man, he did not expect the paper to absorb his thoughts so well. It was tough on the first day, he admits. It felt like scrapping a fresh clot. But as the ink glided on the paper, the heaviness in his heart got lighter. 

One fine night, when he was missing you so much to the point he was sure that he was going crazy, he picked up a piece of paper and let his thoughts mold into a song. Thanks to his overflowing feelings (and kidnapping mark to help him produce a melody), he was able to prepare the first draft on that night itself. 

The track, forever only, was close to his heart. It was so raw, so vulnerable, so personal. 

“You sing like you have divorced her and lost custody of your three kids.”

Jaehyun yeets the paper on Mark's face, causing a yelp to escape the young man’s throat. Jaehyun heaved out a sigh, slumping on the couch.

“Do you think it’s good?”

“I just gave you a compliment, dude.” Mark joins Jaehyun. “The goodbye and a final kiss, the way you sang that I know you replay that kiss over and over aga— STOP HITTING ME!”

Forever only received positive comments from both his members and the company. It wasn’t long before Jaehyun had stepped foot in the studio to start recording it. A month of hard work, and then forever only finally saw the light of the day.

In the meantime, when you came clear to grandmother about the situation between you and jaehyun— she started showing you profiles of ‘hot men near me’. “Grandma,” You interrupted the happy Mrs. Ahn talking about some Jeong Jungkook. “Why do you have an app named hot men near me?”

Then she smacked you with a pan :)

Hands shaking and sweaty, Jaehyun harshly shoves bile down his throat. The glow of the white screen feels all too uncomfortable as he stares at your contact. Should he do this? Should he contact you?

“I appreciate your concern but can you give me some privacy?” He glances at the seven boys who seemed to be more nervous than him. They were here to ensure he doesn’t chicken out at the last moment. 

“Privacy?” Johnny side eyes him. “Jaehyun, we have even seen your bare ass!” 

“Send the fucking text what are you waiting for?” Yuta shouts from behind, and Jaehyun groans in pain as a cushion is flung at him.

Heaving in a deep sigh, Jaehyun’s fingers move against the keyboard and then halt. “Should I use Hello? Or Hi? Or Hey?” 

“100% a hi.”

“So like a hi with a single i or a hii with double or triple i’s?” …..silence. 

Hands shaking and sweaty, Jaehyun harshly shoves bile down his throat. The glow of the white screen feels all too uncomfortable as he stares at your contact. Should he do this? Should he contact you?

“I appreciate your concern but can you give me some privacy?” He glances at the seven boys who seemed to be more nervous than him. They were here to ensure he doesn’t chicken out at the last moment. 

“Privacy?” Johnny side eyes him. “Jaehyun, we have even seen your bare ass!” 

“Send the fucking text what are you waiting for?” Yuta shouts from behind, and Jaehyun groans in pain as a cushion is flung at him.

Heaving in a deep sigh, Jaehyun’s fingers move against the keyboard and then halt. “Should I use Hello? Or Hi? Or Hey?” 

“100% a hi.”

“So like a hi with a single i or a hii with double or triple i’s?” …..silence. 

If a gaze could kill, your phone would have been in shambles. Your grandmother glares at the message sent by your ex, cursing at him and letting out an evil cackle as she skinned him alive in her cruel imagination. 

She might have “invaded” your privacy but can you really blame her when she saw a notification from “Jae ♡” pop up? Fuming, her shaky hands tapped at the screen. And smirked evilly until she heard a voice behind her.

“Grandma, I am starving.” You whined, fresh out of the shower. You blinked a few times upon registering the device in your hand. 

“Is that my phone?” Back straightening up, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, pretending to get mad. She nodded, anger still glinting in her eyes.

“Come on, you know it’s rude to access people’s belongings without their permission.” You jogged towards her with a smile plastered on your face, peeking to see what she was checking. 

She flips the phone screen the second you try to glance at it. “I prepared your favourite soup. Weren’t you starving? Quick, go eat it before it gets cold.” 

“Yes, commander.” She chuckles at your response, shoving the phone into her pocket. And just like that, you never saw his message.

“Are you buying these for your girlfriend? She is going to love it.” Jaehyun slightly smiles under the black mask adoring his face, taking the bouquet of red flowers in his hands and uttering a thanks to the florist.

You had left him on seen and though Jaehyun knew it was not ideal for him to show up in your new neighbourhood after his actions, he still did. He wanted to try and fail instead of regretting it in the future. 

So here he was, standing at the door of the house he was all too familiar, clutching the bouquet of roses out of nervousness. He took a deep breath and rang the bell.

“Greetings—” The smile on your grandmother’s face dropped as soon as she identified the man standing in front of her, the black mask and cap he wore all too familiar to her eyes.

Jaehyun bowed the second after, not missing the way her eyes were shooting daggers at him. He would be lying if he wasn’t scared, shifting uncomfortably in his place.

“Why are you here?” Her words were laced with spite, imitating your own too precisely. Does mastering the cold tone run in your bloodline? Jaehyun smiles at the thought.

“Uh— I am here to give your grand daughter something.” He mumbles in a quiet voice and it was only then did her gaze land on the bouquet in Jaehyun’s hand. “I am sure she doesn’t need them.”

Jaehyun sighed at the answer, fixing his cap. “I know I have hurt your daughter, but I am here to prove that I am willing to try again and face my weakness, to love her the way my past self wasn’t able to and to make her realise that I indeed did and still love her.” 

The sadness in his eyes made her heart clench a little and she wanted to pat his back to tell him it was alright. But how could she when the person he hurt was none other than her own grand daughter?

“It’s too late now, don’t you think?” Jaehyun said nothing and just dipped his head low. “Please……just please let me try. I promise I won’t hurt her…..again” Your grandmother sighed, calling your name, saying you have a visitor.

“I want you to stay away from her, but it’s her life and so it’s her who should make her decisions. Don’t get heartbroken if she gives you a piece of her mind…or a few slaps.” She rolled her eyes but somewhere, hidden in the depths of her heart was a voice that told her it was the right decision.

Jaehyun mumbled a small thank you, eyes peering inside the house to look at you, the gorgeous lady inside out, standing timidly in her flip flops and messy hair, yet still knocking the wind out of him.

You had come running to the gate upon hearing your name, confused as to who might be there to visit you. The sight of Jaehyun was something that left you numb, and you swore he could see the surprise painted on your face.

You looked at your grandmother who balled her right hand into a fist and pointed it towards Jaehyun as if telling you to punch him with all your might. You took bold steps towards the man dressed in black, a stark contrast to the way your heart was pounding.

“Hi,” Jaehyun’s voice was so warm and inviting, and the tenderness in his eyes that like you were some sort of precious thing he had vowed to protect. It caught you off guard. Meeting him still broke you down in a cold sweat. 

He handed you the bouquet with gentleness. “This is for you.” He uttered, a small smile visible on his face despite his mask. You accepted the bouquet, still eyeing Jaehyun as you were still in doubt as to what he was up to. 

No man shows up at his ex’s house and hands a bouquet with a smile on his face unless he is there to convince the ex to give him a second chance. But it was Jaehyun, the idol that has been packed with tight schedules and shootings so why would he be there for this petty reason? Didn’t being an idol drain him out to be dealing with you?

“I am sorry.” You blinked a few times. There was a visible confusion on your face. Jeong Jaehyun bought you flowers and apologised? Jaehyun took a second to register your actions. You didn’t slam the door shut in his face or threw the bouquet on him like he had imagined. 

Afraid that he was running out of time before you would close the door on him, he mustered up the courage to let his words reach you. 

“I know what I did was wrong…..it was selfish and maybe pathetic, and I regret it.” Jaehyun’s brain was in a haze, the script he had learned for this particular moment all too blurry and he was left with nothing to rely on except his true and raw feelings. So he shared them, even though it was one hell of a task for him.

“I get that you don’t even want to look at me, but please, just listen to me this time.” You avoided his gaze, silencing yourself and giving him a signal to go. Jaehyun understood it and took a deep breath. Boy, he wishes he does not end up crying in the process.

“I was a coward……I chose to leave you and never talk about my feelings. Thinking about them was scary because that would have meant me getting a glimpse of what I really felt towards this life. And I didn’t want to accept that after coming this far.” 

“When things got hard, crushing me under, I believed that I would be just fine. When my eyes lost all the light, I still blindly believed that. And soon helplessness developed into frustration, and that frustration went out on you. I am just so sorry.” 

“Yes, I am here to ask for a second chance.” He took in a deep breath, eyes fixated on the ground because he was so afraid of looking at you. “I just wanted you to know how I feel, that’s it. Whatever decision you take, I will abide by it.” 

The air becomes thicker, your chest feels heavier. Shit, shit. You were not over him, you still missed him. It didn’t help that his words seemed sincere. “I—”

“Please take your time.” Merely above a whisper, he said. What if you say no? Would this be the last time Jaehyun sees you? “Please think about it…” His eyes were now glossy. His gaze never leaves your face, just so he could crave your features in his memory, just in case this was his last chance of looking at you.

The sun dipped below the horizon, wind blew your hair, feet bare against sand, you had your hand clutching the bouquet. You closed your eyes, taking in every little sound the beach gave you. You don’t remember how long you have been walking. 

Do you want it? A second chance at the relationship which once felt everything? Do you still love Jaehyun? Your brain had shut down, refusing to comply with the situation. Your heart was aching. Was it because you were afraid of getting hurt again? Or was it because you have missed Jaehyun just as much as he had? How you wish you could find the answer to that.

Your thoughts about Jaehyun went in a loop, and it was overwhelming. You needed a distraction. Anything would work if it meant a pause to your contemplation. You dragged your eyes along the expanse of land, heaving out a sigh of relief as you noticed the bakery. 

Yes, food will surely work.. You rush to the place, the sweet smell and the slow jazz music immediately calming you down.

“Welcome!” The owner smiled. “Oh it’s you! It’s been a long time, what would you like?” You passed back a smile and skimmed over the pastries, pointing to a blueberry one. “This one!”

Lord, you were right. Food always works. You deserved this sweet treat. “Can I have another one?” 

“Sure!” As she picked up the pastry, the song switched. (forever only starts playing). It felt nice, the voice felt familiar—. Your lips parted. This was definitely Jaehyun’s voice. This was his song. Forever Only.

Your hands start shaking. Tears streamed down your face, and even though your vision was getting blurry, everything else started becoming clear. Do you want a second chance at this relationship? Hell yes. Do you still love Jaehyun? Yes, yes, yes!

“Here— are you okay?” The owner’s voice was full of concern as she bent down to check on you. Your sobs were getting louder each stanza. “I— I think I should stop this song—”

“No….please let me hear it. Everything.” And you did. Every single thing. Every ounce of pain in his voice. You were a mess, crying uncontrollably, holding onto the bouquet as though it was Jaehyun himself. Only when the song ended, you were sane enough to utter a thank you to the owner who was patting your back the entire time. 

“Are you feeling better now?” She asked and you nodded. “I am so sorry, it was just that the song got to me.” 

“No worries, it’s my favourite song, so vulnerable. Even I cried when I first heard it because it reminded me of my ex.” She chuckled. “I think I should refrain from playing this in my bakery. I can’t believe I made two people cry in a matter of thirty minutes. Before you a man in all black came and his hands were shaking when he heard this song, I mean he didn’t cry openly but his whimpers were enough—”

“A man in all black?” Your heart pounded. It has to be Jaehyun. “Was he wearing a mask and a cap?”

“Yes! Do you know each other—” You gasped and immediately got up, impatient to know where he went.

“When was he here? Do you remember in which direction he went?”

“15 minutes ago, and he went there.” That was it. You sprinted out of the bakery, not caring about your tear streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. A run of 2 minutes leads you to him, sitting with his back against you, staring at the water like it held all the answers. It was your spot. 

Your knees gave up and as the grainy sand scratched your skin, you let out a cry. Your mewls caught his attention and when he turned to find the source of this noise, his breath got caught. It was you.

One eye contact was all it took for you to cry out harder, eyes getting puffier and throat burning. Jaehyun rushed towards you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, a little hesitant at first. 

“I missed you.” You breathed out, hands snaking around his bicep. “So fucking much.” He was breaking down too. He pulls you in, embracing you with such a gentle yet stern grip, as if you were a mirage that would disappear if he lets you.

“I love you.” He whispered, pressing a small kiss to your temple. “I always have.” You pull away, tear brimmed eyes looking at his. 

“I hate you.” You punched his chest. “First you part away, and then— you come for a second chance— and then I find out you wrote a goddamn song about me. Why such a depressing song? Haven’t I given you enough happy memories!?” 

“No— that’s not what I meant in that song—”

“Shut up. I was trying to crack a joke, lighten the mood.” 

Jaehyun stared at you. “...whilst balling your eyes out— ouch!”

“As if you look any better! Your eyes are puffier than mine! Even in such a situation you are bickering with me! Do you want me to go ba—”

The words died in your throat as his lips sealed yours. Jaehyun was a gentle kisser, slow and patient. But this time, his kisses lacked patience. It was as if they were trying to tell you how much he had missed you. His thumb tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss. You pressed your face closer to his, cutting down any space for air.

It was sloppy and messy, like all the longing had manifested itself into the swirl of your tongues, the grip of his hand on your waist and the scratch of your nail against his skin. How you wished your grandmother wasn’t at home—

“Just get a room, you two!” You chuckled in between the kiss at that, tightening your grip around Jaehyun to feel the flush of his skin against yours. Jaehyun breaks the kiss, dimples flashing seeing the red of your face. Gently, he tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

His lips, all swollen, glimmer and you can’t help but peck them. You feel like your heart is about to burst from your ribcage just by how full it feels.

Jaehyun can’t thank the heavens enough for the grace they have bestowed on him. How he had missed the sweetness of your chapstick and the echo of your voice. And as he leaned in to savour you again, he made a promise to himself. A promise that he will never run away from you again, that he will never let himself be the reason you shed even a single tear, that he will let you know that he loves you every single day, and will continue doing so until the last of his breath has left him.

taglist ▸ @wintersoulwarrior @teal1709 @@tacitanecdote @joepomonerof @cosmicwintr @the-universe-in-you-jjh @luv4jeno @haebragi @miriamxsworld @babyblue0t7 @ethelia @cryingforjae @yourfavouritegirlee @pepperedthot

luna’s note ▸ yay, you made it to the end! thank you for taking out your time to read my story ♡ i hoped to liked my story! please let me know your thoughts!, a small feedback can change my day for the better and give me motivation to bring more of such stories to you so please share your thoughts!

you can find more of my posted works here and fic ideas here!

© chocojae 2026

[prodbymaui]

MASTERLIST.

CURRENTLY PLAYING: ... PINK VENOM !

JUNG JAEHYUN

— chasing stars, losing you ; 14k+ words

when your relationship got announced, it made noises louder that anyone could've imagined. Of course it will, a pair containing a supermodel and a CEO of one of the most successful enterprise that made a name in both the fashion and business industry. But soon enough, everyone witnessed how the perfect relationship they had been envying crumbled down into tiny pieces until there's nothing left to pick up.

— oops, baby (I love you) ; 12.5k+ words

You had been living your life as a rebellious and controversial crown princess, now you must face the consequence of purifying your tainted image; marrying the gentle and infamous crown prince of South Korea.

— burberry ; 3k+ words

your father was happy to have you agreeing on paying a visit to the Jung manor, specifically to your future fiancé Jung Sungchan. What he didn't know was you travelled to meet a different Jung. At least he resembles Sungchan a lot, no?

— breaking the norm ; 1.9k+ words

who would've thought a man so tough like Jaehyun has a thing for girls who's fond of cringy and cliché dramas?

— stress no more ; 1.6k+ words

stressed because of work, CEO Jaehyun seeks the comfort of his wife. So when he finally clocks out of work, he didn’t waste any time to quickly drive and get home.

— cliché ; 1.4k+ words

as a member of the cheerleading squad and as the girlfriend, it was safe to say that it was your job to cheer on the captain of your university's basketball team, Jung Jaehyun. As cliché as it was, you were and will always be his lucky charm that made him win every game. What's more fun than celebrating the win in the locker room?

MARK LEE

— these secrets that I have ; 4.3k+ words

joking that your best friend is the infamous superhero bitten by a spider has been a habit for the group. It was all a joke, until it wasn't.

— eunoia ; 2.3k+ words

it's late at night and you're yet to pull yourself out of the ocean that is your thoughts. Mark helps you out in a complexed but effective way that he knows.

— my kind of love ; 1.5k+ words

you had an extra time after your photoshoot. What's a more worth it way of spending it other than visiting your favorite producer, Mark?

— dinner served ; 1.3k+ words

already in a dinner with your boyfriend, yet you still craves for something else.

— aftermath ; 1.1k+ words

your boyfriend comes home exhausted, and your lover signal goes blaring. now you don't want anything other than to provide comfort and relief like he does to you.

— labyrinthine ; 1k+ words

you don't crumble at any man's words, but Mark Lee— God, Mark Lee.

LEE JENO

— I loved you (Dangerously) ; 1.8k+ words

You're in a lovingly, domestic relationship with your boyfriend. Or so everyone thought.

— Puppy ; 1k+ words

The 3 days of separation is finally getting into your boyfriend.

LEE DONGHYUCK

— to see is to not believe ; 3.8k words

a man tried to force himself on you and Donghyuck didn't liked that one bit.

— my boy ; 3.6k+ words

a series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.

— let the world burn ; 2k words

Haechan wakes up without you beside him, and later at night, he found you flirting with another man. Too bad, because for him— if he can't have you, no one can.

— happy wife, happy life ; 1k+ words

Haechan decides it doesn't matter if he's tired-- waking up to his wife bouncing on his cock is worth it.

NA JAEMIN

— guilty pleasure ; 931 words

just the ideal couple enjoying each other's warmth in a cold night.

LEE TAEYONG

Underneath The Chandelier ®

Suit and Tie ; ®

JUNG JAEHYUN

No Distraction ®

What Goes Down ®

When The Sun Comes Up ®

Fraying Heartstrings

MARK LEE

Unsaid ®

Lowkey ®

Death Sentence ®

LEE DONGHYUCK

Freak ®

Reminder

UPDATED AS OF: May 31, 2025

[jinkoh]

break the ice - masterlist

juyeon x fem!reader smau

you've been crushing on hyunjae from the college's ice hockey team ever since you'd first seen him. but when you finally pluck up the courage and confess to him, somehow the person standing in front of you is his insufferable teammate instead? and why does he seem so happy about your confession?

tags: social media au, college au, ice hockey au (i promise u don't need to know anything), one-sided e2l, misunderstandings, accidental dating; warnings: swearing, stupid jokes, mentions of ice hockey appropriate violence (non graphic), probably alcohol consumption at some point, no face/body claims

a/n: soooooo i'm doing this 🙊 somehow starting this makes me v nervous but this ice hockey au is something i've been thinking abt since last november so i decided to just go for it 🫣 if you follow this story i'd rlly rlly appreciate any kind of comments/feedback so that i know someone is actually reading this and i'm not just posting into the void 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 anyway hope you'll enjoy the ride~

[ongoing] - updates irregularly

introductions.*❆•.❅·*

local circus (yn's friends) arctic foxes (the ice hockey team)

chapters.*❅.*⋆❇·.*

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

coming soon...

taglist open - ask/comment to be added • tbz masterlist

[nana-jeong]

THE BOYZ MASTERLIST

OT 11

• THE BOYZ as Love Tropes

۵۵۵۵۵

SANGYEON

• tbz as love tropes | sangyeon

۵۵۵۵۵

JACOB

• tbz as love tropes | jacob

۵۵۵۵۵

YOUNGHOON

• tbz as love tropes | younghoon

۵۵۵۵۵

HYUNJAE

• tbz as love tropes | hyunjae

۵۵۵۵۵

JUYEON

•

۵۵۵۵۵

KEVIN

•

۵۵۵۵۵

NEW | CHANHEE

•

۵۵۵۵۵

Q | CHANGMIN

•

۵۵۵۵۵

HAKNYEON

•

۵۵۵۵۵

SUNWOO

•

۵۵۵۵۵

ERIC

•

༟༟༟

masterlist

Follow me on:

⋆.𐙚 ̊Tiktok: @_nanajeong

⋆.𐙚 ̊IG: @__nanajeong

[nana-jeong]

TBZ as LOVE TROPES | Lee Sangyeon

ARRANGED MARRIAGE

pairing: CEO Sangyeon x heir!reader

Genre: Fluff, arranged marriage

Warnings: None

Word counts: 603

A/N: This is my first time here in Tumblr and I'm trying to learn how Tumblr works lol. English is not my main language, might have grammatical errors.

༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟

As the only heir to your family’s corporation, you lived a life most could only dream of. Treated like a princess, you had everything. The best education, the finest clothes, and, most importantly, your freedom. You filled your days attending art and music classes, going out with friends, and drifting through a life of luxury.

But besides that, you never dated anyone. You avoided love.

Despite the suitors who showered you with flowers and attention, none of them caught your attention. Your heart remained untouched. It wasn’t that you were broken. It was simply that love hadn't found you yet.

You’re twenty-five, and you still have no interest in boys. Your lack of interest began to worry your parents.

Not until he came…

Not until an arranged marriage was set. You, the heir of the Y/L/N Corporation, were to marry Lee Sangyeon, the CEO of SY Corporation.

Surprisingly, you didn’t disagree, you didn’t fight it. You don’t feel trapped. After all, you had lived a full life, you already got everything you wanted, the life that you wanted, and the freedom. So it’s time for you to settle down.

You accepted your fate with a quiet grace.

The wedding was simple. Only a few people attended the wedding. The attendees included the families, close business partners, and close friends.

“You may now kiss the bride," When the priest finally spoke the words. Sangyeon hesitated.

As he lifted your veil, his eyes searched yours, looking for a sign of disagreement or discomfort. You met his gaze and offered a genuine smile, reaching out to take his hand.

“It’s okay, Sangyeon,” you whispered. “I already said, ‘I do’”

When his lips finally met yours, the world softened. It was gentle, smooth, and passionate.

At that moment, the girl who had zero interest in boys realized she was going to fall in love with her husband.

༟

Three years passed in a blink. You had feared marriage would be the end of your freedom, but Sangyeon proved you wrong. He didn't just provide. He protected your joy. He ensured you were comfortable, respected your boundaries, gave you freedom, and never missed a single important milestone. Whether it was Valentine’s Day, New Year's Eve, Christmas Eve, your anniversary, or most importantly, your birthday. He was always there, making you feel seen.

Three years after the wedding, you found yourself standing in a VIP dining room, the air thick with the scent of a thousand red roses. Sangyeon stood before you in a sharp black tuxedo, holding a massive bouquet of roses.

“Happy third anniversary, wife,” your heart fluttering at the title. His voice is warm and calm. Your husband is so perfect.

“Happy third anniversary, Sangyeon,” you replied. You looked around at the candles and the sea of rose petals. “You did all of this?” Sangyeon chuckled.

“I did. Do you like it?”

"No", you teased, before smiling at him. “I love it!”

You threw your arms around him, catching him by surprise. For a moment, he froze before his arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you close.

“Thank you for this, Sangyeon. Thank you for remembering... for everything.” You tightened your hold, breathing in his scent.

“Anything for my wife,” he murmured against your hair.

In the glow of the candlelight, the truth you had been carrying for three years finally spilled out.

You already knew that…

“I love you, Sangyeon.”

You’re in love with him. You’re in love with Lee Sangyeon.

He pulled back just enough to look at your eyes, his expression was full of happiness.

“I love you more.”

༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟༟

the boyz as love tropes (list) | masterlist

༟

follow me on:

⋆.𐙚 ̊Tiktok: @_nanajeong

⋆.𐙚 ̊IG: @__nanajeong

[nana-jeong]

NCT 127 as Mystical Creatures

̊Follow me on ̊

⋆.𐙚 ̊Tiktok: @__nanajeong

⋆.𐙚 ̊Instagram: @_nanajeong

© pics from pinterest

──────────────────────── ୨୧ ──────────────────────

taeyong - DRAGON

johnny - PEGASUS

yuta - KITSUNE

doyoung - FALLEN ANGEL

jaehyun - VAMPIRE

jungwoo - GHOST

mark - PHOENIX

haechan - FAIRY

[neoaevis]

Till Death Do We Part II

Pairings : husband jaehyun x wife reader

Genre: arranged marriage, smut , angst , fluff (yuna’s part)

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning: Arguments, infidelity (mentioned) , bathtub sex (let me know if I missed something)

AN: I hope you guys like this as much as you liked the first part, Im super unsure if some scenes look rushed? but feedback is heavily appreciated and once again I dedicate this to Jaehyun who I miss dearly💕

Taglist: @yowmaman @r24priv05

Part: I

Part VI : A Daughter’s resentment

The first three days of Jaehyun's absence were defined by a hostile, vibrating silence. Yuna was a whirlwind of directed fury. She refused to touch the toy towers Jaehyun had helped her build, kicking them across the room whenever she passed. When you tried to mention his name, she would cover her ears, her small face turning a bright, angry red.

"I don't have an Appa," she had declared on the second night, her voice trembling. "The giants got him."

But by the fourth day, the anger leaked out, leaving behind a hollow sadness. You were sitting in the nursery when she stopped midway playing with her plush toy. Her eyes, so much like Jaehyun’s, were wide and searching.

"Eomma?" she whispered. "Is Appa still fighting the giants? It's been a lot of nights."

You felt a sharp ache in your chest. You didn't even know where he was. "He's... handling business, Yuna."

"Did I make him stay away?" she asked, her lip quivering. "Because I said I hated him? If I say sorry, will the giants let him come back for pancakes?"

The heartbreak in her voice was a testament to the "little permanent happiness" Taeyong had warned Jaehyun about. Even in her anger, her world was incomplete without the man who had promised to hold her hand.

He had fallen into a repetitive, punishing routine over the past few days. By 8:00 AM every morning, Jaehyun was a phantom in his own company. He showed up at the office with the precision of a machine—his suits crisp, his hair perfectly gelled, his presence commanding. But the man inside was disintegrating. His eyes were perpetually bloodshot, hidden behind a pair of heavy designer frames that served as his only shield against the world. He moved through the halls like a well-programmed ghost, and though his presence was intimidating, the scent of expensive cologne couldn't quite mask the faint, sharp tang of the scotch he’d been using as a sedative until four in the morning.

He functioned on autopilot—signing contracts, leading board meetings, and navigating the mental torture of his responsibilities with a terrifying, hollow efficiency.

Eunha noticed the shift immediately. On the third morning, she stepped into his office, closing the door with a soft, suggestive click. She approached his desk, her hand reaching out to graze his shoulder as she leaned over with a stack of files.

"You look exhausted, Jaehyun," she whispered, her voice dropping into that familiar, intimate lilt. "Maybe you need a break. You should loosen up a bit, and I know exactly how to—"

"Get out."

The words weren't a shout; they were a low, dangerous growl. Jaehyun didn't even look up from his screen. His jaw was set so tight it looked like stone.

"Jaehyun, I’m just trying to—"

"You are a secretary, Eunha. Act like one," he snapped, his gaze finally snapping to hers. There was no heat in his eyes anymore, no desire for the distraction she offered. There was only a cold, visceral disgust—mostly for himself. "If you cross that line again, your resignation will be on my desk by noon. Do not touch me. Do not speak to me unless it is about work. Am I clear?"

She recoiled as if he’d slapped her, the power dynamic she’d carefully cultivated vanishing in a single breath. Jaehyun watched her leave, then slumped back in his chair, his hand trembling as he rubbed his face. He wasn't being "moral"; he was just tired. He was tired of the shallow warmth of people who didn't actually know him.

Back at the estate, the atmosphere was different. For the first time, the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen wasn't being run by a staff in white coats. You had sent them away. You needed to do something with your hands, something that wasn't signing a check or managing a social calendar.

You were covered in flour, a smudge of it white against your cheek, as you pulled a tray of slightly lopsided chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. They weren't "patisserie" perfect, but they were warm, and they smelled like a home instead of a museum.

Yuna sat on the marble island, her legs swinging, her eyes wide as she watched you. "Eomma? Are we allowed to make a mess?"

"Today? We're allowed to make the biggest mess in Seoul," you said, forcing a smile as you handed her a warm cookie.

The initial fury Yuna had felt toward her father had faded into a quiet, haunting confusion. She took a bite, but her eyes drifted to the window overlooking the manicured gardens.

"Eomma?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Appa still mad at me?" She looked up, her lower lip trembling. "I told the giants I was sorry. I said I didn't mean the 'H' word. Why won't he come back to the house?"

It was the same mental torture you and Jaehyun had endured since you were six—the constant fear of being "discarded" if you weren't perfect. You saw your own childhood trauma reflecting in her tear-filled eyes, and you refused to let it take root.

"He's not mad, baby," you said, dropping the oven mitt and pulling her into your lap, ignoring the flour getting on your clothes. "He’s just... he’s a little lost. Like when you lose your favorite toy under the bed. He needs us to show him the way back."

You played more with Yuna until she got tired and wanted to have an afternoon nap

To drown out the heavy silence of the estate, you turned the afternoon into a whirlwind of distractions. You chased her through the long, sun-drenched corridors, her small socks sliding on the polished wood as she squealed with delight. You played hide-and-seek behind the heavy velvet curtains and built a makeshift castle out of the expensive silk throw pillows in the lounge. You did everything to make sure only laughter would grace her face.

Eventually, the sugar and the excitement wore her out. You carried a sleepy, heavy-lidded Yuna up the grand staircase to her room. As you tucked her in for an afternoon nap, she gripped your thumb with her small hand.

"Tell Appa... I miss him," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.

You waited until her breathing was deep and even before you walked out, the playful smile vanished from your face. You went straight to your room, sat on the bed, and dialed the one person who knew exactly which hole Jaehyun had crawled into.

"Taeyong," you said, your voice hard and determined. "I don't care what he is doing, and I don’t care if he’s ashamed.Tell me where he is. I’m bringing him home."

The tires of the Lamborghini screamed against the asphalt as Jaehyun took a sharp turn onto the rain-slicked highway. Inside the cabin, the air was toxic—a suffocating mix of expensive cologne and the sharp, acidic burn of neat scotch. The speedometer climbed, the engine’s roar sounding less like a feat of engineering and more like a cornered animal’s howl.

Jaehyun’s vision was a smear of neon lights and wet pavement. His hands were white-knuckled and trembling on the steering wheel. He was insanely drunk, the kind of drunk where the world feels both too fast and agonizingly heavy.

His phone buzzed incessantly in the center console. He swiped it with a clumsy, aggressive motion.

"What?" he barked into the speaker, his voice a jagged wreck.

"Jaehyun, pull the car over. Now," Taeyong’s voice was sharp with authority, but his underlying panic was palpable. "I can hear the engine. You’re going to kill yourself."

"Maybe that's the point, Hyung," Jaehyun slurred, a hysterical, hollow laugh bubbling up in his throat. "Maybe a ghost should finally stay dead. I haven't been back in days. I’m just sitting in a hotel room waiting for the walls to swallow me because I can't look at my daughter anymore."

"Jae, listen to me," Taeyong pleaded. "Y/N just called me. She’s looking for you. She sounded... different. She wants you to go home."

"Home? To what?" Jaehyun swerved, the car fishtailing slightly before he corrected it with a jerk. "To the look on Yuna's face? I missed it Hyung, her first day of school. The most important day of her life, and where was I? in a hotel room with Eunha, trying to feel anything other than the suffocation of that house. I was hooking up with my secretary while my daughter was looking for me. And then she saw me later. She looked me in the eye and said she hated me. My three-year-old knows I’m a coward and doesn’t want to see me.

"You idiot!" Taeyong’s voice crackled with a sudden, sharp fury. "I told you to stop playing around with her. I told you Eunha was a parasite feeding on your misery. You spent months 

"I ended it!" Jaehyun screamed back, slamming his hand against the leather dash. "I told her to get out! I told her if she touched me again, I’d destroy her career. It’s over, hyung. I’m done with the distractions."

"Telling her 'it's over' isn't enough, Jaehyun," Taeyong snapped, his tone cold and pragmatic. "She’s still in your office. She’s still in your space. If you actually want to go home, if you actually want to look Yuna in the eye, you fire her. You scrub that mistake out of your life entirely. You can't heal in the same room where you poisoned yourself."

Jaehyun let out a sob that sounded like a physical tear in his chest. "We’ve been bound together since we were six. Twenty years of being 'the perfect couple' for the cameras, and I’m so broken I can't even show up for a child. You want to know what it feels like to be me?"

"Jaehyun, slow down—"

"She sleeps with him, Taeyong!" Jaehyun screamed, the confession finally bursting out of him. "Your brother. Mark. The one who got to be the human while you and I became the machines. She goes to him because he’s 'free.' He’s holding her in the dark while I’m out here chasing shadows like Eunha just to feel like I’m not a corpse. 

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. The wind whistled through the slight crack in the window as Taeyong absorbed the hit. Mark. His own blood, the younger brother he had protected, was the one dismantling Jaehyun’s life.

"Jae..." Taeyong’s voice broke, the anger replaced by a crushing, profound pity. "I didn't... I didn't know it was Mark. God, Jae, I’m so incredibly sorry. I’m going to handle him. I promise you, I will end it. I'll make sure he never touches her again. Just stay alive long enough to get home."

Jaehyun’s foot finally eased off the pedal. The roar of the V12 dipped into a low, mournful hum. He swerved onto the shoulder of the road, the tires crunching on gravel before the car came to a jarring halt. He slumped over the wheel, his forehead resting on the cold leather, his entire body racking with violent, silent sobs.

Jaehyun wiped his face with the back of his hand, his breathing finally leveling out. The drunk, hysterical edge had been replaced by a heavy, grounding realization: he couldn't stay on this shoulder forever. He had to face the wreckage.

He drove back to the estate with agonizing care, every turn of the wheel a conscious effort. When he finally pushed open the heavy front doors, the silence of the mansion didn't feel like a threat—it felt like a witness.

He walked up the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the carpet, and stopped at Yuna’s door. It was cracked open with just a sliver. Standing in the hallway, he watched the soft rise and fall of her shoulders under the duvet. As he looked at her a fresh wave of grief hit him—not the loud, drunken kind, but a quiet, sharp ache. He had missed so much in just a few days of running. He didn't go in; he didn't feel worthy of waking her. He just admired her from the shadows, a man looking at a miracle he almost threw away.

Finally, he turned toward the primary suite.

The room was dim, the bedside lamp unlit. He thought you were already asleep until he saw the silhouette on the balcony. You leaned against the railing, staring out at the expansive gardens, the moonlight catching your natural beauty.

He stepped out into the night air, the chill biting through him. He stood beside you, not touching, just existing in the same space.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. It was the simplest thing he had said to you in years. "I’m sorry for missing Yuna’s first day. I’m sorry for being a ghost."

You didn't look at him, but you didn't pull away either. "Yuna thinks the giants took you. She’s been apologizing to the hallway for saying she hated you."

Jaehyun closed his eyes, a pained sound escaping his throat. "I talked to Taeyong. On the way here. I told him I’m done with the distractions. I told him I ended things with Eunha... but he’s right. I can't just end the 'hookup.' I have to fire her. I have to scrub every part of that mistake out of my life if I’m ever going to be able to look Yuna in the eye again."

As the silence took over without your response, Jaehyun proceeded, his gaze shifting from the horizon to the floor.

"Do you remember the charity gala my family hosted?" Jaehyun asked, his voice a low, jagged rasp. It was a memory pulled from a time before the bitterness had set in. "We were eight. You were wearing that stiff lace dress that you kept scratching at."

You didn't move, but the tension in your shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. "And you were hiding under the dessert table because your father told you that you had to deliver the welcome toast in three languages."

"I succeeded for a solid twenty minutes. Until you crawled under there with a plate of petit fours and told me my tie was crooked."

"Someone had to," you whispered, leaning back just enough to look at him. The moonlight softened the edges of his tired face. "You looked like you were being marched to the gallows."

"I was," he murmured, his voice thick with the memory. "And you were the only one who didn't look at me like a prodigy. You looked at me like I was a kid who was about to cry."

You let out a long, trembling breath, finally turning your body slightly toward him. You didn't reach for him, but the wall between you felt thinner. "I’m sorry, too, Jaehyun," you said softly. "I’m sorry for letting us get so cold. I think I spent so much time resenting the fact that we were forced together that I forgot you were the only other person trapped in this with me. I stopped looking at you because it was easier to be 'practical' than to see how much we were both hurting."

It was a quiet, sober recognition of your shared history. You weren't fixed, but the isolation was gone. You were just two people who had known each other since they were six, finally acknowledging the gravity of their proximity.

Jaehyun finally reached out, his hand trembling as he rested it over yours on the railing. It wasn't a possessive grip; it was a plea for a ceasefire, a simple acknowledgement of your presence in his life.

Jaehyun finally reached out, his hand trembling as he rested it over yours on the railing. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was a ceasefire. "I want to be that person again," he whispered. "I don't know how to do it yet... but I'm here."

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains in pale, thin strips. As you stirred, your hand instinctively reached across the expansive mattress, searching for a warmth that wasn't there. The silk sheets were cool and perfectly smooth on Jaehyun’s side. For a heart-stopping second, the old anxiety flared up—the fear that you have opened up way too much last night.

You threw on a silk robe and hurried out of the room, your footsteps quiet on the hallway runner. But as you approached the top of the grand staircase, a sound drifted up that made you pause: the frantic, rhythmic clink-clink-clink of a whisk hitting a metal bowl, punctuated by the high-pitched, bubbly giggle of a three-year-old.

You walked toward the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to take in a sight that felt like a glitch in the mansion's matrix.

Jaehyun wasn't in a suit. He wasn't even in his usual "casual" button-down. He was wearing a soft, oversized cream-colored cashmere sweater—the kind of "warm" clothing he usually avoided because it made him look too approachable, too soft. His hair was messy, ungelled and falling over his forehead, and he had a pair of comfortable white shorts on. 

He was focused intently on a pan of sizzling batter, but he wasn't alone. Yuna was practically glued to his left leg. Every time Jaehyun moved to reach for the spatula or the milk, Yuna shuffled along with him, her small hands gripping the soft wool of his sweater as if he were a life raft.

"Appa, it’s bubbles! Look!" Yuna squealed, pointing at the pancake.

"I see them, baby. That means it’s almost time for the flip," Jaehyun murmured. His voice was husky with sleep, but it held a gentleness that felt brand new. He looked down at her, his expression a mix of awe and a desperate kind of tenderness. "Are you sure you don't want to sit in your chair? I promise I'm just going to the fridge."

"No," Yuna said firmly, tightening her grip on the cream wool. "The fridge is too far. You might get lost again."

Jaehyun went still for a moment, the weight of her words hitting him visibly. He caught sight of you in the doorway and offered a small, uncertain look—the expression of a man who knew he was trespassing in a domestic world he hadn't earned yet.

"Eomma! Appa is making circles!" Yuna announced, her face beaming.

"I see that," you said, walking further into the kitchen. The scent of vanilla and burnt butter was a welcome change from the usual sterile smell of the house. "Since when did you learn how to handle a stovetop?"

Jaehyun let out a short, self-deprecating huff. "I didn't. I had to watch three YouTube videos just to figure out how not to set the smoke alarm off. I think the first batch could probably be used as roof shingles."

He gestured to a plate of charcoal-black discs sitting in the sink. You couldn't help it; a genuine laugh bubbled up. "Well, at least you’re consistent. You always did aim for 'durable' results."

Jaehyun’s eyes softened, he reached out to flip the current pancake, and even though his technique was clumsy, Yuna cheered as if he was the best cook in the world.

"Yuna, why don't you let Appa move so he can get the plates?" you suggested, moving toward them.

"I'm a koala," Yuna declared, burying her face in the soft fabric of his sweater. "Koalas don't let go."

Jaehyun looked at you over her head, a helpless, tired smile on his lips. "It’s okay. I can work with a koala. I think I’ve spent enough time being 'unreachable' anyway. I don't mind the extra weight."

He sets the plates over on the dining table, the porcelain clinking softly against the wood. After doing so, he carefully tries to peel Yuna from him to place her in a chair beside him, but the girl remains insistent that he just feeds her while carrying her. She wraps her legs tighter around his waist, her small face buried in the soft, cream-colored wool of his sweater.

Jaehyun sighs, a sound that is more fond than frustrated. "Alright, alright. I guess I’m a high-chair today," he murmurs, settling into his own seat with her perched firmly on his lap.

The three of you eat comfortably, the clinking of silverware the only sound besides Yuna’s occasional happy hums. Jaehyun is attentive, blowing on each small piece of pancake before offering it to her. He looks at her with an intensity that suggests he’s trying to memorize the exact shade of her eyes.

"Appa?" Yuna asks, leaning back to look at him. "Are you going to put on your suit now? Are the giants calling you on the phone?"

Jaehyun sets the fork down and looks her directly in the eye. "No more giants today, Yuna. And no stiff suits. In fact," he glances up at you, his gaze lingering for a second before returning to her, "I’ve decided I won’t be going to work for some time. I’m staying right here. We have a lot of towers to build and a lot of movies to catch up on."

You raise your brows at that, a piece of pancake pausing halfway to your mouth. It’s a shock to the system. For a man who usually measures his worth in billable hours and corporate takeovers, the idea of him voluntarily stepping away is entirely new.

"You’re taking a leave?" you ask quietly. "For how long?"

"Until I’m sure the 'H' word is gone for good," he says, his voice low and sincere.

Yuna’s eyes light up. "Then we can watch the movie! The one with the ice queen and the snowman!"

Once the plates are cleared, the three of you move to the massive, plush living room couch. Jaehyun settles into the cushions, still playing the role of the "koala tree" as Yuna sprawls across him, her head resting right over his heart. You sit at the other end, close enough that your knees occasionally brush his, the domesticity of it all feeling both beautiful and fragile.

As the opening credits begin to roll, the living room—usually a place of ice and silence—feels transformed by the bright colors on the screen. But you know the reality of the calendar.

"Yuna, baby," you say gently, leaning toward her. "Since Appa is staying home to play, that means you have to do your job, too. You’ve missed a lot of days already. On Monday, you need to go back to school."

Yuna’s face falls instantly, her eyes darting from the screen to the soft fabric of Jaehyun's sweater. "But if I go, you’ll leave again. You’ll go back to the office."

Jaehyun tucks a stray curl behind her ear, his hand lingering there with a touch so gentle it almost looks foreign on him. "I won't. I'll tell you what—this time, I’m the one who’s going to drive you. I’ll walk you all the way to the door, and I’ll be standing right there at the gate when the bell rings to bring you home. I promise."

Yuna looks at him, searching his face for any sign of a lie. "Pinky promise? The real kind?"

Jaehyun gravely hooks his pinky finger with her tiny one. "The realest kind."

Yuna lets out a happy sigh and settles back against his chest, her eyes glued to the screen as the music starts. You watch them from your side of the couch, the sight of the two of them—one small and hopeful, one grown and trying to mend a thousand breaks—stirring something complicated in your chest. You want to believe him. You want to trust that the man who missed the first day would never miss another.

The movie credits began to roll in a quiet crawl, the bright Disney melodies fading into a soft, instrumental hum. Yuna’s breathing had long since become deep and rhythmic, her small hand finally losing its iron grip on Jaehyun’s cream sweater.

Jaehyun moved with a practiced, agonizing slowness. He scooped her up, cradling her head against his shoulder as he stood. He walked upstairs to her room, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn't just drop her off. He tucked her in, adjusted her favorite plush toy, and lingered in the doorway, watching her sleep for several minutes before finally heading back down.

When he returned to the living room, you were still sitting on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. The warmth of the morning felt like it was evaporating, replaced by the cool, sharp reality of your shared history.

Jaehyun sat down, though he kept a respectful distance. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I meant what I told her," he began, his voice low and earnest. "I’ve already cleared my schedule for the next two weeks. I want to be here every morning. I want to be the one who—"

"Jaehyun," you interrupted, your voice flat and devoid of the lightheartedness from breakfast. You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his with a profound, weary doubt. "Just make sure you aren’t actually keeping her hopes up this time. I can handle your absences. I’ve had years of practice. But she’s three. If you promise her the world and then disappear back into God knows where again... I don't think she'll forgive you a second time."

Jaehyun’s mouth opened, a protest or a deeper apology sitting on the tip of his tongue. He looked like he wanted to reach out, to promise you that he was different now. But the weight of his recent choices—the missed school day, the drinking, Eunha—sat between you like a physical barrier.

"I—" he started, but you were already standing up.

"I’m going to shower," you said, cutting him off before he could offer words that you weren't ready to believe.

You walked away without looking back, leaving him alone in the center of the silent living room. Upstairs, the steam of the shower filled the bathroom, the hot water hitting your shoulders in an attempt to wash away the tension of the last few days. You leaned your head against the cool tiles, closing your eyes.

After you finished, you wrapped yourself in a fresh robe and sat on the edge of the bed. The house was quiet, but your mind was a riot of noise. You picked up your phone, your thumb hovering over Mark's name.

Mark was the one who had seen you through the loneliest nights. He was the quiet comfort you sought when Jaehyun’s coldness became too much to bear. While Jaehyun was out being a "machine," Mark was the person who actually listened, providing the warmth that had been missing from your marriage. But looking at the closed door, and thinking of the moments you have shared the night before, you knew the cycle had to stop. You couldn't ask Jaehyun to be better while you were still holding onto a backdoor escape.

You pressed the call. It only rang twice before he picked up.

"Mark?" you whispered into the receiver, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay firm. "It's me. We need to talk. Properly."

"Uhh, sure?" Mark’s voice came through, low and laced with an immediate, cautious concern. "Did something happen? You sound... different."

As you walked down the grand staircase, the clinking of porcelain echoed from the kitchen. You found Jaehyun there, his sleeves still rolled up, meticulously washing the last of the breakfast dishes. He looked up as you entered, his eyes taking in your outfit and the keys in your hand.

"Are you headed out?" he asked, his voice quiet, devoid of the usual cold authority. He paused, drying his hands on a towel. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"I’m going to meet a friend," you replied, your hand tightening slightly around the keys.

You waited for the flicker of suspicion or the cold, possessive tilt of his head, but it never came. He simply nodded, his expression softening as if he realized you needed your own space just as much as he had needed his. He wasn't trying to cage you; he was simply acknowledging the reality of your life.

"I understand," he said quietly. "Enjoy yourself."

He turned back to the counter, but you found yourself pausing at the threshold. The lack of tension in him made the truth feel even heavier. "I’ll be home for dinner, Jaehyun," you added, the statement feeling like a small, tentative bridge being built. "I'll be back by six."

He didn't turn around, but you saw the slight rise of his shoulders as he took a breath. "I’ll have something ready," he murmured. "Be safe."

You walked out to the parking lot, the engine of your Porsche 911 roaring to life, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. The drive to Mark’s apartment was a blur of traffic and heavy thoughts. You parked the car and took the elevator up, the silence of the lift echoing the finality of your decision.

When the door opened, Mark was standing there. He looked like the opposite of the life you lived—casual, warm, and entirely uncomplicated.

You take hesitant steps going inside, facing him as soon as you are inside. The apartment, once your only place of refuge, suddenly felt like a stage for a play that had reached its final act.

"Taeyong called me," Mark said softly, his voice dropping into a somber register as he leaned back against the doorframe. He didn't move to touch you, and the familiar warmth that usually greeted you was replaced by a quiet, shared understanding that the air between you had changed.

"He didn't hold back. My brother reminded me that regardless of how cold that house felt to you, there’s a three-year-old girl in the middle of it now. He told me it was pretty bad, what we were doing... that Yuna deserves parents who are at least trying to be whole."

He looked at you then, his eyes softening with a sad, sentimental smile. "And he was right. I think I knew it, too. I was your sanctuary, but a sanctuary is just a place you hide from the storm. It’s not a home. Especially not when there’s a child like Yuna waiting for the people she loves to finally stay."

The realization hit you hard. Even Mark, the man who had been your peace, recognized that the stakes had shifted. Taeyong’s intervention—as both his brother and the man who knew the wreckage of your marriage best—had stripped away the blur of the affair, leaving only the reality of the damage it was doing to a little girl who didn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire.

"I can't live in the shadows anymore," you whispered, the finality of it settling in your chest. "Not if I'm going to ask for the light to be turned back on at home."

Mark nodded slowly, a final, quiet acceptance. He didn't try to argue or plead; he simply looked at you with the gaze of someone who truly cared enough to let go.

"Then go," he said gently, reaching out to give your shoulder one last, grounding squeeze. "Go be the mother she needs. Go see if that house can actually feel like a home tonight."

You stepped back out into the hallway, the weight on your shoulders feeling different—not lighter, but more honest. 

Part VII: Quiet Surrender

The drive back was quieter than the drive there. As you pulled the Porsche into the driveway, the estate didn’t look like the cold, imposing fortress it usually was. Instead, the golden glow of the interior lights spilled out onto the manicured lawn, making the house look soft—almost inviting.

When you stepped through the front door, the first thing that hit you wasn't the scent of expensive lilies, but the savory, mouth-watering aroma of roasted chicken and herbs. The house felt warm. It wasn't just the heating system; it was the life vibrating within the walls.

You walked toward the dining room and paused. Jaehyun was still in that cream cashmere sweater, though he had added a comedic touch: a ruffled floral apron he must have found in the back of the pantry. He was sitting low in his chair, patiently blowing on a spoonful of mashed potatoes for Yuna.

"Eomma! You're back!" Yuna beamed, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Look! Appa made a volcano out of the potatoes!"

Jaehyun looked up, his eyes meeting yours. There was no judgment there, only a soft, relieved smile. "Welcome home," he said quietly. "We just started."

You took your seat, and for a few minutes, you and Jaehyun ate in a comfortable, domestic silence. The clinking of silverware was underscored by the "cracking" of the ice that had lived in your chest for so long. Seeing him like this—disheveled, helpful, and present—was slowly mending the parts of you that had gone numb.

"Eomma, where did you go?" Yuna asked, her mouth slightly messy with gravy. "I woke up from my nap and you weren't in the fort. I thought maybe the giants got you too."

You felt a small pang of guilt, but you smoothed it over with a gentle smile. "No giants, baby. I just had to go meet a friend for a little bit."

"Who?" Yuna tilted her head, her curiosity never-ending.

"I met up with Auntie Yeji," you said, offering a small white lie.

Yuna’s eyes went wide. "Auntie Yeji? I miss her! She makes the bestest funny faces." She poked at a stray pea on her plate, her voice turning a bit wistful. "Does she want to play with me again soon? Can she come over and we can show her the fort?"

Yuna’s eyes went wide. "Auntie Yeji? I miss her! She makes the bestest funny faces." She poked at a stray pea on her plate, her voice turning a bit wistful. "Does she want to play with me again soon? I want to show her my new toys! I have the sparkly pony and the doctor kit now!"

"I'm sure she’d love to see them," you replied, your heart squeezing a little at her innocence. "I'll tell her you have a whole new collection to show her."

"And we have to play hide and seek!" Yuna added excitedly, her hands waving in the air. "Auntie Yeji is the best at hiding. One time she hid in the big laundry basket and I couldn't find her for a hundred years! Tell her she has to come play and see my toys soon, okay Eomma?"

Jaehyun let out a genuine, low chuckle that vibrated through the room. "A hundred years? That’s a long time for Auntie Yeji to be in a laundry basket. I’ll have to make sure she brings an overnight bag if she’s going to hide that well again."

The dinner continued with Yuna babbling on about which new toy Auntie Yeji would like the best. When the plates were finally cleared, Jaehyun stood up and scooped a giggling Yuna into his arms.

"Alright, little koala. It’s bath time," he announced. He looked over at you, his expression earnest. "Why don't you go upstairs and relax? Take a long soak or just lie down. I’ve got her tonight. You’ve had a long day."

"Are you sure?" you asked, surprised. Bath time with a three-year-old was usually an Olympic-level sport involving water splashing everywhere.

"I'm sure," Jaehyun said, adjusting Yuna on his hip. He looked down at the little girl. "Ready to make a bubble beard, Yuna?"

"Yes! A giant one!" she cheered.

As they headed toward the stairs, Jaehyun stopped and looked back at you. "The tea is on the counter. It’s still hot."

You watched them disappear up the stairs, the sound of Yuna’s laughter echoing through the halls. For the first time in years, the silence in the kitchen wasn't lonely—it was peaceful.

You looked at the steaming cup of tea Jaehyun had left on the counter. It was a kind gesture—almost too kind. The sudden shift in the house was giving you whiplash, and you didn't know how to process the warmth radiating from the kitchen. You swallowed your emotions, deciding that a cup of herbal tea wasn't going to cut through the layers of confusion in your chest. You needed something a bit more potent.

Bypassing the kettle, you headed for the wine fridge and pulled out a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. You poured a glass and downed it in one go, the rich red wine offering a sharp contrast to the domestic sweetness of the evening. You grabbed the bottle and a fresh glass, heading upstairs.

As you passed the hallway, the sound of splashing water and high-pitched giggles drifted out. You caught a glimpse through the cracked bathroom door—Jaehyun was kneeling on the floor, his sleeves pushed up, with a massive "beard" of white bubbles Yuna had smeared onto his face. He was making a ridiculous face, and Yuna was shrieking with delight.

The sight was too much. It felt like a beautiful lie you weren't ready to buy into yet.

You retreated to your shared master bedroom, the bottle and glass clinking in your hands. You walked straight into the en-suite bathroom, needing to submerge yourself in something other than your own thoughts. You didn't turn on the lights, preferring to light up some scented candles and relying on the dim glow of the bedroom as you sank into the warm water of the tub, finishing the bottle as you leaned your head back.

Eventually, the house grew quiet. Jaehyun had finished with Yuna and made his way to the shared bedroom. Noticing the bathroom door was slightly ajar, he stepped toward it to check on you.

He stood there for a moment, watching you in the quiet dimness of the candlelight. His gaze was soft, lingering on you with a look of quiet contemplation, as if he were trying to memorize the scene.

Suddenly, you opened your eyes.

You caught him staring, and the sheer timing of it caught him completely off guard. He actually jumped a little, his hand flying to the doorframe as his composed expression crumbled into a look of pure, sheepish surprise.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some of his dignity. He looked at the empty bottle on the ledge and then back at you, his voice softening. "Yuna is out cold. She’s finally asleep. I... I didn't want to disturb you, I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

He stayed there, hovering at the door, seemingly torn between giving you your space and wanting to step closer into the warm, candlelit room.

"You know, you shouldn't stutter," you said, your voice low and slightly husky from the wine. You shifted in the warm water, a semi-teasing glint in your eyes as you looked at him through the flickering candlelight. "It's not like this is something you haven't seen before, Jaehyun."

The flush on his cheeks deepened, reaching the tips of his ears. He let out a dry, breathless laugh, finally stepping fully into the bathroom but keeping a respectful distance near the vanity. "I suppose not. I just... I didn't want to intrude on your peace."

You reached for the empty glass, swirling the last few drops of red. "Peace is a strong word for a bottle of Romanée-Conti in the dark. But speaking of things I haven't seen... why are you being so domestic all of a sudden? The apron, the 'potato volcanoes,' the bubble beards... it’s a bit of a shock to the system."

Jaehyun’s playful embarrassment ebbed away, replaced by a raw, quiet sincerity. He leaned against the marble counter, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"I have a lot of faults to answer for," he murmured, his voice tightening. "I’ve spent so much time being the man who stayed away... the man who came home at four in the morning smelling like a life that didn't include you or Yuna. Coming home with a different scent on my clothes, pretending I wasn't destroying the only good thing I had.

He looked back at you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of exhaustion and genuine regret. "I hated myself for it, but I didn't know how to stop the cycle until I saw how much it was hurting Yuna. Seeing her face when I walked in today... I realized I was becoming a stranger in my own home. I regret it. Every second of it."

The tension in the room shifted, turning from lighthearted teasing to something much heavier. You sat up slightly, the water rippling around you. "And what assurance do I have that this 'change' is forever, Jaehyun? It’s all so sudden. One day you don’t come home for a week, the next you’re the world’s best father. It’s hard to keep up. I’m utterly confused."

You looked at him, your mind screaming at you to be careful. "Is this just a phase? A reaction to a guilty conscience? Because I can’t let you break her heart by going back to that other life the moment this house feels too quiet for you."

Jaehyun moved closer, kneeling down by the edge of the tub. He reached out as if to touch the water, his fingers hovering just above the surface before he pulled his hand back suddenly, as if he didn't feel worthy of the warmth. He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a devastating level of regret and a longing he had been trying to suppress all evening.

The air between you became electric, thick with years of resentment and an underlying pull that neither of you had been able to fully sever. Before he could apologize again, before he could retreat into his guilt, you reached out.

Your hands, damp and warm, suddenly grabbed onto his face, pulling him toward you. The movement was sharp, desperate, and caught him completely off guard. You leaned forward and kissed him—a kiss that tasted of expensive wine, candle wax, and a complicated, breaking history.

Jaehyun froze for a heartbeat, his breath hitching against your lips, before his eyes fluttered shut and his hands found the edge of the tub, gripping it until his knuckles went white as he kissed you back.

The kiss deepened, turning from a desperate question into a heated demand. Your fingers tangled in the soft, expensive wool of his cream cashmere sweater, tugging at the hem with a sudden, impatient hunger. Jaehyun let out a low, muffled groan against your lips, his hands moving from the cold marble of the tub to your arms, his touch a frantic contrast to the gentle father he had been just an hour ago.

Slowly, you worked the fabric upward, ridding him of the sweater that had symbolized his "domestic" shift, wanting to get back to the man beneath the layers. He helped you with a feverish urgency, the garment discarded somewhere on the tiled floor.

As you tried to pull him into the tub with you, the water rippling and spilling over the sides, Jaehyun suddenly paused. He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. He looked at you with a flicker of hesitation, his eyes searching yours for more than just a fleeting impulse.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice thick with an unsure, trembling hope. "Is it... is it actually okay for us to do this? I don't want to take advantage of... of tonight."

The alcohol was running through your veins now, a warm, numbing tide that silenced the voices of caution and the memories of his long absences. You didn't want to think about the "why" or the "how long." You just wanted to feel something other than the hollow ache that had defined your marriage for so long.

"It's okay," you murmured, your hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. You looked him in the eye, your gaze heavy and clouded. "I don't care, Jaehyun. Just... don't stop."

Jaehyun didn't need to be told twice. The last of his restraint snapped, and he climbed over the ledge—but not before he removed both his shorts and boxers. Your mouth watered at the sight; you knew Jaehyun had been going to the gym more these days, and hell, it had paid off too well. The candlelight caught the sharp lines of his physique, tracing the results of hours of discipline that you hadn't been around to witness lately.

He sank into the water beside you, the heat of the tub suddenly magnified by the heat of his skin. The water overflowed, splashing onto the marble floor as he reclaimed your lips, never once breaking the connection. The steam and the scent of the candles enveloped you both, blurring the lines between the life you were trying to fix and the passion that had always been your undoing.

You pushed Jaehyun down and his back hits the bath tub, slowly you straddle him kissing his neck and rubbing your hands all over his chest making him moan underneath you and for a moment you look up looking at him he says “Please I need you inside me now” you obliged no longer able to wait yourself too, you sink into his member in a slowly painful way, and his mouth form an “O” shape from the pleasure.

The water sloshes around you both as you lower yourself fully onto his thick cock, the stretch burning just right, making your breath hitch. Jaehyun's hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging into your skin with a roughness that sends sparks up your spine. He bucks up instinctively, thrusting deeper, and you gasp, nails scraping down his chest in retaliation, leaving red trails that make him hiss through clenched teeth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growls, voice low and ragged, eyes locked on yours with raw hunger. You start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind at first, feeling every ridge and vein of his shaft drag against your inner walls. But the need builds fast—too fast—and you pick up the pace, slamming down onto him harder, the water splashing over the tub's edge with each bounce.

Jaehyun doesn't stay passive. His grip tightens, one hand sliding up to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly before delivering a sharp smack that echoes in the steamy bathroom. The sting makes you clench around him involuntarily, pulling a deep groan from his throat. "That's it, ride me like you mean it," he demands, his other hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your neck. He latches on, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, marking you as his teeth graze just hard enough to border on pain.

You cry out, the mix of pleasure and edge pushing you closer to the brink. Your nails rake down his chest, leaving red trails over his toned muscles, and he hisses in response, thrusting up to meet your descent with brutal force. The rhythm turns frantic—wet slaps of skin on skin, your pussy gripping his cock like a vice as he pounds into you from below. Sweat and bathwater mix on your bodies, making everything slippery and intense.

"Harder," you whimper, leaning forward to capture his lips in a messy kiss, tongues clashing as you grind down. He obliges, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you in place while he drives up relentlessly, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. The roughness amps everything up—his fingers bruising your hips, the way he nips at your lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood, licking it away with a possessive swipe.

Tension coils tight in your core, every thrust pushing you higher. Jaehyun's breaths come in harsh pants against your mouth, his body tensing beneath you. "Come for me," he rasps, voice breaking as he slams up one last time, grinding deep. The command shatters you—your orgasm crashes over you in waves, pussy spasming around his cock, milking him as you scream his name. He follows seconds later, hips jerking erratically as he floods you with hot cum, filling you to the brim until it leaks out around where you're joined.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you heaving, the water settling into gentle ripples around your spent bodies. Jaehyun's arms wrap around you, holding you close with a tenderness that contrasts the roughness from moments before, his lips brushing your temple in a soft kiss.

The water had cooled slightly, the steam now a soft mist clinging to the candlelit air. The frantic energy of the last hour had ebbed away, leaving behind a heavy, vibrating silence. You sat in the curve of his arms, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing in the same humid air.

For the first time in a long time, the walls you’d built weren't just cracked—they were leveled. The wine had loosened the knot in your chest, but it was the heat of him, the physical reality of his presence, that finally pushed the truth to the surface.

"I ended it," you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft trickle of water.

Jaehyun’s body remained remarkably still. He didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, he let out a slow, measured exhale, his expression slipping into a quiet, almost detached nonchalance. He didn't ask who; he didn't need to. He knew the ghost that had been filling the spaces he left empty.

"With Mark," you continued, your voice gaining a fragile kind of strength as you looked him in the eye. "It’s over. For good. I saw him today... and I told him it was the last time."

Jaehyun closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the words. There was no theatrical shock or outburst of wounded pride. Deep down, the weight of his own transgressions—the nights he didn't come home and the scents he brought back—acted as a heavy anchor, keeping him from judging you. He knew he was far from sinless; he knew the glass house they lived in had been shattered by his own hands long ago.

"I’m not in a position to throw stones, Y/N," he murmured, his voice steady but low. "I’ve spent enough time being the villain in this story to know why you needed someone to play the hero."

He reached up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His touch was light, almost clinical in its calmness, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of raw regret. He didn't ask for details or apologies; he simply accepted the reality of their shared mess.

"I’m just glad you’re the one telling me," he added, his voice softening just a fraction. "I think we’ve both done enough apologizing in our heads. I just want to be the man who stays from now on."

You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man who had been hiding under the expensive suits. He looked human, and for the first time, he looked like he was actually present.

"Don't make me regret choosing this, Jaehyun," you said, a final warning wrapped in a plea.

"I won't," he promised, the nonchalance fading into a firm, quiet vow. "Starting with tomorrow. I'll be the one waking up with you."

[rainverry]

eyes closed (series masterlist)

The broken look on Jaehyun's face hasn’t left you, becoming a permanent stain in your memory. But you deserved it, or you thought you did – you fully believed that you deserved to feel just as broken, if not more than he was. You would carry on the guilt and the shame for hurting a man that had shown you nothing but adoration and love. But now you know he has hurt you too.

PAIRING  ☆  jung jaehyun x afab!reader

GENRES  ☆  smut, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, forbidden romance, rich kids au

WARNINGS  ☆  18+ minors dni! smut (unprotected sex, overstimulation, breast play, oral [f receiving], face riding, praise kink, riding, possessive sex), profanity, substances (alcohol), it’s really angsty at first i’m so sorry, reader has panic attacks and cries a lot, reader has a past fwb relationship with someone else, lots of talk about family issues, slightly toxic family dynamics, shitty company names lol and probably inaccurate depictions of business talk, sexual tension, more tba

STATUS  ☆  ongoing

PLAYLIST  ☆  click!

CHAPTERS 

part one.

part two.

part three.

more tba.

ask to be added to the taglist!

© rainverry, 2026

[sugaringgcaramel]

too late ~ jeong jaehyun (teaser!)

☆〜（ゝ。∂）childhoodbsf!jaehyun x childhoodbsf!femreader

warning: swearing, angst, fluff (just a whole lotta fluff and angst sorry!!!)

wc: 830 (full fic estimated to be around 2.3k)

release date: march 29th 2026

enjoy!

it’s graduation day, you and jaehyun were childhood best friends, you grew up together, witnessed many of each others firsts, many, many ups and downs together, even almost had a dating rumor go around school back when you were younger. you decided earlier on in the school year that you would go to a university in new york to, A, catch up with family and, B, experience life away from your small town in California that you grew up in.

you haven’t told jaehyun anything yet or even the fact that you got accepted into the university you applied for up in new york, which is huge because you guys tell each other everything, after all you are childhood best friends. the both of you walk across stage, get your diploma and meet up with each other for some pictures with each others families and each other. both of your families go elsewhere leaving you and jaehyun with each other. the both of you take a deep breath in and then speak at the same time“jaehyun i have something to tell you” “y/n i have something to tell you”, there is a small moment of silence before jaehyun nods his head giving you an unspoken signal for you to speak first, he has a stupidly soft smile on his face, his eyes slightly sparkle as he looks at you, with such a soft and gentle expression. “im moving to new york” is all that your able to say, you can see the sparkle and soft gentle expression literally break within seconds as he hears you say that your leaving him.

“you’re what……?” is all he says, he doesn’t even look at you he just looks down at his hands that are holding his new diploma, he can’t even process the fact that your leaving, his one and only childhood friend now leaving? he is in disbelief but what else can he do? its not like he can just follow you every step of your life even though he truly wants to, he wants to witness each milestone you hit in your life, he wants to be the one to be by your side every step of the way. “i wish you the best y/n….” is all he says after processing what you just told him.

you’re a little confused because he also said he wanted to tell you something, but he never tells you, maybe it just was never the right time. maybe he was too late.

☆- all rights are reserved to sugaringgcaramel, please do not copy or steal my work as i work very hard on it, if reposted and claimed as your own you will be blocked and no longer able to view my work.

[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (eleven)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, eleven

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, romantic penetrative sex, angst, fluff, miscommunication, angst (again)

word count. 12,556

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, ten lee, lee donghyuck (haechan), kim jungwoo, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, kim dongyoung (doyoung)

author's note. i wept over this. how absolutely insane is that. thank you for coming in this journey with me. thank you for waiting. thank you for everything.

taglist (closed). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here! (songs mentioned “atlantis” by seafret, “strange” by celeste)

It was raining the next day, still.

“Don’t say anything.”

It was raining the next day and you weren’t sure it had ever stopped, letting up enough for the world to move, for the world to breathe. The downpour let one day bleed into the next; everything around you was flowing together, submerged. Drowning.

“Please, don’t say anything.”

It was raining the next day and you were drowning, soaked from head to toe and dripping onto hardwood floors. You couldn’t control your breath, couldn’t catch it after you’d been caught in a wave. Your lungs were full of water and all you could do was splutter and spit until something came of it.

“I need to…just listen for a second, okay?”

He did. It was raining the next day, he’d watched the sun struggle to rise in spite of the showers. He hadn’t slept, he couldn’t. So, he listened.

Your clothes were clinging to your body, “You were right.”

All night you’d drifted in and out of sleep; you’d shot up in bed gasping for air, you woke up with a sob stuck in your throat and tears leaving a trail on your cheek and a mark on your pillow case. The rain didn't let up, your brain took inspiration from it; spiraling, swirling, drowning. Your jaw ached from how hard you’d been clenching, from every word locked behind it trying to get out. Lungs filled with water, head swirling with thoughts and your teeth barricading everything off.

He was right. He was right.

Mark had left when the sun had come up; when his alarm sounded from his phone and you’d offered an umbrella. The bags under his eyes made your stomach twist, the look he gave you - concern, confusion, care your body and mind wanted to reject - was misplaced. Mark’s sympathy was misplaced, because he was right and you lied. You stood in your living room, in the spot he’d kissed you and the spot he’d kissed you and let yourself sink into memories, swirl with them until they could drown out reality. Until your heartbeat slowed and you remembered everything you felt when he pressed his lips to yours. It might help. It could help.

It tore you apart.

The rain dripped down, through your roof, onto the floorboards of your bedroom, through the cracks between them and to the ceiling above you. They fell, one by one, to land on your head, seep into your skin and recycle themselves as tears, your body shaking from the cold of a mid-April morning. You stood in that spot and cried, let every whimper slip past your lips and fall to the ground; to the spot where they’d kissed you.

Jaehyun had held you here, he’d grounded you here. Jaehyun had pressed his lips to yours and tried to tell you, he must have been trying to tell you. Years, he said. He’d loved you for years. The thought was like a predator in the water, circling around you like a shark. You wanted to be angry, you knew you couldn’t be - it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. You lied and you told him you felt nothing, you lied and you kept secret how the world stopped moving. Time stopped, your mind stopped, your heart stopped beating. You lied and you lied and you would never tell him how you’d waited years to know how it felt to kiss him.

That you felt everything in that moment.

Johnny had kissed you here; he’d used his lips to make promises, to press them into yours. Johnny found you in the darkness, searching through the past for something forgotten, pulled you into the present and asked you; “What do the stars have to say about you being my girlfriend?” Your heart beat in time with his, fell into a rhythm with Johnny, felt safe in his hands. He’d taken care of it, he nurtured it and filled your heart with the light that shone in Johnny’s eyes.

He filled you with light and you loved Johnny.

You love Johnny.

So simply, so easily; like breathing, you love him. Your heart tugged at the thought of him. Johnny with his tie askew, Johnny with his hair falling into his eyes. Johnny who begged you for a kiss under the mistletoe - as a joke, years ago - and Johnny who waited those years to finally get it. Johnny Suh who loved you, too. He’d tell you with every blink, with every breath. Johnny reminded you with every second that passed as though you’d forget if he didn’t. He didn’t want you to forget. Johnny loved you and he didn’t want you to lose that, he didn’t want to lose that. Johnny felt like he was losing you.

And Jaehyun…

You and Jaehyun…

You…

You lied.

You were stuck there, stuck in that moment; those moments before, the hurricane that came after. Glued to that spot and trembling. If you could think about moving, your feet would drag you to one of them. Either of them.

Tears slipped and slipped to the floor, slipped and slipped under your feet until they were loose enough to step away, to move. And you let them lead you, let the rain kiss your skin until you’d melted into it, let yourself step into puddles and down the street. Up the stairs.

Up to him.

And when you opened the door, he was standing there - like he was waiting for you, like he could sense you were coming. Like he’d been up all night, drowning drowning drowning in his thoughts and his memories. His shoulders moved when he took in a breath, when he found the courage to say your name.

You cut him off and said, “Don’t say anything.”

Pitter patter; rain tapping against glass panes.

“I lied.” Saying it scratched at your throat, made your head spin. You were still drowning, arms wild and flailing around you seeking the surface, seeking a solution, “I lied and I…I don’t know how to fix this. I have to fix this.”

He wanted to come to you, he wanted to tell you there was nothing to fix. The way his heart had been shattering since yesterday, since January, since October could be fixed if you just came closer. He wanted to lie more, himself, if it got you closer to him. He’d wasted time and wasted away in memories, he’d missed his chance and another and another hoping he’d find a time that felt right.

He was brave enough to ask, “Fix what?”

And, like years of holding back had finally broken the barricade and unleashed a flood, your feet were swept out from under you in a wave. You were across the room in an instant, you were in front of him in an instant, you wrapped yourself in him in an instant and sealed the barricade again with your lips pressed to his. You kissed him, like you did in your living room. You kissed him for the second time and let the breath you’d been seeking rush from your lungs and into his. He was drowning and you were drowning, wrapped around each other and floating towards the surface.

You pulled back, you kept your eyes closed and rested your forehead against his. Looking at Jaehyun would’ve been too much, but the feeling of him against you, the feeling of his hands on your back holding you there, it was enough. Enough for you to catch a borrowed breath, enough for you to swallow a sob and tell him, finally tell him, “I love you, Jeong Jaehyun.” Even while loving Johnny - you love Johnny, your heart beat for Johnny, it was safe with him. Still, you chose to stop time and confess, “I love you so much it…I can’t breathe. I have loved you for so long, for years. I-I love you.”

He needed your lips, again, he needed your air or he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Jaehyun could feel his heart beating erratically and he could feel yours doing the same, staggered against his. He could only see your lips, too close for anything else. So he kissed them again, “I love you.”

Jaehyun kissed you, pouring years of hesitation and fear and love into you as best he could. He spun you around, hands secured on your waist, and urged you back, step by step, until you pressed against the windows. You were framed by raindrops, body radiating heat and fogging the glass. He’d lost track how many times he had pictured you like this, over the years. Over years of wanting, and years of waiting, Jaehyun made himself believe he’d never know how you felt, how you tasted, the way you sounded when you were breathless and called his name, “Jaehyun.”

He was lost in another moment, he’d said everything he could and he was trying to hold onto what he could; your waist, your hips, your thighs to pull them up and wrap them around him. Jaehyun couldn't live with the idea of any more space between you, he couldn’t let more time pass. You had begged him not to use his lips to speak, so he used them to draw out moans, breaths, sighs from you he was selfish, greedy to hear. You tasted the same, it had been months and he could still remember it, you tasted exactly the same. But, Jaehyun could feel your body shaking, and when he opened his mouth against yours, he could taste something unfamiliar, something salted and something that pulled him from you, in an instant.

Jaehyun looked at you, he had to; your eyes screwed shut, your lips swollen from his, the way your chest was rising and falling with labored breath. He brought his thumb to your cheek and swiped away a tear, “You’re crying.”

”Jaehyun-“ It was caught in your throat, tangled in another I love you and stumbling off your tongue. You love Johnny, “Stop.”

”Stop?”

You untangled your words, untangled yourself from him, put space between the two of you again so you could think; clearly, calm. Jaehyun watched every step you took away from him, wanting and needing to follow you, “I can’t do this.”

“What?” He took a step towards you, “What?”

“I-Johnny. I love Johnny.” You couldn't explain it, couldn't follow it up with another, “I love you.” You stood away from him, fingertips cool against your lips, “I can’t.”

Jaehyun took another step, “What do you mean?”

”We can’t. I…Johnny is…” He was waiting again, Johnny was waiting for you, again. There was no way for you to stop time forever, no permanent way to linger with Jaehyun in the rain. There wasn’t anyway for you to go back, for you to take back years and hand them back to him. It was impossible to get that time back for yourself. And you loved Johnny. Love him, love him, love him, “How do I fix this?”

Another moment passed the two of you, Jaehyun watched it grow legs and run through the rain. There was a clap of thunder, “Say it again.”

”Say what, Jae?”

He sighed, he came closer, “I’ve waited years to hear you say it. Just…I know you're going to leave. Just say it one more time.”

Your eyes were glued to the ground, to your feet that were frozen again. You knew you should leave, you knew that the rain had already drenched your clothes, your hair, your skin. You knew that it wouldn't do too much more damage to just say to him, again, “I love you.”

”Look at me. Look at me when you say it.” Jaehyun was shaking, his voice was cracking and you were too far away. He closed the space between you, holding your face in his hands, “Please.”

You blinked away tears and time and hesitations that lingered and you told him confessed against his lips, again, “I love you, Jaehyun.”

He leaned closer still, lips sighing your name, “I love you, too.”

Jaehyun kissed you for as long as he could, for as long as you’d let him. He tried to hold you there, in that moment, with loose fingers. Before it slipped away, before it followed the path of the raindrops and slipped down, down, down. Before this moment became another memory to waste away on, Jaehyun kissed you. And when you pulled away, he stayed silent. He left every word on your lips and listened to your footsteps, heard how the rain filled the loft with percussion and thunder when you opened the door.

Then, Jaehyun was alone.

📻

“Just tell us what happened, again.” Taeyong was leaning on his elbows, across the counter from Johnny. Yuta was next to him, Ten was on the phone. Johnny felt helpless, hopeless, “What did you say?”

The truth was, “I don’t remember.”

Ten urged, “Okay. Try to.”

Johnny’s palms were sweating. His phone was face down on the counter next to him, his phone had been silent for twenty-four hours and Johnny was losing himself. He left you, that afternoon, he made you promise to call when you were ready because Johnny had pushed enough - he’d pushed too far and now he was lost. He could see his reflection across the room, in the glass of his windows, just above where you’d left your telescope. Johnny could see himself in the same clothes he’d left you in, “I just…I lost it. I told him to tell the truth, but it was so much worse than that. I-the way she looked and the way he was looking at her.”

Yuta nodded, “Yeah.”

It drove Johnny insane, it made him boil, it made him sick. He was the only one who didn’t know, he was the last one to know, “I wish you’d never told me. Why…why the fuck did you have to say anything?”

”What did Jaehyun say?” Taeyong redirected, eyeing Johnny, eyeing Yuta, “Did he tell her?”

“He said it had been years.” Johnny sighed, head hung to hide from his reflection, “I didn’t know my best friend…I didn’t know for years and now…do you know what this feels like?”

Taeyong said, “No.”

Ten said, “No.”

Yuta shook his head and echoed for a third time, “No. We don’t. So tell us.”

”I love her.”

”We know that.” Adjusting in his seat, Yuta matched the way Taeyong had been leaning. He got closer to Johnny, as close as the counter would allow, and he asked him, “What else?”

”I know she loves me.” He did. Johnny was sure of it. He could feel it in the way you touched him, in the way you said his name, in every moment he had with you since you became His Juliet; you love Johnny. He saw the way you looked at Jaehyun, he knew that look. Johnny had seen your eyes light up that way for him, he’d basked in the brilliant starlight that poured from your eyes like glitter and Johnny knew that you loved him. Johnny was terrified that you loved Jaehyun - that you loved him for years, that years would outweigh the months he’d had with His Juliet. Johnny was terrified because, “I don’t want to lose her.”

He could see you in his kitchen, he could see you at his windows pointing towards the sky - to your star, to the stars that gathered around it. Johnny could smell you on his clothes and licked his lips to taste you lingering there. He could hear the way you said his name, the way you called for him and needed him and wanted him. And if it wasn’t enough, if Johnny wasn’t greater than years, he could feel his heart breaking. But, Johnny wouldn’t keep you where you didn’t want to be. He loved you too much, he loved you and he loved you and he’d keep loving you, if you wanted him to.

If it made you happy.

He’d do anything to make you happy.

Even if it meant, ”I think I have to let her go.”

Ten crackled through the phone, miles away, ”Why?”

“You all knew about Jaehyun.” He didn’t want to ask them, “So…what do you think? About her?”

It was silent in a way Johnny couldn’t handle. The room was quiet enough that Johnny could hear when Taeyong looked at Yuta, when Yuta shook his head, when Ten shifted in his chair. And Johnny knew, again. Johnny knew.

📻

“I miss you.”

Your voice was shaking, wavering with every word. You meant them, you were certain of them, you could feel them in everything you did. You missed him when you’d shoved and shifted your furniture around, when you blocked off the spot he’d kissed you, blocked off that memory. You missed him when you woke up and the world was cold, when early spring mornings felt more like winter. You missed him when you pulled yourself from your bed and into your bathroom, when you brushed your teeth and when you waited, silently, for your coffee to brew.

You missed him and you loved him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. The line was quiet, begging for something to fill where sound was void, “I know you’re at work right now. I just…I miss you so much, Johnny. Call me when you can.”

It had been three days.

Johnny’s sweatshirt still smelled of smoke, more than it smelled of him. Your sheets, ones you knew you needed to change, had smelled like your soap, his deodorant, your perfume, his cologne. A mix of the two of you, how you’d been tangled together, but that was fading, too. And you missed him.

6:21pm Can I come over?

6:22pm I’m actually already outside, but I can leave if you want me to

You typed, 6:22pm I’ll come let you in

The rain had stopped. It held on for two days, doing everything it could to wash away the mess you’d all left behind. You hadn’t left your house; not since. Since. Your lips tingled, fingers coming up to trace them again before you shivered, sinking more into Johnny’s sweatshirt and holding it to your nose.

You opened your door.

Your umbrella was hanging from the strap of his backpack, “Hey.”

“Hey Mark. Come in.”

“You moved everything.” It was hard not to notice it, everything in the room had shifted and nothing had found a permanent place to rest. Your couch at a diagonal, the coffee table pushed against the wall with its legs jutting out. You’d spun the chair in circles until you gave up, until it landed just over that spot and stayed there for three days. Mark was caught in another disaster, another hurricane, pulling off his shoes and sitting down on a step, “How are you feeling?”

“Um.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I called Johnny.” I kissed Jaehyun. “Just now. He didn’t answer.” I kissed Jaehyun. “He’s probably working.”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded, he tried to smile, “Yeah, probably. Finals are coming up so the café is probably, you know, like, busy.”

“Shit. Right.” You came to sit next to him, “How is that going?”

“It’s alright. Yeah, it’s alright. I, um, I have another assessment and then four written exams. We had to make, like, a portfolio of our work? For songwriting. So, I just, like, threw together a bunch of things I’ve written over the years, tweaked them a little. Do you…” Mark looked at you, “Do you wanna hear about all of this?”

“Yes.” Any distraction from the phone in your pocket, “Please.”

“Jaemin has another semester, officially. But, I think he’s okay with it? He actually - he really likes his new professor. I think I forget how smart Jaemin is sometimes, too.” The sound of Mark laughing echoed in your foyer, it couldn't find ground in a room of overturned furniture, so it settled in your chest. And you laughed, too. Mark smiled more, a real smile, “What did you say to Johnny? Can I ask that?”

“That I miss him.” You looked down at your hands, where they were linked in the pocket of his sweatshirt and resting on top of your phone, “I told him to call back when he could.”

Mark hesitated, “Have you talked to Jaehyun?”

You hesitated, too, “Yeah…I, yeah I did.”

“Oh.”

“Did you know, Mark?”

“Not really.” It was honest. Maybe Mark could’ve guessed it, maybe Mark had missed something. Maybe Mark wasn’t as good at catching things, at observing, as he thought he was, “I mean, that’s how it’s always been. You two have been the same since I met you. It was…normal.”

“Yeah.” Holding him, falling asleep with him, waking up with memories of his fingertips on your skin and letting that feeling carry you through the day. Wanting more, waiting for more. Silently hoping for more. And then there was Johnny; who gave you everything, who let you ask for more or for less or for whatever you wanted. Johnny who spun the Earth for you and hung the stars, “I don’t know what to do.”

Love a memory, love a wish, love something you never thought would happen or love something real. You were struggling to swallow how much of your love for Jaehyun was based in memories, alone. How tangible it was. It broke you to compare the two. Mark didn't have the answers, he still didn’t need to be involved. But, Mark was hurting, too. He was hanging on and grabbing at similar memories like a safety net, like a parachute before he plummeted.

“I don’t know.” Then he asked, “Are you hungry?”

It took you a moment to come back, “Yeah.”

When Mark had settled on pizza, settled into your chair, settled on a movie and settled your restless mind, your phone rang. It shook the pocket of Johnny’s sweatshirt, vibrated against your stomach and urged it to flip, flutter, fill with hope and unmatched anxiety. Mark saw the way you froze, Mark was hyper-vigilant, feeling like he’d missed too many things. When you grabbed at the pocket, he knew. So, when you told him, “I’ll be right back.” Mark nodded and took a bite of his pizza, settling into silence.

His name flashed on the screen; so many times you thought you’d miss your chance to answer. But your hands shook and your hands hesitated to answer, to put the phone to your ear and say, “Hi.”

“Hi baby.” Flutter, flip, filled with hope at the sound of his voice. Johnny let out a breath, you did as well, “I miss you, too.”

“God, I miss you so much.” Your chest tightened, you choked back tears and tried to keep yourself together. But his sweatshirt smelled more like smoke, your sheets smelled more like you and you just missed him, “I…Johnny, I don’t know what to…”

“Hey, baby. Take a breath, okay?” In his office, Johnny was shaking. He hoped you couldn’t hear him sniffling, he hoped his voice would stay even enough for him to speak - despite the tears that welled in his eyes, despite the ones that fell, “I’m right here.”

“Tell me about your day. Tell me something normal.” Your voice was laced with desperation, “Please, Johnny.”

Like a promise, like an I love you; the way you said Johnny’s name calmed his heart and his hands, pulled a quiet laugh from his lungs, “Nothing big. Pretty busy for a Tuesday. We ran out of milk during a rush, but it worked out alright. Jeno and Renjun came by, they said Mark was…”

“He’s here.”

“That’s good, babe. I’m glad he’s there with you.”

“Yeah.”

Johnny tried to ignore his nerves, followed every beat his heart made and the words his head urged him to say, “Can I see you?”

Yes. You nodded, you blinked and let tears slip down your cheeks. Mark shifted in the next room, scooted something around and scraped it against the floorboards. Johnny was waiting for you to answer and all you could say was, “Yes. But, Mark…”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Johnny clarified, like it would help. He hoped it would help, “I need to see you.”

“Yes. Yeah, of course you can.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Too late.” He couldn’t help but laugh, three days of nerves shedding away, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Me too, Johnny.”

A promise. Another I love you.

Johnny told you, “Go back to Mark. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

It was too short, you wanted more, “Okay. Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” A promise, “I really love you.”

Johnny’s voice cracked, it hiccuped when he tried to speak. His cheeks were stained with tears he’d tried to keep quiet, that made themselves known when he promised you, “I love you, too.”

📻

I think I have to let her go. Johnny knew what was coming. He pushed it away, he willed and wished it away. But he knew. Johnny lingered on the moments he could ignore it; when he opened his front door and you fell into him, when he kissed you like he’d been deprived of you for weeks, months, years. He held onto you and the moments between you, quiet and content in his apartment. When the sun started setting, when Johnny knew the day was ending, he found it harder to ignore everything.

Because Johnny knew.

He knew when you held his hand too tightly. He knew when you pulled on an outfit of his, from top to bottom, and it still wasn’t enough. Johnny knew when he kissed you and you tried to wipe away tears that fell before he saw them.

He knew when he asked, “What’s on your mind, baby?” When he begged you to, “Talk to me.”

And you knew what was coming when you pulled away from him, when you rolled to the edge of his bed and sat upright, back to him. You knew when you covered your face with your hands, let loose a sob and told him, “I kissed Jaehyun.”

Johnny couldn’t breathe, “When?”

“Four days ago.”

He was silent. He knew.

“I’m-I’m so sorry, Johnny.” He watched as your body shook. He watched as the space you’d put between the two of you grew and grew until Johnny couldn’t handle it. Until he pulled himself from his bed and wrapped himself around you. You repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Why?”

He didn’t know why he was trying to keep himself together. If the world was collapsing around him, if you were falling apart, too, Johnny didn’t know why he needed to be stable. His voice wasn’t as certain, wasn’t as sure when he rephrased, “Why did you kiss him?”

“Johnny.”

“Just tell me, baby.”

He knew. “I love him.”

Johnny knew. But that didn’t mean, “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” You turned so you could face him, so Johnny could hear you and you could quell any uncertainty, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too, baby.” He paused, Johnny tried to take a moment before he fell apart, completely. Just so he could tell you, “I want you to be happy.”

It felt like a knife. You’d been here before, you’d felt this before. I want you to be happy was vicious, it had claws and those claws would tear at everything until you were left with shreds and shards and fragments. Johnny meant it, you knew he did, you’d never question him. But, I want you to be happy felt like another goodbye. So, you hurried your face into Johnny’s chest, into his scent and seeking out his heart to remind yours how to beat.

“I am happy. I’m happy with you. Johnny, I love you.”

“I know, baby.”

“Don’t. Johnny, please don’t. I am happy, I promise I’m happy.” He could remember you in January, in February. Johnny spent Valentine’s day with you, catching the way you’d falter if you had a moment of silence. Johnny knew what it was like when you didn’t have Jaehyun around, he knew that wasn’t happiness. He knew he couldn’t be around, not for a while, if you needed Jaehyun, if you loved him. Johnny knew, “I love you.”

“You love him. You love him, too.” He was crying, the teardrops landed on the top of your head and Johnny tried to kiss them away, “I can’t take that from you.”

“Don’t take anything from me. Please.”

“I’m not.”

“Johnny.”

“You have to do it, baby. Because, I’ll just keep holding on and he will, too. You have to do it, okay? I have to…you need space to do that.” Johnny couldn't speak over a whisper, “You have to.”

“Johnny, I can’t do this. I love you, I want you.” You held him closer, you willed your body to melt into his, to stay here. Your breath was hot against his lips when you begged him, “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything, baby. We have to make a decision together, okay?” He tried to explain, Johnny didn’t know if he could, “I have to give you time.”

“I had time.”

“Four days. It’s not a lot. And you…” Johnny broke, he was breaking. He pulled you closer and hid his face in your neck, where you sprayed his favorite perfume, “You kissed him.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“‘Me too.”

“I don’t want to do this, Johnny.”

“We have to, baby. I don’t want to either”

You meant every word, every syllable, every breath promised to him in between, “Johnny, I love you.”

“I know, baby. I love you too, that’s not stopping. But you - you’ve got to- we’ve got to work this one out and I can't be there while you sort your side.”

“Johnny, I don’t…I love you so much.”

“I know” He pulled back to see you; your swollen eyes, the way your lips trembled. Johnny knew he looked the same, he looked like a mess when he kissed you and promised, “I love you, my Juliet.”

Your hands held his face, “My Romeo.”

And Johnny kissed you.

Kissed his final I love you into your mouth, through sobs and labored breath. Johnny took hold of you and tried to hold on to the feeling; how you fit perfectly with him, how you moved in sync with him, how you loved him. The moonlight filled his bedroom, seeking you out to kiss your skin. But, Johnny had already shared you with someone, against his will. He already lost kisses to someone else and he didn’t want to lose more; not these, not the last ones, not even to the moon.

He urged you backwards to lay you down, to cover you with him so the light couldn’t reach you. Johnny kept these moments a secret for the two of you, kept them close to his heart; your home. His lips left yours with a shaking sigh while his fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, his sweatshirt you’d blanketed yourself in. He stripped you of him, watched as you shivered and pressed his lips to your neck, the dip of your collarbone, down between your breasts and over your heart. He left a trail of tears as he did, let them soak into your skin.

You could feel every touch, skin tingling every time he grazed it, breathed near it. Johnny was all over you, he lingered on every inch of you and imagining your world without him was breaking you. Your body shook with another sob, one hand covering your mouth to hide the sound of it. Johnny stopped you, he pulled your hand away and reminded you, “I’m still here. Come back to me, baby. Stay with me for now.”

It felt like torture, knowing what came after. Knowing that if you brought yourself back to him to stay in this moment, you’d lose him once it was over. You had to lose Johnny. You were losing Johnny, “Kiss me.”

“Of course.”

So he did. He came back to your lips and let his fingers explore the parts of you left unkissed. Johnny’s hands slipped under the waistband of your pants - his pants - and worked to pull another layer of him off of you. You tried to help, tried to kick them away. Your hands worked on his shirt, his pants, the layers between you. You only stopped, breathless and spinning, when Johnny pressed his fingers to your core and asked, “Can I touch you here, baby?”

“Yes.” Always. “Yes, Johnny.” I love you.

Two fingers slipped into your panties, teased at your entrance before they slowly pushed in. It burned, everything did; his lips, his touch, the finality of it all. But, you got lost in the feeling, letting Johnny demonstrate how well he knew every inch of you, how much he loved you.

“I love you.” Left your lips, echoed back to you from his, “I love you.”

You were losing him.

Johnny circled your clit with his thumb, rolled his hips down against his own wrist to push his fingers further into you. The sounds you let out made his head spin, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” You never did, “Please, Johnny.”

A third finger pushed into you, worked you open, worked you into a frenzy. Johnny was breathing heavily against you, keeping his swirling thoughts at bay; thoughts of letting you go and thoughts of begging you to stay. He huffed and he tried and he did so much to keep himself together, but the sound of his name from your lips was enough to push him over an edge he didn’t know he was on. Johnny kissed you, let your moans fill his open mouth; he swallowed them down and gave them a direct path to his heart.

Johnny kept your attention, kept you with him, kept the world spinning.

His cock was aching, he wanted to make a joke that it was nothing compared to his heart. But, Johnny bit his tongue and rolled his hips, one more time. It was enough until you begged him, “Need you. Need you inside, Johnny.”

He nodded, coating himself in you with his fingers before he lined himself at your entrance, before he pushed into you and watched you fall apart in a new way. In the way he would prefer. In the way he was losing. Johnny was losing you. He had to pause, he had to stop himself when he was fully inside of you. Johnny couldn’t stop the way he shook, the sob that worked its way from his chest to his lips.

You held him there, kept him pressed against you and tried to promise him, “I’m here.” He knew. “I love you.”

If it was the last time he’d ever say it, Johnny wanted you to know. He wanted you to feel it, to have your senses taken over completely by him. Johnny moved, rolled his hips again and again until he knew you were only thinking of him. Until Johnny’s name was the only thing spilling from your kiss-swollen lips, he waited and confessed, “I am so in love with you, My Juliet.”

You kept your eyes on him, clawing at his back and matching his thrust. So in sync, perfectly in sync. Johnny sank into you and you did everything you could to pull him in deeper, to keep him there. Even if you knew he wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. You couldn’t stay with him.

Johnny played with your clit, teased it and watched as your face twisted in pleasure, caught in another fleeting moment, “You’re so beautiful. My beautiful girl.”

You weren’t his anymore. Johnny wouldn’t let you be his. You lost another moment with him trying to hold him still, trying to hold his heart and watching it tumble out of your grasp, “I’m yours, Johnny.”

You weren’t. He couldn’t call you his for much longer. Prolonging it would only break him more, it would destroy the two of you. Johnny kissed you and whispered, “I’m close.”

Tears fell from the corners of your eyes when you begged him, “No. Not yet. Please not yet.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it.”

You didn’t want it to end, you didn’t want to lose him. He was slipping away with every thrust, with every move that made your eyes roll back and your toes curl. It was inevitable, “Please. Please, Johnny.”

“Cum for me.” Shaking in your hold, trembling and prolonging, “Please.”

Your eyes found his, found Johnny’s light and let it wash over you, turning your vision white. He didn’t look away, he found the starlight in yours and let himself float up and up and away from a world where you were slipping from him. You came together, panting each other’s names. Johnny’s arms gave way, but he didn’t look away from you. He kept you as close as he could for as long as he could, rolling onto his side and tangling his legs with yours.

Johnny kissed the tears off your cheeks, you wiped his tears away with quivering fingertips. He pushed your hair back and you held his hand to your heart. Johnny spent every second with his eyes on you and you did the same, until your breathing evened back out.

You stayed for as long as your heart would allow you to, until the damage started to feel irreversible and the pieces gathering were too many to count. When you’d gathered your shattered heart, when you snuck pieces of his to keep with you and tucked them safely, secretly, you pulled on your own clothes. You dressed yourself in things that didn’t smell like him, never looking back at him or the way he watched you.

When he stood, Johnny stood, too. He didn’t cover himself, he didn’t hide himself; he was bare for you to see, for you to cherish, for you to remember as he was. Desperately, hopelessly in love with you. He kissed you, one more time; like he wanted to ask you to stay, like he wanted you to fight harder. But, he’d never ask that of you. Johnny couldn't let himself ask that of you. Johnny held you for a moment before you left, you listened to his heart beating and tried to mimic the rhythm one last time.

You told him, “I don’t want to.”

He knew. Johnny kissed the top of your head and said, “Me either.”

You pulled yourself from him, then. You didn’t look at him. You walked to the threshold of his bedroom and told him, “Goodbye, Johnny.”

📻

You let another two days pass before you told anyone. Before you could stomach thinking about it, let alone say, “Johnny and I broke up.”

Mark nodded, he dug his feet into the ground to stop himself from swinging; sitting in the same park you always did, just as the sun was setting. He cleared his throat, “Johnny told me.”

“Oh.” You asked him, “You guys talked?”

“He called me. I think right after it happened. Look,” Mark took a break, waiting for his swing to stop wiggling completely to tell you, “I don’t want to make you feel bad, I’m still kind of mad at him, but he wasn’t doing good, you know? Like he was in really bad shape.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Okay, ow.”

Mark kicked at your foot, knocking wood chips around it, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I lost both of them.”

There was a gap between you and Mark, big enough for those words to settle into the mulch. They sank into the ground, the roots clutched onto the freshly wet soil and started to grow until branches of I lost both of them hung over you and Mark. The shade cooled both of you, you went on, “It’s my fault.”

“How?” You didn’t have an answer, Mark could sense that. He had stood between the three of you, he’d watched this unfold for almost a week and he knew the fault landed somewhere in the middle. So, he asked, “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yeah.”

“I think you’re all stupid.” It was a fair enough judgement, you turned to look at Mark. He was focused on the street across from you, on the cars that went by, the way the lights switched on when the sun finally disappeared, “Like really, really stupid. Jaemin trying to get with his professor stupid.”

“Mark, I get it, but can we relax a little-“

“But remember when I said he’s a lot smarter than I remember, sometimes? And, like, Jaemin found something he really loved by being really stupid. So, I don’t know, dude.” He looked back at you, “Be stupid a little bit longer.”

“Hey Mark?”

“What’s up?”

“Love you.”

He smiled, Mark smiled and nudged you, kicking his feet off the ground to take off swinging, “Yeah, yeah. Love you, too, dummy.”

📻

“Johnny and I broke up.”

He hadn’t heard from you in days, in a week and some more. Jaehyun gave you time and he gave you space, knowing that’s how you got to this point; knowing everything might fall apart, again. Now, you were sitting in the loft with him, quietly across from him on the floor and Jaehyun didn't know what to do, “How…how do you want me to react to that?”

“I don’t know, Jae.”

“Did you break up with him?”

The answer was, “No.”

And it might have been better if, “He broke up with you?”

The answer was still, “No. We did it together. I didn’t - neither one of us really wanted to.”

Jaehyun felt sick. He saw you deflate in front of him and Jaehyun didn’t want to feel bitter about it; he didn’t want to feel the way “neither one of us really wanted to” begged him to feel, “Then why did you?”

Telling Jaehyun the truth - that Johnny urged you to, that he made love to you and begged you to leave him, that it was his idea and it broke you to go along with it - didn't seem fair. You blinked in the silence, in searching for a reason that was good enough, another lie that was good enough. When you came up short, when lying became exhausting, you told him part of the truth, “I don’t know.”

Jaehyun challenged himself, pushed against comfort when he asked, “Do you want to be with me?”

It had been a week since you’d left Johnny. A week since you heard his voice. A week since you could listen to any of the songs he’d hand picked for you. It was another question that was unanswerable. In September, yes. Even in October. Eight months ago, nine months, ten, eleven, a year ago. The answer would’ve been yes. Three years ago or five, as far back as eight.

You had wanted to be with Jaehyun for as long as you chose to remember. But, you hesitated and you lingered on the freshest memories of Johnny before you told him, “I need time.”

“Okay.” Jaehyun didn't think he could afford more time, when you were with Johnny time only seemed to slip away from him. But, you and Johnny broke up, and Jaehyun was back on borrowed time, “We’ll take time.”

Jaehyun stood up, he crossed the space between you and reached out his hand. Every move he made felt terrifying, like you’d run again if he made one wrong decision. He couldn’t risk it, he didn’t want to risk losing you again. He let out a breath of relief when you took his hand, when he pulled you to your feet.

When you were face to face, you mumbled, “Hey.”

He said it back, dimples sneaking their way onto his face through the smallest smile, “Hi. Do you…” He didn’t want to risk it, but it was what you’d always done, “Do you want to stay?”

You found a middle ground, “I can for a while. I can until you fall asleep.”

“Okay.”

He could count the exact amount of times he’d slept in the loft by himself; three times in too many years. When your parents took you out of town for a wedding and the last place you’d been was on that mattress; he missed you too much, he was ten and he’d never been away from you. It took his own parents offering to call yours - despite time zones and extra charges to their phone bill, despite everything - for him to come back downstairs. You came home the next night, you came back to him.

When you were sick, stuck in bed with the flu, and he’d fallen asleep on the phone with you - counting stars to lull you to sleep. It was right after Sicheng left and you only wanted to be with Jaehyun, you only wanted to hear his voice. He hadn’t thought too much about why that meant the world to him, Jaehyun didn’t dwell on the way his heart leapt into his throat when he said his name, begging him to tell you about a world outside of your bedroom.

The last time was recent, some time in February when he pulled himself up the black, wrought iron staircase and past the threshold. You lingered in the loft like a ghost; your scarf by the door, your sweatshirt on the mattress, a crumpled up page from Haechan’s rewritten ending that was, top to bottom, the phrase “BLAH BLAH FILLER FILLER” repeated. You were still there, you always would be. It was just as much your home as it was his.

He knew if you stayed until he fell asleep that it would be the fourth time he’d slept in the loft without you. Jaehyun knew he’d wake up the moment you left, and he’d roll over to feel what warmth you left behind. The thought made him feel more desperate than he already had been.

He would take what he could get.

You could never count the amount of nights you’d spent with Jaehyun in the loft, but you knew the times he fell asleep first by heart. The way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his breathing evened out. You could see each time - three times in too many years - that he’d drifted off and left you to ground him.

When Jaehyun’s parents left him with a relative, one he never really knew enough to like. He had spent the whole day on edge, the whole day fighting back, and when night came it was all he could do to stay awake and tell you about it. You were thirteen, tucking his hair behind his ear and watching as he painted a picture for you, hanging on every word until he left you there, hanging on a sentence half-finished and smiling to yourself.

When you’d both come home from college, Jaehyun’s flight landed earlier than yours. He waited up for you, waited until you came through the door and collapsed into him; plopping like a heap onto the mattress. You laughed and he laughed, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and told you, “I missed you.” And you melted into it, knowing your campuses were an hour away, knowing you’d seen him twice the week before. Knowing you missed him, too, and exactly why.

When you’d finished Haechan’s book, the first time, and scribbled the last of your notes into the margins. Jaehyun had offered the last of his input an hour ago, but he fought against sleep for as long as he could. When his head drooped, heavy with exhaustion, Jaehyun laid down beside you. When he focused too much into your pen scratching against the paper, his eyelids closed. When you turned to tell him something, ask him something, beg for another final opinion, Jaehyun was already asleep. You watched his even breathing, you thought about how you loved him, you thought about Johnny and his certainty and you put your pen down.

Tonight would be the fourth time, for both of you. He’d wake up and you’d be gone, you’d watch him settle into slumber, into comfort, into dreams without you. Until then, Jaehyun held you as close as you’d let him. You took his hand in hours and pushed his hair back; ten, thirteen, almost sixteen, twenty and now - just now - passed in a blink. There was so much time between the two of you, filled with just the two of you.

It was impossible not to love him, especially in memories. Loving him in secret had always felt like torture; the kind that made your skin tingle in anticipation, the kind that made every touch and every look and ever silent conversation feel like magic. The torture of loving Jaehyun in secret was a rush, a thrill. Now you knew and he knew, too. Now it wasn’t a secret and you’d never considered what that would feel like; the torture of loving your best friend and feeling like this.

However you felt now.

The strange mix of emotions flowing through your veins when you kissed his forehead and told him, “Go to sleep, Jae.”

Now, this moment was different from ten and thirteen, almost sixteen and twenty. Now there was time between you, there was a falling out and time lost between you, there was love between you that felt misplaced; explosive and dangerous to acknowledge.

Now, when you pulled yourself from him, when he’d fallen asleep and you slipped out into the cool air of a spring night, your heart felt that tingle in a way it hadn’t before.

Now, you Jaehyun woke up to the click of the loft door, when he rolled over onto your pillow and tried to keep himself warm with a memory, he didn’t linger like he would before.

You crawled into your bed and Jaehyun carried himself down the stairs to crawl into his own. Giving yourselves time.

📻

“You broke up?”

You nodded, it had been two weeks. Haechan had been patient, he had been nosy but he tread lightly around the subject. He gave you time and he gave you grace and he let you put his book on the back burner for two weeks, without much explanation. Haechan busied himself, waiting until you dragged yourself from your comfort; on your own, without Johnny’s help. It was the second hardest thing you’d done, in the last two weeks.

“I might ruin your book.” You half-joked, fingers picking at the skin around your nails. You shook your head, laughed in a way that made Haechan shift, made him reach over and take your hands in his, “You said I don’t believe in love when I’m moping.”

He laughed, Haechan squeezed your hand, “You’re not moping, babe. You’re heart broken.”

Babe. It could break you to hear it, it almost did. Your breath caught and your eyes closed, “Don’t call me that.”

“Noted.” He didn’t let go of you, “What happened.”

You’d gone over it, too many times in two weeks, and it never got easier. The words never felt right, when you said them. Johnny and I broke up. But you tried your best to explain, you tried your best to piece it together; camping, the explosion, the last two weeks. Needing time, needing him and wanting him. Trying to remember how you would burn at his touch and still feeling the last traces of him on your skin.

When you were done, Haechan stood up, “Up.”

“What?” He checked his watch, you stood with him. Haechan tugged your purse off the back of the chair and took your hand again, “What are we doing?”

“Come on.”

It wasn’t an answer. You didn’t know why you’d expect one from him, but you followed after Haechan and didn't let go. He wouldn’t give you the chance to. He mumbled something like, “He should still be at work.”

“Who?”

Haechan lead you outside, raising his free hand for a taxi and cursing when one, two, three, passed by. The fourth one stopped, tires screeching on the asphalt and Haechan refused to answer, a second time, “Get in.”

You rode silently for fifteen minutes, Haechan’s leg bounced two-hundred and sixty times in that time. He fiddled with your fingers, he checked on you, he gnawed at his lip like he was holding something back. When the car stopped, you were in front of a record store and Haechan didn’t hesitate to drag out behind him. A bell sounded over the door, it mixed in with the music playing from a speaker in the corner - it was lost in the sound. Still, someone greeted, “Welcome in!”

“Jisung.”

A mess of platinum blonde hair was tucked under headphones, one pulled back away from his ear. Maybe you should meet Jisung. Your body felt cold, felt frozen in place at the sight of him, at the sound of his name. He perked up at Haechan’s voice and yanked his headphones down around his neck, “Hyuck?”

Haechan introduced you, pulled you in front of him and blocked you between him and the counter Jisung was stationed behind. He gestured, vaguely, “This is Jisung. You remember what I told you?”

Jisung had a crush and Jisung didn’t say anything. Jisung shut everyone out until Chenle confronted him. The simple realization that it was the same girl. You remembered, so you nodded and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“No, it’s not.” Haechan didn't say it to you, he changed the subject, “Tell her about your girlfriend.”

“Uh, what?”

Haechan slowed down his sentence, stretched each syllable like it would take Jisung that long to understand, “Tell her about your girlfriend.”

“She, um, I don’t know. She’s at home? She’s…short?” Jisung stumbled without guidance, he looked between the two of you confused, “What do you want to know?”

“After Chenle came to your dorm, what happened?”

Jisung seemed embarrassed by that, cheeks turning pink at the memory. He stumbled again, he stuttered and he sat back trying to think of why Haechan was asking him this. Why now? Still, Jisung mumbled out an answer that was easy enough, truthful enough, “I confessed.”

“And?”

“And she felt the same. And we’ve been dating since?”

Haechan tapped the counter twice, the glass rattling with the force. Jisung tried to warn him, asked him to be gentle with it, but Haechan ignored him and turned his focus back to you, “How does my book end?”

“Wait, this is your editor?” Jisung pointed to you; more questions, more follow-ups. Then he said, “Wait wait, I don’t want to know how your book ends.”

“Headphones.”

When Jisung pulled them back on, when he gave you both a sturdy thumbs up, Haechan looked back to you, again, and waited for your answer. You swallowed, “She chooses her fiancé.”

“Right.”

“What does that-“

“If Jisung was Sanghoon and Chenle was her fiancé, then she chose Sanghoon, right?” You nodded, you waited. Haechan went on, “That worked out. That was the original ending.”

“Yes.”

“So, who are you going to choose?”

You blinked, “Haechan, I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t understand.”

It had only been two weeks. You still woke up every morning and had to remind yourself why Johnny wasn’t there. You still had to sit with the new feelings you had for Jaehyun; ones that went beyond loving him in secret. It had only been two weeks.

“You have to choose.” He pulled back, he squared himself and told you, “Not even who you end up with. You don’t have to be with either one of them, if that’s the ending you want. But, you do have to choose who is who.”

Relating your life to fiction made your head spin, pulled you from the depths of the situation and let you hover above it. Relating your life to Haechan’s words, to the way he wrote and then altered their story, brought more clarity than sitting in silence, by yourself. You looked at him, head tilted and processing. Haechan only hoped he was helping, he only wanted to help.

“Okay. Right.”

📻

Pressing play made your hands shake.

You could see him in front of you, the towel on his shoulder. You could smell the burning pancake batter and you could feel the strain in your arm from waving at the smoke detector. Johnny’s voice was clear in your memory when he asked, “Do you like this song?”

You loved every song he’d picked, it became the soundtrack of you and Johnny and letting yourself fall for him; you listened to it through three seasons. Johnny was yours from fall, through winter, to spring. Every song felt like a portal, a direct line from him to you. You were on your bed, looking up at the ceiling and trying to steady your breathing. Song after song, a playlist that shuffled and lasted hours. One song ended, another familiar one began, that song ended and another began. Another you hadn’t heard before.

Another you hadn’t heard before.

You scrambled to get to your phone, eyes scanning over the title, over the lyrics, over the new addition to your soundtrack. Atlantis.

You let it play, you hung onto every word and when you’d let yourself crumble into a mess of tears, you tried to call him. Johnny didn't answer, like Haechan you didn't know why you expected him to. But you made yourself speak, forced your voice to stay strong when the tone rang in your ears and you told him, “I miss you.”

Two weeks and two days.

Jaehyun took you to dinner. He made you smile, he made you laugh, he felt like every memory you had of him. You lost Johnny, he promised you it wouldn’t happen and when it did, Jaehyun was there again. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel right. But, when Jaehyun held your hand, when he pulled you down the street and told you, “You look amazing like this.”

You gave it more time, you gave him all you had. You pulled from your memories and tried to fuse them with the present.

You just needed time. You had to find a way back to how it felt to be with Jaehyun before. Before.

He dropped you at home, Jaehyun lingered on your front porch and urged you to go inside. More time, more time. His fingertips still burned your skin, still made you tingle; you had to remember that, you had to remember to breathe. Jaehyun kissed your knuckles, thumb tracing the dips in between your fingers, “Thank you for tonight.”

You needed more time, you needed another explosion, you needed something to shake you from a fog of melancholy and thrust you towards something new. But Jaehyun wasn’t something new. And even after April had showered the Earth, dampened the soil, old seeds would struggle to grow. Still, you looked at him, at the boy you’d loved at ten and thirteen, almost sixteen and twenty - how he turned into a man, right before your eyes. You looked at Jaehyun and asked for something to ground you, “Can you…would you kiss me, again?”

His eyes widened, Jaehyun hesitated; he wondered if he always would. If he’d always find himself teetering on the line between caution and recklessness, when it came to you. Jaehyun wondered if it wasn’t just cowardice that kept him from you, if he was meant to love you and look after you but not as he wanted. Still, he nodded, still he leaned in; because it was what he always wanted. Kissing you was what he’d dreamt about, all those nights he’d dozed off before you. Jaehyun told you, “Of course.”

And he kissed you. Slowly, taking time; time that both of you still felt like you were running out of.

When he left, you climbed back into your bed and pressed play. You waited and waited and stayed up until it happened again; something new flowing through your speakers. Something you’d never heard before. Your screen was colored copper, the music lilted and spun you around until you could imitate the world spinning; a direct link to Johnny. Strange.

You called Johnny again, he didn’t answer. The tone rang once more and you told him, “I still miss you.”

Two weeks, six days.

📻

Mark’s graduation came.

Haechan offered to come with you, Jaehyun had made plans to go with Jungwoo. You knew Johnny would be there, you didn’t let go of Haechan’s hand because of it. It had been a month since you’d all been together, it had been a month since the explosion and you were still tending to the burns it left. You were still recovering, taking time to find solid ground.

Jaehyun called your name, lost somewhere in a sea of people and he still found you. Haechan pointed him out to you, pulled you over to him, pushed you towards him. Jaehyun hugged you, Jungwoo stood to the side, “You went with the blue dress.”

You looked down, “Yeah.” A night with Jaehyun and you sifting through your wardrobe, a night with you and Jaehyun laughing over time. A night where you let his playlist play in the background and kept your ears tuned into it, waiting for a new song. Jaehyun suggested blue. Johnny’s favorite color was blue. You shook your head and commented, “It’s Mark’s school color.”

“Ah. Right.”

Haechan cleared his throat behind you, tapping the graduation program against his open palm. You turned to him, looked back at Jaehyun and Jungwoo, “You remember Haechan.”

“You said you loved my book.”

Jaehyun laughed, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“New ending and all?”

“I actually…we never got through it. She kept the last couple of pages from me.” Jaehyun looked between the two of you, “I’m sure it’s as good as the first one, though.”

Haechan nodded, eyes glued to the side of your head and mouth moving to smirk, to smile, to comment, “Right, well, there’s probably a reason for that.”

Jungwoo interjected, “We should go sit.”

Jaehyun nodded, “Yeah.” He looked back at you; in blue, in the blue dress he picked, “I’ll see you after?”

“Yeah.”

Then they left and Haechan lingered at your side; he waited until you stood up straight, until you pulled yourself up from slumping and looking after Jaehyun. When enough time had passed, when the crowds thinned and Haechan had given you a moment to breathe, he let his thoughts loose, “He doesn’t know the ending?”

“No. Let’s go sit.”

You were so proud of Mark, Haechan had never seen you smile like that: he could count each of your teeth if he took the time to do so. He watched as you clapped, as you cheered, as you wove your way through the crowd until you found him. Mark, circled by people Haechan might know by name, but not by face. You jumped at him, cheered for him again, hugged Mark so tightly and told him, “I’m so proud of you.”

And Mark grinned, just as you were, hugging you just as tightly. He told you, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it, Mark.”

“Have you seen him?” Haechan could hear everything. He knew who Mark was asking about, he saw the way you faltered and he stepped closer just in case. Mark took notice, turning his attention and reaching out a hand, “Is this Haechan?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Congratulations.” He added, “I dropped out.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah. Well, it’s not for everyone.” Mark redirected, “These are my friends, uh, that’s Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin…wait, shit. Jaemin was just here.”

Haechan waved Mark off, distracted himself with introductions and gave you the opportunity to answer Mark’s question, “No. I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s here with Yuta and Taeyong. Ten, too, but I think he had to leave a bit early.” Mark waited a beat, fixed his cap back onto his head and posed another question; a newer version, “Did you want to see him?”

“See who?” You knew the voice before you saw his face. You could recognize the person behind you, no problem. Mark watched your eyes grow wide, watched the way you processed it all. Yuta was behind you, head coming to rest on your shoulder, “Me?”

You and Mark spoke in unison, “Hey Yuta.”

“Congratulations, baby. You did it.” Mark rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, basked in the praise and blushed at the pet name. Yuta pulled back, put you at arms length and looked you up and down, “And you. I haven’t seen you since New Year’s eve.”

“Yeah, I-”

“I know. It’s alright. You’re in blue, huh?” Yuta’s eyes sparked, he looked over your shoulder and they filled with flames; bright blue and dancing, “Wonder why.”

You could see him, then, just past the flames in Yuta’s eyes; reflected just over your shoulder. The room was spinning, your heart was pounding in your chest and you wondered if it could still keep time with his. Johnny was over your shoulder and you couldn’t make yourself turn around. Yuta did it, for you, hands on your shoulders and gentle as they could be. Johnny was there. He was standing right in front of you, hands in his pockets and a tentative smile on his face, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

The crowd kept conversation moving around you, Mark and his friends, Mark and your friends. The room was filled with sound that got lost in your rotation, in the gravity surrounding you and Johnny. Even just next to you, even a foot away from you, even with his hands hidden away, he made your world spin. Johnny smiled more and told you, “You look great.”

“I miss you.”

“I know.” He knew it would be better if he didn’t say it, but Johnny couldn't keep himself from telling you, “I miss you, too.”

“God, Johnny…I…” You didn’t know where to begin, this wasn’t the place to figure it out. You felt the weight of the world under his gaze, you felt the gravity of Johnny pulling you in, “You promised me. You said if it didn’t work out, we’d stay friends.”

“Is that what you want?” No. It wasn’t. You couldn’t say it, it wasn’t the place for it. Johnny didn’t wait for you to answer, offering you something else, offering you a different opportunity, “We’re going to Jungwoo’s to celebrate. You should come.”

“I-”

“Please come. I want you to.” Johnny added, “Mark would, too. It’s for Mark.”

You nodded, “Okay. For Mark.”

“I’ll see you there, then.”

Haechan was back before the space Johnny left became too much. He pulled at your hand, tugged you through the crowd and asked, “So, that was Johnny?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Jungwoo’s apartment was full; it always was. Mark and Jeno, Renjun stayed in their gowns, letting them drape and drag; Jaemin had stolen Jeno’s, tied like a cape, Mark was drunk enough to follow. Jaehyun was somewhere, he must have been, Johnny too. You were glued to Haechan’s side, whispering every thought into his ear and letting him rationalize it to you until he slipped away to the bathroom and left you on your own.

You went to the kitchen, then. You stepped out of chaos and into dim, familiar lighting. Eyes closed, you leaned against the counter and let your shoulders sag. You’d been carrying everything on them; every word, every look, every moment of silence between the two of you and every kiss from him. The music from the living room faded into white noise, you pressed a hand to your chest and counted the seconds between each heart beat until you came back to Earth; until you’d grounded yourself.

“Hey you.”

His voice was behind you, just over your shoulder again. You turned, “Hi Johnny.”

“Are you…are you okay?” He laughed it off, “That’s a loaded question. Did you need some time by yourself, I guess. I can leave.”

“No.” You needed him to stay, “No, I don’t want to be alone. Haechan went to the bathroom, I just…I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Your author is here?”

“Yeah, he came with me to the ceremony.”

Johnny nodded, he came further into the kitchen. He tried to keep his eyes down, he tried not to think about you in the same spot, a year ago. Johnny tried to keep his head straight, tried stay in whatever moment you could give him. But you’d told him I miss you and Johnny could feel his heart start beating again, he could feel himself come back to life. A month had gone by and Johnny thought he could let you go, with time. If that’s what you wanted, he’d do whatever he could to give that to you. Johnny would give you everything, he’d lay the world at your feet if you just asked him to.

“I miss you so much.”

“Me too.”

You were stuck in this loop, hesitant to take it a step further. If Johnny had let you go, you wouldn’t recover so quickly. If you’d let him go, he’d lose himself again. After a month, after clinging onto hope he couldn’t clarify was real, Johnny didn't want to lose himself, again.

He came closer, “You said you wanted us to be friends.”

At the same time you said, “You added songs to the playlist.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I never did.”

“Me either.” You needed to be honest. Jaehyun was here somewhere, your time was fleeting, “I don’t want to be friends.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t be friends, again.”

“What do you want, then?”

Jaehyun excused himself from a conversation with Taeyong and Doyoung, he pulled himself through bodies crammed into Jungwoo’s living room and worked his way to the kitchen. His throat was dry, he was feeling light headed and lost; like he was losing part of himself. He couldn’t hold anything, not for the last month. You’d taken time, he’d taken some, too. He loved you and loved you and let you love him back, but Jaehyun knew. He could feel a new feeling settling in his chest. He loved you, he always would, but it was different.

He couldn’t place it. He was afraid to.

He’d spent years loving you, hiding in a feeling that lingered, hiding in the idea of being in love with you. There was a reason you hadn’t moved past that, he could see that with time. He could feel it, he found a new place to linger when it shifted. Jaehyun knew he loved you, his best friend, at ten and thirteen. You were the first. He loved you at almost sixteen, when he was piecing your heart back together. He loved you and you loved him at twenty, when distance tugged at your heart strings; longing for the boy who felt like home.

Jaehyun loved you in September, close to a year ago, before he really ever thought to say it. When it thought there would always be time. But, when Jaehyun stepped into the kitchen, when he crossed the threshold with footsteps hidden under the music, Jaehyun knew.

He saw the way you looked at Johnny, hiding again in his secrets. He saw the was Johnny stepped closer to you and the way you trembled when you confessed, “I want you.”

And Jaehyun knew. So Jaehyun left. He excused himself from a conversation he wasn’t part of and he left.

📻

It was two days later when you came to him, when you found Jaehyun in the loft again and stood across from him; space between you, always space. You knew. Your heart had ached for him, had sought him out, had found home with him. For years. But, you knew.

He didn’t move, you didn’t either. The birds chirping in mid-May air filled the void until Jaehyun swallowed cowardice in favor of bravery and said - not a question, but a confirmation, “It’s not me, is it?”

Your head shook, your hands did too, and your heart fell to the floor when you looked at him and said, “No. Not anymore.”

With nothing left to say, Jaehyun told you, “I…I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. Please, don’t be. We both…we waited too long.”

“We.”

Your hands clasped in front of you, holding one another still when you reminded Jaehyun, “I loved you, too. Jaehyun, I loved you just as long, just as much. Please just don’t forget that.”

“I know. I won’t.”

“I still do.” It was easy to say, now. It had taken years to place, years to understand. But you loved Jaehyun, you always would. You told him as much, “I won't stop.”

“I know. Me too.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

He smiled, as softly as he could, “You’re my best friend, too.”

When you left, when the late spring sun was the highest it would be, you took a moment to look back. At Jaehyun, at the loft, at every moment spent there. He was at the window, looking down at you with a face you’d never seen before. Jaehyun looked at you and he smiled and the way his dimples caved reminded you of ten and thirteen, of sixteen and twenty. Of every moment you’d cherish before.

Camping in the loft, birthday parties and slumber parties and constellations between the two of you.

A memory to linger on, a memory to cherish.

You waved at him and Jaehyun waved back. Then, you walked back to your house, stepping over the same potholes that had been there for years.

He was there, in the middle of the street, when you got closer and closer to your house. He was there, with his shirt blowing in a May-almost-June breeze. He was there with his hair flopping into his eyes and a smile, a blinding smile, a smile filled with sunlight to rival the summer sun. Johnny called out to you, “Hey beautiful!”

And you picked up pace, picked up into a sprint until you’d gone far enough to jump into Johnny’s open arms. He was waiting for you, Johnny was waiting for you. His lips found your cheek first, your neck next, just under your ear and then your lips, “I missed you.”

You’d seen him the day before, Johnny let it slide. He held you close and agreed, “I missed you too, baby.”

“You wanna go get ice cream?”

“Anything for you.”

He meant it. Johnny lowered you to the ground, held you just as close to him as you’d been, brushing his nose against yours. He let the breeze sweep your hair into his face, tangle with his, flutter around the two of you like the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Johnny felt a flip, a flutter, something like hope filling him to the brim before you asked him, “What’s going on in there?”

“I love you.”

You grinned, you beamed, you poured starlight into him in broad daylight. Johnny melted when you stood on your toes to kiss him, to promise him, to confess like a secret, just for him, “I love you too, My Romeo.”

previous. masterlist.

[nana-jeong]

ahhh, I shouldn't skip stories with more chapters. This story is so good. I badly want to read more slowburn, bestfriend, angst story

[hameesstuff]

Ashes and Wildflowers

Pairing: Ceo! Single dad Jaehyun x Artist! BFF Reader

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Slowburn, Single dad Jaehyun, Small time artist reader, Friends to Lovers. Other members featured, Slight humour, 4 year old daughter..

Summary: A widowed CEO and his bossy little girl meet the messy, spirited artist who shakes up their quiet world. Between paint spills and stolen glances, he finds himself falling—again—whether he’s ready or not.

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Chapter 1: Late Nights and Dinosaur Pajamas

It’s 11:46 PM when your phone buzzes.

You nearly ignore it, curled up on your futon surrounded by open sketchbooks and a half-eaten grilled cheese. You’d been trying to finish a commission for a tiny café in Itaewon, your fingers still smudged in dry blue acrylic when the screen lights up again.

Jaehyun.

Your heart does the stupid little flip it always does.

You swipe without thinking.

“Hey, everything okay?”

He sounds tired. Not just tired—worn.

“Can you come over?”

Your brows knit. “Is Hana—?”

“She’s got a fever. I’ve tried everything. Cold compress, warm bath. She won’t stop crying. I think she just wants you.”

That last part stabs straight through your ribs.

You’re already throwing on your hoodie and stuffing your sketchbook under the couch. “I’m on my way.”

By the time you get to his apartment—spacious, minimalist, all soft neutrals and clean lines—he’s standing at the door in sweatpants and a black tee, barefoot, his eyes shadowed and hair slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it all night.

“Hi,” you breathe, stepping in.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice low. You catch a flicker of something in his gaze—relief. Or guilt. Or both.

“She wouldn’t go to sleep?”

He shakes his head, shutting the door behind you. “Kept asking for you.”

The hallway is quiet except for soft whimpers from the bedroom. Your steps are familiar here now—four years of being the emergency contact, the midnight call, the best friend who never left.

You enter Hana’s room and your heart tugs. She’s curled up in her bed, cheeks flushed, wearing her favorite green dinosaur pajamas.

You kneel beside her, brushing the damp hair from her forehead.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper. “I’m here.”

Her eyes flutter open at your voice, tired and glassy. “You came…”

You kiss her temple. “Always, little bean.”

She falls asleep within twenty minutes. Her tiny hand clutches your sleeve like a lifeline.

When you finally slip out of her room, you find Jaehyun in the kitchen, pouring two mugs of tea. The clock reads 12:38 AM.

“You’re magic,” he says simply, sliding a mug toward you.

You smile faintly. “No. Just good with feverish dinosaurs.”

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “I should’ve called you earlier. She asked for you at like eight.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He hesitates, his jaw tensing.

“Didn’t want to… depend on you. Again.”

You go quiet. He’s always done this—shouldered everything, like grief and fatherhood were punishments he deserved to carry alone.

“I’m not a burden, Jae,” you say gently. “I’m her godmother. Your best friend. You’re allowed to lean.”

He meets your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. I just… forget how to do that.”

There’s a beat of silence.

You sip the tea. “This is horrible, by the way.”

He actually laughs—a quiet, low one that makes your chest warm. “Didn’t have honey.”

You end up staying the night. Of course.

You sleep on the couch, half-covered in a blanket you keep here anyway. He checks on you once around 2 AM—doesn’t say anything, just looks down at you with that unreadable expression, like you’re something fragile he never expected to need.

You pretend to be asleep.

The next morning, you’re brushing your teeth with Hana’s spare pink toothbrush when someone knocks.

You open the door mid-brush, expecting a courier.

Instead, it’s Mark Lee holding two coffees, Haechan beside him with a grocery bag and an obnoxiously loud, “UNCLE HYUCK IS HERE!”

“Whoa,” Mark says, blinking at you in your hoodie. “You live here now?”

You glare, foam still in your mouth. “I—nuh.”

“You do look suspiciously comfortable,” Haechan says with a grin, leaning around to peer into the apartment. “Wait. Did you two finally—”

“NO.” you and Jaehyun yell in unison from different rooms.

Later, when Hana is curled up on your lap eating rice porridge, you catch Jaehyun watching you from the kitchen.

Not just watching. Staring.

Like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t want.

You don’t say anything.

Neither does he.

But that night, when you go home, there’s a wildflower in your hoodie pocket. One Hana picked. Or maybe not. You don’t ask.

Chapter 2: Paint-Stained Promises

The wind howled down the narrow streets of Seongsu, and your studio windows rattled in their frames like old bones. Rain was coming—you could feel it in the pressure building behind your eyes, in the stubborn creak of the cracked glass you still hadn’t fixed.

You cursed softly under your breath, tossing another useless strip of masking tape onto the floor. The old window had been threatening to cave for weeks. But now, with the sky brooding and wind leaking through the crack, you knew it wouldn’t survive another night.

And of course, your toolbox was missing half its contents.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering.

He’d offer. You knew he would. That was the problem.

Still, you typed:

You: Window’s cracking worse. Rain’s about to hit. You busy?

Three dots appeared. Then:

Jaehyun: Be there in 15.

You sighed, heart tugging in a way that felt both inconvenient and inevitable.

By the time Jaehyun arrived, the first sprinkles had already started pattering against the studio roof. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, a low rumble of thunder rolling behind him.

“Should’ve known you’d wait until the storm to deal with it,” he said, stepping in and surveying the disaster zone. His voice was calm, warm. Familiar in a way that made your stomach ache.

“I was waiting for inspiration,” you shrugged, half-kidding.

His blazer was dark and dry, but his hair had started to curl faintly at the edges. He looked crisp as ever in a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled neatly, top button undone from the day’s work. There was a calm purpose in his presence—the kind that made the chaos of your studio feel a little less sharp.

“You brought your real tools,” you noted as he set a black case down beside the window.

“You mean the ones that actually work,” he said, glancing at your sad excuse for a toolkit. “Seriously… are you using a butter knife as a screwdriver?”

“It’s called innovation, Mr. Architect.”

He shook his head, crouching beside the window. “God help you.”

For the next fifteen minutes, the room was filled with the sound of clinking metal, the occasional curse under his breath, and rain starting to hit harder. You moved around quietly, cleaning up the scattered brushes and shifting your canvas-in-progress to avoid stray droplets.

“You know,” you said, trying not to watch the way his sleeves hugged his forearms, “most people don’t come running to fix broken things for someone else this late at night.”

Jaehyun paused briefly, tightening the screw on the new hinge. His voice was low when he replied.

“I’m not most people.”

You swallowed, fingers curling around a rag instinctively.

“You don’t have to keep showing up like this, Jae.”

His eyes met yours then—briefly, but enough to make the breath catch in your throat.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I want to.”

Thunder cracked outside like the sky had something to say about that.

The last screw clicked into place, and Jaehyun stood, wiping his hands on a clean cloth. You didn’t realize how close you’d moved to him until he turned.

Too fast.

His elbow knocked your paint bucket clean off the table.

You both watched in horror as it wobbled, danced on the edge—then tipped over with a dramatic splatter.

Right onto his shirt.

You gasped, eyes going wide.

Hot pink. Everywhere. A full, unapologetic explosion across his chest, dripping down in streaks like chaotic abstract art.

“Oh my god—Jaehyun!”

He stood perfectly still, staring down at himself.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then—

“Is this acrylic?” he asked flatly.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. “I—yes. But we can—oh my god, your shirt!”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Of course it’s pink.”

“I swear it was balanced before you barged in all… heroic.”

He looked up at you, finally—really looked—and the two of you burst out laughing at the same time.

“Stay still,” you said between giggles, grabbing a nearby cloth.

He watched as you reached forward, gently blotting at the mess on his chest. You tried not to notice the heat radiating off him, or how the thin cotton of his shirt had started to cling faintly to his skin from the paint and humidity.

But then—your fingers brushed lower, trying to catch a drip before it hit his belt, and your hand landed right over his sternum.

Flat palm. Over his chest.

He stilled.

You froze too.

The laughter died instantly.

His heart was pounding. Hard. You felt it before you could stop yourself.

Your eyes met his. Something shifted.

You dropped the cloth. “Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back, wiping your hands on your jeans like they were burning.

“It’s fine,” he said, but his voice was lower now. Less composed.

The storm outside cracked again.

You were still facing each other, still too close.

But neither of you moved.

Later, alone in your studio, after he left wearing his ruined shirt and half a smile, you found the cloth you’d used still on the table.

Bright pink. Warm.

And somehow, your fingers still felt the thrum of his heartbeat against your palm.

Chapter 3: Did the Make-Up Go Outta Hand?

By the time Jaehyun unlocked the apartment door, the rain had slowed to a whisper against the windows. The elevator ride up had been silent except for the soft plap of still-damp paint clinging to his shirt and the pounding in his chest he couldn’t quite explain.

He exhaled through his nose and stepped inside.

Warmth greeted him. Hana’s tiny, sweet voice filtered from the living room—something about a stegosaurus and sparkly stickers. And then—

“Hyung?” Jungwoo’s head popped up from the couch, followed by an unmistakable double-take.

Jaehyun froze mid-step.

Jungwoo squinted.

“…Is that…” he stood, walking over with narrowed eyes like a fashion detective. “Is that pink paint on your shirt?”

Jaehyun glanced down like it was the first time he was seeing it. The big splotches across the chest had dried into bright abstract chaos, stretching down his stomach in perfect, embarrassing streams. His once-white collar had a smear of magenta near the top button.

Jungwoo gaped.

“Hyung.” A grin started creeping across his face. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I fixed a window,” Jaehyun said plainly, stepping out of his shoes.

“With your chest?”

He ignored that.

“I was at her studio.”

Jungwoo’s brows shot up even higher. “Ohhhh. Her studio. Right. And what exactly were you two fixing?” he asked, voice laced with fake innocence as he followed Jaehyun into the kitchen.

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “The window frame. It was cracked.”

“Must’ve gotten really emotional,” Jungwoo teased, flopping onto a stool. “You sure it wasn’t make-up sex?”

Jaehyun choked on the water. “What?!”

“I’m just saying!” Jungwoo held up his hands in mock defense, barely containing his laughter. “You show up at midnight, looking like a Jackson Pollock painting, saying you were fixing things—and you expect me not to connect the dots?”

“There are no dots to connect.”

“Right. So your shirt just accidentally got seduced by a paint bucket.”

Jaehyun set the bottle down a little too hard. “I knocked it over. She tried to help clean it. That’s it.”

But Jungwoo didn’t back down. He leaned in slightly, more serious now—but still soft.

“You’re flustered.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” His voice gentled. “Jaehyun… is something happening with her?”

Jaehyun paused at that.

The image came back uninvited: your hand pressed to his chest, warm, paint-streaked, still.

He didn’t answer.

Jungwoo tilted his head, eyes curious but not pushy.

“You know we wouldn’t be surprised, right? I mean, everyone sees how she is with you. With Hana. She’s already part of this family.”

Jaehyun glanced toward the hallway. Hana’s giggle echoed faintly, followed by her calling out: “Dino Daddy!”

A smile tugged at his lips. Small. Quiet.

But then his gaze dropped back to his stained shirt—and the smile faded just as quickly.

“I can’t,” he said quietly.

Jungwoo blinked. “Can’t… what?”

“I can’t cross that line. Not with her.”

“Why not?”

“She was there when everything fell apart. She saw me at my worst. She held Hana when I couldn’t even look at my own kid without seeing her mother.” He rubbed his temple. “She’s seen too much of me. I can’t drag her through more.”

Jungwoo went quiet, letting the weight of it settle.

And then, gently:

“Maybe she doesn’t feel dragged. Maybe she feels home.”

Jaehyun didn’t reply.

But he didn’t change shirts either.

Later that night, as he tucked Hana into bed, she mumbled drowsily, “You smell like paint… like her…”

Jaehyun smoothed her hair back, heart aching and full at once.

“Do you like when she’s around?” he asked softly.

Hana nodded, eyes already fluttering shut. “She makes everything soft.”

Jaehyun stared at his daughter.

And wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was the only one still fighting something that didn’t need to be fought.

Chapter 4: Gluesticks, Dinosaurs, and Something Like Home

You weren’t supposed to take over Hana’s dinosaur painting project.

But somewhere between cutting out tiny green scales and sketching a volcano in the background, your hand just… kept going.

“I’m just helping, I swear,” you said, glancing guiltily at Jaehyun as you added orange-red glitter to what was supposed to be Hana’s lava. “She said she wanted sparkles.”

He looked up from the kitchen counter, lips twitching. “You mean you wanted sparkles.”

You gasped, faux-offended. “Excuse you—this is a collaborative piece.”

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. “It has shadowing.”

“Hana likes realism.”

“It has brush technique.”

“She’s very advanced.”

“Right. My daughter, the four-year-old prodigy.”

Hana, oblivious to the accusations, sat between you both on the carpet, proudly holding her gluestick upside down and humming the Jurassic Park theme. Her shirt had streaks of yellow paint, and a googly eye was stuck to her cheek.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

By 9:42 PM, the living room floor was a warzone of stickers, cut-outs, crayon wrappers, and half-eaten gummy bears. But the masterpiece—“Hana’s Dinosaur Island”—was done.

Or, as Hana dramatically declared before flopping onto the carpet: “It’s finished, my work is done, I’m sleepy now…”

She crawled into the space between you and Jaehyun, curling up with her cheek against your arm and letting out a deep sigh, already halfway to dreamland.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, lying down beside her. “She runs on chaos and collapses.”

You grinned, adjusting the blanket over her back. “I feel that.”

Eventually, your own body gave in, sinking into the soft rug. The storm outside had passed, and now the apartment was filled with the quiet hum of the heater and the soft sound of Hana’s sleepy breaths.

You didn’t realize your eyes had slipped shut until everything fell quiet.

When Jaehyun turned his head, it was instinct—just to check if you were still awake. To see if you were going to get up and head home soon.

But you weren’t.

You were lying on your stomach, one hand still near a crayon, your cheek resting on your arm. Your hair was messy, your face peaceful.

Hana was curled between the two of you, mouth slightly open, one socked foot touching your side like she didn’t want to let you drift too far even in sleep.

And Jaehyun just… stared.

He hadn’t noticed before—not fully—not like this.

How quiet the apartment felt when you were here. Not empty. Not echoing. Not heavy with loss.

But safe.

Warm.

Like something had finally started healing without him realizing.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, murmuring something incoherent as your fingers curled into the fabric of the carpet. Jaehyun swallowed hard.

He leaned forward before he could stop himself.

Pressed a soft, almost weightless kiss to your temple.

You didn’t stir.

But his heart did.

He stood slowly, carefully, then leaned down and scooped you into his arms—gently, like he was afraid you might shatter.

You didn’t wake, but your head tucked instinctively against his chest like it belonged there.

He stared at you a second longer.

Then carried you down the hallway and into the guest room.

He laid you on the bed and paused.

Everything about you was still—your hands, your lashes, your breathing. But there was something threaded in that stillness that made his chest ache.

Something terrifying and beautiful.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, too quietly for even the walls to hear.

And then he turned off the light.

Chapter 5: “Don’t Forget to Return His Shirt”

The house was unusually quiet that morning — warm, almost golden in the soft sunlight pouring through the living room windows. Hana had been up early, full of energy from her painting project the night before, but now she was napping again on the couch, exhausted after the burst of creativity.

Jaehyun was sitting at the kitchen island, black loose shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves pushed up, cradling a mug of coffee.

Johnny leaned back against the counter across from him, sipping from his own.

“She made that whole castle scene herself?” Johnny asked, glancing toward the colorful mess of crayons, glitter glue, and paper scraps.

Jaehyun chuckled. “She had help. Mostly smudged clouds and hearts. But she was happy.”

“You look—” Johnny tilted his head, eyeing him. “Peaceful. You slept well?”

Jaehyun didn’t answer right away, but his lips curled faintly, unknowingly. “I carried her to the guest room.”

“Hana?”

“No.” Jaehyun looked down at his coffee. “Her.”

Johnny blinked. “Oh.”

That was when you walked in.

Barefoot. Hair messily tucked behind one ear. Wearing Jaehyun’s oversized white shirt buttoned over your small tee from last night — sleeves swallowing your hands, hem brushing mid-thigh. Your eyes were still a little sleepy, your voice barely above a murmur.

“Is Hana awake?”

Both men turned. Jaehyun’s eyes lifted to you immediately, lingering just a moment too long.

But Johnny? Johnny’s jaw dropped a little in comedic shock.

“Well damn,” he said, lips curving slow. “You’re becoming a usual sight in this house.”

You blinked, still too sleepy to process until you realized what shirt you were wearing. Your cheeks flared instantly as you looked down.

“Oh my god—this isn’t—He just—” You started rambling, hands waving, trying to tug the collar up.

Jaehyun just sipped his coffee again like nothing was wrong, while Johnny leaned against the doorway dramatically.

“Relax,” Johnny said, amused. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You sent him a playful glare and crossed your arms over the shirt. “Don’t you have a schedule?”

“I do,” Johnny said, smirking as he grabbed the small bag of snacks from the counter and headed toward the front door. “Just came to drop off these for the princess. That convenience store near my place still had her bear jellies.”

He opened the door — then turned back one last time, a little smirk tugging on his lips as his eyes flicked to the shirt again.

“Oh, and…” he added casually, “don’t forget to return his shirt.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

You stood frozen, face burning.

Jaehyun finally looked up at you fully. His eyes scanned you softly. Quiet. Thoughtful.

You swallowed and mumbled, “Sorry, I can change—”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re fine.”

A pause.

Then a tiny smile.

“You look comfortable.”

Chapter 6: “Brushstrokes of Quiet Devotion”

She hadn’t slept in almost two days. Paint streaked her forearms, her fingers stained with hues of burnt sienna and cerulean blue as she stood in the center of the gallery, eyeing the crooked alignment of one canvas.

"Too low," she muttered, climbing the step stool again for the third time.

The art gallery was modest, tucked between a flower shop and an indie bookstore downtown, but to her, it felt like the Louvre. Her first solo exhibition. Her work. Her name on the flyers. And yet—doubt clawed at her chest.

What if no one showed up? What if no one bought anything? What if—

“Are you eating at all?” Johnny’s voice cut through the quiet like a sigh of relief. He appeared at the gallery’s entrance, holding a cup of iced coffee and a sandwich. “You’re going to collapse before anyone even sees your genius.”

She smiled tiredly, taking the cup with a grateful nod. “Thanks. I just... I want it to be good.”

“It is good,” he said, nodding toward the abstract oil painting behind her. “You’re incredible. Don’t make me frame you on the wall too.”

—

The evening of the exhibit bloomed like a dream. The lights dimmed perfectly, a soft melody drifted through the air, and guests trickled in — more than she expected. Gallery owners, critics, even well-known collectors she'd only ever seen quoted in articles.

And somehow — somehow — every painting had a red dot sticker beside it before the night was over.

“All of them?” she whispered in disbelief, blinking rapidly.

The gallery assistant nodded. “Yes. Your collection was bought out entirely by a private firm. In full.”

She nearly staggered. Her knees felt weak. She blinked again.

She had made it.

But what she didn’t see, as she greeted guests with misty eyes and a trembling smile, was the quiet man in a black suit standing near the far corner of the gallery — unnoticed, arms crossed, his gaze fixed solely on her.

Jaehyun.

He hadn’t approached her yet. Not while she was surrounded. Not while her eyes gleamed like that — filled with joy, pride, accomplishment.

He didn't need the credit. He never did.

It had taken one phone call to his friend’s acquisition firm. One private meeting. One silent request: Make sure her work doesn’t go unseen.

When Johnny came up beside him, wine glass in hand, he said nothing for a moment before murmuring, “She doesn’t know, does she?”

Jaehyun shook his head.

“She thinks it’s her talent.”

“It is her talent,” Jaehyun said firmly. “I just made sure people saw it.”

And when she looked up — scanning the crowd instinctively, eyes searching for someone she hadn’t realized she missed until now — her gaze caught his across the room.

His expression didn’t change. Just a small smile. A nod.

And her heart clenched, the way it always did when he looked at her like that.

Chapter 7: “Quiet Declarations”

She twirled her fork in the creamy pasta, still trying to process the day. The soft clink of cutlery, the mellow jazz humming in the background, and Jaehyun seated across from her — this wasn’t just dinner. It felt like something else. Something they hadn’t dared name.

“You really made this?” she asked, stabbing a mushroom and smiling. “It’s actually... amazing.”

He smirked, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Don’t sound so shocked. I can cook.”

“Since when?”

“Since Mark bullied me on FaceTime for over an hour.”

She giggled, eyes sparkling, then sighed and leaned back.

“I can’t believe all 17 paintings sold... opening night.”

Jaehyun simply nodded. “They were beautiful.”

“Still,” she murmured. “All gone so fast? Even the one I thought no one would touch.”

He hesitated. “I mean... I might’ve said something. To Minhyuk’s firm.”

She blinked. “Minhyuk?”

He cleared his throat. “I just told them to check it out. That’s it.”

She stared at him. “You told your partner’s investment firm to check out my show?”

“They support a lot of local artists—”

“Jaehyun.”

“I didn’t make them do anything,” he said. “I just made sure they saw you. That’s all I wanted.”

Her lips parted, heart thudding a little faster. “You went behind my back.”

He met her eyes, unwavering. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I couldn’t sit still and watch you be overlooked again.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, she stood and crossed the room, coming to kneel beside him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“You shouldn’t care this much,” she whispered.

“I tried not to,” he said just as quietly. “But I do.”

Her breath caught.

She leaned in and kissed him — slow, cautious at first, but that changed quickly. He responded instantly, rising from his chair as he kissed her back, deepening it as his hand slid along her jaw, guiding her closer, his other arm winding firmly around her waist.

She broke the kiss to gasp softly as he lifted her slightly, sitting her on the edge of the dining table, plates clinking gently aside. Their bodies aligned with a kind of instinctual gravity they’d tried to ignore for years.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, arms over his shoulders as his lips trailed down her jaw, along her neck — slow, warm, breathless.

“Still think I shouldn’t care?” he murmured against her skin.

She shivered. “No. I think you care exactly the right amount.”

They kissed again, mouths opening now, deeper, hands roaming with a familiar reverence. His palms slid beneath the hem of her top, fingertips grazing her waist like he was memorizing every inch.

And she let him.

He carried her to the couch, careful not to disturb Hana’s room across the hall. The way he laid her down was tender — her back hitting the cushions, his lips never leaving hers.

They undressed each other slowly, like this moment wasn’t new, just long overdue.

Her soft moan escaped as he kissed his way down her chest, pausing to breathe her in, to watch her.

“You’re sure?” he whispered.

She nodded, pulling him down by the nape of his neck.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Their bodies fit together like they always had — with familiarity, heat, and reverence. He moved inside her slowly, gently, every thrust a quiet confession of everything he hadn’t said. Their hands stayed locked. Their foreheads pressed close. Kisses between each movement.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, voice barely a rasp.

She arched beneath him, legs tight around his waist, gasping his name into his ear.

The room was dim. Their breaths the only sound. And when she came — soft, trembling, clinging to him — he followed seconds after, burying his face in her neck.

They didn’t move for a long time.

He stayed inside her, arms wrapped around her body as she traced soft shapes along his spine.

“I would’ve been happy with just dinner,” she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder. “I would’ve been happy with just you.”

Epilogue: The Morning of Us

The morning sun filtered gently through the white curtains, casting warm golds over the peaceful chaos of their home. The clatter of cereal bowls, soft music playing from the kitchen speaker, and Hana’s little giggles formed the soundtrack to another beautiful morning.

She stood in front of Jaehyun, hands carefully adjusting the navy tie around his crisp white shirt collar. He was unusually fidgety.

“Stop moving,” she whispered, eyes narrowing as she focused on tying the knot just right. “You’ll mess it up again.”

“I’m nervous,” he mumbled under his breath. “It’s a big interview. First time they’ll be broadcasting it live.”

She glanced up, expression softening as she took in the slight furrow in his brows.

“You’re going to do amazing,” she said, voice low and certain. “You always do. Just talk like you always talk—with that low ‘I’m definitely the smartest person in this room’ tone.”

He huffed a small laugh, hands finding her waist and resting there.

“I like when you hype me up like this.”

“I’m your wife. It’s in the job description.” She winked.

From the kitchen, a small thump followed by an “Oops!” made them both turn.

“Mom! I dropped the milk!” Hana’s little voice rang out.

“I’ll get it,” Jaehyun said quickly, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “You go. I’ll finish this.”

He turned back and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping into the kitchen.

Moments later, she joined him and Hana at the table. Jaehyun was on his knees with paper towels, Hana helping with exaggerated care, both of them laughing.

Later, as he grabbed his coat and briefcase by the door, he looked back—at the kitchen still warm with breakfast smells, at Hana now coloring at the table, and at her, barefoot and smiling in his white tee from last night.

“Wish me luck?” he said, holding the doorknob.

She stepped up to him, fixed the collar of his coat, and whispered, “You don’t need it. But for formality’s sake—good luck, CEO Jung.”

He kissed her once, deeply and slowly, and Hana’s voice broke them apart.

“Ewww, not in the morning!”

He laughed as he walked out, heart impossibly full.

And just inside their hallway, above the shoe cabinet, was a new photo frame—the three of them at the beach from last weekend. Hana laughing between them as she hugged both their heads. A picture-perfect moment.

A picture-perfect family.

___________________________________________

The End :)

Hope you guys liked it!

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (three)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, three

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. NEW (MILD) SMUT TAGS ADDED! swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, groping, dry humping (kind of? basically) smut tags will be added when it applies. big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 9,122

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. mark lee, dong sicheng (again. it’s always missing winwin hours, i fear), kim jungwoo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, na jaemin, lee jeno, lee donghyuck (haechan)

author's note. it’s the halloween chapter! johnny is so corny, jaehyun is miserable. i promise (i hope) that you enjoy it! there is mention of y/n’s skin glowing in the moon, but i don’t literally mean she’s glowing in the dark - just the way moonlight plays off of the highlights in her skin. i hope that’s okay! the next chapter won’t be out until nov. 1st, mostly because it takes place on nov. 1st and that just makes sense to me.

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here !

“Is it helping?”

You closed the manuscript and pressed it against your chest, “We’re halfway through.”

Jaehyun leaned, arms crossed and back pressed against the piano across the room. He watched you; how your eyes followed the sky, the clouds sweeping across it to occasionally reveal stars. With you, from the moment Jaehyun met you, it had always been the sky, the stars, the sun and the moon. He’d watch you get lost, he'd listen to you tell him constellations until he had them memorized - their shape and every star sprinkled in them. Jaehyun was afraid he’d lose you to the sky, when he was young. He was scared you’d float away.

His mother had told him, in an effort to calm him, “We’ll tie rocks to her feet, so she’ll never float too far.”

He’d said, “No. I can do it. I can keep her on the ground.”

“And how long will you do that?”

“Always.”

And he did. The older he got, however, the more Jaehyun realized how much you needed to float away, sometimes. The stars found their home in your eyes, filling them with sparkles whenever you looked up. Everything from the way you spoke to the way you thought to the way you would breathe would change when you were floating above, lost in the sky. So, Jaehyun let you get lost, he let you float. He encouraged it; tracing your favorite constellations, pointing out clouds, noting the pops of color you adored in a sunset when you forgot to look up. He’d watch you float, watch your eyes light up, and hold you steady so you wouldn’t get too far; so he could ground you again when you needed him to.

He always would.

Jaehyun knew you would do the same for him. Always, always, always.

He stood up, feet gliding across the wood floors until he knelt down on the mattress next to you and crashed down, “Is that a yes, then?”

You turned your head to look at him, his hair was pushed back off his forehead and, for the first time in a while, you wished he’d cut it shorter. You had forgotten how good he looked, like this. Sighing, you shifted to face him entirely, Lee Haechan’s first novel between you, “Yeah, it’s helping.”

With a grin, Jaehyun picked up the block of sloppily bound pages. He flipped through the typed words and your scribbled annotations, humming, “You said he’s younger than Mark, right?”

“I think by a year. Why?”

“His view on…” Jaehyun paused, suddenly very aware of you with the stars in your eyes, looking at him. The word felt heavy in his throat, creeping up until it sat on his tongue, weighed it down and kept him from speaking. He let out a breath, “His perspective on love is mature.”

The way Jaehyun’s fingers slid down the pages made your skin tingle. You swallowed, “Do you think he’s too young to have experienced love the way he writes about it?”

“I think, if he’s pulling from experience, it’s probably his first love.” Jaehyun placed the manuscript back down, fingers dangerously close to brushing yours. You pulled your hand to your chest, busying idle fingers with the silver chain around your neck. He continued, “Did your first love make you feel like that?”

An exaggerated groan slipped from your lips and you rolled back onto your back, eyes up towards the stars, “I wish everyone would stop bringing him up.”

Jaehyun laughed, switching positions so he was now looking at you, head resting on his palm, “Who else brought up Sicheng?”

“Johnny…” You caught yourself. Your teeth latched onto your lip and acted like a barrier for whatever you were going to let slip. It was simple enough to say Johnny and leave it at that. But the question and his name and the way Jaehyun was looking at you reminded you that you were hiding something from him, “Johnny did.”

He tried his hardest to blink away his reaction. It was another moment when he didn’t need to know the details, but Jaehyun couldn’t keep himself from asking, cool and collected, “Oh yeah? When?”

You closed your eyes, counting seconds between breaths, “Uh, last Monday.”

“Last Monday?” Sunday night you all had gone to the movie. Sunday night Johnny confessed to you. Sunday night Jaehyun told you he’d support your decision and then Monday you and Johnny…you and Johnny. Jaehyun rolled to his back as well, “Monday after he…”

“Yeah.” Something inside you was itching to tell him everything; to tell Jaehyun and watch his reaction the way you did when you’d kissed the corner of his lips. You wanted to see how he shifted, if he shifted, and hope that he’d tell you that he felt something, too. The only thing that came out was half an explanation, “We saw another movie and it..it just came up, I guess.”

He nodded and hummed and tapped his fingers on his stomach. Jaehyun asked you, casually, like you had his support, “So you two have been hanging out?”

You nodded and sighed and played with your necklace, “A little, yeah.”

Then it was silent. There was no wind, no music, no bustling from the street below. There was just you and him and silence, looking up and staying still. Neither one of you moved or spoke for too long, unsure of what came next. What could follow a half confession that you might have accepted Johnny’s feelings. What came after Jaehyun offering you support he didn’t know if he could give. Eventually, you heard him swallow, gulp down the silence, and ask, “Did you ever feel that way about him?”

You could have choked, head snapping to Jaehyun, “About Johnny?”

“No.” His eyes were wide, staring back at you. His attempt to change the subject back was twisted and Jaehyun felt like he was going to scream, “About Sicheng. Did you ever feel the way your writer does about Sicheng?”

“Oh.” It was easier to collect yourself than you thought, “Oh. I…I don’t know. I think it was different.”

Jaehyun agreed, “Love is always different.”

“Maybe he’s not writing from experience.” You looked at the manuscript dividing you two, Jaehyun’s hand still resting next to it. You stared at the sheets of paper like they’d give you the answer outright. Eventually, they might, “Maybe that's how he wants love to feel?”

“Maybe.”

Another silence until you asked, “What time is it?”

“After midnight.”

You looked at him, “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Jaehyun was already looking at you when you turned. The loft was dimly lit; only a small lamp and the light of the waning moon. He didn’t look away when he told you, “I was enjoying it.”

You told him, “I should go so you can sleep.”

His hand had moved up, resting on the mattress between you. Jaehyun pulled yours from around your necklace, “Just stay.”

“You have to work in the morning.” It was a good enough reason. It was Monday night and, come Tuesday morning, Jaehyun did have to work. It was Monday night and, come Tuesday morning, you were spending the entire day with Johnny and hiding it from Jaehyun, “And I have plans in the morning.”

“I can drop you off at home in the morning. It’s not like it’s out of the way.” Jaehyun wasn’t budging, physically or metaphorically. He settled himself into the mattress and draped his free arm across his eyes, “Stay here. It’s too late and too cold to go home. And the skies are supposed to clear up around one.”

“Fine.” You sighed. “I’ll stay.”

Sitting up, you pulled your sweatshirt over your head, rubbing at your bare arms when the chill bit your skin. Jaehyun finally moved again, standing to turn off the lamp across the loft. He could see the outline of your body, your silhouette stretching into comfort and he tried not to gulp too loudly at the sight. The moon kissed your skin just as well as the sun, hugging to the shadows and making you glow in the darkness. Jaehyun took his sweatshirt off, as well, needing to feel your skin against his where he could.

The way his t-shirt clung to his body stopped your heart and you hoped he couldn’t see the way your mouth opened at the sight; grateful for the darkness. The two of you settled in, side by side, arms brushing against each other. Jaehyun slowly lifted his hand, fingertips brushing along your arm. His eyes focused up, a smile tugging at his lips, his heart pounding against his chest. He flexed his fingers, “Hand.”

You gave it to him, eyes watching the clouds cling to the night sky while they could. Jaehyun dropped your hands onto his stomach, fingers laced with yours, “Your hands are warm.”

“Yours are cold.” He looked at you, hoping his eyes captured the stars the way yours did. Hoping he could capture you the way you had captured him, “Come here.”

Your chest was rising and falling with every breath you took. Jaehyun watched as moonlight filled the parts of you normally shadowed; the dips in your collarbone, the slope of your neck to your shoulder hidden by your hair. Glowing beside him, beautiful beside him. Comfortable, safe and grounded beside him. The final moments before you’d float towards the sky in your sleep and Jaehyun would hold you steady; keep you close to the constellations with his soft patterns on your skin, all the while on Earth with him, wrapped in his arms. He’d hold you when you became restless and kiss your head to remind you he was there.

You rolled closer to him, Jaehyun rolled to his side. You pulled your hands, still molded together, up to rest by your cheek against his chest. Your other arm wrapped around his waist, his came to rest at the middle of your back. You could feel his heart beating on the back of your hand; a steady, strong, stable beat. Jaehyun could feel your breathing even out against his palm. It was always so much easier, falling asleep, when the two of you were intertwined like this. Just like this.

You whispered, “Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

He kissed the top of your head, “Goodnight.”

Then he got to tracing; Cassiopeia. On your shoulder blades, the small of your back, your shoulder, your arm. Jaehyun traced the home of the heart nebula into your skin, as gently as he could, hoping you’d feel it; the stars, the heart, his heart, the fire.

Your voice drawn out, worn from reading aloud, quiet against the skin of his hand by your lips. You kissed his knuckles and mumbled, “Cassiopeia.”

Then you were floating away, Jaehyun holding you near when he repeated, “Cassiopeia.”

📻

You woke up to the smell of coffee and citrus twisting around in the air and filling your nostrils. The sun was just barely up, pulling itself over the horizon like it was resisting the start of day, as well. Jaehyun wasn’t next to you, replaced by a mug of steaming coffee and a plate full of cut and peeled oranges. A note was leaning against the mug, Jaehyun’s handwriting scribbled on a clean white piece of paper; Come downstairs when you’re up.

So you did, popping an orange slice into your mouth, securing the plate and your phone and the mug in one hand, pulling the door open with the other. The morning chill only had a few seconds to bite at you, while you stepped down the outdoor staircase and around the corner of his house to the back door. Jaehyun was in the kitchen, half dressed for work and tapping away on his phone. To see him like this, to watch him so quietly get ready for his day, it always felt intimate. Like you were getting a glimpse into his future, the things his partner would see every day and it tugged on your heart to consider that it might not be you, anymore, who sees it.

The thought that, one day, you and Jaehyun wouldn’t fall asleep wrapped around each other like intertwining vines could absolutely break you, if you dwelled too long. Thinking of someone else standing across from him in the kitchen, securing his tie around his neck, sharing cups of coffee and knowing smiles every day could felt like something close to the end of the world.

So, you pushed the thought away and pulled at the sliding door, doing everything you could to smile and tell him, “Good morning.”

Jaehyun looked up, lips hinting at a smile at the sight of you. He’d spent most of his morning routine with his mind clouded by thoughts that, one day and maybe one day soon, he might not be able to wake up next to you as he did today. He battled those thoughts with the image and the memories of all the times he had woken up like that; just the two of you. The sight of you sleeping and your arms wrapped around him and how hard it was to pull himself from that. Jaehyun busied himself with bathing and getting dressed and making your coffee and his, together, just how you liked.

He moved as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t wake you, careful with you as he always was. Jaehyun was happy to see you awake, though; hood pulled up around your head, sipping on coffee and eating oranges at the counter across from him. He couldn’t picture anyone else in that spot, he didn’t want to.

Jaehyun put his phone down, flattening his palms on the marble of the island, “Good morning.”

You asked him, “What time do you need to leave?”

He looked at the clock on the stove and told you, “About twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” The two of you only looked at each other; unwavering eye contact and growing, growing, knowing smiles on your lips. As though to be here, simple and relaxed, for both of you, was everything. You finally blinked, “Do you want to start the next chapter, tonight?”

“Sure.” He rounded the counter, standing directly in front of you with his tie loose around his neck. He pulled the ends away from his chest and towards you, “Help?”

You took them, but you quipped, “What do you do when I’m not here?”

He grinned, teasing and his tone playful, “Tie it backwards in the mirror.”

Your fingers twisted the silk of his burgundy tie, wrapping it around itself and securing it like you always did. You buttoned up the last few buttons of his shirt, hands threatening to shake, eyes trained on the way Jaehyun swallowed. Then, you patted his chest, brushed invisible dust from his shoulders and said, “There.”

Jaehyun asked, “Look okay?”

“Looks good.” Your mouth was suddenly and desperately dry, taking him in; his tailored grey pants, his crisp white button down and the contrast of his tie. He was worlds away from how he normally looked, to you; a dressed up, dolled up version of your Jaehyun. Your Jaehyun. You nodded your head, swallowing for the sake of your throat and swallowing every thought that threatened to slip out, “You look really good.”

And because Jaehyun couldn’t convince himself not to, because the memory of you doing the same lingered on his mind, he leaned down and kissed the corner of your lips. The same spot you’d kissed on him, desperation of his own wanting to keep you here in this moment and in every moment with him. He lingered there as long as he could, straightening back up and saying, “Thank you. I’ve gotta get some paperwork together, then we’ll go.”

Your lips burned, every inch of you did, the way it always did when Jaehyun touched you, brushed against you, put his lips to your skin even in the most innocent way. It was hard to know if you were breathing, it was hard to think of anything else. Still, you spoke.

“Okay.” It came out like a whisper, “I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Okay.” He said, smiling like he did and like he always would. Smiling and heart pumping loudly. Smiling and burning on the inside, hands shaking. Smiling so he could convince himself you’d never catch on. He pointed to your plate and coffee, turning to walk down the hallway, “Finish your breakfast.”

And you nodded.

The things you needed for the day were packed into your tote, the manuscript laying perfectly at the center of the mattress. You came back down the stairs once more, turning right instead of left to pack yourself into Jaehyun’s car. He drove the two of you down the street, humming and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. You watched the same houses you always saw pass by, the morning sun tapping at their windows and the windows of Jaehyun’s car.

Another familiar feeling. Another routine. Something simple and comfortable and ordinary.

When Jaehyun pulled up to your house, you stopped thinking, stopped taking anything in, stopped moving, stopped breathing. Jaehyun did the same, white noise filling his ears. He didn’t want to know and you didn’t want to tell him. You fell asleep listening to his heartbeat. He woke up tangled in you and it took everything in him to pull away from that. You’d kissed the corner of his lips and he’d kissed yours.

And now Johnny was leaning against your gate, waving at the two of you. You didn’t look at Jaehyun, you didn’t know if he looked at you. But, you heard him, as quiet as he tried to be, say one word, “Plans.“

You couldn’t place the tone of it. Jaehyun didn’t know either. Somewhere, at a perfectly centered point between his mind that was bitter, maybe angry and not able to justify it, definitely jealous and his heart that was cracking and trying not to break, Jaehyun lost control of how exactly he wanted to say that. If he even wanted to say it, at all. He blinked, you said, “Yeah, um…yeah.”

“Mm.” Jaehyun didn’t want to ask and you didn’t want to tell him. He nodded, hands sliding around the steering wheel, an attempt at distraction. He didn’t know how, but Jaehyun brought himself to lift and hand and wave at Johnny. His friend, Johnny. His best friend, Johnny. He told you, a simple smile on his face, “Well, have fun.”

You finally looked at Jaehyun, away from Johnny who had busied himself on his phone. You felt caught and you couldn’t pinpoint by who, “Yeah. I’ll see you later, Jae.”

“Yeah.” He said, still smiling, “Later.”

You climbed out of the car then, standing just outside the closed door and looking at Johnny over the roof. Jaehyun and his black sedan parked between the two of you and the entire day you’d decided to spend together. Johnny smiled so you tried to do the same. From inside, Jaehyun waved at the two of you before he drove off, so the only thing between you and Johnny was the space Jaehyun had now left behind.

Johnny greeted, “Hey.”

So you said it back.

He studied your face for a moment, head tilted to the side, before Johnny asked you, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, pushing your hair away from your face. You were longing for one moment of silence between conflicting thoughts, wishing for the ability to quiet your own mind. Something in you was determined to enjoy your day with Johnny. What was left of you after that was lingering on the moments with Jaehyun in the morning and the fact that you’d go back to him tonight. If you tuned in to them long enough, you might throw up.

Johnny looked concerned, pushing himself away from the stone wall and out into the middle of the street in front of you. He pressed his hand to your forehead, eyes scanning any part of you he could see, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Somewhere between the truth and a lie, a comfortable meeting ground for the two, “I just woke up, I still have to get ready.”

Johnny’s hands slid down your arms, slipping underneath them to rest on your hips. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down the street, even knowing Jaehyun was long gone. Ducking down, Johnny caught your attention again and smiled, telling you, “Go get cleaned up. I can wait.”

“Out here?”

He laughed, “Preferably not.”

“Okay, yeah. Come inside.” You pulled hands away from you, stepping towards the strip of pavement in front of your house. He followed, closely and with a silent laugh. After you’d opened the gate, you looked over your shoulder to say, “You really meant all day, huh?”

“I really did.” He waited a moment, listening to the sound of your keys jingling and unlocking your door before he asked, “Did you stay over at Jaehyun’s?”

You nodded, slipping your shoes off, watching Johnny follow and do the same, “Yeah. He’s helping me get through the book I’m editing.”

“Oh, nice.” It was so genuine, everything he said and did and thought, likely. Johnny took hold of your shoulders and turned you around, towards the stairs, “Go on, get ready. I’ll be down here, okay?”

“Okay.”

On the third step you turned back to look at him. Johnny had his hands in his pockets, standing in your foyer where he fit comfortably, looking up at you. His head tilted again, puppy-like and hair flopping to the side. After a moment of silence, with nothing but easily closed space between the two of you, Johnny moved. He took three steps to stand one step below you and he leaned closer, closer still until his lips were so close you could feel him breathing.

Johnny grinned, wolffish and ever-the-tease, then he swooped down to kiss your cheek. His lips lingered there for a moment before they brushed against your ear and he told you, “Go get ready.”

So, you did.

📻

October was ending, so was the week.

“Are you almost here?”

He told you, “Almost.”

“Honk when you’re here.” You fussed with your hair, flipping and twisting and pinning back strands that fell out of place, “Did you already pick up Jungwoo?”

“We’ll get him on the way.” You heard a faint honk from outside, then he told you, “I’m here.”

“I heard.” You laughed, taking the feathered white wings from where they’d been tucked under your arm and securing them onto your back by their satin straps. “Okay, I’m coming out.”

October was ending and you’d spent the last week of it falling asleep next to him, highlighter and ink pen smudged into your fingertips. He’d woken up with your fingerprints on his neck, his jaw, behind his ear, his chest and his arms. If he could hide them well enough, he’d leave them for the day, keeping a secret under his crisp button down. At least until he saw you again, that night.

And you’d wake up to texts from Johnny, asking if you were free or telling you good morning.

You’d wake up to notes from Jaehyun when he had to leave while you slept or fresh coffee next to the mattress.

You’d wake up to Johnny on your doorstep, bringing you breakfast.

You’d wake up to Jaehyun still snoring and the sun barely rising, tempting the loft with light. Traces of you illuminated on his skin.

And now October was ending; it was frigid, the chill pinching at the parts of your skin that were exposed as you stepped outside and locked up. You could hear a car door open, his footsteps on the pavement, the clack of your own heels coming after. Your dress was whipping around your calves in the breeze you were creating, hurrying down the path to get to him; to the warmth of car, the warmth of his him. He was leaning against the passenger side door when you finally looked up, staring at you intently with his hands deep in his pockets.

Halfway to him, you said, “Hey.”

And when the wind fluttered the wings, when it swept his breath away, Jaehyun smiled and said it back, “Hey.”

He looked like an absolute dream; suspenders secure on his shoulders, holding his loose white shirt in place while it, too, rustled.

Jaehyun was holding his breath, watching every step you took and counting the seconds until you were directly in front of him. He was in a trance, mind blank but for the image of you and he didn’t know how to shake himself free of that. You had stopped moving and he hadn’t moved an inch, the two of you taking each other in like you hadn’t woken up together. Finally, he spoke. The sound of a car passing urging him to make sound, any sound, of his own.

“You look…” He paused, swallowing and blinking slowly, like whatever Jaehyun was about to say had been lost in his mind. He stood up straight, “Like an angel.”

And you laughed, Jaehyun did as well, his dimples distracting you from saying anything back for only a moment. Slowly you nodded your head and wrapped your arms around yourself, “You look…what are you?”

Jaehyun didn’t answer, not directly, he only opened the passenger door and said, “Let’s go get Jungwoo.”

Without a word, you climbed into his car. The conversation changed, it drifted, it filled the car with a sound combating the hum of the radio until you were outside Jungwoo’s apartment. And when you saw Jungwoo stumbling over his own dress, the way his wig fell into his eyes while he tried to balance his phone and his keys and a half finished iced Americano, you laughed again. Turning to Jaehyun, you scrunched your nose up; his ears burned at the sight, “Jack and Rose, huh?”

Jaehyun nodded, hand secured on the gearshift between you. If he would reach six inches further, he could put his hand on your thigh. He thought about it, the way the fabric of your dress would feel, the heat of your skin, how you’d settle into it like it was completely natural. It might have been, but Jaehyun hesitated and he thought; he wouldn’t just reach. Instead, he smiled and said, “It was Jungwoo’s idea.”

You turned to watch Jungwoo nearing the car, smiling at the sight of you, almost tripping once again. You could feel Jaehyun’s eyes on you, the way his fingers stretched around the gear shift. If you reached just six inches you could wrap your fingers around his and hold his hand; feel his warmth in the smallest way possible, help or hinder him from driving before you settled your hands on your lap. Like it was completely natural. But, you kept your eyes on Jungwoo and swallowed, voice not wavering when you said, “I love it. It’s a perfect idea.”

Then Jungwoo was in the car, clambering in until he was the only thing settled between the three of you. Jaehyun’s hand stretched again, yours played with the hem of your dress and you both let Jungwoo carry the conversation, like it was completely natural.

📻

Yuta’s house was warm; bodies filling almost every space and contrasting the chill the night brought. He was nowhere in sight when the three of you walked in, but you’d come to expect it. Jaehyun had a hand on your back, keeping you close to him and pressed between himself and Jungwoo. Your wings brushed against people, the walls, the narrow spaces you pulled yourself through until you’d all landed in the kitchen.

Jaehyun said, “I’ll get you a drink.”

Jungwoo said, “There’s Mark.”

You said, “I wonder if Taeyong is coming.”

But every sound mixed in with the chatter and the music and the shuffling of feet, clacking of heels, barks of laughter. It was chaos. But, once again, it was expected of Yuta’s Halloween-slash-Birthday Party. So, you stood with your palms pressed to the countertop and tried to take in as much of it as you could. Someone bumped into your wings again, you heard Jungwoo hollering a “hello” to someone across the house. The crowd shifted like a kaleidoscope before you, new shapes and bodies and costumes rotating in an uncertain pattern between rooms. Jungwoo was right, Mark was close to the edge of a group, from the neck down dressed like Spider-Man, a bright smile on his face.

Jaehyun found his way back to you, pressing a plastic cup into your hand and turning to do the same for Jungwoo before taking a sip of his own drink, “Who is Mark talking to?”

“I think…” You squinted over the edge of your cup, mulling over answers as you swallowed down the alcohol, “It looks like Jaemin.”

Jaehyun nodded, observing the crowd as you were. He saw him, then. Johnny as a knight, Johnny looking at you. Johnny on his way over. When the music paused, when there was a break between songs and Jaehyun could swear he heard Johnny’s chainmail clinking, it hit him. Maybe the alcohol, maybe the increasingly hot air, maybe the noise as everyone rushed to dance to whatever song was playing. It clicked and Jaehyun felt sick, dizzy, desperate for stability.

Johnny looking at you. Johnny on his way over. Johnny as a knight. Johnny as your Romeo. Jaehyun cleared his throat and said, “You’re Juliet.”

You only glanced at him sideways, maybe afraid to look at him dead on. Between the feeling of Jaehyun’s arm brushing against yours, the sound of his voice you’d never hear clearly enough to place and the alcohol settling in your stomach, you felt a heat rush to your face. You had seen him, too, watched as Johnny weaved through the crowd and his grin and the way he looked at you when you repeated, “I’m Juliet.”

Jungwoo was still close enough to hear, but you’d never know if he was listening when Jaehyun said, “You wore a couple costume with Johnny?”

“I…” You had to pause, you had to blink. Johnny was so close that maybe he’d be able to read your lips, be able to read your body language, be able to read the way Jaehyun was looking at you better than you ever could. You wondered, only for half a second, when you’d become so out of touch with the way Jaehyun moved and spoke and thought, your heart plummeted only to shoot back up at an alarming pace, “I guess so.”

Jaehyun didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate or think about it. He was only six inches from your ear when his words flowed through them, “So does that mean you’re a couple?”

You looked at him then, losing Johnny for the moment it took you to swallow and say, “I don’t know Jaehyun.” It didn’t sound bitter coming from your lips, maybe confused, but it tasted bitter on your tongue. You looked over Jaehyun’s shoulder at Jungwoo, something settling inside you that you couldn’t pinpoint and raising your eyebrow, “You wore a couple costume with Jungwoo.”

Jaehyun glanced at his counterpart, down at his drink, across the counter where Johnny had been stopped by someone just briefly enough for Jaehyun to chide, “It’s not the same thing.”

Johnny was in front of you then, smiling and reaching out for your hand. Johnny was in front of you, stopping anything you might have said to Jaehyun. Johnny was in front of you and you reached six inches to take his hand when he said, “There’s my Juliet.”

And when you took it, when Johnny pulled you away and Jaehyun choked down the lump in his throat, Jungwoo put his arm around his Jack Dawson and said, “I think you picked the wrong Leonardo DiCaprio.”

And Jaehyun tried to take that in. He tried to rationalize how he'd been with everything for the last two weeks; every look you gave Johnny, the way he’d danced you down the street, the way Johnny watched you when you weren’t paying attention. The way Johnny had stolen you away at the festival to dance again, spin you around and pull you near. The way Johnny pulled you to dance, right then. Always dancing.

Always dancing.

Jaehyun thought you must have been dizzy from all the dancing, from the twists and turns and loops Johnny pulled you into. But, maybe if you were dizzy it was better. Jaehyun took another drink. Maybe if he was dizzy, even for a little while, it was better.

Maybe if both of you were dizzy it would make all of this feel completely natural.

📻

Johnny had you in the center of the living room; wings askew and hair falling into your eyes. He spun you and spun you and spun around you until you felt like maybe he was what kept the whole world spinning. The lazy grin on his face made your drunken heart swell. It would do the same thing, sober, so long as he kept looking at you like that. Neither of you were following a distinguishable rhythm; you were dancing to the song and Mark’s laughter and the sound of the floorboards creaking under your feet, Johnny was dancing to the music and Mark’s laughter and ping pong balls bouncing off Yuta’s dining room table.

Either way, you let him lead you.

Either way, he laughed and spun you once more.

And when you stumbled over your wavering feet, Johnny caught you and held you close enough that the ends of his hair brushed against your face. He smiled more, if he could, he’d smiled until it hurt looking at you like this. Johnny didn’t pull back and you didn’t think to ask him to, pressed together in front of all your friends and so blissfully drunk. He told you, “You look so beautiful, Juliet.”

“Yeah?” It was a whisper lost in the chaos. You spoke louder when you told him, “You look beautiful too, Romeo.”

Johnny seemed shocked, he put on a good show of it, “I do?”

And with calm, alcohol laced certainty, you said, “Always. Always beautiful.”

It came out slurred but clear enough. The sound hit his ears and Johnny considered asking to borrow your wings so he could float away. He knew he’d had too much to drink, but it felt so much like the night everything changed for him, the night your Knight looked at you and saw Juliet. So, Johnny pulled you upright and steadied you when you wobbled again. He waited, he watched and when he knew he could get away with it, Johnny leaned down and said, “I’m going to kiss you.”

You looked, too. The mass of bodies had thinned and spread out throughout the house. The two of you were tucked inside a small crowd, in a circle and world of your own, mostly blocked - blocked enough. So, you nodded, “Okay.”

And when Johnny kissed you, the room that had settled around you started spinning again. His lips, his lips, pulled you in as his arms did, wrapping you up in Johnny and holding you there. You could smell his cologne clinging to him, the taste of the cinnamon whiskey on his lips. Then, he pulled away faster than you wanted, faster than either of you wanted. Bug eyed, you shook your head and breathed out, “More.”

“More?” His breath was just as strained, “More.”

Johnny pulled you from your bubble, popping it to drag you through the living room, then the kitchen, outside into the yard and behind the biggest tree that had grown. Both of you were breathless, still, even more. Because you wanted more, you needed more of Johnny. He needed more of you. Your wings folded slightly around the trunk of the tree when he urged you against it, chest rising and falling until it bumped against Johnny’s.

He asked again, breath dancing in a cloud between you, “More?”

You nodded, licking your lips and running your hands up his arms, the cool metal armor he’d strapped to himself for just one night, “Please.”

So he gave you more, mind clouded, mind thrilled, mind lost. Johnny leaned down to kiss your lips like everything he needed was secured within them, slowly urging them open. His hands settled on your hips, their favorite place to be, with an almost bruising grip. The rumble of bass from inside the house opposed your heart hammering in your chest, Johnny’s pounding in his own. Your fingers laced in the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck and he almost begged you to stop before you tugged at them and he let out the sweetest moan; more melodic than any song you’d heard all night.

He moaned your name, the sound leaving his mouth and filling yours, “My Juliet.”

“Johnny.” More music. Better music. The sound of an angel. Johnny’s hands took hold of your thighs, pulling you up and wrapping them around his waist. His hips were grinding up against you, pulling sounds from you he didn’t know he was so desperate to hear until then. The bark of the tree scraped at your back, tearing away the feathers of your wings and dirtying up your dress. Johnny’s hands squeezed at your thighs to pull you down as he rolled his hips up, “Fuck, Johnny.”

And all at once, he stopped.

“This can’t happen here.” His voice was so low, thick and strained. You knew he was right, “We have to…shit…not here. Not now and not drunk. But, fuck, I want you so bad. I just…”

“Me too.” He paused all movement then, Johnny stopped and he opened his eyes, waiting for you to do the same. It shouldn’t have shocked him, but every time you moved closer to him, every bit you let him in, was everything to him. Intoxicating, even when drunk. He breathed, so you did too and reminded him, “I want you, too, Johnny.”

He wanted to point out that you were drunk. Johnny wasn’t cynical, but he would always wonder how much of this moment was encouraged by coconut and pineapple flavored courage. He didn’t place your feet back onto the ground, he only took you in. The white freckles you’d painted on your cheeks, the shimmer around your eyes and small streaks of mascara that had smeared throughout the night.

You were so impossibly beautiful to him. Always, as you had said, and especially in that moment.

“Breathe.” He was sobering up, in a way that made sense to him. Johnny was sobering up in a way that made him brush your hair back and kiss you one last time. He was sober in the way that urged him to seek out Jaehyun and Jungwoo to take you home for the night. Sober in a way you were miles away from, “Breathe with me.”

“I’m breathing.” Your words were still slurred. Johnny laughed, hands dropping your legs slowly and coming up to hold your face. Your labored breathing evened out in his hold, eyes locked on his in the darkness, “Johnny?”

“I’m okay. We’re okay.” Before you had the chance to worry, he assured you, “I just think we should get you home. Let’s both get home, okay?”

And, feeling the weight of the party and your wings and the alcohol, you nodded, “Okay.”

He found Jaehyun and Jungwoo, leaving you with Mark and Jaemin in the living room. Mark was mumbling the words to a song, tapping the beat onto your shoulders as you tried to hold each other steady. He leaned to look at Jaemin over your shoulder, “Are we getting food?”

Jaemin shrugged, “Jeno isn’t answering.”

Like Mark hadn’t heard the answer, he turned back to you and offered, “Come with us to get food. I miss you.”

You laughed, “I can’t. You can’t.”

“Why can’t I get food?”

“No. I can’t get food. I’m going with Jaehyun, Johnny and Jungwoo.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, “You can’t miss me because you see me all the time.”

Mark snickered, drunk and boyish and falling over himself, “That’s a lot of J’s.”

“Too many.” Your hand reached out to pat his shoulder, where his shoulder should have been, where you swore his shoulder was a second ago. The sight of your hand flapping aimlessly pulled a loud laugh from both of you. “I’m so tired.”

You could hear Jungwoo before you saw the three of them, forehead settled on Mark’s shoulder, tuning into the way the world spun without Johnny’s help. He laughed and pulled at your hands, guiding you from Mark, “I got her, Johnny.”

And with a nod, you stepped away from Mark. The combination of lingering intoxication and sleep creeping in had you wobbling again. You hadn’t remembered feeling so drunk until you stopped moving, until you stopped spinning, until Johnny had pulled you outside. You shook your head, letting Jungwoo pull you more and reminding Mark, “Let me know when you get home. Love you, Mark.”

The youngest smiled, “Love you.”

The first day of November had already begun, only barely and still hidden in the lingering Halloween shadows. It took you sixteen incertain steps for you to stumble, missing the last step of Yuta’s porch. Jaehyun and Johnny were waiting at the bottom and the sight of it launched your stomach up into your throat. Johnny’s lips were swollen still, pink and plump and you wanted so badly to kiss him again. To feel the cool metal of his costume armor under your fingertips, pressed against you.

And Jaehyun was looking directly at you, keys jingling in his hands while Johnny spoke to him. November wind swept Jaehyun’s shirt open and flush against him, your fingerprints he hadn’t washed away peeking out. If Johnny had made your world spin tonight, Jaehyun had made it stop. If you wanted the coolness of Johnny against you, on top of you, you also wanted the heat that rested underneath your skin when Jaehyun touched any part of you.

You were a mess; a sobering mess, but a mess all the same.

So, you stumbled. Sixteen steps and you stumbled. Jungwoo caught you halfway through catching yourself, hands on your waist and a drunken smile on his face. He’d lost his wig and you hadn’t noticed, but Jungwoo was always pretty without it.

You told him as much, mumbling a soft, “So pretty, Jungwoo.”

Johnny had knelt down in front of you, “Come on, Juliet. Let’s get you home.”

Jaehyun stood to the side, watching you climb onto Johnny's back holding your dress down, balancing your wings. He didn’t say anything, for the time it took you to secure yourself on Johnny, on your knight. Jaehyun only waited and cursed himself, cursed the night and the Knight and God, if he could get away with it, before he cleared his throat and said, “The car is just down the street.”

Johnny carried you to the car, loading you into the back and draping Jaehyun’s discarded blazer from his work day over your lap. You could smell Johnny again, that same cologne, but it was surrounded in a cloud of Jaehyun; his jacket, his car, him in the front seat.

You wanted to be home, suddenly and increasingly dizzy. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

And maybe it was for the best. Maybe if you were dizzy, you wouldn’t see Jaehyun looking once, twice, three times in the rear view mirror at you. You couldn’t focus on the way your heart pounded and your head and the way your stomach flipped if you fell into the spin. Dizzy was best.

Johnny didn’t stop you when you leaned away from the window, lowering yourself until you had your head on his lap. He smiled, a secret tucked away in the backseat of Jaehyun’s car, and brushed your hair back once more. When you melted into his touch, Johnny smiled more, “Sleep. I’ll let you know when you’re home.”

It felt more like a blink, but you knew you’d fallen asleep for much longer when Johnny eased you awake; a hand in your hair, a hand on your shoulder wrapped around the ribbon of your falling wings. He was close to your ear, hunched over in a way that had to be uncomfortable for him, telling you, “Wake up, we gotta get you inside.”

Jungwoo asked, “Do you need help?”

Johnny shook his head, easing you up, “I’ve got her.”

Jaehyun stayed quiet, hands secured on the steering wheel and his eyes forward; towards the loft, towards the place you’d slept next to him for the entire last week. Towards anything that made sense.

Johnny pulled you from the car, from the warmth of Jaehyun’s heated seats and his jacket and through your gate, “Easy.” he said, like any of it was, “Easy, I’m right here.”

He didn’t kiss you at the door. Johnny couldn’t kiss you again, no matter how much he wanted to. Christ, he wanted to. You wanted him to, just as much, mind clouded and forgetting why he wasn’t. Forgetting that Jaehyun and Jungwoo were in the car, forgetting the audience you had. The two of you just stood there for a while, drawing out the process of unlocking your door until he took the keys from your hands, you shivered and Johnny pushed the door open for you. And you were home.

As you had wanted. Still dizzy, less dizzy.

Johnny told you, “Goodnight.” He said your name so softly you thought it was merely a shiver running down your spine, passing you back your keys and holding your hand for just a second, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He started to walk away, down the path back to the car, down to the audience waiting to give mixed reviews about your performance on the stairs. And you were home, like you wanted, one step away from safety and a world that didn’t spin and disorient you. You were home and he was leaving you in a world that was neither halted nor spinning, but just wobbling helplessly. Unsure of itself. You wanted to feel sure.

Johnny turned and made it five steps before you stopped him, “Johnny wait.”

He looked back at you, hands at his sides and his chainmail halting a second after, “Yeah? You okay?”

“Stay.” You swallowed, “Why don’t you stay?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“I think you know I do.”

You were breathing, filling your lungs slowly with crisp air. That’s what he told you to do, so you breathed. Your hands were wrapped around your keys, as tight as could be, “Okay. Then stay.”

“Okay.” Johnny let a smile settle on his face again, another secret under a November moon, “Okay, yeah. I’ll stay.”

He went back to the car, to the audience. He looked at Jaehyun with such a particular smile, a certain one, an elated one. Johnny said, “You guys go ahead. I’m going to help her get settled.”

Jaehyun looked at Johnny and nodded like he was okay with that, because he had to be okay with that, and he settled on telling him, “Get her some water.”

Johnny came back to you, pulled you inside as carefully as he could and sat you down on your stairs. You closed your eyes letting his world, the things he created, the way Johnny felt and smelled and sounded, spin around you. His fingers worked at your shoes, sliding them from your feet and putting them away before doing the same for himself. He told you, softly, “Stay here.”

You croaked, “Okay.”

And another blink passed before Johnny was in front of you with a glass of water in his hand, “Sip.”

Throat dry, you repeated, “Okay.”

You took a sip and Johnny worked at untying the knots of your wings. You took a sip and he slipped them off your shoulders, his fingertips cool and your skin warm beneath them. You took a sip and Johnny eased you up, once again, helping you up the stairs. You took a sip and stumbled and Johnny whispered, “Almost there, okay?”

He sat you down on your bed where you sipped and sipped and watched as Johnny fumbled around your room, pulling open drawers, sifting through your closet. He was in front of you again, placing a lump of clothes next to you and asking, quietly, so unlike Johnny, “Do you want me to help? I won’t look.”

You nodded.

So he helped you, pulling the pins and ties from your hair and threading his fingers through it to shake any knots or lost barrettes loose. He pulled your shirt over your head first before slipping his fingers underneath the collar and untying your dress, “Stand up.”

You did, on wobbling legs. One of his hands held the back of your thigh, the other worked at pulling your dress down over your hips and slipping the fabric down your thighs, your calves, from around your ankles. You might have been holding your breath the whole time, eyes locked on every move he made, but you didn’t notice until it all came rushing out at once. Johnny tossed your dress behind him, eyes down, eyes averted, eyes respectful, and reached for the pants he’d placed beside you. The shirt he’d given you was long enough to cover most of you, comfortable enough to sleep in alone, so you shook your head and told him, just above a whisper, “No.”

He only nodded, standing upright and moving a step away from you. Johnny pulled off his armor, pulled himself out of Romeo after you’d been stripped of Juliet, and turned his back to you. You watched every muscle in his back flex before you caught yourself, mumbling, “Sorry, I won’t look.”

Johnny looked over his shoulder at you, hair in his eyes, a cheeky smile, and he said, “You can.”

You blinked. You breathed. You blanched at the sight of him.

“Johnny.” He turned and picked up the shirt next to you, one he pulled for himself. It slipped over his head easily, oversized on you and perfect on him. He started working on the button of his pants, the sound of the zipper and fabric falling to the floor made you swallow, “I don’t have pants to fit you.”

“It’s okay.” He gathered his clothes, neatly piling them in a corner, “I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs, okay? If you need me, just call. I’m a light sleeper when I’ve been drinking, I promise I’ll hear you.”

Again, you shook your head and said, “No.”

“No?”

“Stay.” It felt like your vocabulary had been ripped from your memory, only repeating the same handful of words you’d said since coming home; no, okay, stay. Johnny let out a breath and you suddenly felt too nervous to look at him, anymore, your courage being stolen away, as well, with every sobering breath, “Please.”

“You’re still drunk. I don’t think we should.” He told you, “I don’t think-“

You cut him off, “Just to sleep…I just…just to sleep. Nothing else.”

It was taking him a minute to reply, rethink, reflect. So, you took a minute to take him in; Johnny, not Romeo anymore, in his boxer briefs and a shirt from your drawer. A shirt Jaehyun had given you after you’d stolen it too many times. Johnny had his hands on his hips, eyes closed and his head back, in your room and in Jaehyun’s shirt. Your throat felt dry again and you took a sip to comfort it and remind yourself that he was Johnny, he wasn’t Jaehyun or Romeo or anyone else he could have been tonight.

He was Johnny who’d spent the whole night with you, Johnny who rotated the Earth for you, Johnny who was certain and careful and took care of you. Johnny who was still silent and thinking across from you. You filled that silence with the last sliver of courage, telling him, “We’ve never just slept together. Just the two of us. Jae…Jaehyun and I do it all the time. Even Mark sometimes.”

Johnny breathed, “I know.”

“I just…Johnny, I just want to be close to you right now.” It was the truth, the space between you had made everything too still, again. You stepped towards him, wobbling and unsure, “My couch is really uncomfortable.”

He laughed at that, looking at you, finally looking at you. Johnny, not Romeo. Johnny, not Jaehyun. He tried his best to bite back a smile at the sight of you, hair loosened and messy, fingers tapping together in anticipation, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

It was simple. He moved to turn the light off, you adjusted to the moonlight filling the room and Johnny reached for your hand to pull you towards your bed. For a while, you both lay still and facing each other, breathing slowly until you took each breath together, in and out.

Johnny reached out, hand sliding from your neck to your shoulder blades to the middle of your back, slow as can be. He took his time leaning in, waiting for you to stop him, to react, to pull back. You only nodded and closed your eyes, anticipating the feeling of his lips on yours. Impossibly soft, slow and sweet, shorter than you wanted. He kissed you perfectly, and while you were catching your breath, with his forehead against yours, Johnny whispered, “I’m not him. This isn’t…I don’t want this to be how you are with Jaehyun.”

“I know.” Your chest was tight, Johnny’s hold on you was so loose it felt like he was giving you an out. But, when you opened your eyes and saw the shirt he wore, the way it fit him so differently, the way he filled the space in your bed comfortably and how, when you finally looked up, Johnny watched you, you calmed. You nodded your head and told him, “It isn’t. We’re not.”

“We were.” He reminded you, “I really want to change that.”

“I know.” You repeated, “We can.”

Johnny pulled you closer, secured in his arms. You could hear his steady heartbeat, so certain with you pressed against him. Johnny, not Jaehyun.

Johnny, not Jaehyun.

You had almost drifted off, the thought swirling in your mind and spinning you into slumber. Then, you heard him again, a hint of a laugh when he asked, “Wasn’t it Sicheng’s birthday, this week? Did you text him?”

And you laughed, shaking your head against his chest and mumbling, “Shut up.”

previous. masterlist. next.

[jaefluenza]

fractured (I Waited) part. 2 -- finale

rich heirs!jeong jaehyun x reader (original character)

angst, slowburn

6,174 words

summary: Reality came crashing in like a cruel reminder. Jaehyun didn't reach her door that night. And she gave up, with the truth still folded—never spoken, never set free. Here you are watching Jaehyun's world crumble and him stitching it back together, piece by piece.

warning: Suicide attempt and mental issues. All names, characters, and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

make sure you read part. 1 before continuing.

--

2 weeks before the wedding;

the night she walked away.

He tried. He ran everywhere. Thought she could be at their favorite bar. Maybe in their midnight cafe.

But no—he couldn't find her.

Because that night, she was the first one disappearing from his radar.

They took her first.

So he went back. The apartment was dark, save for the glow of the city spilling through Jaehyun’s windows. The skyline blinked—hospitals, offices, blinking towers that once meant legacy. Now? They felt like chains.

He sat on the edge of his bed, hands shaking, heart like a drum inside his chest. The document folders still lay scattered across the floor—the evidence (Y/n) had found. The betrayal he hadn’t meant. The war his father declared behind his back.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. But he had. And the next week—she would marry Callum.

Unless he stopped it.

Jaehyun grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, snatched his passport off the nightstand, and slipped on his old trainers. No bodyguards. No staff. He needed no one to know.

The city streets were quiet, dim under yellow streetlights. He hailed a cab near the convenience store where he used to meet her. His mind repeated one thing: I’m not letting her go through that alone.

2:52 AM

The cab pulled up just two blocks away from the Grand Palais. He had it stop early to avoid being spotted.

He walked fast. Hood up. Pulse rising.

And then—

they were already there.

Three black-suited men stepped out from the shadows. One placed a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Mr. Jeong, come with us.” No hostility. Just practiced, cold instruction.

Jaehyun froze. His eyes narrowed. And then, the car door opened. His father sat inside, legs crossed and face unreadable.

“Get in,” he said.

Jaehyun stood still, jaw clenched. “You knew.”

His father exhaled through his nose, tone sharp and quiet.

“You disappoint me.”

“I’m going to her.”

“No. You’re not.”

Jaehyun took a step back. Another. One of the men moved in.

“I’m not your pawn. I’m not like you!”

“You’re worse,” his father snapped. “You’re weak. I’ve spent decades building our empire, and you would throw it away for a girl who doesn’t know her place.”

“She’s not yours to talk about!”

“She was promised to Wright. She’ll be his wife by tomorrow, and you will be thousands of miles away, far from the mess you’ve made.”

Jaehyun lunged, fists clenched, but two guards grabbed his arms. He shouted—fought them. But the third was already raising the needle.

“You’re not destroying everything for some girl,” his father spat.

And then—

Darkness.

--

A few hours before the wedding;

— Bridal Suite, Grand Palais Hotel

2:03 AM

The room was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind. The kind of quiet that echoed. The kind of quiet that hurt. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed in her ivory slip, her veil folded beside her like a napkin no one would ever use. Her fingers trembled around a teacup that had gone cold hours ago.

The city outside sparkled like it was celebrating. But inside the bridal suite, she was unraveling.

The dress was hanging by the window. Pressed. Immaculate. Cursed. It wasn’t hers. Not really. It belonged to the woman she was supposed to become. The bride of a future she never chose.

Callum had been gone since the rehearsal dinner. Her mother had checked in earlier to “ensure she wasn’t having a meltdown.” Her father left behind a voice message, sharp and cold:

“Smile. Get through tomorrow. Then do whatever you want.”

Except… she wouldn’t have anything after tomorrow. Not her name. Not her dreams. Not Jaehyun. Her fingers hovered over her phone. His contact lit up on the screen. But her calls wouldn’t go through. Her messages never delivered. Her last one was simple. Typed. Never sent:

you:

“Are you still coming?”

Because a part of her still believed he would. A part of her clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—he’d break through the guards. Push through the doors. Stand in front of her like a storm and say, “Run. With me. Now.” But the clock ticked. And nothing came.

2:46 AM

She stared at herself in the mirror. No makeup. No jewelry. Just a girl with swollen eyes and a heart she couldn’t carry anymore.

“I’m tired,” she whispered.

Not to anyone. Not to the room. Just to the reflection that no longer looked like her.

“I’m so tired.”

Tired of smiling when her insides were breaking. Tired of waiting. Tired of fighting systems that never bent. Tired of pretending that one more week wouldn’t crush her completely.

3:19 AM

She opened the window. The air was cold. But she welcomed it. Let it chill her lungs. Let it numb the ache.

In the distance, she imagined a plane. His plane.

But she couldn’t tell if it was real. Or just another hope taking off without her.

4:11 AM

She unfolded her veil slowly. Lifted it gently from across the bed. Not like surrender—but like goodbye.

Not the kind she wanted to write. But the kind the world wrote for her.

One final look in the mirror. She didn’t see herself. Just a girl who tried. And a future that never opened its door.

She whispered Jaehyun’s name—just once— Like a lullaby. Like a curse. Like a wish too heavy to hold anymore.

Then, she stepped barefoot into the silence.

And the world would wake up to find a dress without a bride, a wedding without a heart, and a love story left unfinished.

She sat beneath the ceiling lamp.

Looking up at it.

It was old. Beautiful. Hung low, with antique brass and crystal shards. The kind decorators pick for weddings because it photographs well.

But to (Y/n)—it felt like the only thing in the room that was real.

It hung like her hope, barely holding on.

She wrapped the long wedding veil in her lap, fingers trembling.

And then, she whispered, “Jaehyun… please.”

But the knock never came.

4:15 AM

She finally stood barefoot on the chair. The silk fabric trailed behind her like a river. She wasn’t angry anymore, just… quiet and peaceful. Like a song that ended before its last verse. She tied the veil—softly, methodically. Took one last look at the room. At the place where no one saved her.

And then—

with eyes swollen and heart silent, she stepped forward.

Everything slowed.

No one heard the sound of the lamp breaking.

But the walls did.

The air no longer moved. The silk veil had tightened against her neck. Her feet no longer reached the floor. The weight of her heart drifted upward.

But her mind— her mind ran.

In those final 15 seconds, she didn’t see the headlines. Not the chandeliers. Not her father’s empire. Not the ceiling.

She saw him.

15 seconds left; the light dimmed around the edges of her vision. Her lungs begged. Her body shook. But in her head, a vision:

Jaehyun was standing under a summer sun, in Vienna, hair messy, sleeves rolled, laughing at her poorly folded paper cranes. That rich, deep laugh—boyish, warm, unguarded. She sees him.

“You really made this look like a broken bat,” he teased.

And she laughed too—because she had never felt more alive than in that exact moment. No cameras. No fathers. No locked doors.

Just his smile. Just his voice. Just the version of her that was free.

10 seconds left; she saw the night they kissed in the back of the taxi. He was laughing so hard from something she had said—his eyes scrunched, his dimples deep, his breath mint and wine-sweet as he pulled her in, grinning:

“Sorry,” he murmured.

She blinked up at him, dazed. “Are you?”

He grinned, slightly flushed. “Not even a little.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

5 seconds; she saw his laugh again. This time, in the rain, when they ran barefoot through a narrow cobbled street in London, her heels in her hand, his coat over her shoulders. The romantic night when they freed themselves from expectations and duties for once, or maybe twice.

“You’re insane,” he had said.

“So are you.”

And they had stood under a streetlamp, dripping wet, foreheads pressed together— breathing in each other’s freedom.

2 seconds; now she saw Jaehyun, lying beside her on a creaky twin bed. One hand on her stomach, the other under his head.

“I’m trying,” he had whispered. “I’ll break every chain for you.”

And she believed him. Even now. Even with no breath left.

Because as the world tilted— as darkness flooded the edges— as silence became the only thing holding her up—

She died hearing his laugh.

And for one tiny second, She smiled. Because in the final flicker, before the world gave out—

She wasn’t in a hotel room. She wasn’t in a cage. She wasn’t a bride.

She was his. For one last second. His, and only his.

--

3.15 PM; Vienna International Airport

Seonho:

“She’s gone.”

“They found her in the bridal suite.”

When his phone buzzed, the message came like a hammer.

Jaehyun dropped his phone. He stared as if he refused to blink, the words might rearrange themselves into something else.

His hands trembled.

His breath caught.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He was so close.

He was just about to book a ticket back after escaping his personal guard from earlier.

His father had tightened security, but he’d found a hole—through an old contact in Singapore. A plane seat was waiting. His escape was planned.

He just needed hours.

Just one more night.

She promised she’d wait.

She promised she’d hold on.

He didn’t even grab his shoes.

He bolted barefoot through the quiet Vienna flat—

Tripping over open suitcases, scattering his phone, his wallet and passport—

Grabbing only his coat and his desperation.

The concierge yelled as he tore through the lobby.

But Jaehyun didn’t hear anything except the thundering in his chest.

He didn’t have a ticket yet. He didn’t care.

He ran barefoot through the cold tile, ignoring stares, security warnings, shouts in German.

He didn’t even realize he was sobbing until his vision blurred.

His lungs burned, but his heart howled.

“She’s waiting,” he kept muttering under his breath. Tears welled up, though he tried to fight them back.

“She’s waiting—she promised—she said she would wait.”

He reached the counter.

Slammed his ID.

Begged. Pleaded. Paid extra.

The agent looked uneasy. “You’ll miss boarding. And… sir, are you alright?”

He nodded violently.

No words could explain what he was trying to outrun.

The gate was far. He ran. Blood smeared on the heel of his left foot from where he’d cut it on something at the curb. But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t. Because he had to make it in time. He had to see her. He had to believe it was just a rumor, a lie, a cruel joke—

She wouldn’t do that.

Not without telling him goodbye.

Not without their last moment.

Not without his last chance to explain that he hadn't meant to hurt her, that he couldn't live without her.

He whispered her name like a prayer.

--

Nobody saw it. Not her mother, busy selecting floral patterns. Not her father, focused on politics and deals. Not the stylists, who smiled politely as they powdered her cheeks. Not the staff, trained to serve—not see.

But he did. Jaehyun.

He always noticed the way her silence changed. Not peaceful. Not shy. Just… withdrawn, like someone sinking with a smile on their lips.

Sometimes she would look at her reflection like she wasn’t sure she was still in it. Sometimes she’d pick at her food, not out of habit—but punishment.

And when she cried quietly—he never asked “what’s wrong.” He held her hand, pressed a kiss to her temple, and whispered: “You’re precious to me. You know that, right?”

Because she didn’t. Not always. And he knew the fight she waged in her own mind.

He saw the shadows. The almost moments. Once, in the parking lot, when she sat too long in the driver’s seat. Another time, at the rooftop of his building, where the wind pulled at her sleeves more than she did.

He never told anyone. Not because he wanted to hide it— but because she trusted him. And he promised he’d always be there when it got heavy.

But that promise was why he ran that night.

He wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness just because of the business plan. He was going to save her.

The thought of her alone, in that suite, thinking she was unwanted— it made him sick. It made him move.

And then, somewhere between Seoul and Vienna, between that hotel door and the sedation drip—he failed her.

Not because he didn’t care. But because he knew… and still couldn’t get to her in time.

That’s what destroyed him most. Not just her loss, but the knowing. The helpless knowing that he could have saved her, if only they'd let him knock.

--

He landed to silence. No one greeted him. No press. No family. Just cold air and the too-clean sound of arrivals echoing off polished walls.

He ignored his phone and everything but the taxi driver he just found at the arrival.

“Take me to the hotel”, he rasped. “Now.”

3:39 PM — Grand Palais

The doors opened and Jaehyun stepped out, dizzy and pale, bleeding again through the heel of his sock. He limped through the lobby, heart hammering against ribs like a trapped bird.

People stared. Security recognized him. But no one moved.

Like they all knew— And didn’t have the heart to stop him.

He pushed through the fourth-floor corridor. Past the room where they had once dreamed of escaping. Past the corner she’d whispered “I love you” in. To the suite with the white ribbon on the door.

Room 417.

He opened it.

The scent hit first.

Faded jasmine. Dust. And something heavier.

The veil still hung crooked on the ceiling lamp. The one she had chosen herself. And beneath it was a single shoe lying on its side. Abandoned.

He staggered in. Hands shaking. Knees ready to buckle. And then he saw the note, smeared with red lipstick.

Written in rushed, uneven script on the full-length mirror.

"I waited. I swear I waited. I just forgot how to breathe."

Jaehyun collapsed. He didn’t scream. Didn’t curse. He simply sat in the middle of the room, head in his hands, rocking slowly—whispering into the silence.

“I was coming. I was coming. I was coming.”

But time didn’t wait. Not for boys who broke free too late. Not for girls who learned too young that escape was a myth. Not for lovers who thought love could outlast power.

The world kept spinning.

And (Y/n)—the girl who once danced barefoot in his shirt, who once smoked on the balcony with a fire in her eyes—was now a ghost in ivory.

That was when he broke.

“(Y/n)!!”

It wasn’t just a scream— it was a rupture.

The sound that came out of him didn’t sound human. It was torn from somewhere far beneath ribs and reason. A noise that blistered in his throat and scraped raw through his teeth, wild and primal, like grief being set on fire.

Jaehyun's eyes—once soft, once full of so much restrained grace—were now scarlet, bloodshot to the rims, tears streaming unblinking down his cheeks, eyes wide and mad with loss.

His pupils shrank, flickering. The veins on his neck and temple bulged as if his pulse was trying to claw out of him. His jaw clenched so tightly it clicked, then trembled—his breath heaving like a man drowning in air.

“She waited for me—SHE WAITED!”

“I was coming—I was on my way—(Y/n)!!!”

He surged forward, but the guards pinned him back— arms like anchors, but not strong enough to cage a heart that was shattering live in front of them.

His knees buckled. The weight of the world, of too late, crashed down.

He dropped.

Not gracefully— but like glass collapsing onto concrete.

His hands scraped the floor first, then the side of his face. The veins in his arms throbbed as he twisted, trying to crawl— toward the door. Toward her.

He thrashed.

He hit. He clawed. His fists smashed into the carpet, into the marble edge of the suite, into his own chest.

“I was gonna marry her—I had the ring—I had everything—she was gonna wear white for me…”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I should’ve gotten there—I should’ve—I should’ve—”

His voice collapsed into sobs so raw they burned through his ribs. Every breath came in jerks, sharp and useless.

His face was twisted—red, wet, unrecognizable.

Anger. Sorrow. Regret. Self-hatred.

All trying to exist in one man’s chest and failing.

He bit down on his own knuckles at one point— trying to stop the scream building again.

He couldn’t.

His mother—shaking—reached out. “Jaehyun…”

But he didn’t see her. Didn’t feel the trembling of her hands or the whispered prayers falling from her lips. His eyes darted again to the door, the one they wouldn’t let him open.

He lunged.

The guards caught him again.

“She’s still there—LET ME SEE HER!!”

He roared— a final explosion that ripped straight through his vocal cords.

And then—the sting. A needle, jammed into the back of his shoulder.

He blinked.

Everything swam. The hallway tilted. The door blurred.

But he was still whispering—

Through his bloodied lips, through his clenched teeth, as he was dragged backwards like a war casualty:

“She waited…” “She waited…” “She waited for me…”

And then— darkness.

Gangnam, 2:03 AM – Three Days After the Funeral

The city pulsed on without her. But he didn’t.

He stood barefoot in Apgujeong Rodeo—a place once buzzing with polished heels and champagne laughs—now brought to stillness by the sight of a man unraveling under luxury lights.

His shirt, soaked in cold sweat, flapped open in the wind. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed in red, pupils pin-prick wide as if trying to see her in every flickering reflection.

He paced back and forth in front of glossy storefront windows, his breath fogging the glass as he whispered to them—

“Check the mirror—please… she’s still writing.” “I saw her. She was there—her finger moved.” “She’s talking to me. Don’t clean it—please don’t wipe her away!”

A small crowd gathered.

Most stared. A few filmed. One man laughed nervously. Another asked, “Isn’t that…?”

Someone offered him a bottle of water.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t notice the shaking in his hands or the tremor in his voice.

Thirty minutes later, two police officers and a medical team arrived.

The headlines would later read “Former Jeong Group Heir Found in Distressed State.”

But they didn’t know the truth.

They didn’t know this was the second time his soul had died.

They sedated him again— but this time, they didn’t take him to his penthouse, or to the Jeong estate.

They took him to a private clinic so far away, in Tuscany. A quiet place. Remote. This time, Jaehyun didn’t protest. He had nothing left to resist with.

--

One Month Later — Tuscany

Soft Tuscan light filtered through the shutters—thin, pale stripes across the parquet floor. There were no ticking clocks. No clinical coldness. Just aged wood, an open window, and two chairs across from each other.

Jaehyun sat in one of them, unmoving.

His posture was elegant still, instinctively dignified, but there was a slump in his shoulders—subtle but permanent. Like gravity had grown heavier on him than on anyone else in the world.

He didn’t look at the doctor.

Didn’t look at anything, really.

His gaze was fixed downward, toward his knees, as if words might be hiding there.

Dr. Bellini—a soft-spoken man in his sixties, with olive-toned skin and eyes that had seen too many kinds of sorrow—sat across from him with a notebook in his lap, untouched.

He didn’t start with a question. He started with silence.

The kind that lets pain come out if it wants to.

After a full minute, the doctor finally spoke. Warm. Italian-accented English. Unthreatening.

“Can I call you Jaehyun?”

No answer. Only a blink.

“Do you know where you are?”

Silence.

“You arrived three nights ago. Do you remember?”

Still nothing.

The doctor didn’t flinch. He’d seen grief bury deeper than memory.

Then—finally—Jaehyun moved.

Not much.

Just a shift of his hand, fingers briefly twitching against the edge of the chair. And then, in a voice that sounded like it had traveled through smoke, “She waited.”

Dr. Bellini’s pen hovered.

“She… waited for you?”

A nod. Barely.

Then Jaehyun spoke again, more to the wall than the man.

“I was going to her. I was late. They took me. I fought them. But—”

He swallowed hard. The rest of the sentence disappeared somewhere in his throat. “I should’ve gotten there.”

The doctor leaned forward slightly.

“What do you believe would’ve happened if you had?”

Silence.

Then Jaehyun laughed. A dry, hollow sound. Not humor. Not irony. Just… disbelief.

“She’d still be alive.”

Dr. Bellini paused, then asked gently:

“What tells you that?”

Jaehyun looked up for the first time.

And in his eyes—

Redness. Veins. Sleepless agony.

But also something else.

Certainty.

“Because I was the only one who saw it coming.”

Another breath.

“And they didn’t let me stop it.”

A long pause followed.

A sparrow chirped on the windowsill outside. Wind rustled through the cypress trees.

Dr. Bellini didn’t write. Not yet.

He simply said, “What you’re feeling… it’s called survivor’s guilt.”

But Jaehyun didn’t flinch at the words. He just repeated softly, almost like prayer, “She waited for me…”

And finally, “And I failed her.” His voice cracked.

"Patient is not unreachable. He is deeply fragmented but anchored by memory. There is love, not madness, at the core of this crisis. He has not lost his mind— He has lost his world. Therapy must not push. It must wait—as she once waited for him." Signed, Dr. Alessandro Bellini Lead Psychiatrist, St. Araceli Sanatorium

The days passed like fog. He did not scream anymore. Nor did he cry. He simply existed—quietly and in fragments. He rose when the nurses asked. He sat in the sun when gently led. He swallowed the pills they gave him without protest.

But he did not speak again. He did not look anyone in the eye. He did not eat more than a few obligatory bites.

The staff noted he was compliant but distant.

“Mr. Jeong, how are you feeling today?”

Silence.

“Would you like to write something?”

A shake of the head.

“Would you like music?”

No response.

The only thing he seemed to respond to was light.

He spent hours by the window in his room, forehead leaned to the glass, watching the olive trees sway.

And sometimes— just sometimes— he would mouth her name.

But then, his mind takes over—staging its own show during a 13-hour sleep.

...They finally registered their marriage and had an officiant conduct a simple ceremony, surrounded by close friends in an intimate celebration.

“Now we’re real,” she whispered.

He kissed her temple.

“We were always real. We just finally have a piece of paper that says the world’s caught up.”

And that night, under the glow of fairy lights and the hush of crickets, two people who had once been born into chaos finally chose something simple; each other, forever, no drama. Just yes.

And when he woke— he cried.

He pulled his knees to his chest, rocking. Grief came back with knives—worse than before. Because now, he knew what he’d lost. Not just her. But what they could’ve had.

That dream wasn’t a message. It wasn’t a sign. It was a wish—his last, most sacred wish.

She was supposed to open that door. She was supposed to run with him. They were supposed to live somewhere small, far from names, power, fathers, curses.

The dream gave it all back. But dreams are cruel, especially when reality came crashing in when he woke up. But dreams are not cruel forever.

A month and a half later

Again, he dreamed—but this one clung tighter, whispered louder, and felt just a heartbeat away from real.

It wasn’t vivid. It wasn’t dramatic. It was her.

Just (Y/n), barefoot in a sunlit kitchen. A soft white dress swaying around her knees. She was humming. Her hair slightly damp, cheeks flushed like she’d just come in from the rain.

She turned to him— smiled.

“You’re so thin, love.” She cupped his face gently, the way she used to. “Are you punishing yourself again?”

He tried to speak but his throat caught. Tears welled, but she brushed them away with the pad of her thumb.

“You kept your promise,” she whispered. “You came. Just late. But I still felt it.”

She held his hand and guided him to a table. There was bread. Soup. Wine. She took a spoonful and raised it to his lips like they were back in the world that could’ve been.

“Eat,” she said softly. “So I’ll know you’re still trying. So I’ll know you haven’t let go of the part of me that lived inside you.”

He took the spoon. He ate. In the dream—he swallowed without pain for the first time in weeks.

He woke up with tears soaking his pillow. Silently at first. No gasping. Just tears, falling so slowly, so quietly, they glistened like dew on his lashes before sliding into the corner of his mouth.

And then, the shaking began. Shoulders tight, back curled. One hand clutching the blanket like a child lost in a storm. He didn’t scream. Didn’t sob loudly. Just wept, raw and honest, the way people do when they finally have nothing left to pretend for.

The nurse froze.

She had been told not to expect much. Not from him. Not after what happened in Gangnam. Not after the incident outside the hotel.

She took a cautious step closer.

“Mr. Jeong…?”

But he didn’t answer her. He was staring—through the window. Out at the orange sky. And then he whispered. Raspy. Barely audible.

“She asked me to eat.”

The nurse blinked.

“I’m sorry…?”

He turned to look at her, eyes red, hollow, but—somehow—clearer.

“She told me… in the dream.” “She said I had to eat.” “She said that’s how I could still love her.”

The nurse swallowed hard, unsure if she was supposed to document that.

But then, his hand moved.

A slow lift. Trembling fingers pointed toward the breakfast tray near the window, untouched for nearly two weeks.

And then, one word—

“Please.”

That was all.

She blinked. Startled. Then nodded, quickly moving to warm up the food.

Behind her, Jaehyun sat up on his own.

No fanfare. No strength. But will.

He reached for the spoon with shaking hands and lifted a bite to his mouth. One spoon. Then another. Chewing like it hurt, like his body had to remember how to keep going.

But he did.

Because she asked.

And from that day on, he ate. Not much. Not fast. But a little more each morning.

Because now— it was the only way left to love her.

A week later; she came again in his sleep.

This time, she didn’t speak right away. She was sitting under an olive tree. The light was golden. Warm.

He sat beside her, neither saying anything for a long time. Then she turned and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“You’re doing better,” she whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

His voice trembled. “I still see you in everything.”

She smiled. “That’s because I never left, Jaehyun.”

And before he could ask where she was going, before he could beg her to stay—

She kissed his temple, and said, “Keep going, love. I’ll wait. I'll wait for you, forever.”

Jaehyun began waking up with purpose again.

Not much. Just enough.

He’d open the window. Let the cold air brush his skin. He started drinking tea she used to like. Set out two mugs. Always two.

He took a few steps outside—just to the end of the garden. To the bench that faced the ivy-covered wall. Every morning, he’d sit there, hoping to find her in the hush of the wind.

He never called it recovery. He called it… keeping his promise. To live. To still see the sea. To breathe, even when it hurt.

As he walked back to his ward in the west wing, the corner of his eyes caught some familiar faces on TV. He looked up.

Breaking News: Calum Wright and Chairman Kim Arrested

The headlines flashed across every screen in the nation.

“BREAKING: Calum Wright and Chairman Kim Arrested for Money Laundering & Corruption.”

Inside a dimly lit interrogation room, the illusion of power finally shattered.

Calum Wright sat pale and grim, his once-polished demeanor stripped to sweat and stammering silence. Gone were the slick suits and smug arrogance—the carefully curated image of Seoul’s most eligible international fiancé.

Beside him: Mr. Kim, her father.

Handcuffed. Expression unreadable. But to the world watching, that cold blankness looked a lot like guilt.

Jaehyun watched as he walked into the communal room.

The screen was muted, but he didn’t need sound. He recognized the courtroom. The chains. The flash of disgrace in Calum’s eyes.

He watched until the video cut to (Y/n)’s name.

“She knew,” he murmured.

He had always wondered why she stayed quiet in those final days. Why she didn’t scream. Or run.

Now he understood.

She was protecting something. Even if she had no strength left to save herself.

And he smiled. Not because he was healed. But because justice had finally arrived.

Even if it came too late to bring her back— it would carry her truth. And that was enough to carry him.

A month later.

A new therapist came to visit him once a week. She didn’t ask about the tabloids. She asked about her. And that’s how he opened up.

He spoke of her smile. Her strange love for pouring milk before cereal. Her habit of humming unconsciously when anxious. The way her fingers shook when she was trying to stay strong.

Every sketch he drew was for her.

By the sixth session, he showed one to the therapist: (Y/n) sitting on a bench, hand reaching toward the light. She had no face—but he whispered, “You know it’s her, right?”

The therapist nodded.

Five months later.

She had once told him, “You should’ve been a pianist in another life.” And for the first time in months, he touched the keys again.

One note. Then two. Chords, broken and unsure. Then— a melody she used to hum in the car.

He cried the first time he played it all the way through. But he played it again the next morning. And again.

The clinic opened the door so patients could listen.

They didn’t know the song. But they knew what it felt like: grief being gently combed into beauty.

--

They came in black cars, of course. Both of them, lined like shadows outside the clinic’s gates— polished, impersonal, loaded with pride.

His mother stepped out first. Quiet. Nervous hands clutching her purse. She hadn’t been allowed to visit during the first three months, but she had begged. Pleaded.

And now, finally… they were here. To see their son.

Jaehyun never left his room.

The nurses gently knocked.

“Mr. Jeong, your parents are in the visitor lounge.”

No response.

One nurse leaned in, hopeful.

“Your mother brought homecooked meals. She said you always liked it on hard days.”

Still nothing.

Inside, Jaehyun sat by the window—sketching (Y/n)’s profile from memory. Her smile. The soft tilt of her jaw. The same portrait he’d drawn twenty-eight times.

The paper trembled as he traced her name below it. Not for them to see. Not this time.

He spoke softly—his voice hoarse but sure, “Tell them to go.”

His mother’s hands curled tighter in her lap. She blinked fast, trying to understand. The doctor gave her a look of quiet pity.

“He’s… not ready. He doesn’t talk to anyone, really. Except her.”

Mr. Jeong scoffed. “She’s dead. She’s not coming back. He needs to grow up and return to the business.”

The doctor stood a little straighter. “No, Mr. Jeong. He doesn’t need the business. He needs space. And time.” His father rose, angry, unmoved. But his mother lingered, eyes teary.

“Just give him this,” she whispered, handing over a sealed envelope— a family photo from before everything fell apart. The nurse brought it to him, placed it gently on the table beside his sketchbook.

Jaehyun never opened it.

He just stared at the photo for a while, then placed it inside his drawer.

Untouched. Quiet. Like everything else that no longer mattered.

He said only once, to Seonho, his former assistant—over a rare, brief phone call weeks later.

“I don’t hate them. I just don’t want their world anymore. The only thing that felt real in it… is gone.”

And so, the visits stopped.

Not out of anger. Not out of revenge.

But because he already chose who he’d belong to, and it wasn’t his father empire anymore.

It was her. And whatever came after.

He let the year dissolve like sugar in tea—quiet, hidden beneath warmth. When he left the sanatorium, it was as if he’d simply stepped out for air. No press. No trace. Only a sealed request: tell them nothing—let them keep their version of me.

He bought a small farmhouse in Tuscany with a single olive tree in the front. She once said, “I want to grow old somewhere where the sky looks like honey.”

He planted lavender under the windows, and hung her sketch above the fireplace. Locals knew him only as Mr. Jeong—the quiet Korean man who buys too many candles and never misses the sunrise.

He wrote in the mornings. He painted in the afternoons. And every night, he left a chair across from him at the dinner table.

On what would’ve been her 26th birthday, he stood beneath the olive tree at sunrise. He whispered:

“I’m still here. I’m not whole. But I’m not lost anymore.”

“I carry you. In silence. In music. In everything I survive.”

And then he placed a single veil-white rose at the base of the tree.

Jaehyun didn’t move on. He moved with her. In sketches. In dreams. In soft-spoken days spent planting what the world once buried.

And when asked, years later, by a local child who peeked into his studio.

“Mister, who’s the pretty girl in all your drawings?”

He smiled. Touched his chest, just above his heart.

“She’s the reason I still wake up.”

At long last—fourteen years, fourteen winters, fourteen aching waits—the day arrived, wrapped in the soft gold of a happy ending. The day he’d dreamed, begged, and bled for.

It was quiet.

The sun had just begun slipping through the sheer curtains, brushing golden light against the creaky wooden floors of the small farmhouse. The olive tree outside rustled softly in the breeze, leaves whispering secrets to the wind.

Inside, everything was in its place. His sketchbook, open beside the bed. Two cups of tea—one untouched. A piano key softly pressed down by a falling lavender petal.

Jaehyun lay still in bed, one hand resting over his chest, where he had once tucked his last sketch of her.

A gentle expression on his face. Like he’d just seen someone familiar.

Like he had finally exhaled.

The doctor would later say: heart failure in his sleep. But those who knew him—really knew him—understood better.

He had simply followed her. At last.

Somewhere not of this world; a sky that felt like home.

The air was soft, like music on skin. The stars above blinked like city lights in a memory too far away to chase. He stood barefoot under that olive tree again.

Only this time—she was there. Wearing white again. But not a gown. Not grief. Just peace. She smiled. Not sad. Not wistful. Just… full. Her eyes were bright. Her hands steady.

“You’re late,” she teased gently.

He laughed—hoarse, boyish.The laugh he lost when he lost her.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward and hugged her. Tightly. The way he didn’t get to. The way he had longed to, for twenty years.

She held him back. Firm. Real. Unshakable.

And then—the music started. Soft. Familiar. That same melody he played alone for years. Only this time, it was surrounding them—floating through golden air.

She held out her hand. He took it.

And under skies that never rained, on ground that never broke, they slow danced. Kissed like time had surrendered, bowed out, gone quiet.

No veils. No ceilings. No goodbyes.

Just him. And her. Forever—as it always should’ve been.

The End.

writer's note: I truly appreciate every reblog, comment, and message you’ve sent about my work. Writing both of these stories took an emotional toll on me, and I poured a lot of heart into them, so your support means the world. I’m sorry if updates take a while; thank you for being patient with me. I hope you enjoy my other works too. Please stay healthy, stay safe, and take care of yourselves always. Lots of love, jaefluenza xo

[nana-jeong]

My heart aches so much. This is what I'm getting for wanting to read some angst fanfic. Its well written 😭🫶🏻

[cbeargyu]

marry me, mr. jeong

summary: while everyone around you is getting married, you're left behind—no ring, no lover, just silence waiting at home. but one night, your boss, mr. jeong, makes an unexpected proposal: "marry me." and suddenly, your quiet world begins to burn.

pairing: boss!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: romance, slow burn, fluff, emotional smut, domestic married life, eventual pregnancy, emotional growth, healing.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), strong language, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention (later), minor angst, lots of kissing, crying, soft husband jaehyun, tooth-rotting fluff, crying-in-the-club type of love.

wc: 19,7K

notes: i’m obsessed with jaehyun as a boss, boyfriend, hubby, and daddy lmao. man’s got range 😮‍💨💍🖤 i swear i try to keep it short but my brain goes rogue every time 😭 like girl be fr, when’s the day i finally drop a short fic??? bye lmao 💀

you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.

you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.

jeong jaehyun.

your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.

you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.

you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.

tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.

“you’re still here, byun?”

you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”

you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”

he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”

a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.

“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”

you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.

“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”

you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”

another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”

he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”

and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.

you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.

the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.

your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.

you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.

you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.

you didn’t hear him come in.

you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.

“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”

he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.

you blinked.

right. the report.

you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.

you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.

“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”

you nodded. “understood.”

“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”

“yes, mr. jeong.”

and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.

you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.

the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.

as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”

then jaehyun spoke.

his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.

until he said your name.

“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”

you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.

you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.

“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”

you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.

when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.

like you’d done well. like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.

the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.

when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.

“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.

“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”

he nodded. “you earned it.”

later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.

the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.

the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”

the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”

“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.

he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”

jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.

“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”

he raised his glass. “to y/n.”

“to y/n,” echoed around the table.

you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.

you were finally going somewhere.

the dinner had blurred into noise.

conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.

when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.

“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.

he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”

you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.

“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.

jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”

you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.

“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”

you took a breath, not daring to look at him.

“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”

jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.

“i can celebrate with you.”

you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”

he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.

“then marry me.”

your brain stalled.

you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.

“…what?” you whispered.

“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”

the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.

you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”

“we know enough,” he said without blinking.

“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”

“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.

you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”

“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”

you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.

he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”

“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”

jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”

he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.

“i’ll take you home,” he said.

you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”

he looked down at you, expression unreadable.

“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”

and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.

you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.

you didn’t sleep.

not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.

then marry me.

you have seven months to decide.

like some sort of countdown had been triggered.

you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.

your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.

you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.

you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.

then—

“good morning.”

his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.

you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.

“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”

he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.

a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.

you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.

you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.

he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.

“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.

“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.

you lingered.

“mr. jeong.”

he finally looked up.

his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.

you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”

his expression didn’t change.

“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”

you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”

“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”

you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?

he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.

you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.

you’d never felt so out of control.

you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.

you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.

you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

your mind wouldn’t shut up.

you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.

why would he say that? why now? why you?

he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.

so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.

but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?

he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?

a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.

why you?

you didn’t have an answer.

you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.

but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.

leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.

he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.

“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”

not a question. not a request.

he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.

you hesitated, only for a second.

but then you followed.

because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:

you wanted to know.

you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.

he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.

you stared straight ahead.

ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.

the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.

you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.

you didn’t look at him. “not really.”

“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”

you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”

“anytime,” he said dryly.

and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.

the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.

“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”

you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”

“love it.”

you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”

he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”

“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”

you said nothing.

because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.

how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?

he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.

you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.

once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.

“why me?”

his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”

“do you say that to all women?”

he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”

you shook your head. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”

“i never said you did.”

you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”

his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.

“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”

you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.

“just like that?”

“just like that.”

you couldn’t look away.

and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.

“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.

you saw him as a man.

a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.

his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.

you saw him differently.

you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.

but something inside you had shifted.

you just didn’t know what to call it.

he didn’t rush you.

he didn’t push.

he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.

and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.

“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”

just like that.

your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”

he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”

you blinked. “that’s okay?”

“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”

but you were thinking. too much.

his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?

your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.

you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.

and you remembered.

all those nights crying in silence.

all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.

ever finding someone.

ever being enough.

ever being loved without begging for it.

maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.

maybe he was better.

you looked up at him.

“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”

he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.

your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”

for a beat, the world went still.

he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.

he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn’t want to scare it off.

“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”

you swallowed hard.

and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.

you weren’t sure if this was love.

but it was a beginning.

the next morning. everything is different.

you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.

a woman who knew what she wanted.

a woman who said yes.

you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.

you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.

you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.

and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.

jung jaehyun.

same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.

but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.

you stood up—too fast.

too happy.

“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.

it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.

the entire floor stopped.

heads turned.

some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.

jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.

“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.

you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.

the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.

you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.

after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.

he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.

“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.

you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.

once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.

“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.

“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.

“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”

you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”

“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”

you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”

“i’m not asking you to apologize.”

“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”

he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.

“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”

you grinned. “i’m worse.”

he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.

“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”

you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.

the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.

the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.

you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.

not knowing was part of the charm.

“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.

he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.

“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.

there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.

and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.

a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.

it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.

you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.

“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”

jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.

“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.

he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.

a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.

he did.

“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.

“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”

no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.

the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.

every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.

“are you bored?” you whispered.

“not even close.”

“you haven’t laughed once.”

he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”

you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.

“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.

you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.

as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.

he still didn’t touch you.

he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.

but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.

“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”

“you don’t have to thank me.”

“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”

he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.

“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”

you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.

“you’re doing well so far.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.

but inside… you felt it.

your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.

you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.

but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…

you wanted to find out.

you wanted to try.

the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.

jaehyun noticed immediately.

you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.

you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.

by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.

"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.

"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”

you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.

the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.

he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.

“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”

you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”

“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”

you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.

at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number: meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late. signed J.J.

you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.

the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.

after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.

“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.

you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”

he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”

you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.

“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”

he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.

“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”

you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”

he nodded. “siblings?”

“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”

jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”

you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”

jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”

“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”

you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.

before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”

he shook his head. “only child.”

“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.

he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”

you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”

jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”

he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”

you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.

you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”

he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.

the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.

and then he stood and offered you his hand.

you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.

he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”

you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”

he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.

he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.

your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.

and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.

they lingered.

because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.

there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.

just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.

you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.

still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.

the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.

today was one of those days.

you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.

“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”

you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”

“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”

you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”

he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”

you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.

“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”

jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”

the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.

you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”

“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.

jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.

the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.

his skin was warm under your lips.

he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.

“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.

“doing what?” you asked innocently.

he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”

you grinned and didn’t answer.

he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.

“i like this,” you said softly.

“what part?” he asked.

“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”

he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“me too.”

you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.

and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.

and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.

june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.

one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.

he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.

you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.

you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.

but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.

at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.

the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.

jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.

“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”

your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.

“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”

your face flushed.

you looked away, but only for a second.

because when you met his eyes again, he stood.

in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.

he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”

you nodded, breathless. “okay.”

and then he kissed you again.

the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.

that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.

this time, he didn’t say hello.

he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.

he never rushed.

never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.

but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.

and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”

his smile was crooked. dangerous.

“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”

thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.

you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.

“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”

jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”

you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”

the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.

“wait—what?”

and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.

“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”

his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.

“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.

“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”

you froze.

he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.

married.

you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.

married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.

you shook the image out of your head.

“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.

“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”

friday night came like a slow exhale.

he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.

you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.

“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.

“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.

when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.

saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.

you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.

you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.

“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.

“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”

“you were so cute.”

you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”

he stared. “a week?”

“he said i was too uptight and boring.”

jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”

you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”

he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.

“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.

“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”

tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.

“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.

“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”

the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.

grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.

you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.

it wasn’t glamorous.

but it felt like home.

and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—

you were falling in love.

for real.

for the first time.

towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.

you answer.

“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”

you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.

“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”

you rub your temple. “mom—”

“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”

you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.

“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”

a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”

“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”

“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”

before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.

the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.

you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.

“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”

your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.

“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”

he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”

you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”

“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”

your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.

friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.

jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.

“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.

the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.

when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.

and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.

“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”

inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.

he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.

“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”

your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.

“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.

you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.

then comes the chaos.

your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.

“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”

you groan. “shut up, baek.”

the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.

jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.

he freezes.

and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.

he blushes.

and you notice.

“what?” you whisper as you lean close.

he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”

the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.

he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.

he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”

and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.

this might just be the beginning of everything.

the month of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.

jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.

one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.

jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.

the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.

jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”

you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”

jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”

you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.

both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.

“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”

you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.

jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.

you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”

his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.

his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.

what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.

when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.

when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.

you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.

you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you. 

his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”

you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.

your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.

he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”

when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.

your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.

after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.

your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”

you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”

and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.

you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”

your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”

he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”

you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.

when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.

he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”

your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.

you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”

your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.

this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.

“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”

he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”

that night at the motel changed everything.

it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.

after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.

but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.

it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.

by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.

you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.

and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.

“i love you.”

your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.

you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.

it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.

but not wrong.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.

“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”

and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.

it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.

what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.

and the craziest part?

you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.

august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.

and then—the email.

subject line: promotion confirmation.

you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.

jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.

he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face. and then you said it.

“i got it.”

“you got what?” he blinked, confused.

“the promotion.”

his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.

“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”

you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.

he took you out that night.

you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.

“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”

your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.

“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”

jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.

“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”

you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.

you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.

you didn’t need fireworks.

this was better.

this was yours.

mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.

you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.

so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.

“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.

you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.

“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.

“yeah?”

you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.

“i want to marry you.”

his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.

“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”

“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”

he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.

“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”

“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”

he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”

you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”

his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”

and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.

the proposal happened three days later.

he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.

he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.

he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.

and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.

“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”

he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.

your eyes began to water.

he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.

a velvet box.

he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.

“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”

he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.

“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”

you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.

in that moment, september never felt sweeter.

telling the company was a whole thing.

it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.

you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.

the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.

"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."

you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.

jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”

the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.

jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.

“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”

your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—

cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.

“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”

you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”

the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”

the parents came next.

you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.

"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"

you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.

“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”

“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.

then it was his parents' turn.

you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.

“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”

they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.

it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.

they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.

from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.

the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused. her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.

“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”

and then came the parents.

jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”

her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day. but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.

they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.

and then, jaehyun.

when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.

he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.

she mouthed “you’re mine.”

the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.

“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”

“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”

they kissed.

and the world felt new again.

their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.

“we did it,” she whispered.

“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”

the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.

their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.

they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars. they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava. they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.

“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.

“then it’s the life we’ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”

and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.

it sounded like a promise.

three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.

you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.

mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.

but then, one evening, the quiet changed.

you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.

when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.

two pink lines.

you stared. blinked. stared again.

your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.

you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.

jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”

you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.

“we’re gonna be parents!!”

the silence cracked. and then—

jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.

you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”

“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.

months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.

you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.

your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”

the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.

jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.

“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”

you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.

he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”

the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.

and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.

you. him. her.

and the love that built it all.

finally. completely.

beautifully yours.