#5 You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours
downbad!jungwon x mean!femalereader ᨳଓ
fluff, very minor angst, crack, social media au ☁︎
featuring: illit's moka & yunah, cortis' martin, boynextdoor's woonhak, and enhypen!
one. two. three. four.
a/n: short part kinda…anyways if i liked ur comment asking to be on the tag list then you most likely are. but if you notice that your comment HAS been liked but ur not on it, it’s probably because when i went to tag u, ur blog did not show up!
✿ . ˚ . ˚ . ˚ . ˚ . ˚ . ˚ . ˚ . ✿.
you curled further into the corner of your bed, phone pressed to your ear as you wiped at the corner of your eyes with sleeve of your hoodie.
you hadn’t realised how quiet your room had been until the sound of jungwon’s breathing through the phone broke the silence.
“so..” he spoke up after a moment of quiet. “are you done crying now?”
you let out an offended scoff, narrowing your eyes at the boy across the line.
“i wasn’t even crying that much, shut up.”
“mhm.”
“jungwon.”
“sorry, sorry.” he laughed softly. “it’s just…you know, your voice always sounds like that after you’ve cried.”
you frowned, instinctively rubbing at your nose as if he could somehow see you through the phone.
“how do you know that?”
“i’ve know you for years, yn.” he responded, your name sounding incredibly soft on his tongue.
“no. you’ve know of me.”
he just hummed along with her words, quietly agreeing. “yeah, but i’ve known enough.”
your lips parted to argue with him, but no words escaped. somehow, he always knew how to say things so surely, as if there wasn’t anything strange about admitting he’d paid attention to her all this time.
you settled for a quiet sigh. “you’re so weird.”
“i’ve been called worse.”
“i’m sure you have, loser.”
a small smile tugged at his lips at your tone, the corner of his eyes creasing. “i’ve also been called handsome.”
you found yourself mirroring the smile you could sense in his voice. “yeah? by who?”
“my eomma.”
you laughed at that, but quickly covered your mouth as if you could somehow take it back.
on the other end of the call, jungwon grinned grinned so widely that his cheeks began to ache.
“wow. there it is.”
“hm?”
“i’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past six years.”
you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that, though there wasn’t nearly as much bite as there used to be.
“oh please.”
“i’m serious.”
“you are not.”
“i am.” he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “you know, i used to think that if i could make you laugh just once, id probably ride that high for the next month.”
you scoffed, absentmindedly tracing circles into the fabric of your duvet.
“that’s a little pathetic, no?”
“it was…still is.”
“what?”
“well,” he smiled to himself. “i just made you laugh, didn’t i?”
you felt stomach flip. it never used to do that with him.
“don’t be smug about it.” you added quietly.
“i wasn’t planning on it.”
a few seconds of silence passed before she added, unable to help himself.
“…okay, maybe a little.”
you groaned, laying back in your bed. “you’re the worst.”
“yet you’re still talking to me.”
“i can hang up right now, won.”
he chuckled. “no, don’t. i like when you talk to me.”
you found yourself letting out another quiet laugh before you could hold back.
“wow. twice? i must be on a roll today.”
“don’t start.”
“what?” he asked, though he knew exactly what you were talking about.
“stop pointing it out.”
“why?”
you paused for a moment, trying to conjure up a response. “because…it makes me feel weird.”
you frowned slightly, trying to put the feeling into words. “i don’t really know how.”
no one had ever looked so pleased over something as small as hearing her laugh. it was confusing.
jungwons expression softened, along with his voice. “for what it’s worth…”
he hesitated for just a second. “i just like hearing you happy.”
your breath caught in your throat right then and there. you remained silent for a couple seconds—feeling like an eternity for jungwon.
“see?” he murmured, smiling to himself. “now i’ve embarrassed you.”
“you really have.” you let out a flustered sigh, not knowing how else to respond.
“i’m not sorry.”
“i know you aren’t.”
he hummed at her words again. “no..but i do think you’re really cute when you’re flustered.”
you immediately covered your face with the blanket, letting out a dramatic groan. “oh my god.”
even though he couldn’t see you, he knew that your face was burning hot.
“what is it, yn?” he laughed, the noise cracking through the speaker.
“you’ve always been this flirty, haven’t you?”
“hm?” he sounded amused. “i thought you’d notice.”
“well—i did..” you trailed off, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i just…i don’t know.”
before, you’d just brush it off. roll your eyes and call him annoying—maybe even tell him to get lost.
it had never lingered in your mind for more than a few seconds.
but now, every single word he said stuck with you and seemed to have an affect.
jungwon smiled to himself, leaning back in his chair. “well…i can’t promise i’ll stop.”
you let out a breath, similar to a laugh, shaking your head to yourself. “i’m aware.”
“…is that okay?”
you smiled despite yourself, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
#4 You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours
downbad!jungwon x mean!femalereader ᨳଓ
fluff, angst social media au ☁︎
featuring: illit's moka & yunah, cortis' martin, boynextdoor's woonhak, and enhypen!
one. two. three.
a/n: ty for all the interaction on my posts, i rlly appreciate it!! for all the people asking to be added to the tl, i've decided to make it a maximum of 50 people. still open tho!
#3 You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours
downbad!jungwon x mean!femalereader ᨳଓ
fluff, angst social media au ☁︎
featuring: illit's moka & yunah, cortis' martin, boynextdoor's woonhak, and enhypen!
one. two.
a/n: part two!! if anyones still confused, her and martin are siblings.
#2 You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours
downbad!jungwon x mean!femalereader ᨳଓ
fluff, angst social media au ☁︎
featuring: illit's moka & yunah, cortis' martin, boynextdoor's woonhak, and enhypen!
one. two.
a/n: helloo everyone!! welcome to i wanna be yours! pls bear with me, ik its a little boring rn but i promise itll get better!!
⟢ ┆ stray kids x reader. ot8. established relationship.
⟢ author’s note: helloo! this was requested twice lol so i guess it’s a popular trend going around and i finally brought myself to write it after the odyssey my life went through last month. i had lots of fun with it and i hope you all enjoy it<3
⟢ author’s note: hello, everyone! this was a request made by @hykwrld for the prompt “You’re mine. God help me, I don’t care what we call it—you’re mine.” taken from this prompt list. i changed it up a little bit, and i kinda dragged the story a lot, but i couldn’t just let go of the chance to write f2l!lino. i hope you like it!
yang jungwon did not mean to miss his train, you couldn’t say the same.
the language of flowers ☆
⇀ social media au, fluff (completed)
jungwon’s just every bit in love with the student council president who keeps visiting his flowershop OR in which you find solace in a flowershop, and its owner’s grandson finds solace in you.
begin again (and again and again) ☆
⇀ soulmates au, fluff, angst (2.8k words)
every december 13th, you find yourself at mangwon hangang park with a very heavy heart. you don’t know why. then again, life offers no explanation for its cruelty.
love grows (where jungwon goes) ☆
⇀ classmates to lovers, mutual pining, tooth-aching fluff (4.9k words)
showing affection isn’t jungwon’s strongest forte, but when he sets eyes on you, it’s obvious he has to figure out a way to make you reciprocate his feelings. he’ll take giving you homegrown fruits and vegetables from his garden as a good first step. from then, it’ll be one gift at a time.
wishlist ☆
⇀ best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff (7.1k words)
jungwon doesn’t understand why you won’t just tell him what you want for your birthday. clueless and determined to give you the best present, jungwon is left at a crossroad. instead of getting it wrong, he might just… confess?
invisible string theory
⇀ acquaintances to lovers, slice of life, highschool au, fluff (2.6k words)
inspired by the line, “you’ve been hiding in plain sight then appeared”
classmate au | yang jungwon ⇀ headcanons, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails yang jungwon leaves while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
✰ park sunghoon
twitch rivals ☆
⇀ social media au, exes to lovers (completed)
nothing is worse than getting paired up with a stranger for twitch rivals 2022, except maybe being matched with your very competitive ex boyfriend park sunghoon.
library hymns ☆
⇀ strangers to lovers, university au, fluff (4.4k words)
sunghoon wants to find out who keeps leaving him a blanket and a bottle of water whenever he’d fall asleep in the library or the “I work in the library and I’m a little concerned for your health bc you never stop studying”
unlikely likelihood of falling in love ☆
⇀ enemies to lovers, fake dating (14.5k words)
march was a strange month. for one, you’d manage to string yourself into fake dating the one person you hated in the campus - park sunghoon
they told me to
⇀ best friends to lovers, drunken confessions (1.7k words)
sunghoon has a lot of things he wants to say to you, and it takes a couple drinks and a messy trip back home to finally say them
[6:02 PM] ⇀ established relationship (0.4k words)
classmate au | park sunghoon ⇀ headcanons, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails park sunghoon leaves you while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
✰ nishimura riki
always japan ☆
⇀ best friends to lovers, eventual timeskip (4.2k words)
the three times nishimura riki was your best friend, and the one time he was something more
after hours ☆
⇀ strangers to lovers, university au, fluff (7.5k words)
when practice gets overwhelmingly exhausting, nishimura riki finds that staying at the field after hours can be such a calming past-time. apparently, you go there when you need to think too. an awkward friendship ensues.
jealousy, jealousy
⇀ established relationship, jealousy au (2.1k words)
nishimura riki is stubborn and hard-headed, yet not even a fight can stop him from making sure no one bothers his girlfriend. who knew jealousy could look so good on riki?
classmate au | nishimura riki ⇀ headcanons, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails nishimura riki leaves you while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
✰ kim sunoo
guess who?
⇀ idol au, fluff, smau (completed)
as an idol, you have a myriad of responsibilities. among these are maintaining a good image and pleasing the fans, having a stan twt acc? maybe not so much. not that you and sunoo are admitting to anything. then again, you don’t exactly expect to find each other as fan accs undercover and you equally don’t expect to start catching feelings.
[7:43 PM] ⇀ established relationship (0.6k words)
classmate au | kim sunoo ⇀ headcanons, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails kim sunoo leaves you while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
✰ sim jaeyun
pov
⇀ comfort, established relationship, fluff and angst (1.1k words)
one day, you’d love to see yourself from his point of view
three questions (he wished were never answered)
⇀ spider-man au, best friends to lovers, fluff and angst (4.2k words)
jake has always been grateful for a lot of things: his grandparents, the opportunity that he has as spider-man, and so much more he hasn’t fully figured out yet, but he was beginning to or in which three questions are asked and answered
your name
⇀ strangers to lovers, university au, coffee shop au, fluff (5.1k words)
you give a different fake name every time you come into the coffee shop jake works part time in and he just wants to know your real name bc ur cute but here he is scrawling “rainbow dash” into your stupid cup
classmate au | jake ⇀ headcanons, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails sim jake leaves you while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
✰ lee heeseung
maybe love can finally stay ☆
⇀ exes to lovers, angst and fluff (2k words)
love retests the waters when you and your ex-boyfriend heeseung finally talk about why you broke up in a beach house reunion after putting your love to a rest four years ago
month of may ☆
⇀ fake dating, unrequited love, best friends to not so lovers, fluff and angst (2.6k words)
you don’t think you’d ever want to go back to the month of may; the month lee heeseung asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend
june blossoms
⇀ fake dating, best friends to lovers, part 2 to month of may (2.0k words)
as the month ends, you wonder what june has on hold for you and heeseung especially with no more need to fake date
practicalities of a snowball fight
⇀ strangers to lovers, fluff, university au (2.2k words)
lee heeseung never backs out of a snowball fight, especially when it’s with a pretty stranger. maybe accidents do lead to beautiful things.
24 hour stream
⇀ established relationship, streamer au (1.1k words)
you think it’s adorable how heeseung seems to be fighting his exhaustion in favor of being with you as you finish your twenty-four hour stream
talk tomorrow
⇀ best friends to lovers, drunken confessions (1.1k words)
your drunk best friend accidentally confesses his feelings for you
[9:56 PM] ⇀ best friends to lovers, trainee!heeseung, comfort (1k words)
classmate au | heeseung ⇀ headcanons, neighbors au, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails lee heeseung leaves you while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
✰ park jongseong
when you’re home
⇀ best friends to lovers, comfort, fluff (1.5k words)
after months of traveling and sleeping on empty beds, jay comes home and realizes he’s tired of sleeping alone. and he hopes that, in the time he was gone, you’ve finally realized there is love in the unspoken.
classmate au | park jay ⇀ headcanons, neighbors au, classmates to lovers, just pure fluff
voicemails park jongseong leaves you while he’s on tour ⇀ established relationship, idol au, fluff, a little angst
SERIES (☆ — ot7 fics)
“all of us are dead” series
based on the popular series, “all of us are dead” — trapped students must escape their high school which has become ground zero for a zombie virus outbreak.
a small thing i learned from my sister dying is that i really would rather the people i love be a burden than be whatever the hell else they'd be if they weren't. yes even if it's messy and not always fair and hard completely inconvenient for everyone involved. even if it's weird. even if i'm rolling my eyes a bit inside sometimes. i just want you to bother me. please always bother me
like "it's rotten work" "not to me not if it's you" actually sometimes it's still rotten work. even if it's you. and i'd still do it a million times over
bakugou finds a list you made before you dated him
“one. big cock and knows how to use it. two and it’s in all caps. EATER.”
you rest on your forearms on your sofa, looking across the living room to your boyfriend who has appeared from your bedroom. he’s reading a crumpled sheet of paper from god knows where with a massive grin on his face.
“did you get the fan from my room? katsuki, it’s hot!” you whine petulantly. you've got your thin shorts and bralette on, trying to fight the heatwave that has taken over your city.
the heat has beat you down, left you stranded in your living room with three ice lolly packets in your path and skin sticky. you can feel the sweat trickle down your spine, you can see it gathered on katsuki’s exposed forehead, yet he still stands there reading.
“hold on, i’m lovin’ this,” he says, gold tooth shining as his mouth stretches wider, “three. rich and generous with it. is that right? you with me for my cock and money?”
you blink at him a few times, trying not to get distracted by his shirtless bare chest or the black headband he’s got on to push his unruly blonde locks back. he’s handsome, deliciously so. still, you think back to why everything he’s saying is so familiar.
“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”
you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.
“what is that? what are you reading?”
still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”
then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”
you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.
“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.
nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.
“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”
he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”
“you’re not now! give it back!”
“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”
“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.
bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it.
“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pouts his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”
if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—
he stops pouting at you.
“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”
“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.”
you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.
he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.
“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.
“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”
“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”
“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”
“it’s so much better now!”
bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”
“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”
“three. his job is terrifying.”
bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.
“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”
“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”
“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”
“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”
bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”
“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend.
“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”
“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”
“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.
“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”
bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”
“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t.
you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”
he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”
“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”
“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”
you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”
bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.
then he looks down at you, looking up at him.
“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”
bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.
“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms.
bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”
you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”
“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.
“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.
he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.
“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”
you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”
he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”
you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”
bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”
“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.
“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck.
“look at me.”
shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you.
“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”
you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.
“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”
he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.
“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.
you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”
“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.
“promise. now you promise me.”
“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”
“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”
bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”
you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”
he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”
“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”
bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”
“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”
with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.
he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”
you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”
he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”
Slowly, Jay’s subconscious mind began to register the noise.
“Eh!” Taesan let out a grunt as he climbed up the bed. “Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!”
Oh, no. Jay groaned internally. Just ignore him.
“Daddy!” Taesan shook his dad’s shoulder.
If I just ignore him, he’ll go away.
But Taesan wasn’t ready to let go. “Daddy!!” He whined louder. “You promised we’d go to the zoo today!”
Jay grumbled lowly, “hm… Taesannie… it’s too early…” he buried his face into the pillow and pulled the blanket over him.
“But you promised!” Taesan pulled the blanket from him.
“I didn’t promise.” Jay’s voice was rough and sleepy.
“Yes, you did!”
“No…”
“Yes!”
Jay grumbled lowly, pulling the blanket over his head again. “Gimme 5 minutes.”
“No! I wanna go now!”
“Taesan…”
“Daddy.”
Silence fell over the bedroom.
Nice. If I just don’t respond to him, he’ll leave.
“Daddy?” He peeked through a small gap, laying his head on Jay’s pillow.
“Daddy?” He whispered. “Are you sleeping?”
“Mhm.” Jay confirmed, eyes closed.
“Really?” Taesan lifted the blanket up to look at his daddy better.
Jay responded with fake snores. Taesan laughed, “you’re not sleeping!”
Jay’s comical snores got louder. Taesan’s laughter warmed his heart. “You’re not sleeping!” He repeated, “you’re pretending, daddy, I know!”
“Daddy’s sleeping.” Jay murmured in between snores causing Taesan to giggle even more. “You’re not! You can’t talk when you sleep!”
“Hmm…” Jay rumbled, “daddy can do it… daddy can do everything…” he covered his eyes with his arm, trying to find a way to rest even if his son won’t let him.
Taesan pouted, “daddy, zoo!”
“Hmm… 5 minutes… give daddy 5… minutes…”
“Okey…”
Suprise flickered on Jay’s face. He lifted his arm a little to peek at his son.
Wow. He’s sitting on the bed and is waiting like a well behaved, good boy. His heart fluttered at the cute sight. An affectionate smile appeared on his face. He was so cute waiting for his daddy like that.
•
•
•
“Done?” Taesan whipped his head to Jay to which he quickly covered his eyes. “Noo… 5 minutes are not over yet, baby.” Jay rarely called his son baby, but right now, at that moment, it felt just right. Taesan was his cute little baby. A little big now but still his baby.
“Oh- okey…”
“Now?”
“No, you need to count till-“ he paused, quickly doing the math with his sleep-fogged brain, “300.”
“300??”
“Mhm.”
“But that’s so many.” He pouted.
“Then you better start counting, baby.”
“No!” A sudden burst of energy filled him. He stood up on the bed and pushed Jay’s blanket off. “Get up! Get up! Get up!”
Jay moaned in a dizzy haze.
“Daddy! Now! Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” Taesan pulled his arm and huffed at the weight, “up, daddy, up!”
He then took his hand, pulling him with all his strength. “Daddyyyyy!!!”
“Taesannie…” Jay murmured.
Taesan puffed, his daddy wasn’t budging at all. He clasped his daddy’s cheek with his tiny hands. “Wake uuuppppp!!!”
No reaction.
“Daddy?” He carefully lifted Jay’s eyelid with his thumb. Jay bursted out in laughter, “what are you doing??”
Taesan giggled, a little flustered, “I was just checking.”
Jay pulled his son down in his arms, snuggling him against his chest and pulling the blanket over them in one smooth motion. “Daddy, no! No sleep time!”
“Yes, buddy, sleep time.” He nuzzled his face in Taesan’s hair, “oh? You took a bath?” He asked, noticing the damp hair.
“Yes! Mommy said I should shower twice a day because it’s soooo hot! In the morning when I wake up and in the evening before bedtime!”
Jay hummed sleepily, “that’s smart. Mommy always says the smartest things.“
Taesan wiggled out of his arms, “let’s tell mommy!”
“What?”
“That you said that she always says the smartest things!”
Jay understood his attempt immediately and suppressed a smile, “you just want me to get out the bed, don’t you?”
Taesan giggled, “noooo~”
Jay reached out his hand to tickle his tummy, “you’re not sneaky. You can never trick your old man.”
His son giggled louder, his hands slapping Jay’s hand away, “stop!”
“You’re right, I should stop and sleep.” Jay turned on his side and covered himself with the blanket. “What?? Daddy. No!” Taesan immediately lifted the blanket up.
“Daddy had a long week, buddy. Let me sleep,” he protested without any real effort.
“No! I wanna.” He pushed the blanket completely to the side, revealing Jay’s body clothed in underwear only.
“Go.” He climbed on his naked torso.
“To.” He clasped his face in his hands.
“The zoo!” And wriggled his head.
And Jay let him do whatever.
“We will go.” Jay answered after a while of being shaken.
Taesan straightened up, “really??”
“Tomorrow.”
“DADDYYYY!!” Taesan’s shoulders slumped, “no! You said today!”
“I changed my mind.” Jay gazed at him lovingly yet tiredly.
“But you promised!” Taesan wrapped his short arms around Jay’s neck, nuzzling his face there. Jay patted his back. “I didn’t promise. I said we’ll see.”
“No! You said promise!” Taesan argued.
“No, buddy. I didn’t-“ he tried to explain calmly.
“Yes, you did! Yesterday, when we were eating dinner, you said ‘I promise, Taesannie, we will go to the zoo tomorrow and compare your neck size to the giraffes’! You really really said that! Believe me! I’m not lying! See! My nose isn’t long.” He pointed at his own nose.
Jay paused. Hm. That really sounded like him.
“Where are our girls?” Jay tried to subtly change the topic.
“Taking a bath.”
Jay brushed Taesan’s hair lovingly, “your mother takes care of you guys so well. She works so hard.” He murmured absentmindedly.
Taesan supported himself on his broad chest, “mommy says that about you, too.”
Jay’s heart melted, “yeah? She says that about me?”
Taesan nodded, “she says ‘oohhhh~~ daddy works so hard for us, and we should always respect him and take care of him and always shower him with love because he does so much for us’!”
Warmth spread in Jay’s chest, partly filled with affection, partly filled with guilt. He shook his head a little, blinking his eyes repeatedly, “that’s not true. She’s the one who does so much for us.”
Taesan, being the 5 year old little guy he was, wasn’t able to register the emotional weight of his daddy’s words and just shrugged his shoulders, “i don’t know. I wanna see the lions!”
He began to bounce on him, “zoo! Zoo! Zoo!”
Jay groaned, “Taesannie…”
Taesan stood up on his wobbly feet, Jay’s hand immediately shot up to support him.
“Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” He jumped around on the bed as if it was a trampoline, accidentally stomping on Jay’s hand and stomach. “Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!”
Jay closed his eyes, his head spinning at the noise. Still somehow, he was enjoying it. His son’s noise made him happy.
“No, dad!” Taesan pulled his arm, “no sleepy time!”
Jay’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes still closed, “what did you just call me?”
Taesan giggled, knowing exactly what he did, “I meant daddy.” As he continued to giggle, he went to the end of the bed and lifted Jay’s leg. Well, it was way too heavy for him so Jay helped him a little.
“Up! Up! Up!” He bounced on the spot, leg in his arms. Jay grunted tiredly.
Suddenly, a bubbly little sound filled the room. “Uh- uh- uh!”
Father and son whipped their head at the sound.
There she was, the light of his life. Well, one of three. But definitely his cutest one.
Chaehee squeezed through the ajar door, crawling on all fours.
“Chae-chae!” Taesan called as he continued to bounce on the mattress. “Daddy is not waking up!”
“Bleb!” Chaehee babbled, supporting herself on the bed frame. She mimicked her brother’s movements, bouncing on the spot.
“Daddy, zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” Taesan continued with his chant, still holding on Jay’s leg and bouncing around.
“Oo! Oo! Oo!” Chaehee mimicked.
Jay rubbed his face with a frustrated laughter. “I can’t believe you guys…” he muttered to himself.
His mind wandered back to the days when he able to sleep as much as he wanted without getting interrupted. Those were the days… just him waking up to the most beautiful and peaceful view (you) after a stressful week.
But as much as he wanted to sleep in, his heart couldn’t help but squeeze at the current sight. He would always trade a peaceful morning with this. This was exactly what he needed after a stressful week.
“Zoo! Zoo!”
“Oo! Oo!”
Chaehee’s little, chubby hands grabbed at the sheets, whining and huffing. She wanted to join, but she was too tiny to climb on her own.
“Da!” She called for Jay. His eyes softened, “Help your sister, Taesannie, she wants to join us.”
Taesan hopped towards the side, kneeling on the bed to grab her arms and pull her up. He huffed, she whined. And just as she was about to lay on the mattress, his grip on her loosened. But luckily, due to his dad reflex, Jay quickly reached out his hand to help her up.
She immediately crawled towards him, babbling in her baby language. Taesan began to jump again which caused Chaehee to wobble and fall on the soft mattress multiple times. But Jay’s hand was hovering in the air the whole time, ready to protect her.
Just before she reached him, she tried to stand up, even admits the bouncy earthquake. If Jay could describe her with two words only, it would be fearless and bold.
Her shaky legs tried to straighten up, her squishy hands reaching out for him. “Da!”
Jay smiled at her with soft love in his eyes, “yes, princess, you’ve got this.” His tone was soft and high pitched, a tone he always used towards cute little creatures.
“Ba!” She babbled.
Plopp. Her bum landed on the mattress as she failed her mission to stand. She reached out for him, tiny body bouncing along Taesan’s commotion.
Jay pulled her in his arms and kissed her squishy, round cheek. “Good morning, my little love.”
“Da!” She giggled, drool forming on the corner of her mouth. He wiped it with his thumb, “did my princess take a bath? Hm?” He kissed her head, her hair damp and slightly curling at the end.
She suckled her thumb and shuffled closer to him, ultimately lying down beside his head. “Hmm… daddy missed you, too.” He kissed her nose, his hand wrapped around her tiny body, pulling her closer to himself. His other hand caressed over her dress, “you’re already dressed up? Hm? My baby looks like a real, pretty princess. So beautiful,” he smooched her round cheek, “so pretty.”
She giggled and hid her face in his neck. His heart swelled 10x bigger.
“Chae-chae!” Taesan knelt down beside her, “do you also wanna go to the zoo?” He asked as if she’d understand him. But for some reason Jay couldn’t explain, she did understand her brother. Maybe it was some sibling thing, but they always talked with each other in a way no one — not even the parents — could understand.
She nodded, “Oo!”
“I knew it! Look daddy! Even Chae-chae wants to go to the zoo!”
“Buddy, she doesn’t even know what the zoo is.”
“Yes, she does! Right, Chaechae?”
Little Chaechae cooed in agreement, “oo!”
Taesan took it as a confirmation to continue his bouncy protest, “zoo! Zoo! Zoo!”
Here we go again. Jay sighed internally. He really didn’t want to go out today.
Taesan grabbed Jay’s ankle, his jumps intensified, causing Chaehee to wobbly bounce on the mattress. Jay’s hold tightened around her a little body, but she had other plans. Through huffs and puffs, she started to climb on Jay. On his face, to be more specific.
She crawled over his face, her dimpled hands reaching out for the headboard. One tiny foot settled on the pillow, and the other— oof, right on his face. “Princess-“
But the world was too bouncy for her, so she plopped on his face right after. She huffed, climbing up once again. Her tiny foot now on his collarbone. Boing. She fell backwards on his chest, her feet flaring up and kicking against his nose and lips.
And Taesan? Taesan was determined to go to the zoo today. He wanted his dad to get up, now. And what did he always do in order to gain attention from his dad? Of course! Pull at his shirt! So what else could he pull when his daddy wasn’t wearing anything except for his underwear? Exactly! His underwear-!
“Daddy, let’s go-!”
“No-!” Jay quickly held onto his underwear within the speed of light. “Taesan-!”
“Chaehee!” He choked right after as the little one used Jay’s neck as a stepping stool. His hand flew to her chunky foot, her other foot landing on his eye right after.
“Kids-!”
No one was listening. He became a victim in his own house.
“What’s going on here?” You entered the bedroom, hands working on your earring.
“Mommy!”
“Bleh!”
You chuckled at the sight.
“Good morning, honey.” You laughed as you pulled Chaehee away who only whined for a short moment in your arms.
Jay sighed softly, a hand reaching out for a morning kiss which you gladly gave him. “Morning, love.”
Chaehee copied you, tiny lips wanting to kiss her daddy too as her chubby hands reached for him through a soft whine. Jay took her back in his arms, kissing her head and letting her kiss his cheek.
“You saved me, honey.” Jay huffed as he nestled Chaehee on his chest.
You laughed, “I’m glad.”
“Mommy!”
You hummed as you searched through your vanity drawer. It’s only then when Jay realized that you were also already dressed up, wearing makeup, even your hair was done.
“Daddy is not getting up!”
You hummed once again, “he will, honey, he just needs a little time in the morning, you know how he is.”
Taesan slumped over Jay’s legs, groaning.
Jay’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in suspicion. His hand tapped on his daughter’s back.
“Why are you looking so pretty?”
You giggled, “what do you mean? I thought I always look pretty.” Jay’s eyes widened in panic, “no! I meant why are you-“
You shook your head with a smile, applying lipgloss over your tinted lips, “I’m kidding, baby.” You turned around, shrugging your shoulders shyly, “it’s a little too much for the zoo, isn’t it?”
Jay’s eyebrows shot up. Huh?
“I guess I just wanted to make myself look a little nicer than usual, since… you know, it’s been a while you had a day off.”
“Daddy said we’re not going to the zoo.” Taesan announced dramatically.
Surprise flickered on your face. “Oh.”
Shit. Now he felt so guilty.
Jay sat upright, causing both of his children to fall off his body due to the sudden movement. “No, we can go!”
Chaehee climbed back on his lap as if nothing happened.
“Why don’t you wanna go?” A subtle pout formed on your shiny pink lips unconsciously as you sat on the bed beside him.
“He said he had a long week!” Taesan answered for him, frustrated, “he only wants to sleep all day!”
You nodded, “I see…”, rubbing your husband’s leg affectionately. “It’s okey, honey, you should rest.”
“No! He promised! He promised yesterday when we ate dinner! Do you remember, mommy?”
You looked at Jay, pursing your lips.
The guilty feeling spread out in his chest like wildfire.
Oh.
“Taesannie, it’s okey, daddy will take us to the zoo next time, okey? He’s tired from work, we should let him rest. How about we go to the park instead, hm?” You brushed Taesan’s hair.
Jay shook his head firmly, “no, honey, I’m fine. You’re already dressed up and got the kids ready, too. We should go.” He sat Chaehee on the bed and stood up.
You glanced up at him, “Jay, it’s totally fine. We can do this another time. You worked a lot the last weeks, you should rest. I’ll take the kids out.”
“No way.” Jay stood in front of you, his tousled hair and only underwear-clothed body a stark contrast to your put-together, styled appearance.
“Gimme 5 minutes.” He kissed your forehead, clasping your face. Then he leaned down to kiss your lips, your lipgloss transferring over on his lips.
“Are we really going??” Taesan stood up in disbelief.
Jay hummed, quickly pressing a kiss on his babygirl too as he went to your closet.
“Are we going because I told you??”
“Yeah… of course, buddy,” he passed by and ruffled Taesan’s hair, “and because your mother is just way too pretty to deny her anything she wants.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚ ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
In another universe, Jungwon would be Jay’s child lol
bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic and down BADDDD. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. slowburn. fluff. angst. two idiots in love. profanity. miscommunication. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki, riize's anton, &team's maki, illit, and other idols.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ jwon arms and jwon hands would get me folding too idc idc idc
warnings. MDNI (there'll be a warning cut), heavy angst, alpha!jay being our target again i'm so sorry this is the last time i promise!, tw: nosebleed, softdom!heeseung because i love soft doms, p in v, fingering, missionary AND doggy because why not, unprotected sex (haih pls just don't), loss of virginity, nipple sucking, body worshipping, BITING, MARKING, BITE-MARK, heeseung cries a lot good lord but he deserves it lowkey, LIKE BONNIE AND CLYDE MAKIN' LOVEEE (insert hoonwon's voice), yes they make love your honour, and yes it's a happy ending your honour, not beta read we die like injang, tumblr pls stop with your 1000 blocks limit im gna come at you!!! lmk if i missed anything :>
word count. 15,175 words
note. i'm sorryyyyyyy for the delay sjshidshk here's the last part!!! thank you for showing this series your love and support <3
It’s finally the day of the competition.
Yet you haven’t heard from Heeseung for days.
You try not to make it obvious, nor to show how much you care. Not when Jungwon wouldn’t say anything either.
The younger alpha has been replacing Heeseung instead, walking you home while chatting about anything but the elephant in the room.
Or, in your case, the wolf in your universe.
There’s a lump of disappointment lodging in your chest whenever you think about it. You think that Heeseung has finally given up on trying to make up. You think that you’ve been too indifferent and unintentionally have pushed him away further than the two of you have ever been.
You don’t know why the thought makes you feel bitter.
“Our pitching is next,” Jungwon whispers next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watch the group before you begin their pitching presentation.
In the first stage, the pitching was done in separate rooms to make it less time-consuming. But your group has advanced to the final stage, and now you have to convince five professionals from the business industry why your business idea is better than three other groups in front of hundreds of audience.
The image makes your blazer suddenly feel too tight around your ribs. You shift, trying not to think about the eyes watching every movement of the participants sitting on the far end of the stage.
Where the hell did this many people come from, anyway? You never see this crowd in lecture halls!
“Y/N. You’re nervous.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“Well, you don’t really smell like you’re relaxed right now.”
You purse your lips. Jungwon is right, of course, except you actually feel like your nerves are on the edge of bursting.
You’re not exactly good with stage fright. Especially in front of all these people whose names sound way too dramatic, like they don’t belong to the normal citizens like you. Their eyes are too penetrative, like they’re already figuring out every single doubt and nerves in your body, ready to tackle with impossible-to-answer questions.
You move in your seat again, trying to find comfort. But the seat is too hard for your tailbone. Beside you, Jungwon leans closer, speaking over the speaker blasting by your ears.
“Are you going to Jake hyung’s after party tonight?”
“His after party?” your eyebrows shoot up. Then you remember the invitation and something inside you sinks.
“Oh. Right. It’s his birthday today, right?”
And Heeseung must be there, you think bitterly, unaware of the withering daisies now wafting from your neck. They’re close friends, after all.
You don’t understand why, or you maybe actually do, but the lump in your chest only gets bigger. Really, you shouldn’t expect much by a man. They’ll always prioritise their homeboys over you in every way, your brain adds to the fuel.
Jungwon chuckles when he sees your frown, showing off his perfect dimples that could disarm any opponent.
Something clicks in your mind. Yeap. That’s right. You just need to force Jungwon to smile in front of the judges and surely—
“Relax, Heeseung hyung’s daisy. Look to your right.”
You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of his name finally being mentioned by the younger alpha, or the flutter in your chest at being called his daisy—but your head whips so fast in that direction, heart ramming behind your ribs.
Seated at the front row, standing out too much due to his handsome features and not-so-subtle hair colour, is Lee Heeseung. From where you sit, you can’t really make out his expression.
But the alpha is already staring at you, burgundy hair swept back neatly to expose his forehead. A small curve of his lips quirks up like he’s been expecting you to notice him.
You sit dumbly as he gives you a tiny wave, not sure what to do now that the alpha is actually here.
Here. To watch your group presentation and not there: To celebrate Jake’s birthday at his party.
For the first time in weeks, you feel your omega stirs and you almost choke.
“It’s our turn!”
You inhale sharply, snapping your eyes back to the centre of the stage. The previous group is already receiving applause and walking towards the other end of the stage to join the audience.
Okay. It’s actually your turn.
You feel sick to your stomach. You almost miss it when Jungwon nudges at you to stand, smoothing down his own blazer as he shoots you a dimpled smile. On the way to the centre of the stage, your mind is nothing more than a whirlwind of overthinking.
Trailing after Jungwon in your heels is nerve-wracking because what if you trip?
Bowing down to greet the judges and audience is scary because what if you lose your balance?
Staring back at the audience is distressing because what if they silently judge your makeup?
But all thoughts fly out the window when you meet eyes with Heeseung again.
As if the noise in your head suddenly vanishes, you can feel your frantic mind quieting down and your breathing, previously quite erratic, steadies without so much effort.
And it only happens when Heeseung holds your gaze, trusting and comforting all at the same time.
It’s like the stage was a tidal wave and Heeseung was the shore that keeps you safe.
Your omega stirs again.
Before you know it, Jungwon is already passing the mic to you. You take in a shaky breath, sweaty palms almost slippery, and imagine that every cell in your brain is filing up your speech in a neat line.
Despite your worries, everything goes well.
Your presentation goes on without a hitch and it ends exactly the way your best-scenario imagination does. You even manage to answer one out of five questions from the panel, and you can’t help the pride swelling in your chest when your group is announced as the first runner-up of the competition.
It’s a national-level competition, so being in the top three is already satisfactory for you and your group members, who were lowballing to only bring home participation certificates.
“First runner up is good enough! Congrats!” you squeal, almost hugging Jungwon in your excitement. The alpha dodges you as if you were a bullet, eyes darting to somewhere behind your head.
“Hey. You dodged my hug,” you huff.
“I have no intention to challenge a dominant alpha,” Jungwon gives you a teasing smile and wiggles his eyebrows. You raise yours, and before you can ask what he means by that, Jungwon is already raising his hand and waving at someone.
“Heeseung hyung! Your daisy is here!”
Your daisy. Heeseung hyung’s daisy.
His daisy.
Crimson red blooms across your cheeks, and your heart decides to skip a few beats you think it’s going to fall to the floor from how fast it's pounding.
Jungwon is fast to grab your shoulders and turn you around, like a proud parent introducing their child to their conglomerate friends. Your protest dies in your throat once your eyes settle on Heeseung’s approaching figure.
He’s donning a white dress shirt with slightly rolled-up sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms and athin silver bracelet. A dark gray vest, tailored and buttoned neatly hugs his frame snugly, showing off his narrow waist. There’s a big bouquet of pink roses held close to his chest, handled delicately like it’s something sacred.
His eyes, round and soft around the edges, are already trained on you. A wide smile curves up his lips, charming and disarming you’re sure the omegas around you are stealing glances.
Inside, your omega stirs again.
“Hi, Y/N.” He holds out the bouquet to you, his smiling turning shy. “For you.”
You take it slowly, admiring the beautiful petals. There are tiny daisies filling up the spaces between the roses and you feel something tug at your heartstring.
“Thank you, Heeseung. How’ve you been?”
Closer, only now do you notice the lack of colour in his face. His cheeks are losing its radiant flush, and his lips are void of its usual pinkish hue. There’s a slight delay before he responds and his smile comes slower than usual.
Something feels off. Not obvious enough to name, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten.
As if noticing your stare, Heeseung tries to cover his face. He raises his hand and pretends to cough.
“I was quite sick,” he says after a moment, trying to sound casual. He gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry that I didn’t show up without any updates.”
“It’s okay,” you softly say. You don’t know if it’s truly okay, though, because now your heart thinks that there’s something wrong.
Is he hiding something from you?
“I came to see you,” he says, like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be. “I didn’t want to miss it. Congratulations, Y/N.”
He really came for you. Not for Jungwon or anyone. Not to Jake or anyone. But for you.
You can faintly hear your omega murmuring something, but your racing heart is louder than any noise in your head.
You’re about to reply when Jungwon inserts himself into the conversation, announcing his presence like a royal entering a ball.
“Thank you, hyung! I know we were great.” Jungwon says way too loudly, forcing Heeseung to shake hands with him. You let out a laugh while Heeseung only rolls his eyes.
“You too, Jungwon.”
“Anyway, why don’t we take a picture?” Jungwon, ever the trusted wingman, wiggles an eyebrow at Heeseung, hoping that you won’t notice. You actually do, but for some reason, you don’t say anything against it.
Heeseung studies your face. “Can I take a picture with you, Y/N?”
You hesitate for a second, heat sweeping across your cheeks before you nod. “Sure.”
Jungwon instantly pushes you in Heeseung’s direction. The dominant alpha, not expecting his accomplice to take such a bold move, catches you by the elbows instinctively. His fast reflexes are proving to be useful in the situation.
“Okay, look at the camera. Y/N, don’t be so stiff!”
Jungwon, that menace. One of these days you’re gonna beat his ass for sure.
“Heeseung hyung, is that a GDP gap? Get closer!”
“I’m sorry about him,” Heeseung whispers into your ears and chuckles breathily. Something kicks in your heart. “He’s a bit annoying, right?”
You just cannot hold your tongue. “He is, and I had to stick around with him when you weren’t around,” you catch yourself saying and silently curse yourself. Beside you, Heeseung stills for a second.
Why are you already whining to him? Fuck these stupid feelings, man. You’re still mad at him!
But Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his grin only gets wider. He leans down further, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ears.
“I’ll keep trying,” he murmurs, edged with his usual determination. “Even if you don’t let me.”
You try not to notice that Jungwon has been silently snapping the candid moments. You also try to ignore the way your heart beats like a war drum. You try not to think too much about the manly pheromones coming from Heeseung—the cinnamon and sea salt that are awakening old memories, and the way his taller shoulder brushes yours.
“On three!” Jungwon interrupts, a boyish smirk on his face. You quickly clear your throat and smile at the camera.
“Two!”
Heeseung’s left shoulder bumps into you softly from behind, angling his body to face you. His hand hovers a safe distance from the back of your waist, not touching you even by accident like he’s afraid even that would be too much.
“One!”
As the flash goes off and you hold the bouquet dearly to your chest, you quietly wonder when it stopped hurting so much.
The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of Yujin squealing and thumping on your door.
“Y/N! Get your fucking ass out now!”
The urgency in her voice makes you jolt awake and scramble to your feet. With sleepiness still clinging to your lashes, you stumble to the door, mentally preparing yourself to punch a robber.
“Yujin! What is it?!” you ask, voice hoarse but still laced with panic.
“Did you already make up with Heeseung?!”
You pause and stand there dumbly, hazy mind slowly clearing up at her sudden interrogation. With the biggest question mark on your face, you blurt out, “Huh?”
“Heeseung posted you on his Instagram!”
“Huh?”
“Y/N! He never posted girls on his account!” Yujin screams in your face, looking more excited than ever. “Fucking hell, open your damn phone!”
Yujin rushes into your room, flipping your pillows where she knows you always keep your phone despite the electromagnet radiation that she warns you about. She unlocks the screen by shoving it into your bleary face and hits the pink-purple-orange gradient icon quickly.
“There!”
You blink the blurriness away from your eyes, adjusting to the bright screen in your face. Yujin waits impatiently, gauging your reaction with wide eyes.
On the screen is the picture you took last night. You haven’t checked the result yet because you were quickly ushered away to take group pictures with other participants after and by the time you reached home, you were out the moment your head hit the pillow.
But now, you realise, the picture turns out really well.
Heeseung stands taller than you, a close-lipped smile spreading wide across his face as he stood proud and protective beside you. You have a similar smile mirroring his, leaned into him in a way that hinted at familiarity and domesticity. The pop of colour from the roses makes the picture look more alive, and the colour filter he used makes it look almost nostalgic.
An ancient feeling, like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, blooms in your chest. You stare at the picture longer than intended, then read the caption he typed in cursive.
‘smarty daisy did it again.’
You re-read it once. Then twice. The soft declaration, the hints on intimacy makes your omega purr in delight. Nobody has ever called you daisy, especially their daisy, but here Heeseung is: calling you his daisy like he’s just found a new favourite flower.
“Yujin…”
To your surprise, Yujin replies with a sniffle. When you look up, her eyes are already glossed over.
“Yujin? Why are you…”
“I’m sorry I got emotional,” Yujin cuts in, laughing it off like a funny joke with a shaky voice.
“It’s just—I never met true mates. And while the circumstances between you two weren’t great, I’m just so glad that you have an alpha willing to amend his mistakes.”
You can already feel your eyes watering.
“Yujin…”
Yujin takes your hands in her hold and urges you to sit on the mattress with her. It’s silent for a moment, and you take the chance to stare at the picture again.
It’s an Instagram story, but there is already a long line of comments. You read through each one of them, curiosity getting the best of you.
narin.kim no fucking way
jakesimisimiya hey so u ditched me ON MY BDAY
jeyipark @jakesimisimiya talk to me i am his lawyer
just.jungwon cute cute cuteeeee wonder who took the pic tho
evanlee @just.jungwon she is cute
nishimurariki welcome to the simp club
sunooyaa it’s time to ask me if my back hurts from carrying this ship
Every comment makes your breath feel shorter. You try hard to bite back a smile and ignore the small flutter in your chest, not noticing the way Yujin observes everything. When she eventually speaks, her voice has dropped to a serious tone.
“Have you forgiven him?”
You tear your eyes away from your phone, taking a moment to reply. Then, with a shake of your head, you reply, “No. Not yet, I think.”
It’s not a whole lie. While the human part of you has already forgiven him, your omega is still giving you radio silence. But for now, you decide to keep it to yourself first—the way your omega has been more responsive these days, albeit slowly and slightly.
“That’s good,” Yujin nods. “Forgiveness should come from your heart. You shouldn’t force it just because you feel bad for him.”
The words land like a gentle reminder tucking you in a warm blanket. You don’t say anything and look back at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply box. The gears of your mind start turning, looking for a polite way to thank the alpha.
Then, softly, Yujin continues, making your head spin with the weight of her words for the rest of the day.
“But when it’s really time to forgive him, I hope you don’t run away from it too.”
You end up reposting Heeseung’s story and hide.
The attention is quite heavy for you, to be honest. You’ve never been the centre of that many eyes, not since in the backyard of Jake’s frat house.
You never dare ask Heeseung as well. A reply of, ‘Thank you Heeseung’ is all you can manage, keeping the rest of the sentence to yourself.
‘Why did you post only me?’
You’re not blind. You see the chaos he created from that single post. The notorious alpha who doesn’t do relationships, who always prioritises his friends over girls is suddenly skipping Jake’s birthday to see a boring competition and posting a picture with the omega he came for. You become a hot sensation overnight—people just can’t stop talking about it.
Because of that, thoughts about him become even more frequent and inevitably, your heart starts to melt at how persistent he is.
It’s been more than a month yet Heeseung doesn’t falter. He keeps choosing you in routine. He keeps choosing you in public.
And, apparently, he chooses you in private, too.
You don’t mean to overhear the conversation, really. You’re just leaving the restroom during practice break, about to have lunch with Rei when you see two shadows disappearing around the corner. Your heart almost stops.
Seeing Heeseung and Narin together brings back old wounds that almost makes you lose your mind. Your quiet omega has been tugging you to follow, to see what the alpha is doing with the omega that your wolf has marked with a red ink on her forehead.
So you follow them quietly, covering your scent gland with a hand in hope to hide your presence. With your back to the wall, you hold your breath as you hear the conversation between the two of them.
“—on, Heeseung. You left things unfinished that night.” Narin’s voice is the one you hear first, frustration spilling into her tone.
“I don’t intend to finish it,” Heeseung replies, always sounding calm and composed. It painfully reminds you of the talk you had with him after the tournament.
“Why? You always sleep with different people. Why did I never get a chance?” Narin scoffs, disbelieving. “And they've been saying that you’ve stopped!”
“I have. I don’t do that anymore.”
“Is it because of Y/N?”
Your ear perks up. Damn bro, they’re now talking about you. It slips from your mind sometimes, about how childish Narin can be. Something akin to anticipation builds up in your chest, waiting for Heeseung’s reply.
“Yes,” he answers, firm and fast. “I’m pursuing her right now. I hope that’s clear.”
There is silence from Narin, but the spike in her scent sours the atmosphere almost instantly. While you, well, you try not to feel so giddy about it.
“Are you stupid? Her? Didn’t she cut the—”
“What happened between Y/N and I is a private matter of our hearts. It’s not your business,” Heeseung cuts in sharply with a bite to his voice. Your omega shifts inside you. “Are you done? Because I’m leaving.”
Panic ensues in your system at the thought of being caught eavesdropping. Your mind scrambles for escape, so without thinking you almost sprint to the vending machine at the end of the hallway and pretend to buy a drink.
Acting like you don’t notice them while catching your breath proves to be the hardest sport for you yet. You stare blankly at the vending machine, unaware of the grape juice sitting right under your nose and fully aware of the manly pheromones approaching you.
Thank Goddess that he smells like himself only. You think you’re going to break down if Narin’s scent clings onto him.
“Are you thinking of a different drink?” Heeseung murmurs softly, standing beside you and mimicking you staring at the machine.
You steal a glance at him, feeling the movement of your wolf becoming more responsive and bold. Behind your ribs, your heart is galloping like a horse.
“No. I still like grape juice.”
“Mhm, okay,” Heeseung fishes out his wallet and makes the purchase like it’s routine. The impact of the can dropping can’t even beat the loud pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung opens the can with one hand.
“For you.”
“Thank you.”
You take it, fingers brushing his. You try not to overthink the sparks the touch sends to your system and quietly drink, feeling his eyes boring into the side of your face.
“Y/N, I have something to tell you,” he begins, this time sounding slightly nervous. “Narin and I talked just now.”
Oh. Okay. He’s actually coming clean about it.
You didn’t expect that at all.
You nod, still not looking at him. Heeseung takes a second to himself, like he’s plotting something, then before you know it, he’s already moving to stand in front of you, bending his body to be on your eye-level.
You almost choke and take a step back.
“Heeseung?”
“I need you to look into my eyes,” he licks his lips, holding your eyes with his intense gaze. “Because I need you to know that you’re the only omega I like and I’m pursuing.”
The sincerity in his voice is almost too much, but you find savouring it instead.
“And I made that clear to her just now.”
Is he trying to reassure you?
You search his face, and all you can see in those dark eyes is utter devotion and determination.
It makes your chest tighten.
“I’m serious, Y/N. I will keep trying no matter what.”
You can only hum and nod, failing to find your voice.
“Okay.”
Heeseung shoots you with a small grin and straightens up. He glances at his smartwatch and frowns.
“I have to skip tonight’s practice. There’s a meeting about the upcoming music festival,” he says, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I’ll find someone to walk you home.”
“It’s okay. I’ll use the Safe Night Walk service,” you politely decline, already sick of hearing Jungwon talking about his lifelong crush on some noona that won’t see him as a man every time he walks you home.
Seriously, you don’t blame that omega. Jungwon is really cute, it’s hard to see him more than a kitty cat.
Heeseung’s face, on the other hand, twists into confusion before a look of understanding crosses his face.
Safe Night Walk is a service provided by the omega activist club of your university. The purpose is pretty self-explanatory, where any omega who’d like to go home at night can request an alpha to keep them safe. It’s pretty well-known for how rigid the alpha selection process is, seeing as the new president of the club is the fiercest to hold the title yet, making the service the most credible it has ever been.
Which is probably why Heeseung agrees to it too easily.
“Oh, right. Jay also tried for the selection, but he never told me if he passed or not,” Heeseung pauses, pondering about something.
“Sunghoon also signed up for it and we know each other. Do you want me to contact him?”
You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get someone when it’s time to go home.”
It’s quite hard to convince the alpha that you don’t need his friend’s service, but Heeseung eventually relents. He gives you a fond smile, walking backwards and not breaking eye contact.
“Call me if no alpha is available.”
“Okay.”
“I will run to you in ten minutes. No—five minutes.”
Your heart stutters, but your face remains neutral. “As if you can do that.”
Heeseung grins. The easy affection etched in his features is almost too scary for you to bear.
“For you, I will.”
The shared apartment is quiet save for the track playing from his producer room. Heeseung lies down on his couch, staring at the ceiling in silence. His lyrics notebook sits idly on the coffee table, open and now forgotten. Outside, the rain pouring down does nothing to wash down his guilt.
He had lied to you.
He just came back from a doctor appointment, not a meeting about any festival. A checkup meant to follow up with his condition after the night he collapsed in Jay’s arms.
‘You only have two weeks to win the omega back. If nothing succeeds, you must cut the one-sided bond, Heeseung-ssi.”
Heeseung only wants to do one thing and cutting the bond is not an option.
It’s better for him to die being yours than to live being nothing to you.
“I’m sorry,” he quietly mutters to the empty space.
“I ran away again,” he swallows thickly. “I’m still the old Heeseung in some ways. I’m sorry, Y/N.”
The pitter-patter of the rain is the only sound he receives back, thickening the guilt spilling over his chest.
He grazes the scent gland with the tip of his finger. It pulses slowly, faintly, like a calm before a storm. A storm that is just turning the key and entering the door.
“I’m home,” Jay announces, toeing off his shoes. There are tiny droplets of rain in his hoodie, but that’s not what catches Heeseung’s attention.
It’s the scent that lingers in his citrusy pheromones.
Soft daisies and sweet honey—unmistakingly you.
Jay smells like you.
Something churns violently in his stomach.
Every silent breakdown, every secret insecurity of his best friend comes crashing down on him. His blood roars in his ears that Heeseung believes he’s seeing red.
In that one single sniff that he picks up with his sensitive nose, Heeseung almost thinks that the floor holding his weight is crumbling down.
He springs up to sit, eyes narrowing down in his friend’s direction. His alpha is already growling, ready to take the other alpha down in a fight.
Jay, still oblivious to the storm building inside the house, throws Heeseung a smile.
“Hee, just now—”
“Park Jongseong,” Heeseung starts slowly, trying to hide the hurt in his voice as he stands and approaches him slowly. “Why the fuck do you smell like her?”
Jay’s expression turns into confusion. He sniffs at the collar of his hoodie and—oh.
Oh.
Heeseung can’t stand the look of realisation on his face. It’s like being left out of something that should be his, something that only he should know and have. His chest twists sharply and before he can stop himself, he’s already shoving Jay into the wall, fists trembling with restraint.
“Jay,” he breathes out, his voice treading the edges of fear and heartbreak. “Please tell me why the fuck am I smelling Y/N on your right now.”
Despite his anger, Heeseung’s voice sounds way too broken. Anxiety cracks through his demeanour, and for a moment, Heeseung’s not sure if he wants to hear Jay’s answer. There is a thin veil of tears glossing over his eyes and his scent gland is throbbing violently, shooting pain all over his body.
It’s almost like he was back in the backyard, watching you scream in pain as you smelled another woman on him. Heeseung sobs, hating himself even more than he ever did.
Was this how you felt that night?
Jay claws at the hands around his collar, almost gasping for air.
“Heeseung—it’s not what you think—”
“Then tell me! Fuck!” he shouts, eyes pleading Jay desperately to prove him wrong.
The longer he smells the blend of your scent with Jay’s pheromones, the dizzier his head gets. His frantic heart is buzzing with the thoughts of being replaced, of losing yet another chance to make things right, of losing you.
His self-esteem, already in pieces since that tragic night, is filled with doubt and uncertainty to the brim.
Not you, please. Heeseung quietly prays. Please not you, Jay.
“I walked her home!” Jay yells, face red from how tight Heeseung’s gripping his collar. His wolf whines at the unexpected aggression from his closest alpha, confused and wounded from being treated like an enemy. “She used the Safe Night Walk service and I was one of the alphas on duty.”
Hearing that, Heeseung’s grip loosens a fraction, trying desperately to believe his friend.
“It’s raining so I lent her my hoodie.” Jay quietly mutters, losing the previous edge. There’s a look of hurt on his face now that he fails to mask. He searches Heeseung’s tearful face, dread growing in his chest.
Despite the aggression, Jay cannot find it in him to be upset when all he can see in his friend is fear and hurt.
“Please, Heeseung. I will never betray you like that.”
Heeseung bites his lips until it bleeds and finally lets go. Jay almost drops down to the floor, clawing at his throat for relief. His neck has turned deep red, bruised from Heeseung’s grip.
Heeseung is strong even when he never admits it, the dominant traits in him giving him the advantage when his wolf is riled up. Jay is lucky that Heeseung didn’t use his commanding voice—he would’ve been helpless if it happened.
But deep down, Jay knows that Heeseung would never do that to him. They’re best friends, after all.
The air is thick and heavy with a dominant alpha’s wrath. Heeseung doesn’t even realise how sharp his scent has turned until he finds himself struggling to breathe.
There’s a ringing silence between the two alphas. Jay is still on the floor, chest heaving rapidly as he tries to process. Heeseung, on the other hand, is on the verge of breaking apart.
Quietly, the alpha mutters an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
Heeseung leaves the house in a storm of cinnamon and tearful bergamot, slamming the door so hard the frame rattles.
He’s never felt closer to death than tonight.
You take your time with your skincare. Or rather, you’re actually zoning out while tapping toner into your skin.
Your conversation with Jay still lingers in the back of your mind.
“Thank you for giving him a chance, Y/N. I was scared that you wouldn’t.”
What would happen if you didn’t?
You sigh and stare into the mirror. You’re freshly out of the shower and in your comfiest pajamas, yet a hint of Jay’s pheromones is still there. It seems that the rain doesn’t wash it away; it only makes it stick longer.
Inside, your omega shifts uncomfortably, unsettled by the scent of the foreign alpha. You roll your eyes.
“I know you hate it, but it can’t be helped when we haven’t forgiven him yet.” You grunt, capping your bottled product. “I mean, I already did, but since you’re like, my other half, I can’t just—”
Forgiven.
The toner slips from your hand and clatters on the floor.
Your lungs freeze.
“...What?”
I want to forgive him.
Slowly, a habit that you’re already accustomed to since that night, you place a hand on your chest. Your omega’s presence is more tangible now, like she’s finally arose from her deep slumber.
And she’s finally talking to you.
“Are you sure?” you start slowly, not wanting to offend the fragile soul. “We can take more time, you don’t have to feel rushed—”
I want my alpha, Y/N. I forgive him and I hope you do, too.
Every word fails you in that moment. You stand alone in your room, with only your wolf as your lifelong companion. There’s a strange feeling in your heart.
“Idiot. I told you, didn’t I? The stubborn one out of the two of us is you.”
He hurt us badly, Y/N. Of course I had to stand on business.
“It’s better that you did,” you hum, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. “Or else I probably won’t see this side of him and will only remember him as a bad alpha.”
Your omega doesn’t reply. In return, there’s a soft pulsing in your scent gland; something that hasn’t occurred in so long. You gasp.
But before you can process it, your phone rings, the noise slicing through the atmosphere sharply. You frown when you see that it’s your next-door neighbour, a fellow floormate that likes to borrow your detergent.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, oh my Goddess. Don’t come out!” she whisper-shouts, panic evident in her voice. “There’s an alpha outside of your door right now and he smells so bad. I think he’s dangerous. We’re about to call the security.”
Your heart drops. “What? Who?”
There’s a sound of movement and whispering before you hear a gasp.
“Okay, what the hell. It’s actually Heeseung and he’s crying,” your floormate says in disbelief. You, on the other hand, are in bigger disbelief.
Heeseung? Didn’t Yujin already let him know that you’re home?
Your feet are already padding across the tiles of your apartment, heart beating in your lungs.
“Y/N…I think you need to come out. He’s not moving at all.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
Your sweaty palm trembles at the doorknob. Heeseung’s pheromones, thick and definitely smells distressed—which explains why your neighbour said that he smells bad—seeps through the gap between the door and the floor. But he doesn’t knock, like he’s here only to feel your presence.
Your omega whines, restless from the distressed pheromones, eager to comfort. You take a deep breath before you yank the door open.
The scene that greets you almost makes you speechless.
Heeseung stands in front of you, head hanging low like he’s trying to make himself smaller. The hallways are filled with slightly open doors and heads peeking out; all the omegas and betas living on this floor are definitely curious about the distress-smelling alpha and his omega.
“Heeseung?”
He doesn’t respond at first. His breaths come out uneven—too sharp, too shallow—like his lungs have forgotten to work properly. For a second, you think he doesn’t hear you.
But then, he lifts his gaze slightly, holding back a storm behind his eyes as he looks into yours. His nose flares, and then his scent turns more sour.
“Heeseung?”
There, lingering too faintly under your body wash, your lotion, and your own scent like it’s already fading out slowly—is Jay’s pheromones.
Something finally shatters in his chest.
“You smell like him.”
His voice is grim and shaky, tugging at your heartstrings. You immediately know what he’s referring to and for some reason, an ugly feeling twists in yiur gut.
But before you can respond, Heeseung already drops to his knees.
A chorus of gasps is heard across the hallways. The bystanders are no longer caring about being seen eavesdropping. You think you even see a phone directed your way, but it’s the least of your concern now.
“Heeseung—”
“I can take anything you do to me,” Heeseung’s voice cracks, barely holding it together. “I can take any punishment you want to give me but not this.”
Heeseung cranes his neck. Trails of tears clinging to his lashes are falling his nose, his cheeks, the side of his face, down to the floor.
“Please, not him. Please—I beg you.”
His face crumples, like he’s imagining the sight of you and Jay together in his mind.
“I can’t—” his breath stutters, chest heaving like it’s caving in on itself. “I can’t do it, Y/N. I thought I could take it. I thought I deserved it, but—”
His fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, knuckles turning white.
“It hurts,” he chokes out, voice breaking into something almost unrecognisable. “It hurts so fucking bad.”
Your heart lurches.
Because you know.
You know exactly what he’s feeling.
The suffocating ache. The betrayal that sits in your lungs and refuses to let you breathe. The way your mind spirals, painting images you don’t want to see but can’t stop imagining.
It’s the same pain.
The same one he put you through.
Heeseung lets out a broken sound, shaking his head like he’s trying to rid himself of it.
“I get it now,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “I get why you looked at me like that. I get why you—”
Heeseung cuts himself off. This time, a more pained, more broken noise slips past his lips.
“I get why you ended it.”
Everything hurts. His scent gland is angry red, throbbing endlessly like a sign of the real ending. His head pounds sharply and his lungs—oh Goddess, Heeseung can’t breathe.
His body sways. Instinctively, you crouch down to his level and catch him before he can fall. Panic fills up your system when a trickle of crimson blood starts peeking out of his nose.
No. No, please no. Not this again.
You cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks shakily. You turn your face and shout at your neighbour to call the ambulance or anyone—you just can’t let this happen.
You can’t let Heeseung go through the same pain you did.
“Heeseung, please don’t close your eyes.”
His head weighs heavier as he lolls forward, eyes almost snapping shut. You let his head rest on your shoulder, not caring about the blood now staining your shirt. Hot tears brim along your lashline.
“Heeseung, please—”
“Please forgive me,” Heeseung whispers weakly into your ears. The pain is unbearable, crushing his bones and penetrating his system like a sharp-end disease—an inevitable reaction from smelling another alpha on you.
So this is what you went through, he thinks wistfully. You must be in so much pain.
“Please forgive me, Y/N.”
“Where’s the ambulance?!” You finally break, cheeks wet with tears. Heeseung has completely gone still in your embrace, adding panic to your system. You reach out to hold his face.
“No, no, please.”
The lower part of his face is smudged red. His eyes close shut, still leaking out his tears even in his unconsciousness.
You let out an ugly sob, feeling utterly broken and scared.
“I forgive you, Heeseung. Please.”
You’re so fucking scared. Scared of losing yet another life you could’ve had when you were so close to having it.
Scared of not having the chance to love and to be loved again, this time with the person your soul chooses and not because fate says so.
“Please don’t leave me again.”
When Heeseung comes to, you’re holding his hands, zoning out.
There’s a distant look in your expression. A thin air of sad, wilted daisies lingers, no doubt wafting from you. His wolf, having just woken up like him, immediately shifts restlessly in his chest at the scent.
Your thumb brushes over his knuckles absentmindedly, tracing the veins like you’re memorising something before it disappears again.
He stays quiet, letting his eyes trace every curve of your features. The pretty slope of your nose, the soft swell of your cheeks, the petals of your lips. Then they stop at your puffy eyes.
Something inside him twists uncomfortably.
Why does he always make you cry?
You don’t even notice that he’s awake yet, too lost in your head as you stare at the beige wall of the ward. Not until he squeezes your hand back, eager and nervous to see if you’ll return it back or let go.
When you feel the grip tighten, your eyes snap back to him. And then, like a small win that heals something in his heart, you squeeze his hand back.
Heeseung almost breaks down.
“You’re awake,” you say in relief and move to stand. “I’ll get the doctor.”
Heeseung obeys, never finding it in him to go against your words anymore. But his hand never lets go. He savours every second that you let him hold you—the closest he’s ever touched you since the night he saved you.
He doesn’t let go even as the doctor does a checkup on him. The doctor comes in with Jay, who looks as disheveled as he is. There’s an awkward atmosphere between the two alphas, but neither dares to say anything and lets the doctor do his job.
He was unconscious for twelve hours, apparently.
“The scenting from your omega helped speed up the recovery process,” the doctor elaborates. Heeseung steals a glance at you, gauging your reaction, but your face remains neutral.
It’s no wonder that he’s been feeling at peace since waking up—you had been scenting him when he was out.
“You just need to stay for a blood test and then you’re good to go,” the doctor continues, flashing him with a reassuring smile.
Murmurs of thank-yous ripple in the room as the three of you watch the doctor take his leave. Shortly after, the tension returns, and it’s almost obvious to you that the suffocating air comes from the two best friends.
Jay shifts on his feet awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “I’m gonna grab us lunch.”
Which leaves him alone with you in the room.
Heeseung braves himself and takes a look at you, but you’re already staring at him. Your stare unsettles him, like you’re waiting for him to confess for a crime he didn’t know yet he committed.
“How are you feeling?” you ask instead.
“I—I think I’m good. Yeah,” Heeseung says quickly, a bit taken aback. He watches as you nod, then inspect his face by blinking closer, oblivious to the way he almost explodes from the proximity.
When satisfied, you lean back slightly, but still keep a close distance with him.
“Heeseung.”
The temperature suddenly drops, and the serious look on your face damn near makes him cry. Heeseung tries to mask his panic.
Did he do something wrong again? Fuck. He messed up, didn’t he?
“Hm?”
You take a shaky breath. “Jay told me about everything.”
Heeseung freezes. Everything?
Everything as in the fight that almost broke out last night? Everything as in how pathetic he is for you, which shouldn’t be so shocking or earth-shattering because he is pathetic and a loser for you?
Or everything as in his worsening health condition?
For a moment, you just stare at him. But the more seconds pass, the more obvious it is that you’re holding back tears.
“About the two options you had.”
Heeseung stops breathing. True to his speculation, it is about his health condition. About the fate that he has to choose, about the options that stand between mercy and cruelty.
“Why didn't you tell me? No—” you shake your head, your grip on his hand trembling greatly. His lips remain shut.
“Why didn’t you just cut the bond?”
The sadness dripping in your scent feels almost physical. You hang your head low, enveloping the two of you with the distressed scent of your pheromones. A low whine echoes in your chest, not heard but felt. Your omega is just as destroyed as you are, utterly horrified from the choice he made.
What if you never forgive him? What would become of him?
Heeseung brushes his thumb over your hand consciously, trying to seep his own calming pheromones into your troubled scent. It helps, he notices, as the tremble in your hands subsides, breath evening out.
Then, with a raw honesty, he answers.
“Because I didn’t want a life where you don’t exist in it.”
There’s a lump in your throat but you swallow it down, refusing to break now that you have the chance to understand. To understand the equally wounded alpha in front of you, flawed yet still trying.
“I know that sounds selfish,” he adds quickly. “It is. I was choosing myself when I said that.”
You shake your head, tears threatening to escape. “You could’ve died, no—you almost died, Heeseung.”
“I know.”
Heeseung doesn’t argue. He looks down to your joined hands, branding his brain with the image. A soft smile appears on his lips. He wishes he could hold your hands more often.
“I just…” he exhales shakily. “I thought if I let go of the bond, it would be like I never got the chance to love you at all.”
You squeeze his hand. Your alpha, you realise, is just as soft as you are. He’s always been. It was just misunderstood and misdirected—his flaws that almost cost you your life. You resented him for it, ran from him to avoid it, made it hard for him to save yourself.
But in the end, quietly, tenderly—you find yourself forgiving him.
You understand now; what he was afraid of.
For Heeseung who used to live in short-lived attachments and practiced detachment, loving someone would sound like a too-big responsibility for him. Too lost in his own fear—fear of loving someone so much they could have power over you—he made choices that hurt you.
It doesn’t justify his actions, nor did it undo everything. But understanding him softens the pain.
“You’re so stupid,” you finally whisper, but it breaks halfway through. Heeseung looks almost hurt from your comment.
“I already forgave you.”
His head snaps up but you don’t look at him.
You take your time to speak. “I already did for a while. I was just waiting for my omega to open up her heart,” you chance him a glance and smile wistfully.
“And she did just before you came to my door last night.”
A beat of silence passes by. Heeseung can’t seem to find his voice, too stunned with the sudden grace being granted upon him.
He searches your face. For any lies, for any possible fabrication. He’s desperate to know if this was all just fragments of his dream, if you were just a manifestation of his desperation to be forgiven.
But you’re real. You’re breathing, and you’re telling him that you’ve forgiven him.
“Is this…true?” he asks, voice sounding breathy. “Don’t forgive me just because you feel bad, Y/N. I can’t live with that.”
“No, you didn’t force me,” you shake your head, returning his gaze with built-up courage.
“You earned it.”
Your scent softens, sweeter now that you finally let it out. Like the anger finally loosens its grip on your chest, you can feel your omega melts, her walls crumbling piece by piece.
Heeseung stares at you, mouth slightly agape. The weight he’s been carrying finally cracks and finally, finally—breathing finally comes easy for him now that his chest loosens.
His alpha paws at him in joy.
“Thank you, Y/N. I—” his voice cracks, and so do the tears he’s been holding back. “Oh my Goddess—thank you for forgiving me.”
Heeseung hesitates before he slowly wraps an arm around your shoulder, gauging your reaction. When you don’t push him away, he pulls you closer and you let yourself fall into his embrace.
Heeseung buries his nose in your hair, and the familiar scent of daisies and honey and your hair wash only makes him sob harder.
“Can we try again? Please?”
You nod, wrapping your arms around his waist, smiling into the hug.
“Mhm. Let’s try again.”
Trying again with Heeseung is soft and gentle.
Heeseung doesn’t change. If anything, he becomes more present than ever. If there was hesitation in his action before, he seems more confident to initiate things now.
Holding hands when you’re together. Tucking your hair behind your ears because ‘it hides your beautiful face’. Carrying your bag before you can even greet him properly. Bringing you food and trying to bake, even when you receive complaints from Jay about his oven almost catching on fire. But honestly, out of every failed experiments he did in the kitchen, it’s his ramyeon that you love the most.
And you always get it for free, presented like a five-star Michelin with radish and perfectly-made half-boiled egg. ‘Girlfriend privileges’ is what Sunoo called it, as he and the other alphas eat from their cup noodles.
With forgiveness, conversations come easy. Talking about everything and nothing with Heeseung is like trying to map a land. You finally get to know the story behind his jersey number.
‘My mom always tells me that I’m her number one,’ he told you when you asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. ‘It sticks until now, but I know that he said that only because I was sulking about being the second son—they love my brother more, to be fair!’
You never thought that Heeseung could be cute and adorable. But the two now fit his description perfectly.
Sometimes, his old habits crawl back. Heeseung still finds it hard to tell you about things that bother him, still trying to run away from ugly emotions that make him feel vulnerable.
Just like right now, Heeseung is trying so hard not to pout as he watches his teammates grab a cookie from the Tupperware you bring.
When Riki reaches for a third, his resolve finally cracks and he slaps the alpha’s hand away.
“That’s enough, you greedy alpha. Shoo!”
You stifle a laugh, basking in the rare occasion where Heeseung shows his emotion almost openly like this. He doesn’t like sharing, of course, but he says nothing—which unsettles you a bit.
“Are you mad?” You finally ask after pulling him out for some privacy.
He doesn’t reply. Heeseung takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then shakes his head.
“I’m not mad.”
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” you coax him again, reminding yourself that Heeseung is still trying to unlearn some of his bad habits. “I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me.”
Heeseung gnaws at his lips and avoids your eyes. He knows, with a devastating resignation, that he could never refuse if he looks. So he doesn’t look.
But your scent does the same damage anyway. It’s sweet, it’s too intoxicating and Heeseung can feel himself melt even before he can protest.
He finally relents. “Okay,” he sighs.
Heeseung reaches out and takes your fingers in his, clutching at your smaller ones like a lifeline.
“Y/N…” he starts, contemplating his words, unconsciously pouting. “Can’t you bake only for me and not…share?”
You bite back a grin.
“See? It isn’t hard to tell me,” you squeeze his hand. “You can tell me anything, Heeseung. I will always listen.”
Heeseung gives you a pouty nod.
As for him, Heeseung thinks he was never happier than he is right now.
There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest every time he does something for you.
Be it walking you home, or waiting at the lobby of your apartment to walk to the campus together. Or feeding you food and having a can of grape juice always ready for you.
All the things he used to avoid—doing domestic things, having one person to devote all his attention and affection to—they become things that bring his heart at ease now.
And Heeseung loves being taller than you. He loves when you have to look up to talk to him, or the way you can easily hide your face in his chest when he says something corny. The way he can reach the higher shelf for you and become useful to you. He loves towering over you because every time he does it, he can’t help but notice the sweet spike in your scent.
You love it too.
Over time, the two of you get closer than ever. Every brush of hands, every bump of shoulders, every laughter shared—they only bring you back to him, and him to you. And slowly, like a prophecy finally meeting its destiny, the red thread finds its way back to you.
“Are you sure about this?”
You’re now standing in between his legs while Heeseung sits on the mattress of his bed, craning his neck to search your face.
Your fingers pause in his hair when you feel a faint pulse beneath his skin.
A reminder that he’s still hurting from the one-sided bond. A reminder of the weight of fate tying the two of you.
Heeseung could’ve walked away like you did. He could’ve defied his wolf and cut the bond. But he did nothing of those.
He’s still here, still choosing you in every way you keep choosing him.
“I want this, Heeseung,” you whisper back, carding your fingers through his burgundy hair. “I’ve never been so sure.”
One of the things that the both of you learn more about the relationship is the importance of the sacred bond. This time, you’re no longer running away or denying it—you and Heeseung take time to learn about its history, about the nature of the bond—and in your case, about how to fix the broken bond.
“It must come from your wolves,” you remember Jay’s mom saying. “And only then can you commemorate the bond and heal it for good.”
Commemorating, in this context, is to finally mate with your alpha.
It’s a big leap in the relationship, especially since you’re every way inexperienced. Heeseung knows this; which is why he never rushed you and let himself take the hit of the broken bond.
To the Goddess, without the commemoration, the bond is still considered one-sided. It results in Heeseung still experiencing pain from time to time and, after another nosebleed pre-game and out of care for your alpha, you decide you’re done taking your own time.
Your omega holds the sentiment as you, not having the heart to let the alpha suffer for your own sake.
Noticing your silence, Heeseung grabs your wrist gently and brings it to his nose. He starts nosing at the tender skin, pumping out his calm pheromones as he bathes you in his scent.
“Have you been with anyone else before?”
You hesitate. Then, with a shy smile, you shake your head.
“No.”
Contrary to your expectation, Heeseung stills immediately. His face crumples slightly and his phereomones—previously calming and comforting—suddenly takes a sour turn.
You frown. “Heeseung?” You hold his face, heart clenching at his trembling lips. “What’s wrong?”
When he looks up to you, there are silent tears spilling down his cheeks. It alerts you almost immediately.
“Hee?”
“I—” Heeseung takes a deep breath, but his lips wobble, betraying his effort to remain calm.
“I touched people like it didn’t mean anything,” his voice breaks. Heeseung closes his eyes, like the mere looking into your eyes was too much for him to bear. “And now you’re standing here like this is something sacred and I—”
When you understand what he means, you can feel your own heart breaking.
“Heeseung…”
“Why are you letting me handle something this—precious? I—I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I never did.”
“Please don’t say that,” you coo at him, wiping his tears with the pad of your thumb.
“I chose you knowing everything you’ve done,” you whisper. “Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re trying.”
Heeseung leans into your touch, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. Like the warmth of your touch is the only thing that keeps him grounded. A comfortable silence falls upon you two, full of warm understanding and acceptance.
“Thank you,” Heeseung kisses your palm, long and gentle. “Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”
A smile creeps up your face. You lean down to kiss his forehead.
“Come and sit here,” Heeseung pats his thighs. You pause for a moment, already getting shy from the proximity. But deep down, you can’t deny that you want this.
Slowly, you descend onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Heeseung pulls you closer by your hips, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle.
“Are you comfortable?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” then you pause. “I’m not heavy, am I? Are you comfortable?”
Heeseung hums. “Your weight is perfect for me, baby.”
The term of endearment makes warmth bloom across your cheeks. Heeseung gazes at you fondly, his nose already inching closer to where your scent smells the strongest.
He takes a lungful of your sweet scent—daisies and honey—and almost groans from the feeling of it. His favourite scent in the world. It’s been so long since he got to have you like this, so he keeps scenting you like he’s taking his fill.
“Your scent—you smell so good, Y/N.”
He lets his nose graze your scent gland. Once, twice, before brushing it with small, slow licks. You clutch at his shoulders, sparks bursting from the touch.
“Mhh!”
Heeseung trails up wet kisses up the column of your neck, dragging his tongue along your skin, savouring the soft gasps leaving your parted lips. His grip on your waist tightens, nails digging into your camisole while you try not to lose your mind over the foreign sensation.
Everywhere Heeseung touches with his lips is hot, sending strange, tingly feelings up your spine. It’s wet and it should make you recoil, but you find yourself loving it, already wanting more.
Heeseung stops when he reaches your lips, hot breath brushing against the soft pair. His eyes, now hooded and dark, are losing their round shape, like he, too, is already unraveling from just this.
“I’m gonna kiss you now, my daisy,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your parted lips, open and so inviting. Something churns inside your stomach, always keening when being called his daisy.
Then you nod, granting him permission.
“Please kiss me, Heeseung.”
There’s a tiny quirk of a smile, before he finally closes the gap between your mouths. He’s careful, caressing the plump of your lips with his own, tentatively and slowly at first, before he captures your mouth in his. You close your eyes.
Heeseung kisses you like it’s sacred. He moves slowly, allowing you to follow his pace and getting used to the feeling of his mouth on yours. It’s gentle and sweet. It’s everything you have imagined sharing a kiss with a lover.
His lips, soft and wider than yours, easily dominate the kiss with a flick of his tongue.
Your lips part in a gasp and Heeseung takes the chance to prod his tongue in, licking into every corner of your mouth like he’s been starved for you. You clasp a hand in his hair, losing your pace as Heeseung takes over.
With each passing second, the kiss turns into a needier one and you grow hotter. It’s messy now, with drool leaking down your chin and the noises you make getting louder. When you start to feel lightheaded, you tap his shoulders, lungs burning from the lack of breath.
Heeseung lingers for a second, as if he never wants to let go, before detaching from your lips.
He looks absolutely wrecked. His lips are shiny with spit, panting into your mouth like he needs more.
“Need some air?” he whispers, voice hoarse, caressing your waist tenderly. You nod, catching your breath before you lean in and try to kiss him again.
This time, Heeseung lets you take the lead, grabbing your hips tight enough to ground himself. You mouth at the corner of his lips, peppering kisses across the pinkish skin before he loses his patience and starts kissing back, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.
Pulling you flush against his own hips, Heeseung is desperate to feel you closer. The scent of his pheromones is taking a richer, darker tone, dripping with building arousal. He wants to stay like this forever—wants to memorise every taste, every curve of your lips, and carve it into his memory.
You’re unraveling just as fast. Driven by a deeper need to feel each other and more, you pool your arms around his neck and pull him closer, instinctively bucking your hips to soothe the ache between your legs.
Beneath you, Heeseung freezes. A strangled groan catches at the back of his throat, his fingers digging into your hips. His head is on cloud nine; he can’t believe you just did what you did, feeling his own lust slowly getting thicker.
Then, as if testing, you roll your hips again.
This time, the sound that leaves his throat is deep and ragged. Heeseung bites his lips, brows pinched together, his restraint visible through the veins popping in his neck.
“Y/N,” he rasps, voice strained. “Good? Comfortable?"
Your eyes, dazed and glossed over, look into his eyes and you nod. You move your hips again, chasing the delicious friction like a lifeline. “More.”
“Fuck,” Heeseung curses under his breath.
Wordlessly, he snakes an arm around your waist and flips your position. Your back meets the mattress before you can process it, the impact punching a breath out of your lungs. Heeseung hovers over you, chest heaving rapidly, heated gaze raking over your body like he’s already dreamed of this many times.
“Heeseung,” you sigh, lifting your arms to his nape, already hating the distance. “Want you closer.”
Heeseung thinks he’s still in a dreamland, because there’s no way you’re lying down under him, hair splayed like a halo, asking him for more. Your lips, kiss-bruised and bitten-raw from the previous makeout session, are parted in a soft gasp, looking every bit like his wet dream.
No. This is better than any of his dreams.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out as if he’s in a daze, a willing hostage to your magical spell. “Fuck, I just—I just love you so much.”
The confession lands like a feather drifting through the air. Your breath catches in your throat, searching for Heeseung’s eyes and almost tearing up when you see only devotion and sincerity in his gaze.
“Heeseung…”
“My precious daisy,” Heeseung lowers down and gives a smooch to the back of your ear. Your breath hitches. “My sweet, sweet honey.”
Another wave of heat pools between your legs. His voice—oh Goddess, his sweet and sultry voice in your ears, accompanied by such adoration is almost too much. You whine, clutching his shirt in a desperate grip.
“What do you need, baby?” Heeseung breathes hard into your ears, his own voice almost cracking from restraint. “Tell me, hm?”
“Need you to touch me.”
He barely stops nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “Where do you need me?”
You grab one of his wrists and bring it to where you need him most. The moment his fingers touch your soaked sweatpants, Heeseung lets out a deep, throaty groan. He pulls away slightly just to catch the expression you make—mouth agape, eyes closing shut—as he presses a finger on your cunt.
“Here? You like it here?”
“Y-Yes—” You purse your lips, pleading eyes peering into his dark gaze. “Please—More, please.”
Heeseung holds back a smirk. “You’re so good to me,” he purrs, his alpha swelling with pride and arousal. “I’m gonna give you everything you ask for, hm?”
Heeseung slips his hand into your panties and curses out loud at the wet sensation on his fingers.
“Fuck, Y/N—you’re leaking.”
He props himself on one arm. His long, slender fingers stroke your folds, the wet sound of your arousal filling the room. You claw at his upper arms and arch your hips, letting out a broken breath.
“H-Heeseung!”
A deep growl rumbles in his chest. Heeseung leans down and peppers kisses all over your cheeks as he flicks his thumb over your clit. The high-pitched, whiny moan that you let out makes his twitching cock kick and drool, already begging to be freed.
“Does that feel good?” he rasps, nudging at your hole with the tip of finger. The tight hole is almost sucking his finger in, eliciting a breathless moan out of your lungs.
You nod frantically, desperate to feel anything inside.
“‘Feels so good, alpha.”
“Mhm,” he purrs, circling your gaping hole lightly, teasingly. “I’m gonna put it in slow and nice for you and you’re gonna take it, ‘kay?”
You suck in your bottom lips, heat pooling low in your stomach at the deep timbre of his voice.
“Yes. Please give it to me.”
Heeseung almost melts at the big eyes you’re giving him. He gives you a soft peck and speaks against your mouth, “Tell me if it hurts, Y/N. I will stop immediately.”
When you give him the green light to go, Heeseung slowly pushes his middle finger in, fighting back a loud moan at the feeling of your walls sucking him in. He pauses for a moment, gauging for any discomfort in your face, and then starts pumping in and out gently when he sees only pleasure.
It feels strange and uncomfortable at first; having something inside you. But the subtle feeling of pain is slowly disappearing the longer he shoves his finger in. His thumb, eager to please you, keeps circling your swollen nub, adding to the building sensation in your stomach.
Before you know it, you’re already leaking out more slick. Your head thrashes to your left and right, breathy moans spilling out of your lips.
“Ngh—fuck—Hee—“
Heeseung forces himself to stay still; forces himself to breathe at the sight of you unraveling and so, so pliant under his touch, even when all he wants to do is ruin you. He inserts another finger, the additional stretch burns so good that you almost cry.
“Heeseung!”
The alpha lets out a heavy, ragged breath as his fingers skillfully scissor you open, willing your walls to loosen for him. His lips fall open as he watches you fist the mattress with a tight grip, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.
Heeseung thinks he’s about to come just from watching your erotic expressions alone.
“Ah—ah—ngh!” You squirm and whine and writhe, throat scratchy from how long you’ve been keeping your mouth open.
Heeseung’s eyes darken as he takes in the way the straps of your camisole fall down your shoulders. The soft swell of your chest moves up and down in a rapid breathing, nipples peeking out just enough to tease.
Fuck—you’re a sight to behold.
He can’t think straight, not when every sense is filled up with your thick, heady scent. Your slick, where it smells the strongest, is now pouring out of your gaping hole in waves and drenching his fingers down to his wrist, making the tent in his pants tighten painfully.
“I’m gonna add one more—fuck,” Heeseung almost chuckles in disbelief at the way your body sucks him in. “Your cunt is a little greedy, baby. Might just take all my fingers in.”
You’re already a mess of broken moans and high-pitched, ‘ah—ah—fuck’. The sensation is becoming too much. You have fingered yourself before, but they don’t have the girth of Heeseung’s long and slender ones; reaching deep inside where you can’t get before, or the roughness of the pad of his thumb circling on your clit relentlessly—bringing you closer to the edge faster than you can think.
Heeseung can already feel it. Your greedy little hole is catching at his fingers even tighter, signalling how close you are to cumming. He leans down, latching his mouth on your neck and littering it with bruising kisses that are going to leave marks, increasing the speed of his wrist until your hips lift off the mattress.
“H-Hee—! I’m—God, fuck—“
“Give it to me, my daisy,” he whispers, voice hoarse and rough from arousal, thumb flicking faster. “That’s it. Give everything to me.”
Heeseung watches closely as you close your eyes and mouth falls open as you come, the erotica of everything almost makes his neglected cock bust out. A feeling of intense ecstasy floods your system, crashing through your body, slick gushing out in waves upon delicious waves.
The alpha slows down the movements of his wrist, thumb circling lazily as he lets you ride out the high. He’s already dizzy from your pheromones, so sweet and inviting, that he almost pushes you into oversensitivity.
He plops out his fingers and puts it into his mouth, tongue lapping at the nectarine of your slick like a thirsty dog. His alpha hums in satisfaction at the sweet taste of his omega’s come, all drenched and warm just for him.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Heeseung hovers over your body again, now kissing you hard in pent-up hunger. “I wanna eat you out so badly but I just can’t wait anymore.”
You hum into the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Heeseung parts for a moment, jagged breathing hitting your lips warm as he stares into your eyes. His gaze softens.
“Are you okay?”
You nod. “‘M’kay.”
Heeseung nuzzles his cheek against yours, hands sliding up and down your waist before slipping under your camisole and cups your breasts. You let out a half-shocked gasp.
“Can you take more, baby?” He murmurs against your ears, teetering on the edge of sanity as he listens to the sinful sounds leaving your mouth. “Can you take my big, fat knot this time?”
You can’t find your voice, too lost in pleasure as Heeseung kneads your breasts and plays with your nipples. Heeseung drags his tongue along your earlobe, desperate to hear you more.
“Look at these perky tits,” he says as he drags down your camisole, letting it bunch around your waist. His mouth gapes at the way the plump flesh spilling over his fingers, so soft and yielding. “Fuck—you’re so beautiful, Y/N, I will fucking cry.”
“Nnggh!” You cry out when he latches his mouth on your left nub. He sucks and grazes his teeth on your hardened nipple, never breaking eye contact, the wet sensation sending heat straight to your core.
“Hee!” Your hand flies into his hair when he sucks particularly hard at the bottom swell of your breast, marking his territory. His rough fingers fondle your right tit, rolling the perky nub with reverent attention that makes you clamp your thighs shut.
You squirm, feeling another pool of slick gathering. “H-Heeseung—!”
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he lets go with a pop, lips shiny and slick with his own spit. “Please say my name like that again,” he requests, simultaneously rolling his hips to gauge your reaction.
As he expected—your body, so sensitive and pliant in his hold—immediately writhes from the friction. Heeseung watches with awe, nose twitching as another wave of your scent floods the room, mixing with the sultry accent of his cinnamon and seasalt almost too perfectly.
“Heeseung!”
Heeseung feels so dizzy. His thoughts are only filled with your name, your voice, and your pretty, pretty face that contorts in pleasure when he grinds more. His crotch area is already so fucking wet from pre-cum and your arousal that he thinks he’s losing a chance at any decent and coherent thoughts.
He gives you another roll, and when the name that leaves your swollen lips comes out broken and high-pitched, Heeseung decides that he can’t take it anymore.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, my daisy,” he rasps, leaving one last mark on your cleavage before sitting up. He helps you out of your clothes, marvelling in the way your body trusts him completely.
You’re all soft lines and gentle curves. Heeseung loses his breath as he traces his eyes from the soft mounds of your chest—littered red from his markings, to the narrow pinch of your waist, and the flare of your hips. He caresses the flesh with his hands, gripping it like a love handle as he revels in the contrast of his tanned, big hands on your soft, unblemished skin.
And your pussy—fuck, it’s still glistening from your previous climax and his ministrations, and is now getting wetter under his heated gaze alone.
But it’s the look in your eyes that completely undoes him—pure trust and devotion only for him that he so damn near cries.
“So beautiful,” he praises again, unable to stop the word from flowing out of his mouth. He slides down his hands down your thighs, groping the supple flesh, almost moaning from the sheer softness of it.
“Every inch of you is perfect, baby,” he husks, intoxicated by your pheromones invading his senses.
You hold your breath, peering up at the dominant alpha through your lashes. In a moment of such vulnerability, your chest is filled with affection and trust only for the man now handling your body with care, as if your body was made of porcelain.
My alpha, your wolf purrs inside, heart pounding into your chest.
You spread your thighs wider, so inviting and pliant.
“Alpha,” you mewl, nervously looking up at him. “Please.”
Heeseung can feel his dick twitching from the sight alone. With a swift movement, his shirt is already discarded, thrown somewhere on the floor.
“Say it clearly, baby. Tell me what you need.”
Heeseung fumbles with the strings of his sweatpants as his hooded gaze bores into your hazy one, hissing when his aching cock is finally springing free from the confines of his pants.
You almost drool at the sight of his weeping cock, standing tall and proud against his abdomen. Its tip is angry red, leaking precum down the length of prominent, bulging veins. Your hole flutters with dripping need.
The words come out so easily now that your pussy is pulsing with an aching need to be filled.
“Please fuck me, Heeseung.”
Heeseung’s lips are bitten raw from restraint, his jaw tight as he forces himself not to move—not to give in to the urge to push forward and lose himself inside you. But before he can move to get a condom from the drawer, your hand snaps to his wrist, shaking your head no.
“Just—just do it,” you bite your lips trying not to squirm under his darkening gaze. “I want to feel you.”
It takes everything in him to stay still—to not reach for you, not pull you back, not ruin this by losing control. Heeseung looks for any doubt in your face.
“Are you sure, baby?”
“Mhm,” you tug at his wrist, guiding his hand to cup your pussy. Heeseung almost combusts right then and there.
“Quick, Heeseung. Need you here.”
“Oh my fucking God—” Heeseung curses under his breath, trying to remain calm. But his body betrays him, his muscles tensing, breath unsteady, as he forces himself to stay where he is.
He sits taller, his thumb rubbing your clit teasingly. His other hand strokes his cock lazily, flicking his wrist around the erection and hisses when more precum drools out.
The whole time, he doesn’t let go of your eyes, taking in every micro-expressions you make like a greedy man. You’re so sensitive, so expressive, and so, so wet—always so eager to shower him with more slick and more of your sultry moaning.
He aligns his cock in between your folds, grinding the bulbous head against your swollen clit. A choked moan escapes both of you, too fucked over the pleasure. Another gush of slick trickles down your hole, intensifying your scent.
“Heeseung—”
“Shh, baby, I know,” Heeseung coos at the tears pooling along your lashline. He reaches out to wipe it, torn between guilt and absolutely fucking pleasure that he feels from seeing you break apart at his hand like this.
“I’m gonna be gentle, yeah?” He rasps, still rolling his hips, gathering your slick around the tip of his cock.
He trails his fingers down your wrists before pinning them over your head, hovering over you completely like an eclipse. Then, after what felt like a lifetime, Heeseung finally pushes in.
He doesn’t move after that.
A broken breath leaves him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as if the effort of holding himself back is physically weighing on him. His grip on your wrists tightens just slightly, seeking something to ground him to the moment. Beneath him, you’re trembling from the mix of pain and pleasure, the latter outweighing the former.
“Y/N…” he exhales, voice rough, almost unsteady. “Look at me.”
There’s something in the way he says it. It’s not commanding or urgent, like he really needs to see you or he’ll fall apart.
You turn your head, meeting his gaze, your expression soft but overwhelmed, lips parted as you try to steady your breathing. It stings, but not enough for you to pull away. Heeseung did a good job at preparing you.
He searches your face like it’s the only thing anchoring him.
“Am I—” he swallows, jaw tightening. “Am I hurting you?”
You shake your head, even though the feeling is new, intense, more than you expected. But the way he’s holding himself back, the way he’s watching you like this could fall apart at any second—it steadies you. Heeseung is so careful, so scared of hurting you that it almost makes you cry.
“It’s… okay,” you whisper, fingers twitching under his hold. “Don’t stop.”
His eyes squeeze shut for a second, like he’s bracing himself, like your trust is something he has to deserve in real time.
“Slow,” he mutters to himself more than to you. “Gotta go slow…”
He barely shifts, testing, careful, measured. Like every movement is something he has to think through instead of give in to. He sinks in another inch, mind floating from the tight sensation of your hole. A strained sound slips past his lips, low and wrecked, his control slipping just enough to show.
“God…” he breathes, almost shaking. “You feel—”
He cuts himself off, jaw clenching hard, like even finishing that sentence would push him too far.
Instead, his hand comes down to your waist, grounding himself there, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin like he needs something soft to hold onto.
You can feel it—how much he’s holding back. Not just physically, but everything. The way his body tenses with every tiny movement, the way his breathing keeps stuttering like he’s constantly pulling himself back from the edge as he pushes inside, inch by inch.
And something in your chest tightens.
“You can move,” you murmur softly, a little unsure, but still wanting. Wanting him, wanting every side of him and not just this careful version of him.
His head lifts immediately.
“No,” he says, almost too quickly. Then his voice grows softer. “Not if you’re not ready.”
Your brows knit slightly, a small shake of your head.
“I am,” you insist, voice quiet but certain. “I trust you.”
Your declaration hits deeper than anything else.
For a moment, he just looks at you—really looks—like he’s trying to understand how you can still say that to him. Then his grip tightens again; a firm grip that anchors you to the moment.
“Okay,” he breathes.
And this time, when he moves, it’s still slow—but there’s something underneath it now. Not just restraint, but a crack in it. A quiet, dangerous edge that slips through no matter how hard he tries to hold it back.
His forehead presses to yours, breaths tangling, uneven.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, softer now. “Anything—you tell me, yeah?”
You nod, already clutching onto him, already feeling yourself giving in to the rhythm he’s so carefully trying to control.
God, Heeseung tries not to lose himself completely. Chanting ‘Go slow, go fucking slow,’ like a mantra in his head is proving to be the hardest test he’s ever been through.
But he still tries—even when it starts slipping crack by crack.
You can feel it in the way his pace stays measured, like every pound into your walls is a calculated move. It makes your heart flutter, really, but you want more.
You don’t know how to say it without sounding desperate, but your body knows you better. Instinctively, you clench around his cock. The action is not fully registered in your head until Heeseung’s rhythm falters.
“Y/N…” he exhales, your name catching in his throat like it’s too much for him to hold.
“More,” your fingers tighten around his arms, pulling him impossibly closer. “More, please.”
You tighten your walls again, drawing a shuddering gasp from him. His head drops forward as his control stutters, cock twitching inside you.
“Don’t,” he starts, half-warning and half-whining, “Don’t do that or I’m—”
You can’t stand it anymore. You meet his thrust, hitting his navel with yours, gasping because the sensation feels too good. A broken groan leaves him, deep and absolutely fucking wrecked.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, gripping your hips tighter. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Heeseung kisses up the length of your neck, leaving more marks before he props his arms. When you catch his eyes, something flickers in that heated gaze, like his control is finally slipping away, snapping with the way he pistons his cock into you. You choke out a breath.
“Okay?” he asks, still worrying. You nod frantically, desperately.
“Yes—please—more—”
Heeseung does it again. Again and again and again until all there’s left is the sound of your broken gasps and the wet, filthy noise of his balls hitting your hole.
“Still—fuck—still okay?” he asks, voice rough, barely held together.
You can’t form any coherent thoughts, so you nod again, breathless and more certain this time. “Please…don’t stop.”
Heeseung lets out a curse, lifting your hips slightly before continuing pounding into you, faster and harder. A high-pitched moan rips from your throat, the new angle hitting the spot that has you seeing stars.
He watches your face, his own contorting in pleasure, setting a pace that has you blabbering out broken words and more drool.
You feel so full. His cock is so deep inside you, filling you up to the hilt. It’s a strange feeling, but it’s also so, so addictive that you just want more, more, and more. It’s the only thing you can ask for: “More, more—Heeseung—ah—please.”
Heeseung leans down, taking your earlobe into his mouth, alternating his pace between achingly slow rolls of his hips and harsh, sharp thrusts, whispering hotly into your ears.
“You’re taking me so well.”
“So fucking tight, baby, fuck.”
“My daisy. My honey. My everything.”
The heat in your stomach intensifies, building up like a tidal wave waiting to crash. Your nails dig into his biceps, meeting his heated gaze with your glassy one.
“Mate with me, Heeseung. Please.”
Heeseung almost stops, but you’re fast to hook your legs around his waist, urging him to continue. He continues with slower grinding, locking eyes with you.
It’s finally time to seal the bond for good. But even in the haze of pleasure and nirvana, all Heeseung cares about is your well-being.
“Now, baby?” he whispers in between thrusts. He catches your jaw in his hand, thumb brushing your cheeks softly. He knows it’s bound to happen tonight anyway, but if he can save you from the pain longer, he will. “It will sting, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”
You nod, never felt more sure than now. You lean up to kiss him, breath mingling hotly before you look into his eyes.
“I trust you, Heeseung,” you whisper back. You grind back into him, hips stuttering when his cock thrusts almost sharply into your cunt.
With broken gasps, you finally say it. “Please mark me yours.”
Heeseung almost tears up from the sheer weight of your words.
Trust. Yours. Mine.
Something that the old him would’ve never imagined wanting and needing.
But here, as your starry eyes gazing into his teary gaze, Heeseung’s never felt so full and complete. He doesn’t even know that he was capable of loving someone this much; of this overwhelming affection that he has only for you.
A single drop of tears slides down his cheek as he kisses you again, trying to convey his emotions into the sweet touch. You respond just as reverent, understanding him without words being spoken.
“Do you trust me?” he murmurs against your mouth. His hips are slowing down, getting lost in the warm sensation of your breath and your sweetening scent.
You give him a peck. “I do.”
Heeseung smiles fondly. He leaves one last kiss on your forehead before he sits up, pulling out of you at the same time. You almost whine at the loss of touch, but he’s quick to reassure you.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
Then, with a dominating strength that makes your stomach flutter, he grabs your waist and flips you over. You arch your back almost instinctively, shoving your ass in the air. Heeseung groans, his alpha howling in pride at seeing his omega presenting like this. His jaw clenches from restraint, absolutely close to losing his mind over this sight of you.
His cock slips back in easily. Heeseung splays a hand over the skin between your shoulders, pushing you gently into the mattress.
You glance over your shoulders, wiggling your ass and pushing it further into his face. “Like this, Heeseungie?”
Heeseung bites his lips, mouth salivating from the sight. “Yeah, baby.” He is so fucking turned on. “I’m gonna move now, yeah?”
At the single movement of your head, Heeseung is already thrusting inside, barely holding himself back. The new angle gives more access to his cock to hit places you didn’t know exist in your walls, sending sparks of electricity to your nerves.
“Ah, ah—nnghh!! Heeseungie!”
“Keep saying my name like that, baby,” Heeseung drools over the jiggles of your round ass. He kneads the flesh with his thick fingers, moaning at the dimples his nails make by digging into it.
“So soft. So beautiful,” he grinds and rolls his hips, leaning down to bite down on your buttcheeks. You clench around him. “So responsive for me. God—you’re perfect, Y/N.”
“I’m—I’m close—”
“Oh, I can feel it, baby,” Heeseung grunts through his teeth. Your walls keep sucking him back in, as if refusing to let go. “I’m close too—fuck.”
Heeseung picks up his pace, his muscles flexing as he, too, almost reaches his high. He leans down, broad chest meeting your back and noses at your pulsing scent gland, sweat dripping down his chin.
It’s intoxicating, the way your scent blends in with his pheromones, like a perfect match made in heaven—which might not be so far from the truth. He is your true mate, after all, written in the prophecy for God knows how long.
He can feel how close you’re getting, your whining turning needier and messier. His canines sharpen slowly, readying himself to mark you.
You drool into the mattress, incoherent words leaving your mouth. The coil in your stomach tightens, so close to snapping, so close to bringing you over the edge.
And it’s with a flick of his thumb over your clit that you finally give. You go still, shockwaves of your release rippling through your body, pulling Heeseung with you as he cums, spraying your insides white.
Following his promise, Heeseung chooses that exact moment to sink his teeth in your nape, right over where your scent gland is. You yelp, body trembling from the intense feeling of pain and pleasure.
The feeling is otherworldly—like something inside you finally clicks into place.
A warmth blooms from where he’s marked you, spreading through your body in slow, overwhelming waves. It’s not just the sensation—it’s him. You can feel him in a way you’ve never felt before, like his presence has settled beneath your skin, threading into every part of you.
Your fingers clutch at the sheets, breath stuttering as something inside you tightens and softens. You feel complete, like the quiet ache you never noticed has finally disappeared.
Heeseung groans softly against your skin, almost like he feels it too—like the bond snaps into place just as strongly on his end. His hold on you tightens, not possessive, but grounding, as if he needs to make sure you’re real, that this is real.
He quickly laps at the blood and the wound, tongue gentle now, almost reverent as he soothes the mark he’s just made. His hips slow down, now grinding into you lazily to ride out the wave before you mewl from oversensitivity.
He pulls out after a while and gently turns you back to face him. As soon as he locks eyes with you, Heeseung’s composure breaks instantly, tears spilling down his cheeks. He catches your lips in a wet kiss.
“My daisy,” he cries, cradling your jaw and never intending to let go. “Oh Goddess—I love you so much.”
His voice, broken and gasping with gratitude and relief, moves your heart in ways that unravel you just the same. You kiss back just as hard, heart finally full and complete.
Your omega purrs in satisfaction, and to your surprise, you can almost hear another wolf echoing back to yours.
It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s Heeseung’s wolf—your alpha, finally and wholly yours.
Heeseung breaks the kiss only to rest his forehead against yours. Your scent gland pulses, but this time, it’s gentle and grounding, like a mark of a new beginning; a bond now finally healed and sealed.
“Y/N,” he breathes out against your mouth. “Don’t get tired of me yet, okay? I… I cherish you so much. ‘I love you’ doesn’t feel like enough.”
You let out a soft giggle and pull him closer, sealing your lips with his again.
“Then don’t say anything. Show me, my alpha…show me that we belong to each other.”
As moonlight spills into the bedroom, a blessing from the Goddess for the mated pair, the sheets bear witness to the moment two fractured souls finally become one.
You wake up before Heeseung.
Trying to remove his arms from your waist proves to be a real challenge; the alpha refuses to let you go even in his sleep. You chuckle softly and plant a kiss on his forehead before slipping out of the blanket.
Standing on slightly wobbly legs, you drift into the kitchen, your throat screaming for water. You let the sunshine hit your skin, highlighting your afterglow, as you down a whole glass of water.
The house is quiet. Jay, with the intention to give the two of you privacy, has gone to visit his parents for the weekend. You silently thank him for it. You don’t want to know how awkward it’d be if he has to hear all the noises you made last night.
Just as you’re about to return to Heeseung’s warm embrace, your eyes catch a sign on another door. It’s located at the end of the hallway, a few paces away from Heeseung’s and Jay’s bedrooms. It’s almost unnoticeable, but the name on the sign is what intrigues you to go closer.
EVAN LEE
Evan? That’s Heeseung’s English name.
You know it’s an invasion of privacy, but your wolf is nagging at you to go. So, with almost zero reluctancy, you let yourself inside.
It’s his producer room, you guess, judging from the equipment filling up the space. You let your eyes roam, smiling to yourself when you catch random things that just scream Heeseung.
There are two frames of pictures hanging on the wall, one of his family and another one of him and Jay. The two looked younger, more reckless, a given when you notice the uniform they were wearing. High-school Jay with a neat shirt, tucked in and collar buttoned up while high-school Heeseung was missing his tie. They were smiling bright, already so handsome from such a young age.
You look at the random stickers on his PC—basketball, white cats, and alphabet stickers that are arranged into ‘NI-KI’.
A pair of headphones sit on the table, each ear decorated with different aesthetics. The left one is full of flowers, tiny stickers of ‘ddeonu’ are left as watermark, while the other is just one big orange cat sticker, and instead of leaving his name in a way that doesn’t stain, Jungwon actually signed with a marker pen.
You laugh, wondering what might be Heeseung’s reaction when that menace did that. It’s Sony, after all, and judging from the sleek design—it’s definitely pricey. But knowing how soft Heeseung is for Jungwon, he probably just let it slide because ‘Jungwonnie is cute’.
This room is so full of everything Heeseung loves. His passion for music and basketball, his affection for his close friends. A thought, not unkindly or bitter, crosses your mind: you cannot wait to leave traces of you here, too—something of yours, beside everything he already loves.
Just as you’re about to leave, something in the corner stops you in your tracks. It’s a notebook, hidden under a keyboard, like it’s never meant to be found.
You walk over and look at the notebook, breath catching in your throat when you read the cover.
For my daisy.
Is this for you?
With trembling fingers—a result from your pounding heart—you flip the cover. There’s handwriting, unmistakably Heeseung’s, filling up the first page.
These are my silent apologies to the girl I lost. I was too late to love you when you still loved me, but I promise myself that I will start and continue loving you, even when I can no longer hear your echo until the very end.
P.s. park jongseong stop making fun of me this will become a hit album TRUST!
Just like what the note has said, the notebook is full of song lyrics. Each line, each intended melody, each scribble left in the margin—every one of them is meant for you, intended for you, and just for you.
Your vision blurs, heart tightening so painfully it almost aches—because this wasn’t just regret. It was love. Quiet, enduring, and yours all along.
Heeseung didn’t know how to stay or to cherish—but he’s been unlearning every single bad habit for you. Through your resentment, through your tears, through your silences, until finally, your omega was willing to open up and give him another chance at love.
Your chest swells with affection and pride, echoing with only the name of the alpha.
You reach for a pen and flip back to the first page, leaving your first ever trace in his producer room.
p.s. i love you more, my cinnamon alpha.
andddd that's the end of it!!1 thank you once again and until next time <3
synopsis. heeseung regrets everything, but his regret comes too late.
pairing. alpha!heeseung x omega!female reader
genre(s). omegaverse, fated mates, strangers-to-lovers, angst, fluff
warnings. angst angst angst!!, everyone cries a lot, heavy angst..., slowburn, vomiting, insecurity, depressive behaviour, hyperventilation and panic attacks, attempts (just one attempt), heeseung is so fucking desperate, featuring: alpha!jay (our target again), alpha!jungwon, wolf hybrid!sunghoon, fake-omega!sunoo (pls i love him), beta!jake, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, not beta read we die like injang, ok just hmu if i miss anything!!!
word count. 17,837
note. girl wtf tumblr didn't let me post the whole fic!!! im crying, part 3 coming right up!!
For the first time in his life, Heeseung wants to stay.
No. He wants you to stay.
But he doesn’t dare say anything. He doesn’t even know if he deserves to open his mouth. It’s like a knot of uneasiness has lodged itself in his throat, preventing him from moving even an inch of his muscle.
Not that he can even move, honestly. His entire body is on fire, his scent gland is pulsing in pain. But nothing, nothing can compare to the hollowness in his chest.
Nothing comes close to the gravity of the situation, slowly settling in his mind.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
Across from him, you’re leaning on your cheerleader friend for support. Someone he vaguely recognises as Riki’s cousin—Rei, if he’s not mistaken. She has rushed out of the crowd when people had stopped dancing to watch a literal romance suicide happening in the backyard.
“Oh my Goddess—you’re bleeding—Riki! Call the ambulance!”
“Let’s just drive her to the hospital,” Jake, a beta who belongs to the frat house, emerges from behind Riki, looking more sober than the other guests. “It’s faster.”
Among the chaos, of people murmuring in surprise, of your friend and his friend fussing over your condition, you stand there silently. If you were pale before, you’re looking even more ghostly now that if someone were to cut your cheek, there’d be no blood coming out.
He watches you, eyes never leaving your face, begging, pleading through his gaze for you to meet his eyes. But you never do.
You keep your head low and let Rei and Jake usher you away, steps wobbly and unsteady.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
It feels like he’s underwater and his lungs have turned to bricks.
“—seung! Breathe!”
Heeseung snaps out of his thoughts and realises that his knees have finally given up. He’s on the ground, the tiles bruising his knees as Jay crouches beside him, shaking his shoulders. He realises, as his chest burns and moves rapidly, that he’s been hyperventilating.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
“Oh God—” he chokes, clawing at his burning throat. Sweat dots on his forehead, his face turning red with each passing second. Beside him, Jay is shouting at someone over his head, but the sound is muffled to his ears.
All he can hear is the echo of your voice.
‘I ended it.’
The pain cracks through his chest. The tears are unstoppable now.
‘There’s nothing between us anymore.’
Heeseung thinks he might die.
A violent sob racks through his chest, both of his palms touching the ground. He can faintly sense Riki’s presence around him, the younger trying to lift him up with the help of Jay, but Heeseung’s body is dead weight.
His wolf refuses to move.
This is all your fault, his alpha growls in his mind.
You defied fate and now we lost her. This is your fault, Lee Heeseung.
Heeseung covers his face, feeling the wetness on his cheeks. His body shakes with every sob, showing no signs of stopping. On either side of him, Jay and Riki have given up on trying to help him stand. The two watch as their friend cries his heart out.
Out of sorrow. Out of grief.
Out of regret.
“I’m sorry,” Heeseung sobs to no one, the words dripping with remorse.
He looks up, chasing the ghost of you with his guilty eyes—but you’re long since gone. The weight of the abandoned bond now sits heavy on his chest, pulsing in pitiful longing.
“I’m really sorry.”
The space swallows his words, the emptiness a permanent reminder of his too-late apology.
Hospitals aren’t exactly a place you look forward to visiting.
But right now, you are willing to take anything to escape the eyes. You silently curse yourself for pulling that scene in a place where privacy is a luxury, but at least now you have escaped from it.
From Heeseung.
Most importantly, from the consequences of your actions.
You bring your finger to your nape and graze the scent gland gently. The pain it has borne for the last two weeks has finally stopped. It brings great relief to you, really—not having to feel the slow death of being an unwanted mate. But freedom has its cost.
You’ve never felt so empty.
You don’t know how your omega did it, but the bond is severed. Traces of Heeseung’s pheromones are nowhere to be found. Gone are the warm, spicy cinnamon and the cool, salty sea air that used to linger around your sweet scent faintly.
You no longer smell like him. You no longer feel the need to see him. You no longer feel the agonising pain shooting up your spine every time he kisses someone who isn’t you.
Yet you feel empty.
You expected more pain. You expected longing. But your body feels quiet. Your omega, previously hysterical and loud, is dead silent inside. A protest to the Goddess or she’s just genuinely exhausted, you don’t know. You can’t put it past her if it’s both.
You sigh, dropping your hand on your lap as you stare at the blood stain on the sleeves of your cardigan. You pay no mind to the nurses and patients passing by in front of you. Jake and Rei left not too long ago, after you managed to convince them that you’ll be okay and that Yujin is on her way.
As if on cue, your nose picks up the smell of green tea among the sterile and sharp odour of the hallway. Yujin.
“Y/N!”
Your friend greets you with a slightly breathless voice, clearly running her way into the hospital. She bends down and immediately makes a show of inspecting you, turning your body left and right frantically. When her eyes drop on the dried blood staining your sleeves, she nearly shrieks.
“Who the fuck must I kill?!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!” You hush her, sending apologetic looks to the nearby people who have become alert of Yujin’s death threat. “And no, you’re not killing anybody.”
“Please tell me what happened before I lose my mind,” Yujin pleads, the worry on her face softening her features. You halt.
Before you know it, your eyes have turned glassy. The weight of everything—the constant pain, the relief, the broken bond—you finally feel the full force of it. As if the gate has been completely destroyed, it’s so easy to cry now.
You let yourself get pulled into a hug, clutching at the fabric of Yujin’s shirt desperately.
Your bitter scent washes over her, smelling of heartbreak and guilt. You think of Heeseung; of how devastated he looked when you broke the bond, like he had lost something precious—which should be a lie, shouldn’t it? He never acknowledged the bond. He never admitted to it.
Then you think of yourself; of the way you used to carry the pieces of your heart everywhere, begging for him to see the bond that used to tie the two of you together. The bond that you treasured, the bond that bloomed hope in your heart, making you believe in a future together with someone who was supposed to love you.
Something inside you breaks again.
You had lost something precious.
“I—I ended the bond with him,” you choke, the words struggling to get out. “It’s over. Yujin, it’s over.”
You feel Yujin freeze for a moment before she tightens the hug, feeling her lips touch your hairline.
“But why does it still hurt?” Your chest heaves with a new wave of tears, voice completely broken. “Why does it hurt so fucking much? I ended it, and—and he hurt me,” you hiccup, trying to arrange the string of your sentence properly.
“But I still want to hug him,” you whisper wetly, feeling your wolf stir inside you. “I still want to hold him and tell him I’m sorry for doing this to him.”
Yujin remains quiet, rubbing a hand at your back in an attempt to comfort you.
“It’s okay, Y/N. You did the right thing.”
She holds you and never lets go. She holds you the way that you wish you could’ve done to Heeseung; in the way that you wish he could’ve done to you.
That night, you let yourself surrender to the grief of something that you almost had. The grief of the tale of true mates that you used to hold close to your heart, longing for the wreckage of potential love that is damaged beyond repair.
You grieve for the love you could’ve shared, the life you could’ve had if only the world was on your side.
You grieve for Heeseung.
For the past of the warm embrace that he once gave you and for the pain he inflicted on you.
Heeseung never knew how hard it was to find you outside of the court and practice room until now.
He realises, with a regret that has become all-too-familiar now, that he knows almost nothing about you. Other than the fact that you can bake, that you’re friends with almost everyone on the cheerleader squad—he doesn’t know much about you.
And it kills him.
It takes him two days of losing sleep, of dragging his legs to classes, of forcing the pain in his chest down, before he finally catches a glimpse of you.
It’s completely accidental. He’s on his way to a group discussion, walking past the cafeteria when a breeze of air passes by him, carrying the soft scent of your pheromones.
Light, blooming daisies and sticky, sweet honey.
Heeseung halts in his steps, his alpha already whining in longing.
Across the hall, at one of the tables, you sit with your friends. A pair of chopsticks presses against your lips as you listen to your friend animatedly talking about her clumsy professor—something that’s only possible for Heeseung to hear had it not been for his dominant trait.
Heeseung doesn’t know what to expect once he sees you.
A small part of him foolishly hopes that you’d look back to him just as quickly, the way you used to do whenever he steps into the same room as you before.
Another part of him wishes that when he senses your scent, the usual undertone of his own scent would still linger underneath.
But you do nothing of those, completely oblivious to his presence, to his scent—like the mere his walking into the same space as you’re in doesn’t affect you anymore. And your scent is completely bare from any traces of his pheromones, the daisies and honey are completely and only you.
Right, Heeseung swallows thickly. Of course you can’t feel him.
The bond is no longer there.
You cut it a couple of days ago.
The wound is still fresh, pulsing in his scent gland like a reminder of his sin. His heart squeezes painfully, but Heeseung only presses his lips. Not a sound comes out of his mouth. Not even a breath.
He lets the pain course through his body, enduring it for as long as he can. He deserves this, he quietly thinks.
He deserves watching you from afar, feeling the one-sided bond punish every fibre of his being.
He deserves this; sensing your scent whenever you’re near, but no longer having the privilege to hold your eyes and share the same feeling only true mates understand.
Deserves the silence. Deserves you not looking up. Deserves being nothing to you.
There’s a gaping hole in his heart when he realises that nothing is tying him to you anymore. There’s no safety net of the Goddess of the Moon’s fated mates tale. There’s no longer the string that connects the two of you—no reason he can find to be anything to you.
A stronger, more desperate part of him forces him to take the leap. To just take over and charge. His feet shift forward slightly, the dominant alpha in him wanting to just grab you and tell you how sorry he is. He’d beg on his knees if he must, so long as you’d at least spare a glance his way, even if it meant you would look down on him forever.
But you look happier.
His eyes trace the curve of your lips as you laugh at something your friend says. The selfish part of him stubbornly stays to steal the moment, letting his undeserving ears hear your voice like a secret.
You look happier.
Heeseung takes a step back, angling his body to leave. He looks at you one last time, hoping to catch your gaze at least once. Just something—anything to soothe his anxious wolf, even when he doesn’t deserve it.
But you never look back. And something inside him cracks.
He can feel it—the incoming suffocation building up in his chest, like a storm waiting to happen. Before his scent could turn bitter, Heeseung forces himself to leave, eyes frantically searching for exit.
Heeseung is slowly breaking apart, and he does nothing to stop it.
“You’re so—” Jay stops himself, then sighs loudly. “I’ve called you stupid way too many times that I’m actually starting to feel bad now. Why did you skip your group discussion? Jungwon won’t stop asking me for you.”
Heeseung doesn’t react. After catching sight of you at the cafeteria, he’s rushed back to his house, deliberately skipping the group discussion with an apology over a text. The hyperventilation—an occurrence that is frequent now—comes back, and Heeseung doesn’t intend for you to see him unravel like that.
Not out of pride or shame. God, no, there’s nothing left of him to care about those. Heeseung just doesn’t want you to feel bad seeing him like that. Because you shouldn’t feel bad for cutting off the bond.
After all, he did hurt you to the point of death.
Jay studies his friend, watching as Heeseung sits in his producer chair and stares blankly at the monitor. He was just about to go for a gym session with Riki, but decided to stay at home after Heeseung burst through the door, gasping for air with a red face. And it broke his heart.
Calling out Heeseung for his ignorance is one thing that he’s not sorry for, but seeing him in this condition? It kills him. He just wants everyone to stop hurting each other. But first of all, he knows he has to start with Heeseung.
“Hee,” he calls, but Heeseung barely moves. Jay presses his lips. “Hee—”
“I saw her.”
Jay pauses, holding back his tongue when he hears his voice. He waits patiently, giving Heeseung the space he needs.
But Heeseung doesn’t say another word for a few extended seconds, just sitting there like he was talking to himself. If it weren’t for the small movement of his chest, Jay would’ve panicked and thought that he’d lost his friend.
It is quiet until his voice, smaller and quieter, echoes inside the room again.
“She always looks prettier than the last time I see her.”
There’s a heavy silence between them. Jay takes the chance to look around the room.
It’s Heeseung’s producer room, the room Jay let him take to do whatever he wanted with it. The lighting inside this room is moody, dim purple and blue LED lights alternating every minute.
The glow washes over everything in slow pulses—across the mixing console, the twin monitors, the mess he never bothered to clean. Cables snake along the floor like they’ve settled there for good, curling around the legs of the desk. A track sits paused on the screen, its waveform frozen mid-breath, like it, too, is waiting for something to break.
Jay slowly exhales, his chest tightening as his gaze drifts from a closed notebook to the abandoned headphones hanging at the edge of the console. This room feels less alive—not like what he last remembers of it.
It used to pulse with passion. Whenever he walked in, Heeseung was always up to something. The bass would play like a behind the scene, his sweet voice would sometimes blend with the strum of his newly-bought acoustic. There’d be balls of crumpled papers rolling on the floor, rejected lyrics that he’d still pick up and look back before he went to sleep.
But now, the room is too clean. Ever since he carried Heeseung on his back from Jake’s frat house a few days ago, this producer room has been nothing more than a haunted house.
And at the center of it, is his dying friend.
“Hee,” Jay starts, breaking the silence. He gives his words a lot of thoughts, carefully curated to make it clear that he cares. “Heeseung, you must do something. Or you’ll die, and I won’t let you die.”
Jay grabs his shoulder and turns him around, the chair spinning to face him. Heeseung’s face is void of any colour, sunken eyes looking like faded embers. His lips are dry and chapped, his skin dull and grey. Inevitably, something sharp twists in his chest at seeing his best friend in this state.
“God,” Jay breathes out, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. He’s so fucking scared. “You’re dying, Heeseung, and I—”
Jay hangs his head low, closing his eyes as he tries his best to compose himself. Heeseung needs me, he whispers in his head, Heeseung needs me.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Jay takes a deep breath and lifts his gaze. Heeseung is looking away, blank face staring lifelessly at the wall like a portrait of emptiness and grief. His grip on his shoulder tightens.
“I talked to my parents,” Jay tries again, “there is a way to fix this. Two, actually.”
The moment stretches without any reaction from Heeseung. Jay takes it as a sign to continue.
“We can save this if you…if you can win her back and make her omega want to patch the bond back up.”
The tiniest flicker of something crosses Heeseung’s eyes. His jaw twitches almost imperceptibly.
“Or,” Jay licks his lips, preparing himself. “You can cut the bond from your side, too,” he finishes.
Heeseung turns his head to look at him, wide eyes watering with unshed tears.
“Cut it clean once and for all, Heeseung.”
His lips part, but nothing comes out. Despite his passive façade, Heeseung’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and regret.
Fix the bond and face you, which he doesn’t think he deserves.
Or cut it off and lose you for good.
For the first time in his life, Heeseung doesn’t know which option is worse.
The nightclub is still as noisy as he remembers it. Blinding lights that hurt his eyes, loud bass that pierces his ears. People are dancing with their company, seeking friction and heat between slicked bodies.
Heeseung used to be in the center of it all, basking in the attention of perfectly-manicured nails on his chest and the alluring scents enveloping him. A perfect distraction from a rejected demo. A relief for his frustration over a losing game.
The escape he always chose to run from facing negative emotions.
But tonight, he stands motionless in a corner, lips pulled in a tight line.
There’s an old pull coming from the crowd. After all, having people worship your body does feel addictive at one point—and Heeseung is no exception to that. He’s used to showcasing his dominance whether it was on the court or in a bedroom, a drug he kept feeding his alpha to the point of no return. He’s used to command and dominate, a trait that helps him as a captain and as a pleaser.
Like facing a withdrawal, his hands twitch by his sides, itching to inch forward.
You are feeling bad now, a voice whispers in his head. Go on. There are plenty of omegas that can make you feel better.
Heeseung forces his gaze down. No, he counters.
No more of that life.
Heeseung is dominant in every aspect of his existence—from biological traits down to his own personality and mindset. But when his mind drifts back to the thoughts of you, he finds himself crumbling in submission.
It hurts his pride. God, it hurts so much.
But the ache doesn’t compare to the look on your pale face when you break the bond you shared with him, like cutting an infected part of a root that’d destroy your field of daisies.
Nothing hurts more than being the reason you had to resort to such a critical decision, that might cost you your own life.
The urge finally quiets down after a few seconds of redirecting his thoughts to the more pressing matters at hand. Heeseung smooths down his clothes in an attempt to calm himself.
He’s wearing one of his baggy graphic T-shirts, black and bigger than his frame. A picture of The Strokes, stretched and scratched from use clings to the fabric. Beside him, Jay stands tall in his usual button-up, always looking out of place in the nightclub thanks to his distinguished gentleman image.
On the other side of him, is a cute menace.
“Okay!” Sunoo claps his hand, adjusting the collar of his yellow sweater. “This is a bad idea, but since you’re a masochist, let’s do what we’re here for!”
The sass in his speech doesn’t go unnoticed by both alphas. Jay lets out a big sigh, already massaging his temple, while Heeseung only gives him a side-eye, hardly offended by his words.
He’s right, of course. Sunoo’s never wrong.
The brown-haired boy, feigning ignorance to the stares he’s receiving, continues. “Since you want to cut the bond clean—”
Jay interrupts sharply. “Try to cut it clean.”
“Right,” Sunoo gives a small smile. “Since we want to try cutting it off clean,” he makes a show of slicing the air with his hand, “let’s find you an omega and see if you can kiss her or him without throwing up.”
Heeseung lets the bass swallow his voice, already hating the idea inside his head. Which is ironic, because just a few days ago, he was adamant on trying to convince himself that he didn’t have a mate.
Oh, well. Just look at him now.
Jay seems to share the same sentiment as him. “This can either turn worse or better. Are you sure you’re doing this?” Jay looks back from Heeseung to Sunoo. “Can’t we find other ways?”
Sunoo taps his chin, looking serious for the first time that night.
“I don’t think we can. The one breaking the bond should be his wolf,” he starts, pointing to Heeseung’s chest. “And since he’s been giving Heeseung a silent treatment, we have no idea where he stands now. This is the only way to trigger a reaction.”
Heeseung thinks he’s had enough of being talked about like a case study. “What do you mean? We don’t know where he stands now?”
Sunoo pats his shoulder, understanding his confusion. “Yeap. We don’t know whether your wolf is okay with cutting the bond with Y/N and finding another mate, or if he still wants Y/N and wants to fix the bond with her.”
“It’s one-sided, Heeseungie hyung. Your wolf didn’t agree with the breakup,” Sunoo then lowers his voice, now talking softly when he notices the gloomy look on his face. “That’s why we either cut it or fix it,” the alpha fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, already feeling emotional.
“Or you could die, hyung. That’s the reality of true mates.”
He’s right. Heeseung knows, despite being a little devil that he is, Sunoo will never lie about something as serious as this. Especially when it involves life and death.
But Heeseung hasn’t been on good terms with his wolf. They’ve been clashing since the night that he met you, always debating whether you were his fated mate or not. And each time, it was Heeseung who never listened. It was Heeseung who refused to give in, in denial to the possibility of a mate and…love.
Even tonight.
“Let’s just cut it off,” he grunts, his voice grim and clipped. Sunoo and Jay whirl around and look at him like he’s just lost one eye.
“I just told you, we can’t just—”
“He’s not responding, and he never will,” Heeseung exhales through his nose, frustration spilling into his scent. “My wolf—”
“That’s because you never wanted to listen to him, Hee.” Jay finally speaks up, cutting the conversation short. Heeseung pauses, his voice dying in his throat.
From his left, Jay’s citrusy pheromones—bergamot and lime with a soft undertone of amber and metal—swirls into his senses with an air of authority. Heeseung recognises this. It’s the accent that Jay uses when he wants someone to relax and listen to him.
The dark-haired alpha plays with his whiskey, watching the liquid swirl and the ice spin as he speaks.
“Or to me. To us.”
He lets the words linger, as if begging Heeseung to finally understand. Jay meets his eyes, looking into him with desperation. There is a flicker of something there; something that makes the wall inside him rattle.
“Please. Just tonight. Please try for us. For you,” his voice is lower, shaky, “I don’t want to lose you, Hee. Please.”
“I just don’t want to hurt her anymore.” Heeseung hesitates. “What if I touch another omega and I hurt her again?”
“You won’t,” Sunoo convinces. He nudges Heeseung’s shoulder with his. “For now, she won’t feel anything because the tie is broken. It won’t be easy, but saving yourself means saving her too.”
A heavy silence falls upon them, filled with unspoken tension and pleading eyes. Jay and Sunoo share a look, each of them on the edges of their nerves waiting for Heeseung’s answer.
At last, Heeseung finally relents. A small sigh escapes his lips and he takes a step forward.
“Okay. Let’s give this a shot.”
It isn’t hard to find someone to kiss. It was never hard for Heeseung. He manages to mask his gloomy scent that could shoo people away from him and gets into his flirty mode. His smile, though a little strained on the edges, still looks pretty as ever.
Soon enough, he already has an omega in his arms, tucked away in a dimmed corner near the bar. Sunoo and Jay keep a safe distance from him, not too close to intrude but not too far out of his sight.
“You’re so tall,” the omega purrs, gliding her pretty nail up his arm. Heeseung barely responds. “Tall and so handsome.”
His heart is telling him how out-of-place the touch feels. The familiar feeling comes back. The same feeling he ignored for two weeks in fear of confronting his own destiny. The same feeling he buried for the sake of proving to no one but himself that he’d do fine without you; without the sacred bond that connected you both.
He wants to flee. He wants to push her away and scratch at the spot where she’s touched him. Where her skin meets his skin, Heeseung feels the strongest urge to recoil. The same nausea returns, clouded by her scent that doesn’t sit well in his nose.
But his rational mind reminds him of the intention behind this.
“Yeah?” He tries, struggling to look her in the eyes. He tightens his grip on her waist and hesitates before pulling her slightly closer. “I’ll need to bend down to kiss you, then.”
The girl lets out an airy giggle. She circles her arms around his neck and pulls him down, peering at him through her lashes seductively. “Mhm, bent down enough?”
Heeseung freezes. It’s going to happen. Heeseung fights the urge to turn his face away, but Sunoo’s words serve as a reminder that stops him from doing so.
Saving yourself means saving her, too.
Shakily, he exhales, closing the gap between their lips as slowly as he can. His heart is angry behind his ribs, his pulse rushing loudly in his ears. Heeseung braces himself until the pout of her lips brushes against his.
The kiss starts gently, mainly initiated by her. Heeseung tries to follow, tries to lead, but the feeling of her mouth on his feels so wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like fitting a triangle puzzle with round pieces.
He opens his mouth, trying to deepen his kiss when something inside him stirs.
No. His wolf finally speaks. It’s no longer distant and muffled.
Like a wolf being reborn from the first death, this time, his voice is sharp and clear.
Not her.
Heeseung closes his eyes, feeling a bile rising behind his throat. But instead of darkness, what he sees instead is an image of you. Your soft features, your silky hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes that he can only see in his memory.
The eyes that used to look at him with sparkles of hope, waiting for him to notice the magnetic force of a bond that you shared with him. The same grateful eyes that looked at him under the moonlight, when the convenience store was empty except for the two of you.
His stomach turns sharply he might actually be sick.
Oh Goddess, what has he done to you? Why did he do you so wrong? Why did he think so highly of himself that he thought he was above love and fate?
A drop of tears slips down his cheek.
Before he knows it, Heeseung is already crying into the kiss. Hot, fresh tears seeps into the lock of their mouths, making the kiss taste like salt and grief; just like how his scent smells right now.
I want Y/N. His wolf echoes again, firmer than he’s ever been. We want Y/N.
At last, after weeks of battling himself, Heeseung finally listens to his wolf.
He breaks the kiss with a breath, pushing her gently by the shoulders and putting a distance between them. Head dipping low, Heeseung lets himself cry, watching the tears drop from the tip of his nose to the sticky floor. The omega is left confused, but she doesn’t say a word.
If anything, Heeseung looks so pitiful that she forgets about feeling upset.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” he hiccups, bringing his hands to his face. He doesn’t realise how hard he’s shaking until she places her hand on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I can’t do this—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl convinces, pursing her lips into a straight line. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Heeseung doesn’t answer. Drops of grief and regret keep pouring out like a broken faucet, staining his cheeks wet. The sound that leaves him isn’t even a sob; it’s something raw, broken, pulled straight out of his chest.
“My heart belongs to her.”
Heeseung feels his wolf paw at him, finally winning the prolonged war of love and pride. A war whose price may be greater than the sin he’s committed.
His scent gland is pulsing even harder, as if reminding him of the bond still barely alive.
With a shaky exhale, like he’s at last allowed himself to be free, Heeseung tries to let it out.
“I think…” his voice breaks, softer now, like he’s afraid of the truth even as he says it.
“I think I finally accepted that my heart has always belonged to her.”
For the first time, Heeseung doesn’t try to deny it. His wolf purrs, almost crying from relief.
“And she doesn’t want it anymore.”
It is very early in the morning. Rays of orange glow cracks through the horizon, bleeding light into the ground. Somewhere in the distance, the moon is slowly getting swallowed by the sky and soon enough, the sun is proudly ascending.
It’s a Saturday, which means, there’s no classes scheduled today. But Heeseung finds himself stepping foot on the campus ground. Faintly, from where he’s standing at the car park, he can hear whistles coming from the field. His wolf, who’s done giving him the silent treatment, nudges him to hurry.
Right. He’s here, abandoning his usual sleep-in on the weekend to find you. It’s the only place he knows where you’d be and he might’ve just bribed Jake to tell him when his football friendly match is going to be.
Taking a deep breath, Heeseung finally moves his legs. His ribs rattle with how fast his heart is beating. He purposely chooses to come fifteen minutes before the match ends—he’s not exactly here to see Jake play (sorry dude). He doesn’t know what to do with himself if he has to wait around for hours just to talk to you. He might go crazy.
Well. That is, if you want to talk to him.
“Don’t discourage me now, you dog,” he mutters under his breath, berating his alpha.
The field is not that far from where he parked his (Jay’s) car. A few paces more and he’s going to see the vast green-grassed space where a bunch of alphas are running around chasing a ball using their legs.
But to his surprise, the field and the bleachers are almost empty.
“Fuck,” Heeseung curses under his breath and checks his watch. He still has three minutes left before the game ends—if what Jake told him was true. Did they end it earlier than planned? He could’ve sworn he heard whistles just now!
You spent too much time on your pep talk, his wolf rolls his eyes.
Heeseung doesn’t waste time. He whirls around and forces his brain to think quicker. His legs move faster, turning corner after a corner in search of you.
Where would the cheerleaders go after a game? To the locker room? No, that’s for the athletes. To the car park? That’s possible, but he didn’t cross paths with anyone on the way here. To the practice room? He rounds a corner. Okay, that actually—
A subtle wave of daisies and honey washes over him almost instantly. Heeseung immediately stops, his breath catching in his throat.
Standing in front of the vending machine, just a few feet away from him, is you. You’re wearing your usual costume—sleeveless top that cuts right at your waist and pleated skirt that ends just above your mid-thigh. But today, the theme seems to be pink. You have your hair up in an updo, a blue ribbon—the official representative colour of the college—is tied neatly around the silky strands of your hair.
There’s only a glimpse of your side profile visible to him, but it’s enough to quiet the prideful alpha in him. He’s not even sure if he’s said it enough, but every time his eyes land on you, you just get prettier.
For a second, Heeseung thinks he doesn’t mind dying at that moment.
You don’t look up to him instantly, or sensing his presence by his pheromones—another reminder of the broken bond that you used to share. Heeseung gulps down the hurt, clenching his sweaty palms into fists.
A clang of a can dropping in the vending machine booms through the hallway. You bend down to take it.
Call her name. His wolf urges. Idiot, just call her name!
Heeseung gathers his breath.
“Y/N?” Your name leaves his name like a sacred prayer, tender and delicate, like a whisper only the Goddess can hear. You freeze in your spot, finger brushing the can only a fraction.
The silence stretches for a few seconds. In waiting, Heeseung holds back his breath, afraid that another sound from him will scare you away.
But you only straighten up, abandoning your can of drink and turn to him. The edges of your eyes harden at the sight of him.
You hold his gaze, lips unmoving before you finally say his name.
“Heeseung.”
It’s flat. It’s polite. It’s cold. It’s nothing like the night when you ran into his arms. It’s not warm like the way you called his name before falling asleep on his shoulders, back when your wolf trusted him with your life.
Back when the bond was still there. Back when his name was still written in the stars beside yours.
Heeseung thinks this is worse than death.
“Can I…” he pauses, already fearing your rejection mid-sentence.
Saving yourself means saving her, too.
He pushes through.
“Can I talk to you?”
The words finally leave his lips, and Heeseung doesn’t move. It’s as if he was intruding; like he was poking your safe bubble and he wasn’t allowed to move without your permission.
Your eyes assess him, like you’re deciding if he was a threat. Then, with a firm tone he never heard from you, you reply. “I have practice.”
“I won’t take long,” he rushes out, the words tripping over each other. “Please—just for a moment. Please.”
Please.
The one word you’d never expect coming from a dominant alpha like him. Someone who seems prideful in everything he does, who commands attention wherever he goes with his voice alone.
So he does have the courage to talk to you. He does know what he did was wrong on so many levels—and yet.
Yet it took you almost dying for him to learn.
Yet it took you bleeding on the floor for him to realise.
For once, you really thought you could be the bigger person. You really believed that your heart, as soft as it always has been, would fold and melt the moment his honeyed-voice greets your senses again.
But you were wrong.
Your resentment still lingers, caging your chest in a protective embrace, not daring to lose its heartbeat for the second time.
“No.”
You take a step back, and this time, you make sure it is a line being drawn.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
Your verdict echoes like a gavel tapping against a sound block. It’s straightforward. It’s clear. But to Heeseung, it’s a punishment too small to what he did to you.
He tries his best to school his expression, swallowing the lump in his throat with force. He then nods, weakly, then a bit too fast.
His wolf cries, not willing for him to back down so easily. His human part, on the other hand, is split into two.
Old Heeseung is ready to isolate and never reach out again. Same old habits that used to bring him comfort and distractions.
This is why you don’t do commitments. Just forget about this.
Another Heeseung, a new side that feels awkward but is still slowly growing, is trying to rationalise your decision and understand your boundaries.
Give her time, Heeseung. The wound is still so fresh.
“Okay.” He finally breathes out, the heavy word weirdly sending relief to his system. “Okay. I understand.”
You don’t move for a moment, just staring at him blankly like he might change his mind, before you nod. You honestly don’t know what to expect, but this is a pleasant surprise. You don’t think you can handle a pushy alpha now—especially the same alpha who had pushed you too far.
You leave without another word, feeling his eyes boring into the back of your head as you round the corner. Once out of his sight, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding,, gripping the wall for support.
Your heart pounds like a war drum, threatening to break out of your chest. Seeing his face after actively avoiding him seems to be harder than you’d thought. You didn’t know he’d come looking for you on the weekends like this.
The Heeseung you remember always leaves first.
You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your frantic heart, and realise one thing with a sinking feeling.
Your quiet omega is still silent, lips sealed shut. Not even a word was heard from her since that tragic night.
You sigh. Heeseung’s got a really long way to go.
On the other side of the wall, Heeseung trails after your steps with his gaze—longing, hopeful, and sorrowful.
He’ll wait. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed yet, but he’ll wait.
Heeseung heaves out a long sigh, his throat feeling dry. The vending machine suddenly looks interesting to him. Rows of canned drinks lined up the interior but Heeseung already has his mind set on his go-to Zero Coke.
The can drops with a loud clang. Heeseung reaches down, ready to feel the coldness of the red-canned drink, only to pause when he sees green instead.
Grape juice.
Oh, right. You forgot your drink.
He takes both cans, but his attention on his Zero Coke is long gone. He inspects your drink instead, eyes lingering on the brand like it’s something precious, his fingers wet from condensation.
So you like grape juice.
Heeseung finally learns something about you today.
But waiting is easier said than done.
Anxiety lives under his skin, prickling in his system like thorns in flesh. Every time he closes his eyes, the memory of you bleeding in the frat house haunts him back. He’d wake up gasping, lungs burning like he just survived a drowning.
Your silence has turned his longingness into a desperation so deep you practically could smell it on him. Heeseung can’t be with himself, not when he’s been spending every hour fighting every instinct to scream your name and throw up.
And that’s exactly how Heeseung finds himself lingering around the business building not long after the last time spoke to you.
He doesn’t know your schedule, he doesn’t know what classes you’re in, or the circle of friends you have other than the cheerleaders. He only knows where you live because he sent you home the night you fell asleep on his shoulders—but he doesn’t think going to your house is appropriate. It’s too private and he doesn’t want to stain your safe abode with his presence.
Which is why he decided to wait at the campus, at the building he’s not familiar with.
Heeseung never hated himself more than he does now.
Fuck. How ignorant had he been towards the person who was supposed to be his mate?
Is it too late to learn about you now? Is it too late to knock on your door and hold his heart in his hand like a beggar right now?
So Heeseung spends hours waiting for you without even knowing if you’d come to campus today. He messaged Sunoo for help, but it has slipped from his mind just how busy a med student can be. Sunoo’s probably losing his mind over human anatomy again. The text remains delivered until the night falls.
Black sky takes over the horizon, only lending lights from the moon and the stars as a mercy. Heeseung’s feet are numb from walking around and standing for too long. He looks around the emptying hallways, not sure where exactly he is other than the fact that he’s at the business compound—a path where most students use to get to their classes.
He glances at his watch. It’s almost 8 pm. Most classes have already ended, and the last session would have ended half an hour ago.
You’re probably not here anymore.
Heeseung bites back a groan, licking his dry lips as he turns around to leave. Meeting you at the court is not possible until a few weeks more for a friendly match with that eastern university team again. He can’t possibly wait until then—so he’ll come back tomorrow.
Heeseung knows that he’s a walking contradiction. He vows to respect your decision, to let things go with time. To step back when he’s asked to, to wait around until the tide dies.
However, wasn’t this the way he lost you?
For being too passive. For being too cowardly. For running away.
Heeseung really wants to give you time, but at the same time, he doesn’t know if your ‘no’ yesterday is still applicable today. He should at least try today, right? Or should he wait more?
Fuck. With self-hatred thicker than before, Heeseung curses himself for not knowing. For not understanding. He’s only well-versed about omegas when it comes to sex, but other than that, he doesn’t fucking know. His carelessness and ignorance are biting him hard in the ass right now.
Though, the desperation persists.
He just needs one thing: closure.
Not for himself, but rather for you.
You deserve to know only the truth.
But it’s getting late, and the thin layers he’s wearing aren’t doing a good job to protect him from the chill. Now, he hopes you’re already home, safe and tucked in warmly in your room.
He will try again tomorrow.
Just as he’s about to leave, as if the Moon Goddess finally hears his prayers, Heeseung catches the sound of your voice drifting down the hallway.
You’re here.
God, you’re actually here.
Before he can overthink it, Heeseung is already on his feet, following the trail of daisies and honey using his sharp senses. And he sees you—just rounding the corner, talking to your classmates while heading towards the exit.
He can no longer hold back the instinct to call your name.
“Y/N.”
You freeze in your spot, recognising his voice in a heartbeat. You hate that you do.
He’s already on his way, closing the distance between the two of you with a look of desperation that seems foreign when he wears it. Beside you, your classmates are already whispering, equally surprised as you are.
“Is that Lee Heeseung?”
“Isn’t the music faculty so far from here?”
You pretend you don’t hear anything and frown instead.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk?” Heeseung blurts out the moment he’s close enough. There’s still an elephant distance between you and him, but he doesn’t dare step closer.
Can he even be near you? Is he allowed to?
When there’s no answer from you, he tries again. “Please, can I please talk to you?”
“Just go home, Heeseung.” You mutter, already walking away. You send an apologetic look to your classmates and start to leave, but Heeseung is already hot on your tail.
“Y/N,” he croaks out, the tremble in his voice almost going unnoticed. “I just need ten minutes. No—give me five minutes, please.”
No response from you. You don’t even know where you’re going anymore, taking a turn after a turn to lose him.
How did he know where you were? Did he find out your schedule from someone else? What is he doing here? How long has he been waiting for you?
It doesn’t seem like he has another reason to be here. So did he wait around for you?
You bite your lip, not entirely prepared for the inevitable confrontation to happen so fast.
But you underestimate how desperate Heeseung is because he keeps following you like a lost puppy, long legs slowing down slightly so as to not crowd you from behind. Being this close to him allows your nose to pick up on his sense—eye-watering cinnamon spiking with anxiousness with an undertone of a brewing sea storm.
Heeseung can’t stand the silence any longer.
“I was wrong.” Fuck. If you won’t even look at him, that’s fine. But he needs you to know how sorry he is. “I know what I did was terrible and I—”
“Terrible?” You finally come to a stop and whirl around, your scent brimming with anger. “Terrible? I almost died, Heeseung!”
Heeseung catches himself before he crashes into you. He stares at you, wide-eyed, as you crane your neck to look up at him. The unwanted memory comes flashing back—of blood and tears and regret he’d never move past.
Your eyes glisten with angry tears, fists trembling by your sides.
“What you did was almost criminal.”
Heeseung flinches. He doesn’t expect the word to land so heavy in his chest, so sharply in his gut. His hand flexes by his side, urging him to cradle your soft, soft face in his hold and pour out every single apology he’s been carrying but he stops himself.
“I know, and I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Heeseung murmurs, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “I just want you to allow me to fix the bond.”
You let out a laugh. A hollow, humourless laugh. The emptiness doesn’t even echo in the air.
“So now the bond is real to you?” You spit out, venom leaking into your voice. “Wasn’t it all just in my head, Heeseung? Wasn’t it all just my heat messing with me.”
Heeseung is hit with a pang of shame, not expecting you to throw his words back at him. He cowers and lets the full impact of his hurtful choice of words consume him to the bone.
You put a fist over your heaving chest, your tongue getting loose now that the inevitable has come.
“I thought I was losing my mind,” your voice trembles slightly, treading along something dangerously close to a breakdown. “I thought something was wrong with me. I was sick for weeks and none of the doctors could cure me! And the whole time it was just…”
You swallow, blinking back tears furiously.
“The whole time it was just you choosing someone else over me.”
It’s like sand has filled up his mouth. Every answer tastes wrong and bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t even know what to say to that for how true it is.
How was he supposed to atone for a sin that nearly killed his mate?
“I know,” is the only thing he can whisper. Shame spreads across his chest like a disease. “I know. I—I did that. I’m sorry for not choosing you, Y/N.”
There it is. The truth, bare as it is, lies there like a final verdict. It feels almost tangible for how suffocating it is. It feels almost too cruel for how much it hurts you. It feels almost alive for how hard it is pulsing in your ears.
The dam finally breaks. “How long have you known that we—” your voice catches, silent tears gliding down your cheeks. “That we were fated mates?”
Guilt gnaws at his chest. “Two weeks before the tournament,” he quietly answers, already feeling small.
So since the beginning of your streak of pain.
You feel sick to your stomach.
“How many of them?”
“What?”
“How many omegas did you fuck to convince yourself that I wasn’t your mate?”
Defensiveness flares up in his chest. “I didn’t fuck them. I couldn’t. I tried—”
“But you still stayed there, trying to prove to everyone in this world that that’s what you wanted and not me!” Your voice booms, no longer holding back on the pain.
Silence rings so loud afterwards, it stretches and stretches until the tension is left in a tight thread waiting to snap.
You stand there, shoulders shaking from sobbing quietly. Long, silky hair cascades around your face as you look down, biting back any sound.
And every hitch of your voice rips his heart apart.
His wolf, wounded as he is, thrashes inside. Shivering daisies and acrid honey droops around him, eliciting another whine from his alpha. Heeseung braves another step forward, hesitation edging on his heels.
“I messed up. I hurt you all because I tried to prove to myself that I didn’t need you.”
His hands twitch, hovering mindlessly on his sides.
Heeseung has promised himself that he’d only say the truth from now on. Harsh as it is, bitter as it is—it’s the only thing you deserve to hear. He couldn’t conjure any more lies to protect himself.
God. Even his lies are killing him now.
“I never slept with them. I couldn’t touch them without feeling like I was about to throw up,” he goes on, voice softening around the edges. “I couldn’t even walk into a room without hoping that it’d be you.”
You shake your head. “But you still did.”
He nods weakly. “That doesn’t erase the fact that I did. I chose to run away because I couldn’t handle the fact that our fate is bigger than what I was willing to hold.”
Our fate.
Heeseung inhales shakily.
“I forced myself to enjoy the touch because I was so fucking busy proving the Goddess wrong.”
A sob escapes your lips.
Why does our fate have to be so tragic, Heeseung?
“I was dying, Heeseung,” you whisper wetly. “Your actions were killing me.”
Heeseung bites his tongue. “I know. I was wrong.”
A minute passes without any words. The hallway is only filled with the soft sobs and sniffles coming from your lips. Heeseung stands, wretched and torn. One leg is urging him to go to you and hold you. Another leg is forcing him to stay because he doesn’t think he deserves to touch you.
What he knows, for sure, is that this image of you crying in front of him will haunt him in his sleep.
After a moment, you finally speak, your voice hoarse.
“I don’t think we can ever come back from this.”
Heeseung’s throat closes up, a sudden stab lodging its pointy end into his chest. No, his wolf cries out. Please, no.
He lifts his hand, longing to touch you, but then decides to drop it. “Y/N. Please—”
“I don’t even know how we can fix this,” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “My omega has been silent since the day she cut the bond.”
In response, his wolf whines, trying to get a reaction. But you feel nothing.
Not a stir. Not even a shift. Your omega is deadly unresponsive. If it’s not for your beating heart, you’d think that you’d been dead since that night.
“I don’t know if she still wants this or not. This—bond. You.”
“But do you?” Heeseung can hear his voice cracking, and he thinks his heart is facing the same fate too. He’s sure of it.
“Do you still want this?”
You are silent for a moment and it’s the longest second Heeseung has ever gone through.
“I—I don’t know,” you quietly mutter. “You hurt me more than anyone ever did, Heeseung.”
Heeseung would have preferred you shout at him than this. He’d rather have the heat of your hatred than this.
This cold winter of your uncertainty. This soft, subtle turndown, like you’re already resigned to the fate of not having him in your life anymore.
Heeseung’s knees hit the ground with a thud before you can stop him.
It’s not weak, or pathetic. It’s utter devotion, surrendering his heart stripped bare from pride and lies to you. It’s complete submission, one that his dominant side has always found it hard to do but done it so easily when it comes to you.
Heeseung doesn’t do worship, but you’re the only altar he will ever kneel to.
His head hangs low, burgundy hair falling over his eyes as his shoulders shake once.
“I know,” he mutters, sounding wrecked.
Heeseung has his hands fisted on his lap, as though it’s his only source of strength, shaking from the overwhelming desperation brimming in his scent.
“I was a coward.”
You gasp, not expecting such action. “Heeseung, get up—“
“Not until you hear me out,” he pleads.
He lifts his head. Heeseung’s wide, bambi eyes look up at you, veiled with a thick layer of tears.
“I fought the bond because I was afraid. I was so fucking scared. I was always the one to leave first, to run and detach fast, but you, Y/N…”
His fingers twitch, fighting the urge to reach out.
“You made me want to stay.”
Your breath catches.
“I’m scared because giving in would mean finally belonging to someone.”
His eyes find yours again, looking soft and destroyed all over. Your heart traitorously skips a beat.
“But right now, I’d give up everything to belong to you.”
His vulnerability, raw and edged with hopelessness, tugs at your wounded heartstrings. You instinctively step back from the sheer weight of it.
“Y/N, please. If your omega never forgives me,” he chokes out, feeling the distance like a slap in the face. He bites back the instinct to take your hand, but he doesn’t dare touch you.
Not until you allow him to.
“If she never forgives me, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning forgiveness from you.”
A teardrop spills from his lash line, staining his cheeks wet.
You give a helpless shake of your head, your resolve slowly crumbling.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“Then I’ll show you. I’ll show you that I mean this.”
His knees scrape against the floor as he inches closer. Tears stream down his face in relentless waves, the lower part of his lips trembling greatly.
“I’m not asking you to take me back. I just need permission from you,” he begs, almost sobbing into his speech.
“Please let me try. I want to become the man that deserves you, Y/N.”
Your lips part, a ghost of a shaky breath escaping your lips.
You’re not used to this kind of devotion.
Not from those alphas who wanted you because they thought having the shy girl who barely talks to men was trophy-worthy. Not from those men who see you as nothing more than their kink fantasies. Not from those guys who thought you were boring and not exciting.
But tonight, as moonlight leaks through the glass of the windows and spills across the floor as if the Moon Goddess has decreed this to happen herself—Heeseung sits there, bruising knees digging into the marble tiles, and begs you to give him a chance.
You’re not used to this kind of devotion, yet you let a small part of your heart, a traitor that it is—flutters from the impact of his words.
You take another step backward, as if being physically away from him would help recover your resolve.
“I…” you can’t find your voice, not when he’s looking at you with regret spilling from his round eyes. Not when he’s gazing up at you like he was a sinner and you were his only saviour.
“I don’t understand, Heeseung,” is the only thing you can whisper, deciding to be truthful. “You were so—so hellbent on trying to deny the bond. You even went to Narin after I confronted you,” you lick your lips, gut twisting sharply at the mention of your captain. You still haven’t spoken to her until this day.
“Why now? Why…change your mind? I already made it easier for you—I cut the bond!”
Heeseung flinches. The reality slaps him in the face again, presenting him with the consequences of his actions on the table.
He knew it won’t be easy, but God—hearing the hurt in your voice pains him more than the ache in his knees.
Heeseung almost crawls forward.
“I’m a coward, Y/N,” he breathes out. “Losing you made me realise that I was never trying to escape the bond.”
His head dips lower, shaking it slowly to himself.
“I was trying to escape what the bond demanded of me.”
Heeseung lifts his gaze, raising his hands, gesturing to you like a priceless painting. There’s a sad smile on his face.
“Settling down, staying, being devoted only to you…those are the only things you deserve. Nothing less.”
His voice is somehow louder than the racing pulse in your ears. You know what’s coming, yet you’re still not prepared for the sting of the truth.
“I am everything less than that,” he finishes. He closes his eyes, not willing to see the look you might wear on your face.
There’s a long pause. The world is quiet outside, not even a sound of cars passing by can be heard. Heeseung doesn’t know how late it already is, or how long he’s been on his knees, but he doesn’t care.
Hurting his knees is the kindest punishment you can ever give him.
You, on the other hand, are beyond devastated. Truly, you don’t think Heeseung could ever hurt you more than he already did. But his confession—fuck.
Heeseung wasn’t ready to step up and become the love that you deserve and it’s killing you that he chose to run instead of try.
It’s killing you that you weren’t an option until fate decided to twist everything around.
With resentment and resignation, you finally decide.
“The bond is no longer there. You can just forget about this, Heeseung.”
Heeseung thinks being shot to death would hurt less than this.
You, however, are already shutting him out.
“If you need closure, just know that one day I will forgive you. It’s not now, not next week, and probably not in months.” Or years. “But I will.”
There’s a strange ache blooming in your chest. One that comes as a price of letting something precious go.
“I hope that’ll help ease your mind.”
God, the bond was precious to you. Heeseung was precious to you.
How did it come to this?
Across from you, Heeseung is crumbling down.
“No, please—” he chokes, scrambling for some air. He can’t breathe.
“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance to be forgiven.”
“You don’t have to try so hard, Heeseung. The bond is gone.”
“I don’t care about the bond!” He hits his chest with a fist, the pain becoming unbearable. “I hurt you, Y/N. With or without the bond, nothing can change the fact that I hurt you and I can’t live with myself knowing that I hurt someone innocent.”
Heeseung can feel the sting of his nails digging into his palm. Anytime now and he’ll be drawing blood from how hard he’s fisting it.
The tears are welling up in your eyes again but you hold your ground.
“Please, I beg you, and I beg you hard, Y/N.”
Heeseung clasps his hands, the pink of his nails turning white from how hard he’s doing it.
“I beg you—please let me try to fix this. Please let me earn your forgiveness. Please, Y/N.”
Your heart breaks at the determination in his voice.
“It won’t be easy.”
“However long it takes,” he pushes, searching your eyes with his glistening ones, his voice raw with urgency.
“I won’t wait for you.”
His eyes burn with more hot tears.
He’s lost you for good, hasn’t he?
“You don’t have to,” he quietly whispers. “I just need your permission to try.”
You swallow down the urge to scream. His promise sounds bigger than his whole existence, yet your heart foolishly roots for him.
“You can try. But I can’t promise you anything.”
You don’t wait for his reply. Quickly, as if your heels were on fire, you turn around and leave him.
Alone, still kneeling. Traces of his regret are still wet on his cheeks.
You hear him sniffle, but you don’t look back.
Heeseung sits alone in the darkness of his producer room.
The space resembles a shipwreck. If Jay didn’t see any crumpled papers the last time he was here, he’d be surprised to see the growing pile of them now.
Heeseung has tried to write something. Or anything that could get this remorse out of his system. He wants to translate his grief into something that is at least listenable. Not whatever mess he is inside.
But nothing really comes out.
The bullpoint of his pen ends up writing your name instead. In round letters, in cursive. In shaky hands, and in tears.
Y/N.
I’m sorry, Y/N…please forgive me.
A word of your name turns into long written words of regret and silent confession. Letters that he will crumple and throw, then pick it up to read back and add more.
There is a dull ache in his knees, turning purple from the time he spent on the floor for you. He lets the bruise pulse, making no attempts to ice it or stop it. It’s a reminder to him.
A reminder of the ticket of mercy you barely granted him.
A reminder of the bond still hanging limply by his finger.
It’s not even a pain if he put it beside the suffering you went through because of him.
You’re a coward.
His wolf suddenly speaks, adding salt to the wound.
Heeseung closes his eyes shut.
“Shut up,” he grumbles, not appreciating being reprimanded when he’s already a wreck. But his wolf, justifyingly so, seems to hold a grudge against him because he doesn’t stop.
I lost my mate because of you. You ran away from her.
“Yes, I did. I know that,” he grunts. He already resents himself for it, why is he wolf making it harder for him as if they weren’t two halves of one soul?
Knowing isn’t enough. Remember the night you made her bleed.
The memory, as if summoned, crawls its way back into his mind. As if he was brought back to that fateful night, Heeseung can feel his gut twisting sharply inside.
Remember the night she trembled and cut the bond because you went too far.
“Stop,” Heeseung whisper-shouts.
It feels like the room is shrinking and the walls are closing in on him because the air can’t seem to reach his lungs. Heeseung cowers, covering his ears with both hands. The sting of hot tears starts to burn at the corners of his eyes.
Your face, pale and ghostly, haunts the edges of his thoughts. He still recalls how hard you shook from shock. He still recalls the tremble in your legs as you hold onto the door for dear life.
He really went too far.
And if proving his point, his wolf taunts more.
Remember the omegas you touched while she was dying when I kept telling you to stop.
The pen drops and clatters on the floor. Heeseung stands and sways, his vision blurry from unshed tears.
He remembers it.
The nights he spent trying to bury any attachment towards you and the bond. The nights he spent pleasing other omegas despite not enjoying it at all. The nights he spent ignoring the ache in his chest, the voice of his wolf—as if running away would ever be enough to excuse him from his fate.
While all the time, you had been suffering alone.
Nausea creeps up the back of his throat.
“No, please stop—”
His wolf snarls, pent-up anger and frustration finally spilling out.
She could be in someone else’s arms now. Someone gentler. Someone braver than you.
The nausea punches through his chest.
Heeseung scrambles for the door, yanking it open and stumbles out of his producer room to the bathroom. He barely makes it before his stomach churns violently and doubles over.
He throws up his long-forgotten lunch because he missed his dinner, the bile unforgiving to the spasms in his gut. Heeseung knees over the toilet until his stomach empties and grief starts to taste metallic on his tongue.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slumps onto the floor. It’s a ringing silence in his ears before a sob escapes his lips.
Then another.
Before he knows it, it has turned into a full-on wailing. The tears are finally giving up, now streaming endlessly down his cheeks like tiny rivers.
Heeseung lets himself remember the faces of the omegas he touched. A betrayal of the bond he’ll never forgive himself for.
Heeseung lets himself remember the person you are—someone who deserves protection and affection. Someone who can be literally with anyone; any deserving alpha who knows how to treat you right.
Anyone in this world. Anyone from his campus. Anyone from his team. Anyone from his house.
Heeseung is fast to turn around and vomits again. The image of Jay being the perfect alpha for you makes his chest caves and breaks.
Fuck. Fuck, no. Please—no.
He always made fun of Riki when the younger complained about their too-good alpha friend. He never really understood why Riki is still on edge whenever Jay is around his girlfriend, despite knowing that him agreeing to help with his girlfriend’s heat was purely out of kindness.
But now he knows. Now he fucking knows.
Jay is just too good to be true. Jay never touches omegas carelessly. Jay lowers his voice when he speaks to them. Jay likes taking care of people like they’re his own.
Jay also cares about you. He knows that. The punch he almost threw at Heeseung that night was proof enough.
And in a peak of complete crumbling from his desperation to be forgiven, from his humility to admit to his mistakes—a fast-growing insecurity is piling up in his chest.
Heeseung can’t breathe.
He’s suffocating again.
A sudden thought flashes through his head. His frantic mind, desperate for some relief, entertains the thought without thinking further.
Just cut the bond too. End this suffering and cut the bond.
Heeseung raises his finger to his scent gland, still thudding violently from the rush of his emotions running in his veins.
Could he really cut the bond?
Don’t you dare.
“But it’s too painful…” he cries.
She’s my mate! If you end it now, I will tear you apart myself. You will fucking die, Heeseung.
Heeseung folds in on himself, crouching lower on the floor. His whole body shakes from the force of his tears.
“Why her?” he whispers helplessly.
“Why someone so precious? Why her?”
His wolf doesn’t answer. Heeseung is left sobbing to himself, already resigned to his fate and the silence from his alpha.
Because he knows, only the Goddess of the Moon has the answer to that.
Only she knows why he was sent something holy when he’s too ruined to hold it.
You never would have expected to get hurt from the one thing you wanted the most.
Love.
The tale of true mates.
Maybe that’s the reason why most people dislike it. Maybe all this time, it wasn’t because of envy or ridicule. Maybe all this time, people had already realised how destructive it could be before you did.
Something intangible that can only be felt has the power to destroy you through someone else’s actions and decisions? It’s no wonder, really.
You were just too blind and too delusional for even dreaming of it in the first place.
Life hasn’t been easy since the breaking of the bond.
You went on autopilot for the first week, just trying to save yourself from a bad attendance record and getting kicked out of the cheerleader squad. The latter proved to be harder to overcome since the source of your pain and the current centre of your universe—Heeseung—was always there on the court, glancing at you at every chance he got.
It’s almost laughable, the way he’s trying to catch your gaze now when he used to avoid it so much.
You dated people a couple of times before, but the breakups were never this bad. They hurt, of course, but this bond seemed to amplify every emotion you felt for Heeseung and yourself. Again, one of the reasons you believe why most people started hating it.
The whole time, you only had yourself. Sometimes Yujin would come into your room to cuddle you and let you cry into her shoulders. She’d stay as long as a med student could—watching movies together, painting your nails, crying with you.
All the time when you thought you craved love, you sometimes forgot that love doesn’t always mean romantic relationships. Sometimes it comes in the form of Yujin waking up before her alarm to make you your favourite pancakes.
Sometimes love comes in the form of Rei, despite the two of you having only gotten closer recently, checking up on you every meal time to make sure you eat well.
Sometimes love comes through a phone call with your parents, asking about your day and showing you the small garden they’re growing in the backyard.
And slowly, eventually, you realise that love also means choosing yourself over the bond.
Choosing yourself means stop clinging onto the bond. Choosing yourself means not waiting on Heeseung to get his acts right or for the right apology. Choosing yourself means you stop letting the bond and Heeseung dictate how you go about your life from now on.
Heeseung can try all he wants, and you might or might not see his efforts—but you won’t wait for him.
You’re done waiting.
Strangely, it doesn’t feel bitter. The thought of finally letting go of the bond sounds more freeing. Like the air is finally settling in your lungs after weeks of drowning.
You find your way back to the pieces of you since the bond broke. For the first time since you cut the thread, your world revolves around something other than pain.
Life comes back in fragments. In trying out pilates with Yujin and laughing when the instructor turns her back to you because Yujin just sucks at stretching.
In late-night convenience store runs with Rei to eat extra spicy noodles that’ll upset your stomach the next morning.
In falling back to your old study habits and excelling a difficult pop quiz.
In helping the squad choreograph for the upcoming routines—because alphas just run hot and can’t seem to stop challenging each other in sports.
You laugh freely now. You don’t have to spend the night worrying about a thread tugging at your ribs.
You don’t have to overthink about…Heeseung. Not anymore.
For a moment, he becomes a maybe. For a few days when you successfully avoid him, he becomes an ‘if only’. A background noise. A consequence.
A wound becoming scarred.
Nothing more.
Or so you tell yourself.
There’s been barely anything from Heeseung since he fell to his knees for you a few days ago. For a while, you think maybe you scared him too much—frightened him with the possibility that you may never come back, until he decided to let silence become his apology.
But apparently, you just don’t notice him trying.
Heeseung, you realise, moves in quiet devotion.
It starts with a can of your favourite grape juice sitting beside your tote bag every time you come back from the restroom. You assume it’s Rei being sweet as always—the omega has taken a great liking to you since the day you first spoke.
You don’t notice how consistent its appearance is with Heeseung’s promise.
You overlook the fact that it starts showing up the very next day after your painful conversation.
“But how did he know?” you whisper to yourself, staring down the can like it’s a threat now.
You turn it in your palm, feeling the coldness seep into your fingers. Then, faintly, you smell him.
His pheromones. Cinnamon and sea salt clings to the can like an afterthought. Like Heeseung didn’t mean to leave his traces but the scent lingers anyway.
It’s been quite a while since you smelled it. Ever since you cut the tie, you no longer can sense his pheromones from afar. It only happens when you’re in close proximity to him, which is very rare to happen now.
Now, as his scent drifts to your senses, you find yourself actually missing it. Missing the warmth and safety it used to offer. Missing the familiarity of it.
Your heart aches.
No matter how forward you’ve moved in your healing progress, there’ll always be a big why living in the back of your mind.
You really could’ve had it all.
But you don’t let it get to you. In all honesty, it is a sweet gesture and a nice start, yes, but it’s not enough. Even your baby cousin knows that you’re crazy about grape juice. Heeseung didn’t exactly make a groundbreaking discovery with this one.
The thought still counts, though.
It slips from your mind faster than you’d like to admit. Apart from the upcoming great friendly match between your basketball team and their sworn rival the eastern university, you have a business case study pitching competition set in two weeks.
Meetings become more frequent, time spent at the library becomes longer. You wish they would pick another place to do the discussion because the library is literally an air conditioner reincarnate—always too cold for your body.
The chill autumn air only worsens the cold. Winter is coming and you can’t help but keep adding more layers to your clothes each time you walk out of the apartment to visit the library.
Except today, there is someone already waiting by the library door. A face that you recognise with a single glance. Features that you memorise by heart, stopping you in your tracks before you reach the door.
Heeseung.
His body is adorned with a brown trench coat that reaches his calves, outlining his proportions and tall figure perfectly. He has one hand resting in one of the pockets, while another is holding a pink paper bag.
Burgundy hair curtains his forehead, a complement to his already-handsome features. But the look on his face is forlorn, distant eyes staring into space, looking lost in his own thoughts.
You try not to pay him any mind and start walking again.
As if he was wired to only sense your presence, Heeseung snaps out of his trance and whips his head to you. His eyes soften, lips parting slightly. You avert your eyes.
“Y/N.”
This time, you pretend you just notice him and give him a nod. “Heeseung,” you reply, already moving away to get inside. But Heeseung is fast to stop you.
“Wait! I–I have something for you.”
Heeseung holds out the paper bag to you, his own ears turning the same shade. You blink up at him before trying to peer inside, not yet accepting it.
“What is this?”
“Something to keep you warm,” he breathes out, like he can’t believe you’re actually talking to him. “It’s getting chiller. Please accept it.”
For a second, you just study his face. His round eyes look at you like he’s appreciating and memorising your face all at once. There is something about his expression that looks like he’s hopeful that you’d accept the paper bag, but at the same time, already expecting you to reject it.
After a few seconds of no signs of you accepting his gifts, Heeseung slowly lowers his extended arm. His face falls, but he quickly schools it into a neutral expression.
“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to,” he licks his lips with a swipe of his tongue, already foreseeing the rejection.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask and instantly regret your tone. It’s unintentionally clipped, very unlike you.
But Heeseung isn’t fazed. If anything, he looks shyer now.
“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. The pink in his ears has turned bright red—from the cold or from his own shyness, you’re not sure.
One thing you know is that you’re not used to this side of the dominant alpha.
The side that he showed you once before he dipped. That night when he held a heat pack in your hand, insisting on keeping you warm. For a split second, you wonder if it was instinct or if he really meant it, already knowing the answer to it.
It was probably the former.
A gush of chill air passes by and you shiver. Right, you’re still standing outside of the library with two layers of sweater and are still trembling.
Finally, you take the paper bag from him. Heeseung startles, not expecting the sudden gesture and definitely not expecting the graze of a touch of your finger brushing his. It makes him shudder, like your touch is bigger than the cold autumn air.
“Thank you,” you give him a tight-lipped smile, watching as his expression brightens up. Without waiting for his reply, you’re already heading to the door, ready to leave the alpha behind.
Before the door closes, you hear a whisper of his voice, carried by the bone-chilling air.
“Good luck with your competition, Y/N.”
You wonder how he knew about it, but the moment you sit at the table right in front of Jungwon—one of your teammates—you finally remember that they’re somehow friends.
The alpha gives you a dimpled smile. “Hey, Y/N. You’re early.”
“You too.” You pause, weighing the words in your head. “Jungwon, do you know Heeseung?”
Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyes the pink paper bag now placed on the table, then nods to himself.
“Yes. Please don’t get mad at me, though. I’m kind of rooting for him.” He peeks into the paper bag and whistles. “Wow, hyung really doesn’t play.”
You snatch the paper bag and put it on the chair beside you. You’ve peeked inside, and is it a surprise to say that you were surprised?
A bunch of heat packs. A pair of blue mittens. A pack of tissue. A minty inhaler. And the one that contributes the most weight—a can of grape juice, already unchilled.
It’s that night all over again. The paracetamol that you downed because you did get a headache after a whole night of crying. The wet tissues that you used to wipe your tear-stained face. The heat pack that kept you warm the whole time you sat outside of the convenience store.
Everything Heeseung picked out has always been too…thoughtful.
While waiting for the rest of your group members to arrive, with Jungwon already typing on his laptop and talking about something you’re too distracted to hear—you’re swamped with your own conflicting emotions again.
Heeseung has always had the capability to care for people. To care for you. He was gentle with you that night. And fuck, you still hate what he did to you—but even the day he called you delusional, he was very soft with the way he talked to you.
The cruelest part is that Heeseung was never incapable of tenderness.
He had simply been too afraid to offer it where it mattered most.
He told you he wasn’t ready to step up to be the man that you deserved, but that sounds like a flimsy excuse now.
What was he so afraid of?
You really don’t want to make it easy for him, and you’re already ahead of the bond and the concept of love. You’ve already learned your lesson. You still remember the pain.
But, dear Goddess, sometimes you really wish that he was brave enough.
The rest of your group members arrive shortly after, each wearing thick layers like you do. As Jungwon begins the discussion that will continue on until late evening, you reach inside the paper bag and grab one of the heat packs.
Silently, you thank Heeseung in your head.
Just as you have expected, the discussion wraps up when night has already fallen. You stretch in your seat, taking your own sweet time as your group members tidy up.
Jungwon is the last one to leave, carrying his backpack on his wide shoulders. He looks at you finally standing up with a cheeky smile on his face.
“See you tomorrow for the consultation, Y/N. I would’ve offered to walk you home but I don’t wanna ruin the chance for a certain alpha.”
Your brows furrow, not really catching the meaning behind his teasing smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Just make sure to use the front door,” Jungwon is already walking away, giving you a dismissive wave of his hand. “Night!”
You stare at his retreating figure and then something clicks in your mind. Like an instinct, your heart starts racing fast.
Did he mean Heeseung?
Your hands quickly gather your stuff and toss them into your tote bag. The paper bag from Heeseung hangs tightly in your grip as you near the entrance of the library.
True to your speculation, Heeseung is already waiting outside. He has ditched his trench coat, now wearing his jersey that shows off his arms. The number ‘1’ and ‘HEESEUNG’ on the back of his jersey stares at you, unmistakingly him.
You quickly move past him as if you didn’t see him. Almost less than a second after, his footsteps are already echoing from behind you.
“Y/N, wait!”
Heeseung is barely panting in front of you, blocking your way home. You sport a blank expression despite the skips your heart is making.
“What are you doing here?”
“I,” Heeseung catches his breath, and you can’t help but notice the goosebumps in his skin. You almost frown.
What the hell was he thinking, wearing that sleeveless jersey in this weather? The trench coat must be inside his duffle bag, because you don’t see it hanging in his arms.
But the thought remains in your mind. And will probably stay there forever.
You almost miss it when he continues.
“I want to walk you home. No.” Heeseung gathers his voice, now sounding softer, asking for permission.
“Can I walk you home?”
Your answer is quick. “No.”
You can almost feel the pause in his breath. Heeseung blinks once, regaining his composure after a few seconds.
“...Okay,” he nods, eyes slightly distant like he’s not even sure if he means it. “Okay. But can you let me call you an Uber?”
You shake your head, standing your ground.
“My dorm is not far from here.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“I want to walk.”
Silence passes by, along with the air that’s borderline freezing. You don’t know if alphas just naturally run hot, because you’re close to turning into ice despite the layers, but Heeseung doesn’t even flinch.
He finally takes a step back, slightly dipping his head as he nods.
“Okay,” he says again, more like convincing himself. But then he meets your eyes, and the wistful glint of his gaze doesn't go unnoticed by you. Something tugs at your heart.
“At least let Jungwon know when you’re home. Please?” he pleads. “You don’t have to text me. I’ll just—hear from him.”
You purse your lips, giving the alpha a once-over before finally giving in.
“Fine. I will.”
The corner of his lips quirks up but Heeseung covers it quickly. He steps aside, clearing the path for you to go home. You don’t waste time and begin walking, feeling his eyes boring into your skull.
“Please be safe, Y/N.”
You never reply.
The next day, the alpha is not waiting by the door. Jungwon stands in his place instead, the paper bag now has been upgraded to a reusable lunch bag with flower motifs on it.
“Your alpha has a producer meeting today.”
You’re quick to deny.” He’s not my alpha.”
Jungwon ignores you like you’re a wall and opens the lunch bag for you to see.
“Two thermos there. One is chicken porridge, another is hot tea. Not sure if you’re a coffee-person or not, so Heeseung hyung wanted to be safe.” Jungwon speaks like he’s rehearsed it, and to be honest, he kind of did (Heeseung forced him, but you don’t have to know that).
You’re stunned. “What?”
“Don’t worry, it’s grape tea. I don’t know where he got it from, though,” Jungwon shrugs then continues his duty as Heeseung’s greatest accomplice. “More heat packs. I didn’t see you use the mittens yesterday so I told him maybe you didn’t like blue…? So he prepared the red pair for you.”
“Wait, Jungwon—”
“And lastly, a lunch bag with daisies prints, for his most precious daisy in this world.” Jungwon beams wide, dimples curving deep and shoves the lunch bag into your bag.
“How’s his performance?”
“You’re insufferable,” you scoff and snatch the lunch bag from his grasp. You quickly go inside, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks betraying your indifference.
Your mind, another traitor, is filled with the thoughts of Heeseung.
Is this him trying?
You’re not sure how to feel about it, but your heart surely knows her shits—fluttering like you’re a virgin being courted.
Which, technically, in every way possible—you are.
You try to ignore it. During break, you remember to control your expression as you eat the porridge, aware of Jungwon’s hawking eyes gauging at your reaction.
Heeseung is sure smart to pick him as his wingman. That alpha is a persistent menace.
But no. You’re not going to fold easily.
Your omega is still silent, and the damage has been too severe. For all you know, Heeseung might be just performing remorse. Only time can tell if he was really sincere and serious or not.
After all, consistency is a great telltale of devotion.
However, as if the world was suddenly eager to prove you wrong, Heeseung keeps showing up.
He comes again at night, this time fully covered up and looking dashing in his white button up and loosened tie. You guess he just came back from the meeting, judging from the formality of the attire. But you can’t help but let your eyes linger longer on his face, suddenly too conscious of his height.
Okay, what the fuck. He’s always been handsome. There’s nothing surprising about it.
“Can I walk you home?”
You’re snapped out of your thoughts when his voice, low and soft, reaches your ears. You shake your head.
“No.”
“I’ll keep my distance,” he says quickly. “You won’t even notice I’m there. Please?”
You keep your walls steady. “Why are you doing this?”
The question hangs in the air. Heeseung’s gaze softens, but there’s a cloud of doubt swirling behind his eyes now. For the first time, you see the alpha shivers in the cold.
“You gave me a chance,” he says, voice clear and crisp. Like it’s a conviction. Like it’s something he’s deliberately chosen.
“I want to try until you can forgive me. And I know it’ll never be enough. I know I’ll be too selfish to hope…”
Heeseung swipes a tongue across his lips. He gives you a nervous glance, but seeing how attentive you look despite your indifference, Heeseung almost breaks down.
You’re still kind even in your resentment.
“But I still hope that one day you can accept me as your alpha.”
You hum, trying to sound unimpressed despite the loud thumping of your heart. The bitterness still leaks when you speak.
“You were my alpha.”
Heeseung shakes his head and gives you a humourless smile.
“No, I wasn’t,” his voice is strained, like he’s holding a storm of emotions with his palm.
“The Goddess might’ve assigned me to be your alpha. But I failed my duties. You were just forced to deal with what fate had chosen for you.”
The moonlight shining on him highlights the tired lines at the edges of his eyes. For the past few weeks, you have no idea how Heeseung was doing. And you know no one can hold it over your head for not caring.
But something in him feels altered. Not gentler—Heeseung had always been gentle in ways he never admitted.
He seems more humbled. Like the weight of pride is finally bowing his head down, his gaze always sanded down by grief. Every word now sounds chosen, as if he has learned the cost of speaking carelessly.
Heeseung holds your eyes, sincerity spilling over the edges.
“But now I want you to choose me. Not out of obligation, or because fate said so. I want to be chosen because you know I’m the right alpha for you.”
Isn’t it unfair?
You want the resentment to turn into fiery hatred, but your traitorous heart still melts at his devotion. How can you hate him when he makes you sound like you were the centre of his universe?
Still, you hold your ground.
“You know I won’t wait for you. What if I choose another deserving alpha?”
Heeseung’s face goes white. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, but he still nods.
“I will break,” he admits, the most honest he’s ever been. “But I’ll still pray that he shows you the love I failed to give when I had the chance.”
The sheer weight of his speech almost renders you breathless. Remorse, as if it’s been a lifelong companion, drips heavy in his voice. For a short moment, you can’t hold his gaze—it looks so intense and longing, you don’t know if you can hold this newfound devotion. It’s too deep and full of regret.
It’s after a minute of silence that you finally find your voice.
“You can walk me home from behind.”
You turn around first before he can see the change in your face. Your stupid human heart, as if awakening from the slumber from weeks ago when things were still all butterflies and stolen glances—seems to recognise the alpha now trailing after you ten paces away and fluttering around shamelessly..
The moon shines exceptionally bright tonight, as if the Goddess herself is watching her war-torn lovers patching up the bridge once broken by pride and fear.
“Are you still angry?”
Once you’re home and stripped and showered, you stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom. The moonlight cracks through the small space you leave open, decorating your bed with stripes of pale blue.
You put a palm over your heart, trying to feel your wolf.
“Are you still mad at him?”
Silence. There’s no response from your omega. You wait for a few breaths before sighing.
“You’ve always been the hard headed one out of the two of us,” you comment, suddenly missing the other half of your soul that’s been so long quiet.
“But it’s good that you are,” you slowly whisper.
“Because if you’re as soft as I am, then Heeseung would be forgiven already.”
This time, there’s no resistance as the memory of the burgundy-haired alpha comes back—not that he ever left, anyway.
“I’m still mad at him, too.”
You remember the time Heeseung actively avoided your gaze. You used to wonder why, but knowing the answer also didn’t help ease the pain. Knowing that he avoided you because of the bond never makes the pain feel less hurtful.
But the way he searches your eyes now, holding your gaze with a tenderness you’ve never seen before…it softens the pain.
Where he used to run from you, he’s now seeking you every chance he gets. After practice, after meetings, after classes. In sleeveless jersey, in suit and tie, in his usual baggy graphic T-shirts.
Heeseung used to be nowhere to be found, but he’s everywhere now.
The reality of his efforts to try patching up the bond suddenly feels too scary. Because if he’s changed for good, if he’s really putting his all to win back your heart—are you confident that you still can move past everything?
The sufferings you endured. The omegas he slept with. The sleepless spent chanting his name in pain. The night when everything fell apart.
Can you really let them go?
“I don’t know,” you whisper to no one, a knot of uneasiness tightening in your chest.
“I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
Heeseung seems to find you easily nowadays.
At first, you doubt the people around you. Everyone is suddenly related to him in some ways somehow. There must be an insider that tells him your whereabouts.
Whether it’s Jungwon or Yujin, you don’t know. You hope it’s not Yujin, though. You know she despises what Heeseung did to you, but the beta is also quietly rooting for him. She hid it well, too.
But her cover was blown one night when you were having a movie night in your bed. She was so close and she was typing something on her phone. You accidentally looked, but honest to Goddess your heart almost dropped when you saw Heeseung’s name.
“Why are you texting with Heeseung?” You forced your face into the screen, deliberately ignoring the sudden seeds of jealousy in your chest.
Yujin scrambled to sit up, but it was too late. You had already seen them all.
Lee Heeseung
did she arrive home safely?
You
Yeap!
Safely tucked in bed!
“Yujin, you traitor!”
“Ow! Ow!” Yujin ducked the pillow you threw at her, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid your punches. “Girl, hear me out first!”
“Why are you helping him?” you heaved out, glaring daggers at her. Yujin rubbed her arms, jutting out an apologetic pout.
“I’m so sorry…he just wants to know if you get home safe, Y/N. I don’t see anything wrong or invasive about that.”
Your heart stuttered. Did he really do that? But you feigned an angry look.
“So you just agreed to be his accomplice? You’re no different from Jungwon.”
“I mean, I lowkey ship you guys. But he has to grovel first, and I hope he’s been doing it right.”
You rolled your eyes and settled back under the covers. “How long has it been?”
“Don’t get mad at me please.”
“Yujin.”
“He’s been asking me if you reach home safely for more than two weeks now.”
Your breath hitched.
That’s…since before he started appearing at the library.
And today, as you see Heeseung lingering around the business compound, donning a thin brown cardigan that highlights his body snugly, you’re contemplating whether to assault Jungwon or Yujin through the phone after this.
But there’s no time to think, as Heeseung—curse his dominant trait, really—easily senses your scent and catches your eyes. He gives you a small smile and walks up to you. The grip you have on the strap of your tote bag has turned knuckle-white.
“Y/N.”
“Hey.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
You swallow, trying not to fold. “Yeah, just now. You?”
Heeseung nods.”I have too.” Then he extends a hand towards your tote bag.
“Let me hold your bag and walk you home.”
You hesitate for a moment before giving in.
Fuck, you curse the universe.
Why is he so consistent?
Heeseung knows he’s not being slick when he suddenly makes a detour to the convenience store under the pretense of feeling hungry.
But you follow him anyway, gullible enough to believe that he has more space for more food. Which, actually, you’re not completely wrong. Heeseung loves food. But he’s not exactly here to eat.
He’s here to steal more time to be with you.
The fluorescent lamp hums overhead, the convenience store smells like cooked noodles and microwaved pastries. Under this light, you look shorter than him, reaching not taller than his chin.
Heeseung holds back the urge to reach out and caress your head. He can’t ruin things now that you finally let him walk you home side by side. That’s progress. A couple of weeks ago, you didn't even let him follow.
He really can’t afford to ruin it.
Heeseung trails after you to aisle number two where rows of snacks and chips line up the shelves. There’s something almost domestic about watching you hum as you skim through the options.
It feels more intimate than kneeling at your feet ever did.
“What do you usually get?” he asks, trying to sound casual.
You hold up a bag of snacks, a small grin unknowingly splits across your face.
“This one,” you shake the plastic with eyes shining bright. Heeseung thinks he’s lost his breath. “These seaweed tempeh chips.”
Heeseung stares at you like you just handed him a sacred relic, eyes dripping with silent, genuine surprise.
“These are your favourite?”
You blink and tilt your head, not sure how to make sense of his stunned reaction. “Yeah…?”
A small smile breaks on his mouth. Heeseung looks down at the bag of chips, feeling his chest tightens just from that simple information.
She likes grape juice. She likes tempeh chips.
God, I’m learning about her.
His silent meltdown goes unnoticed by you. You walk further and stop by the drinks fridge, already reaching for your favourite grape juice.
This time, Heeseung couldn’t stop the chuckle that leaves his lips. “You really love drinking that, don’t you?”
“I sure do,” you glance up at him. “Since kindergarten, by the way. It’s just so good and cheap. What about you?”
Heeseung’s heart nearly stops.
“I’m sorry?”
“What’s your favourite drink, Heeseung?”
Heeseung forces himself to reply when you’re already looking at him suspiciously.
“Zero Coke.”
“Ah,” you nod, then reach up to where a line of Zero Coke is put on display. You pluck the second can in the line and hand it to him.
“Hygiene tips: always take the second or the third can,” you casually say and tap on the can. “Because everybody touches the first one.”
Then you turn around, drifting toward the candy aisle, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.
Leaving Heeseung stunned, standing like a statue of racing heart and quiet breakdown as he holds the can close to his chest.
Later that night, after sending you home safely, Heeseung enters his shared apartment wordlessly. He can hear the F1 sportscaster from the living room—Jay must haven’t gone to bed yet.
“Hey, Hee,” his friend greets, sprawled on the couch with a can of beer in one hand. But his focus on the television stops once he notices Heeseung’s red-rimmed eyes.
“Fuck. Heeseung!” Jay rushes to him and holds him just before his knees finally give up.
The anchor of sorrow and grief that has been weighing heavier since the convenience store run is finally pulling him down. Heeseung drops to the floor, already feeling the tears wetting his cheeks.
“Hee, what’s wrong?” Jay asks, trying to keep the worry in his voice. “Did something happen? Tell me!”
Heeseung shakes his head, curling up into Jay’s hold and sobs even harder.
“Jay-ah,” Heeseung chokes, unable to hold back his sobs.
“Her favourite chips are seaweed tempeh.”
Jay is rendered speechless by the unexpected revelation.
“...What?”
“Seaweed tempeh,” he sobs, voice cracking. “Seaweed tempeh chips, grape juice, gummy bears. She bakes when she’s stressed. She hates mornings but wakes up early. She has hygiene tips for canned drinks.”
His voice splinters, like a branch breaking down from the tree.
Jay blinks. “You’re sobbing over…basic information?”
“That I should’ve known.”
Heeseung clutches Jay’s shirt, the sadness now palpable.
“Simple things about her that I never made any effort to know because I was so fucking busy being an asshole.”
In that moment, it finally clicks in Jay’s mind. It was never about snacks.
“I was her mate and I didn’t know.”
It’s about regret.
Jay’s expression softens instantly, understanding settling in his features. He sits on the floor with him, letting Heeseung cry into his shoulders, shaking like a dead leaf. The distressed accent of his spicy and salty pheromones is drenching the air, but Jay fights the urge to scowl. Alphas don’t exactly respond well to another alpha’s distressed pheromones.
Beside him, Heeseung is still sobbing like a child experiencing a trip of his foot for the first time.
“Somebody else could’ve been in my place,” he cries softly. “She could’ve been asking another alpha, ‘What’s your favourite drink?’ and I almost made it not me.”
Heeseung cries for what it’s worth. For the regret and grief of the what-ifs that could’ve happened if only he didn’t mess up. For the gratitude that you’re finally letting him the access to the information only privy to those who are close enough with you.
For the unexpected relief when you asked him back.
“So you’re crying because she let you know her,” Jay concludes once Heeseung has calmed down enough to talk properly.
They’re still sitting on the floor. The F1 show that Jay was watching prior to his sudden breakdown is now playing like background noise.
Heeseung nods weakly. “Yeah.”
“What did it feel like?”
Heeseung gives him a wistful smile.
“Disbelief. Because I can’t believe it feels so easy to just…have this affection for someone over knowing what their favourite drinks are.”
Heeseung looks into the distance, lost in thoughts and memory.
“I never feel this way for anybody. It’s scary, because now I want to know more.”
He stares into the space in front of him, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his cardigan.
“I want to know how she likes her eggs. I want to know which detergent she likes to use. What side of the bed she sleeps on,” Heeseung whispers, voice trembling. “I want to know everything about her and it’s so scary, Jay.”
There’s a pause before he looks down, sounding more broken than he has been tonight.
“It’s so scary because I realised it wasn’t the bond that terrified me.”
Heeseung remembers how happy he felt when you still rub your nose every time you get shy. How excited he felt when you cover your mouth as you laugh—little things he used to know about you that still makes you you.
“It wasn’t.”
Knowing someone has never felt this easy and freeing.
“It was how badly I could love her.”
The confession doesn’t land hard. It settles slowly, like a missing puzzle finally finding its place. His wolf stirs inside, yipping happily at the declaration.
Jay takes a moment to process everything before he sighs. He reaches out a hand and pats Heeseung on his shoulder.
“There, there. You’re making progress, Hee. You’re starting to see her more than the bond you guys shared.”
As if summoned, his scent gland pulses sharply. Heeseung yelps, clutching his nape with a quick hand. His scent spikes dangerously, spicy cinnamon burning the atmosphere.
“Hee!”
“It hurts,” Heeseung chokes, the pain quickly spreading to other parts of his body. “Fuck, Jay—”
Drip.
Both alphas instantly freeze.
On the carpet where they sit, is a drop of blood, staining the cream-coloured material with crimson red.
Jay slowly looks up, heart beating fast, chanting ‘No, no, no. Please, not you, Heeseung. Please,’ in his mind.
To his horror, the blood came from Heeseung’s nose.
Jay can feel his gut sinking to the floor.
“Hee,” he grabs his shoulders, eyes trained on the trail of blood dripping down his philtrum and his chin. “Hee, listen to me and answer me, okay? Please don’t panic.”
Inside, Jay is already panicking.
Heeseung tries not to, but his body feels scalding hot. The pain comes in waves, not once stopping even if he were to rip his heart open.
“Heeseung, answer me. Did you tell Y/N about the two options or not?”
Jay’s voice is muffled to his ears, but through his hazy mind and blurry vision, Heeseung can still make out the words.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Why?” Jay whispers, breathless and shaken.
“I didn’t want to pressure her into thinking she has to choose me to save me.”
Heeseung’s unfocused eyes find him, desperate and so pitiful that his heart clenches painfully. Jay drops his head on his best friend’s shoulders, fear consuming his being.
“You idiot,” Jay sobs, the dam breaking almost instantly. “She might’ve chosen you anyway.”
Heeseung feels lightheaded. Jay’s voice is like a distant dream—something he’s not sure if he hears or not. Dark spots start appearing on the edges of his vision, almost turning black no matter how hard he blinks.
“Jay-ah…”
The last thing Heeseung remembers before he loses consciousness is Jay screaming his name, voice cracking and hoarse.
okay dang tumblr said this post has reached its limits wtf im gna kms!!! anyway posting a part 3 real soon!!!
Pairing: childhoodfriend!jungwon x fem!reader
Genre: college!au, summer love story, fluff, angst
Synospsis: Bestfriends forever and nothing will ever make it change...well that's what you thought, but one summer (and an unrequited love) changed everything between the two of you. Maybe you never really saw him as your bestfriend all along...
Warnings: dry humping, swearing, oral (both!rec), softdom!jungwon, make out (heavy), alcohol
WC: 21k
Note: The story takes place in the WGFT Heeseung ff universe and this time it's Jungwon's turn to get his time to shine!!!! Since y’all were so sad about him losing to Heeseung I wanted him to get his happy ending too!!! Hope you enjoy!!!
Playlist: Apple Cider by Beabadoobee, Everytime by Ariana Grande, Lost Island by Enhypen, We can't be friends by Ariana Grande, Earrings by Malcolm Todd
You haven't been home in eight months, and somehow the air feels exactly the same as it did when you were seven years old. Some things don't change. Your family's house is exactly as you left it.
"Y/N IS HOME!" your younger brother screams. He barrels into you before you've even dropped your bags, and you stumble backward into the doorframe with an oomph that knocks the breath out of your lungs.
"Daniel, you're seventeen, not seven," you wheeze, patting his back with the one arm that isn't pinned to your side. "You're supposed to be too cool for this."
"Never too cool for my favorite sister."
"I'm your only sister."
"That's why you're my favorite."
Your mother appears from the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour, her face breaking into a smile so wide it crinkles the corners of her eyes. She pulls you into a hug t, and for a moment you just stand there, letting yourself be held, letting the chaos of your family wash over you like water.
"You're too thin," she says, pulling back to examine your face. "Have you been eating? College students never eat."
"I eat, Mom."
"Lies. I can see your cheekbones. That's not natural." She pats your face firmly. "We're fixing this immediately. I made braised short ribs. And your grandmother sent over three kinds of kimchi."
The next hour is a blur of unpacking, being force-fed approximately seventeen side dishes, and deflecting increasingly pointed questions from your mother about whether you're "seeing anyone." You dodge the question with the practiced skill of someone who has been dodging it since high school, and eventually your mother gives up and redirects her energy toward making sure you eat a third helping of everything.
It's only when you're helping clear the table that she drops the bomb.
"Take some of the dumplings next door," she says, already packing a container. "The Yangs just got back yesterday. I'm sure Jungwon would love to see you."
Your hands freeze over the sink. "Jungwon's home?"
"The whole family. And Jungwon looks so grown up now. College has been good to him." She presses the container into your hands and gives you a look that brooks no argument. "Go. Say hello. You used to be inseparable, I'm sure he's been dying to catch up."
You and Jungwon. Inseparable. That's one word for it.
You've known Yang Jungwon since you were four years old, a solemn little boy with a bowl cut and a cute smile who had shown up at your family's barbecue with his parents and promptly shared his packet of strawberry Pocky with you without being asked. That was it. That was the beginning. From that moment on, you were a unit, a package deal, a two-for-one special, a matched set that no one bothered trying to separate.
Your childhood is a highlight reel of Jungwon moments. Jungwon teaching you how to ride a bike. Jungwon walking you to school every morning, even when his own school started earlier and he had to leave his friends to do it. Jungwon sneaking you extra snacks from his lunchbox because you always finished yours first.
You never had to explain yourself to Jungwon. He just knew. He knew that you needed silence sometimes, that your sarcasm was a defense mechanism, that you were terrified of thunderstorms but would rather die than admit it. He knew the exact moment you were about to cry (your left eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before the tears came). He knew you better than anyone, and you knew him just as well.
But then he left for college. And two years later, you left too. And the texts that had started out daily became weekly, then sporadic. The phone calls that had stretched for hours became minutes, then voicemails, then silence. You still sent each other memes sometimes, still liked each other's posts. But the closeness that had defined your entire existence had faded.
It's not anyone's fault. It's just what happens. People grow up, move away, build separate lives in separate cities. It's normal. It's fine. You're fine.
The doorbell chimes, a little melody that you remember from a thousand childhood visits. You hear footsteps inside, heavy and quick, and then the door swings open.
And you forget how to breathe.
Jungwon is standing in the doorway, and he is…he's…he's not the boy you remember.
The Jungwon in your memories is soft around the edges. Lanky limbs, round cheeks, the kind of face that made grandmothers pinch his cheeks. This Jungwon is wearing a tank top that is very, very see-through, because it's soaked with sweat. His hair is damp, pushed back from his forehead, and there's a towel slung around his neck that he's holding with one hand. His shoulders, when did he get shoulders? -are broad and defined. He's been working out. He's been working out, and the evidence is right there, and you are staring.
"Y/N?" His voice is deeper than you remember. He says your name like it's something precious, and his face breaks into that familiar smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the one you've known your whole life.
"Dang-" he starts, and then he's pulling you into a hug before you can react, his arms wrapping around you with an enthusiasm that makes the container press awkwardly between your bodies. He smells like sweat and fabric softener and something else, something warm and masculine. "You're home," he says into your hair. "You're actually home. When did you get back?"
"About an hour ago," you manage, your voice coming out relatively normal despite the fact that your face is currently pressed against a pectoral muscle. A pectoral muscle that belongs to Jungwon.
He pulls back, holding you at arm's length, and his eyes sweep over your face with an expression that's so purely, genuinely happy. "You look…you look amazing. Did you get taller?"
"I haven't grown since tenth grade."
"You look taller. It's the posture. You're standing like an adult now."
"Maybe because I’m an adult?"
He laughs. "Come in, come in," he says, stepping aside and gesturing you inside. "Mom's going to lose her mind when she sees you. She was just talking about you yesterday, she found that photo album from the summer we tried to build a treehouse ."
"Oh not the old pictures please."
"You know how nostalgic she can get."
"Y/N?! IS THAT Y/N?"
Mrs. Yang emerges from the kitchen, and within seconds you're enveloped in a hug. She's exactly the same as you remember, warm and effusive, with the same kind eyes that Jungwon inherited.
"Look at you!" she exclaims, pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "You're so beautiful! So grown up! Doesn't she look beautiful, Jungwon?"
"She looks beautiful," Jungwon agrees, and when you glance at him, his ears are slightly pink. Probably from the workout.
"Mom brought dumplings," you say, holding up the container. "She said you just got back yesterday and probably haven't had time to cook."
"That woman is an angel. Tell her we're having dinner together this weekend, no arguments, no excuses. I'm making bibimbap." Mrs. Yang takes the container and steps back toward the kitchen, already calling for her husband to come see who's at the door.
Mr. Yang appears a moment later, and the whole scene devolves into the kind of chaotic, overlapping welcome that you've experienced a hundred times before. Mrs. Yang starts pulling out photo albums. Mr. Yang asks about your classes and nods approvingly at your answers even though you're pretty sure he doesn't fully understand what your major entails.
And then the photo albums open, and the real embarrassment begins.
"Oh, this one!" Mrs. Yang crows, pointing at a photograph. "Look at you two! You must have been... what, six and eight? The school talent show!"
You lean in to look at the photo, and your soul briefly leaves your body.
"We were doing a skit about King Arthur," Jungwon says, his voice pained. "Y/N was Arthur. I was Lancelot."
The photos keep coming. Jungwon's first day of middle school, with you standing next to him on the front steps, your arm linked through his. A Halloween where you both dressed as characters from the same video game. A summer vacation at the beach where Jungwon got sunburned so badly he couldn't move for two days, and you sat beside him reading aloud from his favorite book until he fell asleep.
"I should probably head back," you say eventually, after the photo albums have been exhausted and Mrs. Yang has extracted a firm promise that you'll be at the family dinner this weekend. "Mom's probably wondering if I got kidnapped."
"I'll walk you out," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something slightly awkward, slightly hesitant, that makes your stomach flip.
He walks you to the front door. "Hey," Jungwon says, his hand on the doorframe. "You want to walk to the convenience store? Like old times? I could really go for one of those melon ice creams."
"Sure," you say, and your voice comes out more casual than you feel. "But only if you put on an actual shirt first. I'm not being seen in public with you looking like... that."
He glances down at his tank top, and his ears go pink again. "Right. Yeah. Give me two minutes."
He disappears back into the house, and you stand on the front porch, trying very hard not to think about the way his shoulders looked in that tank top. Or the way his voice has deepened. Or the way his arms felt when he hugged you.
This is Jungwon, you remind yourself firmly. Jungwon, who is basically your brother except not actually your brother but definitely the brother-adjacent figure you've known your entire life.Stop being weird.
He reappears two minutes later in a soft-looking t-shirt and jeans, and the two of you set off down the familiar path toward the convenience store.
"How's school?" Jungwon asks, falling into step beside you. "Your mom said you're doing really well. Something about making the dean's list?"
"Dean's list, yeah. It's not a big deal."
"It's a huge deal. You're a genius."
"I'm a person who doesn't sleep enough and has spent more time studying than partying."
"That's what being a genius is."
You laugh and maybe this won't be so hard. Maybe you and Jungwon can just... slip back into the rhythm you always had. Best friends, nothing more, nothing less. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, at the way the fading sunlight catches the angles of his jaw, the way his sleeves stretch slightly over his biceps, the way his lips curve into that familiar half-smile. This is going to be a long summer.
Apple Cider - Beabadoobee now playing
The next few days are as you expected. Jungwon, as it turns out, is completely, infuriatingly, obliviously the same. Not the same as the Jungwon who left for college two years ago, no, he's different in ways that keep catching you off guard. The broader shoulders. The deeper voice. The way he moves now, with a quiet confidence that wasn't there before, like he's grown into his own skin. But the way he treats you? That hasn't changed at all. He's still the same protective, brotherly, endlessly thoughtful Jungwon who's been orbiting your life since before you could tie your own shoes.
And that's the problem.
On Tuesday, he shows up at your house at 9 AM with a toolbox and a determined expression. Your mother mentioned, in passing, at the barbecue planning session that had somehow materialized in your kitchen, that the hinge on the back door was sticking. Jungwon, being Jungwon, took this as a personal mission.
"You don't have to do that," you say, standing in the doorway with a mug of coffee clutched in your hands. You're still in your pajamas. Your hair looks like it's been through a tornado. You were not prepared for visitors.
"It'll take ten minutes," Jungwon says, already crouching down to examine the hinge. His t-shirt rides up slightly as he bends, revealing a strip of skin above his waistband, and you very deliberately look at the ceiling. "Your mom does so much for everyone. The least I can do is fix a door."
"You're a philosophy major, not a handyman."
"Undeclared, technically. And I've picked up some skills." He glances up at you, and his smile is so genuinely warm, so completely devoid of any awareness that he's currently making your morning extremely complicated, that you want to throw your coffee at him. "Besides, I like helping. It makes me feel useful."
"Your people-pleasing is showing."
"My what?"
"Nothing." You take a sip of your coffee.
On Wednesday, he helps your mother cook. You walk into the kitchen to find them side by side at the counter, your mom teaching him how to fold dumplings. Jungwon's fingers are clumsy with the wrappers, his dumplings coming out lopsided, but he's laughing, that bright, infectious laugh that makes your mother smile and pat his cheek like he's her own son.
"He's such a good boy," your mom says to you later, after Jungwon has gone home with a container full of the dumplings he helped make. "So polite. So helpful. Any girl would be lucky to have him."
You make a noncommittal sound and flee to your room before she can see the color rising in your cheeks.
On Thursday, he brings you boba. Unprompted. Just shows up at your door with two cups of brown sugar milk tea and that same devastating smile, saying he remembered it was your favorite and the new shop in town finally opened and he wanted to try it with you.
"This is bribery," you say, taking the cup anyway. "What do you want?"
"Can't a guy just bring his best friend boba without ulterior motives?"
"I've known you for fifteen years. You definitely have ulterior motives."
"Fine." He has the decency to look slightly sheepish. "My mom wants me to clean out the garage, and I was hoping you'd keep me company while I do it. She said she found our old middle school yearbooks in there, and I thought we could... I don't know. Look through them. For nostalgia."
Nostalgia. Right. Because looking at photographic evidence of your awkward preteen phase while sitting in close proximity to Jungwon in a dusty garage sounds like a completely safe activity that won't do anything weird to your heart.
"Sounds fun," you hear yourself say, because you're a masochist apparently.
And it is fun. Infuriatingly fun. You sit on an old lawn chair while Jungwon sorts through boxes, and you flip through yearbooks filled with photos of the two of you at every stage of adolescence. Jungwon with braces. You with bangs that were a tragic mistake. The two of you at the eighth-grade dance, standing stiffly next to each other. The two of you at the high school soccer game, your face painted with the school colors, his arm slung casually around your shoulders.
"God, we were such dorks," you say, holding up a photo of Jungwon in a truly unfortunate neon-green track suit.
"Speak for yourself. I was rocking that look."
"You looked like a highlighter."
"A very fashionable highlighter."
The laughter comes easily, the way it always has. And that's the thing that's messing with your head. Because when you're actually talking to him, when you're just existing in his presence the way you've done a thousand times before, everything feels normal. Easy. Like nothing's changed. But then he'll reach past you to grab something, and his arm will brush against yours, and you'll catch the scent of his laundry detergent mixed with something warm and distinctly him, and your brain will short-circuit entirely. Or he'll laugh at something you said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you'll find yourself staring at the curve of his lips and wondering things you have absolutely no business wondering about your childhood best friend.
And then the guilt hits. Because this is Jungwon. The boy who has never once looked at you as anything other than his best friend, his little sister. And here you are, mentally glazing every time he so much as flexes his forearms, like some kind of deranged romance novel protagonist who's forgotten the entire context of her own life.
You're terrible. You're a terrible person. You need to get a grip.
The barbecue is on Saturday. Both families, together, in the Yangs' backyard. It's a tradition that's been going on since before you can remember, and missing it would be unthinkable. So you can't avoid it. You can't avoid him.
On Friday afternoon, your mother hands you a grocery list that's approximately the length of a short novel. "We need everything for the marinade, plus the sides, plus drinks, plus-"
"Mom, this is enough food for an army."
"The Yangs are an army. Take Jungwon with you. He's got a car, and you shouldn't be carrying all those bags by yourself."
"I can carry bags. I'm an adult."
"You're a twig. A strong wind could knock you over. Take Jungwon."
So you text Jungwon, and Jungwon responds within thirty seconds with an enthusiastic yes!!! and three emojis that don't go together in any logical way, and twenty minutes later you're in the passenger seat of his car, heading to the grocery store.
"Remember when we used to ride our bikes to the corner store?" he asks, pulling into the parking lot. "We'd pool our allowance and buy as much candy as we could afford, and then we'd sit on the curb and eat it all before dinner."
"And then your mom would be mad because you ruined your appetite."
"She was always mad. I was a very difficult child."
"Yeah, I remember when you used to get ragebaited by your grandma a lot. Really funny."
"Please don’t mention it again."
"You were twelve."
Grocery shopping with Jungwon is an experience. He pushes the cart, pausing every few feet to consult the list your mother gave him and cross-reference it with the items in the cart. He reads the nutrition labels on everything, which is new, the Jungwon of your childhood would have just grabbed whatever had the most colorful packaging.
"College changed you," you observe, watching him compare two jars of sesame oil. "You're like... a responsible adult now. It's disturbing."
"Someone had to become a responsible adult. You're still the same chaos gremlin you've always been."
"You want that gremlin to punch that pretty face of yours?."
"Oh so you like my face? I’m honoured."
"I like your face only when you shut your mouth."
The checkout line is long, and Jungwon insists on paying, "your mom already does so much, let me contribute something", and you're standing beside him, helping bag the groceries, when you see it.
A small box. Brightly colored. Sitting innocently in the plastic bag among the vegetables and the marinade ingredients and the six-pack of Sprite. Condoms. You stare at the box for approximately three seconds, your brain refusing to process what it's seeing. Then the processing kicks in, and a series of thoughts flash through your mind in rapid succession:
That's a box of condoms.
In Jungwon's grocery bag.
Jungwon bought condoms.
Why does Jungwon have condoms?
Oh god, Jungwon has condoms because he uses condoms.
Oh god, Jungwon has sex.
Jungwon has SEX.
WITH PEOPLE.
"Y/N?" Jungwon's voice cuts through your spiral, and you realize you've been frozen in place with a head of cabbage clutched in your hands like a stress ball. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine!" you say, and your voice comes out approximately three octaves higher than normal. "Totally fine. Great. Never been better. Cabbage. Love cabbage. Great vegetable. Very... leafy."
Jungwon squints at you, clearly not buying a single word of this, but the cashier chooses that moment to announce the total, and he turns away to pay. You shove the cabbage into the bag with perhaps more force than necessary.
It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. He's a twenty-something guy in college. Of course he's had sex. Of course he's bought condoms. This is normal. This is fine. You're fine.
But the thought sticks in your brain like a splinter, and by the time you're back in the car, the groceries loaded into the trunk, you've worked yourself into a state of quiet, internal frenzy.
How many girls has he slept with? Did he have a girlfriend? Multiple girlfriends? Is he seeing someone right now? Why didn't he tell you? Why would he tell you? It's not like you're his- you're not his anything. You're his childhood best friend. You're basically his sister. He doesn't owe you a detailed accounting of his romantic history.
But still.
Who were they? What were they like? Were they pretty? Smart? Funny? Did he hold their hands the way he holds yours? Did he kiss them? Did he-
You cut the thought off before it can finish. You don't want to know. You really, really don't want to know.
Back at your house, you help him carry the groceries inside, your movements mechanical, your brain still running through increasingly unhelpful scenarios. Jungwon is chatting about something, the barbecue, maybe, or his plans for the rest of the summer, but you're barely listening. The box of condoms is burning a hole in your brain.
"Hey," you say, setting down the bag of vegetables with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Can I ask you something?"
"Always." Jungwon turns to face you, his expression open and unguarded, and you feel a pang of guilt for what you're about to do. This is none of your business. You shouldn't be asking this. You have no right to ask this.
But you're asking it anyway, because you're a self-destructive idiot who can't leave well enough alone. "Did you..." You pause, searching for the right words. "In college. Did you... see anyone?"
Jungwon blinks. "See anyone?"
"Like... date. Or... you know. Hook up with. Or whatever." You wave your hand vaguely, like you're talking about the weather. Like this is a casual, normal conversation between two platonic childhood friends who definitely don't have weird, complicated feelings about each other.
Jungwon's ears go pink. "That's... a pretty personal question."
"Forget it. Sorry. None of my business." You turn back to the groceries, your face burning.
"No, it's fine. It's just... unexpected." He leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah. I dated a bit. Nothing serious. I, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you recognize from childhood. "I hooked up with some people too."
Some people. Plural. Multiple. The words hit you like a punch to the stomach.
"Okay," you say, your voice remarkably steady considering the chaos happening inside your chest. "Cool. That's cool. Normal college stuff. Good for you."
"Are you sure you want to hear this? You're making that face."
"What face?"
"The face you make when you're trying very hard not to react to something. Your left eyebrow is doing the twitchy thing."
"Totally sure," you say. "I'm just curious. We haven't really talked about... any of this. I don't know anything about your life in college."
Jungwon is quiet for a moment, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. "There was... actually, there was someone I really liked. Last semester."
"Someone you liked," you repeat.
"Yeah. A girl in my philosophy elective. I had this whole crush on her for months, but I was too nervous to say anything." He smiles, but it's a different kind of smile, softer, more distant. "It's kind of a long story. She actually ended up with one of my best friends. It's okay now, they're really happy together, and I'm genuinely glad for them. But it was... a wake-up call, I guess."
"A wake-up call?"
"I realized I'd spent so much time waiting and overthinking that I'd missed my chance. I didn't want that to happen again." He shrugs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "So I decided to just... live. Explore. Stop being so scared of everything. I figured if I didn't put myself out there, I'd just keep watching opportunities pass me by."
"So you started... sleeping around."
"That's a very blunt way to put it."
"I'm a blunt person."
"I know." He laughs, the one that crinkles his eyes. "It's one of the things I've always liked about you."
"So yeah," Jungwon continues. "I hooked up with people. Nothing serious, like I said. Just... trying things. Figuring out what I want. It's been good for me, honestly. I feel more confident now. Less like I'm waiting for something to happen and more like I'm actually living my life."
"That's... good. That's really good." You're saying the right words, but your voice sounds hollow to your own ears. "I'm happy for you."
Jungwon grins. "What about you? Any hot college romances I should know about?"
"No. Nothing. I've been too busy studying."
"Really? No one caught your eye?"
Just you, you don't say. Just the person I'm not supposed to think about like this. Just my childhood best friend who apparently spent his college years having casual hookups with other people while I was sitting in my dorm room wondering why I couldn't feel anything for anyone else.
"Nope," you say out loud. "I'm married to my textbooks."
"That's tragic."
"That's academia."
He laughs again, and then his expression shifts into something more mischievous. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you don't have to be jealous. At least my first kiss was with you."
Your brain screeches to a halt. "What."
"You know. High school. My parents' closet."
Sophomore year. It was a random Saturday afternoon, and both your families were downstairs preparing for some dinner party or another. You and Jungwon had escaped to his parents' room, hiding in the walk-in closet among the coats and the winter boots, having one of those rambling conversations that always seemed to happen when you were alone together.
And somehow, the conversation had turned to kissing. Neither of you had done it before. Neither of you wanted to be bad at it when the time came. And somehow, you still don't remember who suggested it first, you'd agreed to practice. With each other. Just to get it out of the way.
It had started awkward. A nervous brush of lips, both of you too hesitant to commit. But then Jungwon's hand had found your waist, and your fingers had curled into the fabric of his shirt, and something had shifted. The kiss had deepened. Became something hungrier, more urgent. His mouth had moved against yours with a confidence that surprised you both, and you'd made a sound, a small, breathless sound that had made him pull you closer.
It had lasted maybe five minutes. Maybe longer. Time had gone strange and elastic in the darkness of that closet. When you'd finally pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours, neither of you had spoken. The silence had been so loud it was deafening.
And then his mom had called you both for dinner, and you'd scrambled out of the closet like guilty criminals, and neither of you had ever mentioned it again.
Until now. Apparently. Because Jungwon is just casually bringing it up like it's some funny childhood anecdote, like it didn't fundamentally alter your brain chemistry when it happened.
"That wasn't-" you splutter. "That wasn't a kiss. That was... practice."
"Practice that went on for a really long time."
"We were curious!"
"We were very curious."
"YOU'RE THE WORST."
Your fist connects with his stomach before your brain can intervene. It's not a hard punch, you're not trying to actually hurt him but he doubles over anyway, laughing so hard that his shoulders shake.
"I'm sorry," he wheezes, "I'm sorry, your face, you should have seen your face-"
"I HATE YOU."
"You don't hate me. You've never hated me a day in your life."
"I'm starting today. I'm starting right now."
He straightens up, still grinning, and there's no awkwardness in his expression at all. No hidden meaning. No tension. Just fond amusement, like the memory of making out with you in a closet is just one of many sweet, funny moments in the long history of your friendship.
And that's when it hits you. Really, truly hits you.
This whole situation, the confusing feelings, the stolen glances, the jealousy that's been eating you alive since you saw that stupid box of condoms, it's all completely one-sided. Jungwon isn't looking at you differently. Jungwon isn't secretly harboring feelings for you. Jungwon is exactly where he's always been: your best friend, your brother in all but blood, the person who knows you better than anyone and loves you exactly the way he always has.
"I should... go help my mom with the marinade," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "I'll see you tomorrow. At the barbecue."
"Definitely." Jungwon's smile is warm and genuine and so completely oblivious that it makes your chest ache.
You're already backing out of the kitchen, your movements stiff and mechanical. Jungwon gives you a little wave, already turning back to the groceries, completely unaware that he's just detonated a bomb in the middle of your emotional state.
You make it to your home, then your room. You close the door. You lock it. And then you punch your pillow with the full force of your frustration.
"At least my first kiss was with you," you mutter, mimicking his voice in a high, mocking tone. "So you don't have to be jealous." Punch. "It was PRACTICE." Punch. "We were CURIOUS." Punch. "I've been pining like an IDIOT and you're out there having HOOKUPS and telling me about your PHILOSOPHY CRUSH."
You collapse face-first onto the pillow, your voice muffled by the fabric.
"He's so STUPID. He's so OBLIVIOUS. He's out there looking like THAT and talking about his SEX LIFE and bringing me BOBA and fixing my mom's DOOR and he doesn't even NOTICE-"
You stop. You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. "What doesn't he notice?" you ask the empty room.
You know the answer. You've known the answer since the moment you saw him standing in that doorway in his stupid see-through tank top. You're into him. You're into him. Into your childhood best friend who has never once looked at you as anything other than a little sister. Into the guy who just casually told you about his college hookups and his philosophy crush and the fact that he decided to "explore his youth," whatever that means.
And what are you supposed to do with that? Confess? Risk ruining a friendship that's been the most stable thing in your life for fifteen years? Put everything on the line for a chance that he might, maybe, possibly feel something too?
No. Absolutely not. You're not going to be one of those people who ruins a lifelong friendship because they can't control their feelings. You're stronger than that. You're smarter than that. You're going to shove these feelings into a box, lock the box, and throw away the key.
Reality check, you tell yourself firmly. He doesn't see you that way. He's never seen you that way. The closet kiss was just curiosity. The way he looks at you is just friendship. The way he always saves you a seat and remembers your boba order and offers to fix things around your house is just the person he is…kind and thoughtful and completely, thoroughly platonic.
You are his childhood best friend. You are basically his sister. And that's all you're ever going to be.
You press your face back into the pillow and let out a long, muffled groan.
The barbecue is in full swing by the time you make your way to the Yangs backyard, and the scene is exactly as chaotic as you expected.
Mr. Yang is manning the grill. Your father is standing beside him, offering unsolicited advice about the proper way to flip the meet, which Mr. Yang is ignoring with the practiced patience of someone who has been receiving this advice for two decades. Your mother and Mrs. Yang are setting up the side dishes on the long picnic table, their heads bent together in what looks like a very intense gossip session. And Jungwon, Jungwon is walking toward you with a plate of meat fresh off the grill and a smile that makes your stomach do a flip.
"You're late," he says, holding out the plate. "I saved you the first batch before my dad could burn it."
You take the plate, and your fingers brush against his. The contact is brief, barely a second, but your skin tingles where he touched you, and you have to resist the urge to yank your hand back like you've been burned. This is fine. You've made peace with your feelings and shoved them into a mental box, and you're going to act completely normal today.
"Thanks for the meat," you say, and your voice comes out blessedly casual.
"You look kinda goofy."
"And you look like an idiot."
"Your idiot," he says. He doesn't mean it the way you want him to mean it. He means it the way he's always meant it, best friends, partners in crime, the two of you against the world.
The afternoon unfolds in the easy, familiar rhythm of family gatherings. You eat too much. Your mother tells embarrassing stories about your childhood. Mrs. Yang counters with embarrassing stories about Jungwon's childhood. At some point, someone produces a karaoke machine, and your father treats everyone to a truly spectacular show of an eighties power ballad that has the entire yard howling with laughter.
And through it all, there's Jungwon. Sitting beside you at the picnic table, his knee occasionally bumping against yours. Refilling your drink before you even realize it's empty. Catching your eye from across the yard and making funny faces until you crack a smile. It's so normal. So familiar. So exactly like every other barbecue you've attended in the past fifteen years.
Except it's not. Because now you're aware of him in a way you never were before. Now you notice the way his laugh sounds when he throws his head back. Now you catalog the way his fingers curl around his cup, the way his shoulders move under his shirt, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at you. It's exhausting. It's infuriating. It's the most alive you've felt in months.
"You're eating all the mushrooms," Jungwon observes, watching you pluck another one from the communal plate. "You know other people might want mushrooms, right?"
"Other people should have been faster."
"There were like ten mushrooms on that plate and you've taken eight of them."
"Nine, actually. I took one while you were talking."
He laughs, and you stuff another mushroom in your mouth to compensate.
The conversation shifts, as it always does, into the easy back-and-forth that's been your default setting since childhood. You argue about the correct way to pronounce a word you both heard differently. You debate whether the new coffee shop in town is better than the old one. You're laughing unguarded, when Jungwon reaches past you to grab the pitcher of lemonade. His hand slides across your lower back as he moves, just for a second, just to steady himself, but the contact sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His palm is warm through the thin fabric of your shirt, and his fingers press lightly against your waist, and his voice, when he speaks, is low and close to your ear.
"Excuse me for a second," he murmurs, and the tone, casual, intimate, completely unaware of what he's doing to you, makes your knees go weak.
Do not fold, you command yourself. Do not fold. You are a strong, independent person who is not going to melt because your childhood best friend touched your waist like it's the most normal thing in the world.
"The lemonade," you manage, your voice slightly strangled. "It's... right there."
"I see it now. Thanks."
His hand slides away, and you exhale a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Across the yard, your mother catches your eye and raises an eyebrow. You pointedly look away.
The drinking competition starts, as all great disasters do, with your father.
"Beer!" he announces, standing up from his lawn chair with the slightly unsteady enthusiasm of someone who has already had two. "We need more beer! And a competition!"
"A competition for what?" Mr. Yang asks, looking up from the grill.
"Drinking! We're all old now. When was the last time we really let loose?"
"Last New Year's Eve," your mother says flatly. "You threw up in the rose bushes."
"Details."
Despite your mother's protests, the beer is produced. And not just a few bottles, your father disappears into the house and emerges with an entire case, his expression triumphant. Within twenty minutes, both sets of parents are lined up at the picnic table, a row of shot glasses (filled with beer, because they're middle-aged adults who know their limits but are pretending not to) arranged in front of them.
"Rules!" your father announces. "First one to tap out loses. Winner gets bragging rights for the entire year."
"There are no rules," Mrs. Yang says. "You just made this up."
"I'm the commissioner of this competition. I can make rules."
"You're an accountant."
"I'm an accountant and a commissioner."
The competition, predictably, devolves into chaos. Your mother, who has the alcohol tolerance of a hummingbird, bows out after two shots and spends the next hour giggling at everything anyone says. Mrs. Yang puts up a surprisingly strong fight, matching your father shot for shot until she suddenly stops mid-sentence, blinks, and announces that the sky is "very sky-like tonight." Mr. Yang, who has been nursing the same beer for the entire afternoon, is declared the winner by default when your father attempts a victory shot and misses his own mouth entirely.
"I won?" Mr. Yang says, looking genuinely confused. "I didn't know we were competing."
"That's the spirit," your father slurs, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's winning energy."
By the time the sun sets, both sets of parents are in various states of inebriation. Your mother is asleep in a lawn chair, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly open. Mrs. Yang is having a very intense conversation with the family dog about the meaning of life. Your father and Mr. Yang are attempting to fold up the picnic table and failing spectacularly.
Which leaves you and Jungwon. The only two sober people in a yard full of chaos.
"We should probably clean this up," you say, surveying the carnage. Empty bottles cover the picnic table. Plates of half-eaten food are scattered across every available surface. Someone, you suspect your father, has draped a string of fairy lights around the grill in what appears to be an attempt at decoration.
"Probably," Jungwon agrees. "Or we could just leave it and let them deal with it tomorrow."
"Your mom is currently explaining life to a golden retriever."
"The dog seems very engaged."
"Jungwon."
"Fine, fine. I'll get the trash bags."
The cleanup takes the better part of an hour. You collect the empty bottles while Jungwon tackles the food, scraping leftovers into containers and stacking plates with the practiced efficiency of someone who has cleaned up after many family gatherings. The parents eventually stagger inside, your mom leaning heavily on your dad, Mrs. Yang still muttering philosophical observations to the dog, until it's just the two of you in the quiet backyard, the only light coming from the string of fairy lights that your father had so artistically arranged.
"Well," Jungwon says, tying off the last trash bag. "That was..."
"A disaster?"
"I was going to say a successful family event, but disaster works too."
"It's not a real barbecue until someone passes out."
"Your dad set a new record this year. He almost made it to sunset."
"Personal growth."
Jungwon laughs, and the sound echoes in the quiet yard. He's standing close to you, closer than you realized and the fairy lights catch the angles of his face, the curve of his smile, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. He looks like something out of a movie. A romance movie. The kind you watch when you want to torture yourself with unrealistic expectations about love.
"So," he says, leaning against the now-clean picnic table. "The parents are asleep. The food is put away. The dog is having an existential crisis. What now?"
"I don't know. Go home? Go to bed?"
"We could do that." He tilts his head, and there's something in his expression, something teasing, something challenging. "Or we could continue the tradition."
"What tradition?"
"The drinking competition. You know. Carry on the family legacy."
"Everyone else is passed out."
"Exactly. The title is still up for grabs."
You raise an eyebrow. "You want to have a drinking competition. With me."
"I want to see if you can handle it." His smile widens, and it's the same smile he used to give you when you were kids. "Unless you're scared."
"I'm not scared. I'm sensible. There's a difference."
"Sensible is just a word scared people use."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"It makes perfect sense. You just don't want to admit it."
The banter is familiar, comforting. But there's something different about it tonight. Something that feels almost like flirting, even though you know it's not. Even though Jungwon is just being Jungwon, and you're just being you, and this is exactly the kind of stupid challenge you would have accepted without hesitation back when you were teenagers and didn't know any better.
"Fine. But I'm warning you, I'm very competitive."
"So am I."
"My dad keeps a bottle of whiskey in the study," he says over his shoulder. "The good kind. The kind he thinks no one knows about."
"You're going to steal your dad's whiskey?"
"I'm going to borrow it. There's a difference."
"That's not how borrowing works."
"It's how my borrowing works."
The Yangs' house is quiet and dark, the only sound the distant snoring of a parent somewhere upstairs. You follow Jungwon to the study. He rummages through the bottom drawer with the confidence of someone who has done this before, and when he straightens up, there's a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.
"Ta-da," he says, holding it up like a trophy. "Twelve-year aged whiskey. My dad's been saving it for a special occasion."
"And this counts as a special occasion?"
"First barbecue of the summer? Definitely special."
"You're going to regret this tomorrow."
"Probably. But that's future Jungwon's problem. Current Jungwon wants to see if you can hold your liquor."
You follow him back to the living room, where he produces two glasses from the kitchen and pours generous measures of whiskey into each. He hands you a glass, and your fingers brush against his, and you very pointedly do not think about the contact.
"Rules," Jungwon says, settling onto the couch. "We take turns. Each of us drinks when it's our turn. First one to tap out loses."
"That's not a game. That's just... drinking."
"It's a drinking game. The game is drinking."
"That's the laziest game I've ever heard of."
"Do you have a better idea?"
You don't. So you clink your glass against his and take your first sip.
The whiskey burns going down, warm and smoky, and you can feel it spreading through your chest like a slow fire. Jungwon takes his turn, then you take yours. The glasses are refilled. The room starts to feel warmer, Jungwon's face is slightly flushed now, and his laugh comes easier, and he's sitting closer to you on the couch than he was before. Or maybe you're sitting closer to him. It's hard to tell.
"Remember the closet?" he says, and the question catches you off guard.
"What closet?"
"My parents' closet. High school. The-"
"I know which closet." Your face is heating, and it's not just from the whiskey. "What about it?"
Jungwon grins, and it's a looser grin than usual, less guarded. "Nothing. Just... that was a good kiss. For a first kiss, I mean."
"It was practice."
"It was a lot of practice."
"You're drunk."
"So are you."
"I'm not drunk. I'm... pleasantly tipsy."
"That's a very fancy way of saying drunk."
"I'm a fancy person."
"You're wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon cat on it."
"The cat is wearing a top hat. That makes it fancy."
Jungwon laughs so hard he nearly spills his whiskey. You catch his arm to steady him, and the contact is electric, and you pull your hand back like you've been burned.
"You know what," you say, the whiskey courage flooding through your veins, "you were actually a terrible kisser. Back then. In the closet. You were bad at it."
Jungwon's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Terrible. All teeth and no technique."
"That is... extremely revisionist history."
"It's accurate history. You were bad. I was just being nice about it."
"I was not bad. I was-" He pauses, searching for the right word. "-enthusiastic."
"Enthusiastically bad."
"You were enthusiastic too!"
"I was practicing. There's a difference."
The room is spinning slightly now, but you don't care. The whiskey has unlocked something in you, something reckless and brave and completely, utterly stupid. The mental box where you've been storing your feelings is starting to crack at the edges, and you can't seem to find the energy to patch it back up.
Childhood friend? Brother-sister bond? Screw that. Screw all of that.
"I've had time to perfect it, you know," Jungwon says, and his voice is lower now, rougher. "Since high school. I've gotten better."
"That's what you think."
"It's what I know."
"Prove it."
The words hang in the air between you like a challenge. Like a dare.
Jungwon blinks, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. "Prove it?"
"You said you've gotten better. I don't believe you." Your heart is hammering, but your voice is steady. "I want to test it out. For scientific purposes."
"You're drunk."
"So are you. That's not an excuse."
Jungwon stares at you for a long moment. His expression is unreadable, surprise, confusion, something else that flickers in his eyes and disappears before you can identify it.
"You're serious," he says.
"I'm always serious."
"You're the least serious person I know."
"And yet here I am. Being serious."
The silence stretches between you. Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. This is it. This is the moment where he laughs it off, makes a joke, brings back the familiar brotherly distance that's been the foundation of your friendship for fifteen years.
But he doesn't.
"Okay," he says, and his voice is so quiet you almost miss it. "Let's test it out."
He sets down his glass. You set down yours. Jungwon stands up, and you stand up, and the room tilts slightly, but you don't care.
"Let’s go to my place," you say, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady. "My room. The parents are all passed out anyway."
"Your room," Jungwon repeats. "Your childhood bedroom. With the stuffed animals and the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling."
"The stars are still there. The stuffed animals are in a box."
Jungwon follows you to your house (which is literally five steps outside his house). Your room is exactly as you left it, the bed is made, the curtains drawn, and the lamp on your nightstand casts a warm, golden light across everything.
Jungwon stands in the doorway, his hand on the frame, his expression caught between hesitation and something else. "Last chance to back out," he says quietly.
"I don't want to back out."
"You're sure?"
Everytime - Ariana Grande now playing
Instead of answering, you reach out and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him into the room. The door clicks shut behind him.
Jungwon sits at the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. You stand before him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, before climbing onto his lap, straddling him with a confidence you don't know you possess.
His hands immediately find your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shorts. He pulls you closer, pressing you against the growing hardness beneath his jeans, and a soft gasp escapes your lips.
"What are you waiting to kiss me?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with intoxication.
Instead of answering, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss starts slow, tentative that quickly deepens as years of suppressed desire come rushing to the surface. His lips are soft but demanding, moving against yours with a practiced confidence that makes your head spin.
The kiss quickly escalates from tender to feverish. You are devouring each other, mouths opening wider, tongues tangling in a desperate dance. It is messy and urgent and everything you haven't let yourself imagine for all those years. Jungwon's hands roam your body, sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, then back down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him.
He starts sucking your tongue into his mouth, drawing it in with a deliberate, sexual rhythm that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His eyes remain open, locked with yours as he works your tongue, the intensity of his gaze nearly undoing you completely. The wet, obscene sounds of his sucking fill the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.
Your hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against him in a rhythm that matches the pull of his mouth on your tongue. The friction of your clothed bodies sliding together creates a heat that is almost unbearable.
"Fuck," he groans against your mouth, releasing your tongue briefly. "You feel so good. Move harder."
His words spur you on, and you move with abandon, dry humping him with a desperate need that borders on obscene. Every thrust of your hips against his sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel his arousal pressing insistently against you, growing harder with each movement.
Jungwon's hands slip under your shirt, his rough palms sliding against your skin as he explores the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You tilt your head back, giving him better access as your hips continue their relentless rhythm.
"You like that?" he whispers against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "Like riding me like this? So desperate for it."
"Shut up," you breathe, even as your body responds to his taunts, moving faster, harder.
"Make me," he challenges, capturing your lips again in another searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth with renewed intensity, and this time you meet him with equal fervor, sucking and licking and biting in a battle for dominance that neither of you is truly trying to win.
The room grows hotter, the air thick with the scent of whisky and arousal. Jungwon's hands roam freely now, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, pinching your nipples until you cry out against his mouth.
"You’re so cute," he murmurs, his words muffled by your kisses. "Wonder how you'd look with my mouth somewhere else." Jungwon meets your rhythm, thrusting up against you, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Look at you," he continues, his voice dropping lower, becoming rougher. "So desperate for it. Bet you're soaking through these panties right now, aren't you?"
"Only if you're not already leaking through those jeans," you shoot back, your own voice breathy with need.
His response is a guttural groan as he increases the pace, his hips bucking up to meet yours with an urgency that matches your own. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the symphony of wet kisses, ragged breaths, and whispered profanities that fill the room.
"Jungwon," you gasp against his mouth, the name a prayer and a curse all at once.
"Right here," he responds, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer as he increases the friction between you. "Not going anywhere."
The pressure builds to an almost unbearable level, your movements becoming frantic as you chase your release. Jungwon seems to sense your need, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that is both possessive and tender, his tongue once again sucking yours into his mouth with a rhythm that pushes you over the edge.
Your orgasm crashes over you with surprising intensity, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you collapse against him, boneless and trembling. Jungwon holds you through it, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses against your hair as you struggle to catch your breath.
When your senses slowly return, you become aware of the hardness still pressing against you, a testament to his own unsatisfied desire. You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room.
"Your turn," you whisper, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you prepare to return the favor.
Just as you shift to take control, Jungwon's hands shoot out, gripping your waist with surprising strength. "Oh no," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "I'm not letting you lead this game. Not yet."
Before you can protest, he's flipped the positions, maneuvering you with an ease that is both impressive and infuriating. You find yourself sitting at the edge of the bed, breathless from the sudden movement, while Jungwon kneels before you. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave yours as his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts.
"These have to go," he states simply, tugging them down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. A flush creeps up your neck as you realize how wet you are, the evidence of your earlier orgasm glistening on your thighs.
Jungwon notices too, of course. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he traces a finger along the damp skin of your inner thigh. "Well now," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Someone got excited. Tell me, Y/N, did you just squirt? Because this looks like more than just regular excitement."
You open your mouth to deliver a sharp comeback, but the words die on your lips as he leans in, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh. His lips are warm and gentle against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions.
"I should kiss your lips from down there too," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your core. "Since you're so convinced I'm a terrible kisser, maybe I need to practice on a different set of lips."
His mouth moves higher, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Then he pauses, sucking gently at the tender skin of your inner thigh, leaving a dark mark that will surely be visible tomorrow. He repeats the action on the other side, creating matching hickeys that stand out against your pale skin.
"I don't see the point of putting them on the neck," he explains, admiring his handiwork. "These are much more interesting, don't you think?"
You can't form a coherent response, not when his mouth is so close to where you need it most. And then he is there, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path along your folds. The sensation is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.
Jungwon doesn't hold back. He devours you with an enthusiasm that is almost overwhelming, his tongue exploring every inch of your most sensitive areas. It is too much, too intense, and you find yourself trying to slide away, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.
But Jungwon isn't having it. His arms lock around your thighs, holding you in place as he effortlessly slides you back toward his waiting mouth. "Oh no you don't," he growls against your core. "You wanted proof, and I'm not done proving anything yet."
His tongue enters you then, fucking you with a rhythm that makes your toes curl. It is delicious, the way he moves inside you, exploring every inch of your inner walls with a skill that is both impressive and infuriating. You look down at him, at the way his dark hair falls across his forehead as he works, at the intense concentration on his face as he focuses on bringing you pleasure.
Just as you are approaching the edge again, he slows down, his movements becoming deliberate, teasing. He runs his tongue through your folds with agonizing slowness, pausing occasionally to look up at you, his eyes dark with challenge. He knows exactly what he is doing, the bastard. He is provoking you, testing your limits, pushing you to the brink of insanity with his maddeningly slow pace.
The sounds are the worst part, or the best part, you can't decide. Each slow lick is accompanied by a wet, sucking noise that echoes in the quiet room, a constant reminder of what is happening between your legs.
"Say it," he murmurs against you, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Say I'm a good kisser."
You bite your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction. You are always stubborn, always bratty when challenged, and this is no different. If he wants you to admit he is good, he is going to have to work harder for it.
Jungwon chuckles, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Still so defiant," he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. "Is that how you treat your precious friend?"
He returns to his task with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue moving faster now, his lips sucking at your clit with a rhythm that makes your hips buck involuntarily.
"Come on, Y/N," he urges, his voice rough with desire. "Just say it. Say I'm a good kisser, and I'll let you come."
That is all it takes. The combination of his skilled tongue and his dirty talk sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. As waves of pleasure course through your body, the words finally tumble from your lips.
"You're a good kisser," you gasp, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Oh god, Jungwon, you're such a good kisser."
Jungwon continues his ministrations through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you are completely spent, collapsing back against the bed with a satisfied sigh. Only then does he pull away, a triumphant grin on his face as he looks up at you.
"Glad we settled that," he says, his voice smug with satisfaction. He rises to his feet, standing before you with a noticeable bulge in his jeans. "Now it's your turn. Suck my dick."
Jungwon doesn't wait for an answer. He simply stands and begins to unbutton his jeans. He pushes his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, and his cock springs free, hard and heavy.
He stands before you, completely exposed from the waist down. He is bigger than you'd somehow imagined, thick and curving slightly upward, the tip already glistening with precum. A vein pulses along the underside.
"On your knees," he commands, his voice low and rough. It isn't a request, but you find yourself complying without hesitation, sliding off the bed onto the plush carpet of your bedroom floor. He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that his cock is nearly level with your face. He tangles his fingers in your hair, his grip firm but not painful, using it to tilt your head back.
"Open up," he murmurs, his eyes dark with intensity as he looks down at you. "Let's see if that mouth is good for more than just talking back."
You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as he guides himself to your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty bitterness of his precum, and he lets out a low groan, his fingers tightening in your hair.
"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes, his voice strained. "Just like that."
You take him into your mouth then, slowly at first, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he fills you so completely. You move your tongue along the underside, tracing the path of that pulsing vein, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily.
"Careful," he warns, though his tone is more pleased than admonishing. "I’m enjoying this a bit too much."
You want to see him come undone, to hear him gasp and groan, to know that you are the one causing his pleasure. You take him deeper then, until the tip of his cock brushes against the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, your muscles contracting.
"Jesus Christ," he gasps, his hips beginning to move in a shallow rhythm. "You're…fuck…you're really good at this."
You pull back slightly, creating a suction that makes his eyes roll back in his head. Then you take him deep again. Your hands come up to grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as he fights to maintain control.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with need. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you're sucking my cock."
You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his as you continue your ministrations. The intensity in his gaze is nearly overwhelming, a mixture of raw desire and something that looks suspiciously like affection. Jungwon begins to move more freely then, his hips thrusting in time with the movements of your mouth. The pace quickens, growing more frantic as he approaches his release.
"I'm close," he warns, his voice strained.
You can feel it too, the way his cock seems to swell in your mouth, the way his thrusts become more erratic. You double your efforts, taking him as deep as you can, your tongue working frantically against him.
"Y/N," he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair. "I'm…fuck, I'm coming."
His release is sudden and explosive, hot and salty as he spills into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, taking everything he has to give. When he is finished, Jungwon pulls away slowly, his cock softening as he withdraws from your mouth. He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and satisfaction, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.
"Come here," he says, his voice softening as he reaches down to help you to your feet. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both tender and reassuring, tasting of him and of you and of everything you have just shared.
"You did great," he murmurs against your lips, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.
You melt against him, your body still humming with pleasure, your mind reeling from the intensity of what has just happened.
You wake up to the sensation of someone driving a truck over you.
No. Wait. That's just the hangover.
Your eyes crack open, and the first thing you register is the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. The second thing you register is that your mouth tastes like something died in it. The third thing is that you're wearing only one sock. The fourth thing hits you like a freight train.
Jungwon.
You bolt upright so fast that the room spins violently, and you have to press your palm against your forehead to keep your brain from escaping through your ears. The memories come flooding back in fragmented, disjointed flashes, the whiskey, the challenge, the door clicking shut. His hands on your waist. You grinding on him. The way he'd said your name, low and rough, like it was something sacred.
You look down at yourself. You're still in your shirt from last night, wrinkled but still there. Your shorts are on the floor. And there, on your inner thigh, just above your knee, is a mark. A small, purplish bruise that definitely wasn't there yesterday.
You look for more, your heart hammering, and find another one. And another. A whole constellation of hickeys mapping a path across your skin.
"Oh my god," you whisper to the empty room. "Oh my god, it wasn't a dream."
It was not a dream. It was very much not a dream. You and Jungwon had gone at each other like two people who had been waiting their entire lives for an excuse. There had been hands and mouths and the kind of sounds you didn't know you were capable of making. And now you have to face him.
You spend approximately fifteen minutes staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to will the evidence off your skin. The hickeys are not going anywhere unfortunately. The smell of breakfast hits you before you even reach the bottom of the stairs. Eggs. Bacon. The unmistakable aroma of your mother's hangover soup, which she only makes when the entire household has made questionable decisions the night before. You follow the scent to the kitchen, your stomach churning with a mixture of nausea and pure, undiluted terror.
And there he is.
Jungwon is sitting at your kitchen table. Your kitchen table. In your house. Eating your mother's cooking like he belongs there, which, to be fair, he kind of does. He's been eating at this table since before he could see over the edge of it. But today, the sight of him makes your entire body go hot and cold at the same time.
He looks... fine. Completely, infuriatingly fine. His hair is slightly damp, like he's just showered. He's wearing a soft-looking sweater and jeans, and he's laughing at something your dad is saying, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way. There's no sign of a hangover. No sign of regret. No sign that anything at all has changed between you.
"There she is!" your mother announces, spotting you in the doorway. "The last survivor of last night's chaos. Come, sit. I made soup."
You mumble something that might be "good morning" or might be "please kill me," and you slide into the chair across from Jungwon. He glances up at you, and for one heart-stopping moment, you think you see something flicker in his eyes, a flash of recognition, a hint of heat, but then it's gone, replaced by that same easy, brotherly smile.
"Rough night?" he asks, and his tone is light, teasing, completely normal.
"You could say that."
"Your dad was snoring so loud I could hear it from my house."
You stare at Jungwon, waiting for something, a knowing look, a secret smile, something that acknowledges what happened between you. But he just keeps eating his eggs, chatting with your parents like this is any other morning, like he didn't spend a significant portion of last night with his mouth on your-
"Y/N, you're not eating," your mother says, pushing the soup closer to you. "Are you feeling okay? You look flushed."
"I'm fine," you manage. "Just... tired."
"Too much whiskey," your dad says sagely. "I told you kids. The Yangs can hold their liquor. Our family has no chance."
"I'm literally a Yang," Jungwon points out.
"Exactly. You have the advantage. It's genetics."
The conversation flows around and you sit there in silence, pushing your soup around your bowl, watching Jungwon act like everything is normal. Like everything is fine. Like he didn't whisper your name against your lips in the dark of your childhood bedroom.
Your parents have retreated to the living room, and Jungwon is at the sink, rinsing his bowl with the same helpful energy he's always had. You wait until you hear the TV turn on, and then you grab his arm and pull him into the hallway.
"Hey-" he starts, but you're already backing him against the wall, your hands planted on either side of him, your eyes blazing.
"What the hell was that?"
Jungwon blinks at you. "What was what?"
"That!" You gesture vaguely at the kitchen, at the breakfast table, at the entire morning. "Sitting there, eating eggs, acting like nothing happened!"
"Because nothing happened."
"Nothing-" You choke on the word. "Nothing happened? Jungwon, we…last night…my room…"
Understanding dawns on his face, and his expression shifts into something more serious. More guarded. "Oh. That."
"Yes. That."
He exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping. "Y/N, look. Last night was..." He pauses, searching for the right word. "It was a mistake."
The word hits you like a slap. "A mistake."
"Not because of you," he adds quickly, his ears turning pink. "Never because of you. But I shouldn't have... we were both drunk. We weren't thinking clearly. I took advantage of the situation, and I'm sorry."
"You didn't take advantage of anything. I'm the one who started it."
"You were drunk."
"So were you."
"That's exactly my point." He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated gesture you've seen a thousand times. "We were both drunk, and we did things that... that we probably wouldn't have done if we were sober. And I don't want that to change anything between us."
Your stomach drops. "You don't?"
"No. You're my best friend, Y/N. You've been my best friend since I was six years old. I'm not going to let one night of... whatever that was... ruin fifteen years of friendship." His voice is earnest, his eyes searching your face for understanding. "I mean, it wasn't even... we didn't even... it was just foreplay, right? It's not like we went all the way. We can just forget it happened. Move on. Go back to normal."
Just foreplay. The words echo in your head like a taunt. Just foreplay. Like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Like the marks on your thighs are just random bruises, meaningless and forgettable.
"Right," you hear yourself say, and your voice comes out remarkably steady. "Just foreplay. No big deal."
"Exactly." Jungwon's shoulders relax, and the smile that spreads across his face is so relieved, so genuinely happy, that it makes your chest ache. "I knew you'd understand. You've always been the reasonable one."
"I'm the sarcastic one. You're the reasonable one."
"Then we're both reasonable. Even better." He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, and then he's walking past you, back toward the kitchen, calling out something to your mom about helping with the dishes.
You stand there in the hallway, your back pressed against the wall, and you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blink them back furiously. You are not going to cry. You are not going to cry over Jungwon, who just called what happened between you a mistake. Who said it was just foreplay. Who wants to forget it happened and move on.
You're not going to cry. But you're also not going to forget.
Two days pass.
Two days of pretending everything is normal. Two days of Jungwon acting exactly the same as he always has, helpful and cheerful and brotherly and infuriating. Two days of you smiling and nodding and laughing at his jokes while something hot and angry and desperate simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.
The problem is, you can't stop looking at him.
Every time he reaches for something, you notice the flex of his forearm. Every time he laughs, you watch the way his throat moves. Every time he brushes past you, your body remembers the weight of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the sound of his voice saying your name in the dark.
It's frustrating. It's maddening. It's the most alive you've felt in years.
"Convenience store run?" Jungwon appears in your doorway on the third afternoon. "I'm craving melon ice cream."
"You're always craving melon ice cream."
"Pretty please."
"Fine." You grab your jacket and follow him out.
Jungwon chatters about nothing, a movie he wants to see, a new boba flavor he tried and hated. You respond in monosyllables, your attention divided between the conversation and the way the afternoon light catches the angles of his jaw.
You need to get a grip. You really, really need to get a grip.
The convenience store is blessedly air-conditioned and mostly empty. Jungwon heads straight for the ice cream aisle, leaving you to wander toward the chip section.
"Y/N? Is that you?"
You turn. The guy standing in front of you is vaguely familiar. It takes you a moment to place him, but then the memory clicks into focus: Jaehyun. High school. You'd sat next to each other in math class for two years.
"Jaehyun!" you say, genuinely surprised. "Wow, it's been a while."
"Right? Three years, maybe? You look great." He grins, and it's a nice grin, friendly and open. "Are you back for the summer?"
"Yeah, just visiting family. You?"
"Same. My parents still live in the old house, so I'm stuck here until August." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Small towns, right? Nothing ever changes."
"Tell me about it."
The conversation flows easily, catching up on majors and career plans and mutual acquaintances from high school.
"Hey, we should catch up properly sometime," Jaehyun says, pulling out his phone. "A bunch of us are doing a bonfire next weekend. You should come. Bring whoever you want."
"Yeah, maybe. That sounds-"
And then his hand reaches out and ruffles your hair. It's an innocent gesture. Friendly. The same kind of casual physical contact that people exchange all the time without thinking about it. But before you can even process what's happening, there's a blur of movement behind you, and Jaehyun’s wrist is being yanked away from your head with enough force to make him yelp.
"Hey now," Jungwon's voice says, and it's light, teasing, the same tone he uses when he's joking around. But there's something underneath it, something cold and sharp that you've never heard before. "Let's keep our hands to ourselves, yeah?"
Jaehyun stares at him, his eyes wide. You stare too. Jungwon is smiling, a pleasant, polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"I was just-" Jaehyun starts.
"Just saying hi. I get it." Jungwon's smile doesn't waver. "But here's the thing…you don't touch her hair. That's not something you get to do. Understand?"
Jaehyun nods quickly, and Jungwon releases his wrist, patting him on the shoulder with that same easy, friendly energy.
"Good talk. Enjoy your summer, man."
And then he's turning away, his hand finding your elbow, steering you toward the checkout counter. You catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s face, confused, slightly alarmed, before you're being dragged down the snack aisle and out of view.
"What the hell was that?" you hiss, yanking your arm free.
"What was what?" Jungwon doesn't look at you. He's studying the ice cream selection like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.
"That! With Jaehyun! You just, you threatened him!"
"I didn't threaten him. I set a boundary. There's a difference."
"You grabbed his wrist!"
"Gently."
"Jungwon." You step in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "What is your deal?"
For a long moment, he doesn't answer. His expression is unreadable, his jaw tight. Then he moves, one step, two, and suddenly you're backing up, your shoulders hitting the cold glass door of the ice cream freezer. He's right there, inches away, his body crowding yours against the door, and you can feel the chill of the glass through your shirt and the heat of him in front of you.
His hand comes up. His fingers slide into your hair. And then he ruffles it,but it's not the casual gesture from before. It's slower. More deliberate. His fingertips trace against your scalp, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.
"Don't let other guys touch your hair," he says quietly, and his voice is low and rough and completely, utterly serious. "That's mine."
You stare up at him, your heart hammering, your brain short-circuiting. His face is close, so close you can see the individual strands of his eyelashes, the way his pupils have gone dark and wide. He looks like a completely different person. He looks like someone who wants to devour you.
And then he steps back. "Anyway," he says, and his voice is back to normal, cheerful and light, like nothing at all just happened. "I'm getting melon and chocolate. You want strawberry, right?"
He turns and walks toward the checkout counter, leaving you frozen against the ice cream freezer, your legs weak, your heart racing, your hair still tingling where he touched it.
What. The hell. Was that.
You stay there for a solid thirty seconds, trying to remember how to breathe. The cold from the freezer is seeping through your shirt, and you can hear Jungwon chatting with the cashier like he didn't just press you against a freezer and claim ownership of your hair. Your hair. Like it belongs to him. Like you belong to him.
And the worst part, the absolute, devastating worst part is that some dark, twisted corner of your brain liked it. Liked the way he'd crowded you. Liked the way he'd said mine in that low, possessive voice. Liked the way his fingers had felt in your hair, slow and deliberate and completely unlike anything he'd ever done before.
You push yourself off the freezer door and follow him to the checkout. Jungwon is already paying, his expression serene, his posture relaxed.
"Got your strawberry," he says, holding up the ice cream. "Ready to go?"
You nod mutely.
The walk home is quiet. Jungwon eats his melon ice cream and comments on the weather and points out a funny-shaped cloud, and you walk beside him in a daze, your mind spinning with questions you're too afraid to ask.
*What was that back there?*
*What did you mean by "mine"?*
*Do you want me the way I want you, or was that just some weird protective instinct that you're going to laugh off later and pretend never happened?*
But you don't ask. Because you're scared of the answers. Because if he laughs it off, if he says it was nothing, if he goes back to being the same platonic Jungwon he's always been, you don't think you can handle that. So you walk in silence, and you eat your strawberry ice cream, and you try very hard not to think about the way his fingers felt in your hair.
The invitation comes on a Thursday, delivered via text message with the casual energy of someone suggesting what to have for lunch.
**Jungwon:** *lake tomorrow? picnic? there's that spot we used to go to as kids. i'll pack food.*
You stare at the message for approximately five minutes. The spot he's talking about is a small, secluded clearing by the lake about twenty minutes outside of town—a hidden gem that you'd discovered together when you were kids. You'd spent entire summers there, swimming until your fingers pruned, eating sandwiches that got slightly soggy from the cooler, lying on the grass and making up stories about the shapes in the clouds.
It's also, objectively, one of the most romantic places in existence. Secluded. Quiet. Surrounded by trees and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. If you were a romance novel protagonist, this would be the chapter where the love interest makes his move.
But you're not a romance novel protagonist.
This is a terrible idea. You should say no.
**You:** *sure. what time?*
The next morning Jungwon picks you up at ten, his car already packed with a cooler, a picnic blanket, and two towels that he definitely stole from his mom's linen closet.
"Ready for adventure?" he asks, holding the passenger door open with an exaggerated flourish.
"Ready for a twenty-minute drive to a lake we've been to literally a hundred times?"
"Every time is a new adventure."
"I’m already tired of you speaking."
"It’s just the beginning."
You roll your eyes and climb into the car, and he closes the door behind you with a satisfied grin. You roll down the window, letting the warm air whip through your hair, and for a moment, everything feels simple. Easy. Like it used to be before your feelings got tangled up in everything. And then Jungwon connects his phone to the car speaker, and a familiar song starts playing.
Lost Island - Enhypen now playing
"Oh my god," you say, recognizing the opening notes. "Is this-"
"Lost Island," he confirms, his grin widening. "Don't pretend you don't know every word."
"I don't know every word."
"You definitely know every word. You made me watch the colour coded lyrics when it came out."
"That was just to see the translation.."
"What about when you made me look at the concept photoshoot of the album?"
"It was for art purposes. I was studying the different concepts."
"You were studying Ni-ki’s pictures for the Afterlight version (iykyk), yeah?"
"Those pictures are a cultural reset."
He laughs, and the sound fills the car, and then he's singing along, loud and off-key and you can't help but join in. You've known this song since it came out. You've listened to it on late-night study sessions, on walks across campus, on the bus ride home from college. You know every lyric, every beat, every ad-lib. And singing it with Jungwon, your voices clashing and harmonizing in all the wrong ways, feels like coming home.
"AND NOTHING’S MORE PRECIOUS THAN TIME? THAN TIME WITH YOU!" he belts, completely butchering the song.
"That's not even close to the right key!"
"It's the right key in my heart!"
"Your heart is tone-deaf!"
The banter carries you the rest of the way to the lake, the familiar landscape scrolling past your window like a slideshow of your childhood.
"It's exactly the same," you breathe, stepping out of the car.
"Some things don't change," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something almost wistful that makes you glance at him. But he's already turning away, pulling the cooler out of the trunk, his expression back to its usual cheerful neutrality.
Jungwon spreads the blanket on a flat patch of grass near the water's edge, weighting down the corners with rocks so it doesn't blow away in the breeze. He unpacks the cooler very carefully, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a container of cut fruit, two bottles of lemonade, a bag of chips, and a small box of the cookies you used to beg your mom to buy when you were little.
"You remembered the cookies," you say, and your voice comes out more surprised than you intended.
"Of course I remembered. They're your favorite." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like remembering your favorite childhood cookies is just something people do. "I also brought the chips you like, even though you always eat the entire bag and then complain that you feel sick."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
"I will push you into the lake."
"You can try."
After lunch, Jungwon leans back on his elbows, tilting his face toward the sun. "We should swim."
"We didn't bring swimsuits."
"So?"
"So I'm not swimming in my clothes."
"Who said anything about clothes?" He grins at the look on your face. "Kidding. Kind of. You can swim in your t-shirt and underwear. It's basically the same as a swimsuit."
"Underwear is not the same as a swimsuit."
"It's fabric. You wear it. You get wet. Same concept."
"The concept is not the same. There's-" You stop, because he's already pulling his shirt over his head, and the sight of his bare torso short-circuits your brain.
You've seen Jungwon without a shirt before. Plenty of times. Swimming as kids, running through sprinklers, that one disastrous summer when he decided to try to get a six-pack and made you do crunches with him in his backyard. But this is different. He's different. The lean muscle of his shoulders, the planes of his chest, the way his stomach tightens as he tosses the shirt onto the blanket, it's all very, very different.
"See something you like?" he asks, and his tone is teasing, light, completely unaware of the chaos happening inside your brain.
"Just trying to figure out where your tan line starts," you say, your voice blessedly steady. "It's very uneven."
He laughs and wades into the water, his back to you, and you take the opportunity to have a small, internal meltdown. If he doesn't see you as a romantic prospect, then what does it matter if you're in your underwear? It's not like he's going to look at you differently. It's not like anything is going to change.
"Fine," you say, standing up. "But if I get hypothermia, you're explaining it to my mom."
"You're not going to get hypothermia. It's like eighty degrees."
You pull your shirt over your head, shimmy out of your shorts, and are left standing in your underwear, a simple black set that you definitely didn't choose this morning with the vague, subconscious hope that someone might see it. That would be ridiculous.
Jungwon glances back at you, and for just a second, just a fraction of a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down your body. But then he's looking away, splashing into the deeper water, his voice carrying over the lake. "Hurry up! The water's perfect!"
You wade in after him, and the water is cold enough to make you gasp. You push through the discomfort and dive forward, submerging yourself completely, and when you surface, your hair is plastered to your face and you're laughing.
You float on your back, staring up at the sky, and Jungwon floats beside you, and for a while, neither of you speaks. It's peaceful. Quiet. The kind of moment you'd want to bottle and keep forever.
And then Jungwon ruins it. "Remember when we used to do this as kids?" he says, his voice dreamy. "You were so small I could carry you around the whole lake."
"I was not that small."
"You were tiny. I could pick you up with one arm."
"That's a lie and you know it."
"It's not a lie. I'll prove it."
Before you can protest, he's moving toward you through the water, his hands finding your waist. You barely have time to yelp before he lifts you, actually *lifts* you, like you weigh nothing and suddenly you're dangling in the water with his hands under your arms, your face level with his.
"See?" he says, and his grin is insufferable. "Still got it."
"That's not, you're using both hands-"
"Details."
The position is ridiculous. You're basically suspended in the water, your legs floating uselessly behind you, his hands wedged firmly under your armpits. But his fingers, his fingers are pressing into the sides of your chest, dangerously close to-
Oh god.
His thumbs are brushing against the curve of your breasts.
You freeze. Every muscle in your body goes rigid. Your face, which was already flushed from the sun, goes approximately forty shades redder. Jungwon doesn't seem to notice, he's still grinning, still holding you up, his fingers still in that exact same position.
"You're so light," he's saying. "Have you been eating enough? Your mom was right, you're like a-"
You don't let him finish. You thrash in his grip, twisting out of his hands with a splash that sends water cascading over both of you. When you surface, gasping, you use the momentum to push a wave directly into his face.
"What was that for?!" he splutters, wiping water from his eyes.
"You were being annoying!"
"I was being helpful!"
"Your hands were-" You stop. You cannot say your hands were on my boobs. You absolutely cannot say that. "You were in my personal space!"
"That's what happens when you carry someone! There's personal space involved!"
"Not that much personal space!"
"You're so weird." But he's laughing, and the moment passes, and he's swimming away from you toward the deeper part of the lake, completely oblivious to the cardiac event he just caused.
You float there for a moment, your heart hammering, your skin tingling everywhere his fingers had touched. He didn't notice. Of course he didn't notice. He was just being Jungwon, playful and physical and completely unaware of the effect he has on you. To him, it was just another childhood game. Just another memory in the long highlight reel of your friendship.
But to you? To you, it was everything.
You take a deep breath and dive underwater, letting the cold silence swallow you whole. When you surface again, you've composed yourself. Your face is still flushed, but you can blame it on the sun. Your heart is still racing, but you can blame it on the swimming.
"You okay over there?" Jungwon calls from the deeper water. "You look like you're thinking too hard."
"I'm always thinking too hard."
"What about?"
About you. About your hands. About the way you said "mine" in the convenience store and then never mentioned it again. About how I'm trying so hard to move on and you keep doing things that make it impossible.
"About how I'm going to get revenge," you say instead, and you launch yourself toward him with a war cry that echoes across the lake.
The splash fight that follows is epic. Water goes everywhere. You end up with lake water in your sinuses and a piece of algae in your hair. Jungwon laughs so hard he accidentally inhales water and spends a full minute coughing on the shore. When you finally drag yourselves out of the lake, shivering and dripping and exhausted, you collapse onto the picnic blanket side by side, staring up at the sky.
The sun is starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your clothes are spread out on the grass, drying in the warm air, and you're lying in your underwear on a picnic blanket next to your childhood best friend, and somehow it doesn't feel awkward. It feels natural. Easy. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be.
But as the sky darkens and the first stars appear, you remind yourself: this isn't a romance novel. He doesn't see you that way. And you're trying to move on.
You just wish moving on didn't feel so much like falling.
You're both still damp from the lake, a pleasant chill raising goosebumps on your skin. Jungwon notices you shivering slightly as you sit on the picnic blanket, pulling your knees to your chest.
"You're cold," he says, stating the obvious as he stands up. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."
Before you can protest, he's already pulling you to your feet, his hand warm and firm around yours. He leads you toward a large, flat rock at the edge of the clearing that has been baking in the afternoon sun. It radiates a gentle heat against your bare legs as he positions you to sit on its edge.
But he doesn't sit beside you. Instead, he positions himself directly in front of you, between your legs, his body creating a shield against the evening breeze. The proximity is intoxicating, his bare torso just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that you could lean forward and press your lips against his if you were brave enough, or stupid enough.
"You need a break," he says, his voice lower than it was moments before, his eyes fixed on yours. "After that epic defeat in the water."
"I didn't lose," you retort, but your voice lacks its usual conviction. You're too aware of his hands as they come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. "It was clearly a tie."
"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," he replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. But his eyes... his eyes are serious, intense, focused on yours with an unwavering gaze that makes your breath catch.
You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his touch sends jolts of electricity through your entire body. You try to focus on the lake, on the sunset, on anything other than the man standing between your legs, looking at you like you're the only person in the world.
But then his hands begin to move.
It's a slow, deliberate journey, his fingers tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your thighs. Higher and higher they go, until they reach the inner curve of your legs. Your breath hitches, your muscles tensing as his fingers continue their exploration, inching ever closer to your most intimate place.
His hands reach the apex of your thighs, his fingers curling around the curve where your legs meet your hips. And then, oh god, his thumb slides inward, the tip of it brushing against the edge of your panties, touching the place where your folds begin through the thin fabric.
A soft gasp escapes your lips, your hips shifting involuntarily. The touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to his touch with an eagerness that betrays your attempts at nonchalance.
Jungwon's eyes darken, his thumb pressing slightly more firmly against you, a silent acknowledgment of your reaction. The air between you grows thick with tension, charged with unspoken desire. You lean in slightly, your lips parting, your entire being focused on the man before you and the hand that's doing unspeakable things to your composure.
And then he pulls away.
Just like that. As if nothing had happened. "We should probably get back to the blanket," he says, his voice completely normal. "I think there are still some cookies left."
You stare at him, your mind reeling, your body still humming with unfulfilled desire. Is he doing this on purpose? Is this some kind of game to him, a way to provoke you, to test your reactions? Or is he really so clueless that he doesn't realize what he's doing to you, doesn't understand the effect his casual touches have on your body, your mind, your heart?
You slide off the rock, your legs feeling shaky beneath you as you follow him back to the picnic blanket. As you dress, you watch him out of the corner of your eye, searching for some sign, some indication of what's going on in that head of his. But he's whistling softly, sorting through the remnants of your picnic, completely at ease.
And you're left wondering, as you have so many times before, whether the tension between you is real or just another product of your overactive imagination.Or whether, just maybe, he's as confused about this as you are.
Jungwon is lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his hair still wet and curling slightly at the ends. He's got a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through something with casual ease. His phone buzzes, cutting through your thoughts. Jungwon glances at the screen, and his face breaks into a grin.
"Oh, it's Heeseung," he says, already accepting the video call. "I told him I was at the lake. He said he didn't believe me."
Heeseung. The name is familiar, Jungwon's best friend from college, the one he's mentioned a few times in passing. You've never met him, but you've heard enough stories to piece together a rough picture.
"Jungwon!" A voice crackles through the phone speaker, and Jungwon angles the screen so you can see. The guy on the other end is exactly as advertised, sharp jawline, dark eyes, the kind of face that probably breaks hearts without even trying. He's sitting somewhere indoors, a window behind him letting in soft afternoon light. "You actually went to the lake? I thought you were lying."
"Why would I lie about going to a lake?"
"I don't know. To seem more interesting than you actually are?"
"I'm very interesting."
"You read philosophy books for fun. That's not interesting. That's a cry for help."
You snort, and Heeseung's attention immediately snaps to you. "Who's that? Is someone else there?"
"This is Y/N," Jungwon says, tilting the phone toward you. "My childhood best friend. The one I've told you about."
You wave awkwardly at the camera. "Hi. I'm the one who didn't pour coffee on her own head."
Heeseung laughs, and it's a genuine, surprised laugh. "I like her already. She's got better instincts than me."
"Everyone has better instincts than you," Jungwon says. "You're famously bad at decisions."
"I'm famously bad at some decisions. I'm very good at other ones." Heeseung shifts, and in the background of his video, you catch a glimpse of movement. Someone else is in the room with him, a girl, sitting at a desk, her face partially obscured by a laptop screen. She's got headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever she's doing, and there's a colorful highlighter tucked behind her ear.
"Oh, is that-" Jungwon starts, and something in his voice changes. It's subtle, a slight softening, a slight hesitation, but you notice it immediately. You've spent too many years cataloging every nuance of his expressions not to notice.
"Yeah, that's her," Heeseung says, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. "She's studying. Again. I told her it's summer break, but she said, and I quote, the mitochondria doesn't take vacations."
"That sounds like her," Jungwon says, and there's that tone again. That soft, almost wistful tone that makes your stomach clench.
The girl in the background looks up, as if sensing she's being discussed, and Heeseung waves her over. She removes her headphones with a slightly confused expression, and then she's walking toward the camera, and you get your first clear look at her.
She's pretty. Really pretty, in a natural, unassuming way. Round glasses perched on her nose, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing an oversized sweater that looks like it's been through several all-night study sessions. There's something about her expression, a little nervous, a little awkward, but also warm and genuine, that makes you understand immediately why someone might fall for her.
"This is Y/N," Heeseung says to her, gesturing at the phone. "Jungwon's friend."
"Hi, Y/N," the girl says, leaning into the frame. Her smile is slightly shy but sincere. "I've heard a lot about you. Jungwon talks about you all the time."
"All good things, I hope?"
"Mostly good things. He mentioned something about a treehouse incident?"
"I'm not taking responsibility for that. That was entirely his fault."
"It was not entirely my fault," Jungwon protests. "You were the one who wanted to add a second story."
"Because you said you wanted a better view of the stars."
"I was being romantic!"
"You were being delusional. The tree couldn't even support one story, let alone two."
The girl laughs, and Heeseung looks at her with an expression so openly, unguardedly fond that it makes something twist in your chest. That's love. That's real, undeniable, completely transparent love. The kind of love that doesn't hide or apologize or pretend to be something else.
"We should let you guys get back to your picnic," Heeseung says. "I just wanted to confirm that the lake does, in fact, exist."
"Confirmed," Jungwon says. "It's still here. Still wet. Still full of fish."
"Excellent. Very informative." Heeseung grins. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That doesn't leave much."
"Exactly."
The call ends, and the screen goes dark. Jungwon sets his phone down on the blanket and reaches for another cookie, completely oblivious to the storm that's just started brewing in your chest.
That's her. The girl from the philosophy elective. The one Jungwon had a crush on for months. The one he talked about in your kitchen with that soft, distant look in his eyes. The one who ended up with his best friend instead of him. And she's... nice. She seems nice. Genuinely nice, not fake nice, not trying-too-hard nice. The kind of nice that makes it impossible to hate her, even though a small, petty part of you really wants to.
"Jungwon?" you say.
"Hmm?"
"That was her, wasn't it? The girl you liked."
He pauses mid-chew, and for a moment, something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe, or the ghost of an old wound. But then it's gone, replaced by a smile that's a little too casual to be entirely genuine.
"Yeah. That was her."
"She seems nice."
"She is." He swallows the cookie and stares out at the lake, his expression unreadable. "She's really nice. She and Heeseung are good together."
"And you're okay with that?"
"I'm okay with that." He says it firmly, like he's practiced the words. Like he's said them to himself enough times that they've started to feel true. "It took a while, but... yeah. I'm okay with it. They make each other happy. That's what matters."
You don't know what to say to that. There's a heaviness in his voice that he's trying to hide, and you know him well enough to recognize it. He's not lying, he really is okay with it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting. That doesn't mean he doesn't still think about it sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet and the what-ifs creep in.
"I'm going to take a nap," Jungwon announces, stretching out on the blanket and pillowing his head on his arms. "The sun and the swimming made me tired."
"Okay."
"You should nap too. You look tired."
"I look radiant."
"You look radiantly tired."
"That's not a thing."
"It's a thing now. I invented it." He closes his eyes, and within minutes, his breathing evens out. He's asleep. Just like that.
You sit there for a while, watching him sleep.
We can't be friends - Ariana Grande now playing
It's strange, seeing him like this. Unguarded. Vulnerable. The tension that he carries in his shoulders has melted away, and his face is relaxed in a way it rarely is when he's awake.
Your eyes trace the familiar lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his eyelashes. You know every inch of this face. You've memorized it over fifteen years of glances and gazes and stolen looks. But there's something different about looking at him now. Something heavier. Something that sits in your chest like a stone.
So that's he*, you think. That's the girl who had his heart.
And she's lovely. She's genuinely, painfully lovely. You saw it in the way she smiled, in the way she looked at Heeseung, in the way she clearly has no idea that she was once the center of someone else's entire world. She probably doesn't even know. She probably went about her life, completely unaware that Jungwon spent months pining over her, working up the courage to say something, only to lose his chance because he waited too long.
And that's the thing, isn't it? He waited too long. He liked her and he didn't say anything, and by the time he was ready, it was too late. Someone else had already stepped in. Someone bolder, someone braver, someone who didn't wait.
But he's not like that anymore. You've seen the change in him. The confidence. The ease. The way he carries himself like someone who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go after it. He told you himself, after that whole situation, he decided to stop waiting. To start living. To explore his youth and put himself out there and not let opportunities pass him by.
She did that. That girl, with her round glasses and her messy ponytail and her complete, oblivious unawareness of the effect she had on him, she changed him. She's the reason he started hooking up with people in college. She's the reason he bought condoms and learned how to kiss properly and became the kind of person who presses other people against freezers and claims ownership of their hair.
You should be grateful to her. In a weird, twisted way, she's the reason Jungwon is who he is now, more confident, more assertive, more willing to go after what he wants. But all you feel is a hot, jealous knot in your stomach that you can't seem to untangle.
What does she have that you don't?
The thought surfaces before you can stop it, ugly and uninvited. You push it down, but it keeps rising back up, persistent and sharp.
What does she have that you don't? You've known Jungwon your entire life. You've been there for every scraped knee, every broken bone, every triumph and every failure. You know the exact way he takes his coffee and the name of every pet he's ever had and the song he listens to when he's sad. You've seen him at his worst and at his best, and you've loved every version of him.
And yet. And yet.
When he talks about her, there's still a softness in his voice. When he looked at her on that video call, there was still a flicker of something, not longing, exactly, but memory. The ghost of a feeling that was once very real. And you've never had that. You've never been the person Jungwon looked at like that. You've never been the person he pined over, the person he wrote letters to, the person he stayed up late thinking about.
You're just Y/N. His childhood best friend. The person he carries around in the lake and ruffles the hair of and tells all his secrets to, but never, ever looks at the way you want him to.
"It's not fair," you whisper, and your voice is so quiet it barely disturbs the air. "What does she have that I don't?"
The question hangs there, unanswered, and the silence that follows is deafening.
You look down at Jungwon, still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the turmoil churning inside you. His lips are slightly parted. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. There's a piece of cookie crumb on his chin that he missed when he wiped his mouth earlier.
You reach out and brush it away, your fingers lingering against his skin for just a moment longer than necessary.
"I've been here the whole time," you murmur. "I've always been here."
He doesn't stir. He doesn't hear you. Maybe that's for the best.
You lean down, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft. Barely there. The kind of kiss that could be dismissed as friendly if anyone saw, but is secretly, desperately not. Your lips brush against the warmth of his skin, and you close your eyes, and for just one moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he woke up and looked at you the way Heeseung looked at that girl. Like you were the center of his universe. Like you were the reason he existed.
But he doesn't wake up. And the moment passes.
You pull back, your heart aching, and you lie down beside him on the blanket. The sun is still warm, and the breeze is still gentle, and the lake is still lapping against the shore. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.
You close your eyes, and you let sleep take you, and the last thing you feel before you drift off is the warmth of his body next to yours, close, but not close enough. Always, always, not close enough.
You wake up to the gentle hum of an engine and the soft pressure of something warm draped over your body.
It takes you a moment to orient yourself. You're not on the picnic blanket anymore. You're not by the lake. You're in a car, Jungwon's car, you recognize the air freshener and the one-eyed bear in the backseat, and someone has covered you with a jacket. Your jacket. The one you'd left in the backseat this morning.
Outside the window, your house is silhouetted against the dusky evening sky. The porch light is on. Your mom's car is in the driveway. Everything is exactly as you left it this morning, and yet nothing feels the same.
You push yourself upright, blinking sleep from your eyes, and that's when you notice Jungwon. He's not in the driver's seat. He's outside the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed, staring up at the sky. The first stars are starting to appear, and his profile is illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. He looks pensive. Distant. Like he's been standing there for a while, lost in thoughts he doesn't want to share.
You open the car door, and the sound makes him turn. His expression shifts immediately, the pensiveness replaced by that familiar, warm smile. But there's something tired about it tonight. Something that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he says. "You were out cold. I didn't want to wake you."
"You carried me to the car?"
"You were dead weight. It wasn't that hard."
"I'm average height."
"You're fun-sized."
You roll your eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. You're too busy processing the fact that he carried you from the lake to the car. That he wrapped you in your jacket and drove you home and then waited outside, in the cooling evening air, just so you could sleep a little longer.
"Thank you," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you intended. "For today. For... all of it."
"It was nothing." He shrugs, but his smile is genuine. "I had fun. It was like old times."
Old times. Right. Because that's what this was to him. Just another memory in the long, unbroken chain of your friendship. Nothing more.
He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, the same casual, affectionate touch that used to feel so natural and now feels like a knife twisting in your chest.
"Get some rest," he says, already turning toward the driver's side. "I'll see you tomor-"
"Wait."
The word escapes before you can stop it. He pauses, his hand on the car door, his head tilted in confusion.
"What's up?"
Your heart is pounding. Your palms are sweating. Every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to let him go, to swallow your feelings, to keep pretending that everything is fine. But you're tired of pretending. You're tired of hiding. You're tired of watching him walk away and wondering what would happen if you just said the words you've been holding back for weeks.
"I need to tell you something," you say, and your voice is steadier than you feel. "And I need you to let me finish before you say anything. Can you do that?"
Jungwon's expression flickers, confusion, concern, something else you can't quite name. But he nods. "Okay. I'm listening."
You take a deep breath. The evening air is cool against your flushed cheeks. The streetlamp buzzes softly overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. The world keeps turning, oblivious to the fact that you're about to upend everything.
Earrings - Malcolm Todd now playing
"I like you," you say.
The words hang in the air between you.
"I don't mean like a friend. I don't mean like a brother. I mean... I like you. I have feelings for you. And I've been trying to ignore them, and I've been trying to move on, and I've been telling myself that you don't see me that way and I should just accept it, but I can't. Not anymore. Not after everything that's happened."
Jungwon is completely still. His hand has dropped from the car door. His face is unreadable.
"I know you probably don't feel the same way," you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, a dam that's finally broken. "And that's fine. That's... I mean, it's not fine, but I'll deal with it. I just couldn't keep pretending. I couldn't keep acting like everything was normal when it's not. Not for me."
The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. When Jungwon finally speaks, his voice is careful. Measured. Like he's choosing every word with deliberate precision.
"Y/N... I think you're confused."
"I'm not confused."
"You've been through a lot lately. The stress of college, being back home, all the changes, it's natural to latch onto familiar feelings and mistake them for something else. But what you're feeling isn't-"
"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than you intended. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling. I know what I feel. I've known for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe I've known for years and I just didn't have the words for it until now."
"Y/N-"
"I like you, Jungwon. I want to be with you. Not as your childhood friend. Not as your sister figure. As a woman who wants to be with a man. That's what this is."
He flinches. Actually flinches, like the words have physically struck him. "You don't mean that."
"I do mean it. I've never meant anything more in my life."
"You can't-" He stops, runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that you've seen a thousand times. "You can't just say that. You can't just drop that on me and expect-"
"Expect what? For you to feel the same way? I already told you, I know you probably don't. But I had to say it. I had to be honest with you, because that's what we've always been. Honest. And I've been lying to you for weeks, and I couldn't do it anymore."
Jungwon is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost pained. "I can't return your feelings."
The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew they were coming. You prepared for them. But knowing and hearing are two different things, and the sound of them, the finality of them knocks the breath from your lungs.
"I don't see you that way," he continues. "I've never seen you that way. You're my best friend. You're the most important person in my life. But I can't...I don't-"
"You don't see me as a woman."
"I see you as Y/N. My Y/N. The person who's been by my side since I was six years old. And I can't risk that. I can't risk us."
"Risk us?" You hear your voice rising, the hurt transforming into something hotter. Something angrier. "What about the mixed signals? What about the way you held me in the lake? What about the convenience store, when you told that guy not to touch my hair because it was yours? What was that, Jungwon? Was that just friendship too?"
His jaw tightens. "That was different."
"Different how?"
"That was... I don't know. Instinct. I wasn't thinking."
"You weren't thinking." You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Right. Of course. You never think. You just do things and say things and then pretend they don't mean anything. Just like the closet in high school. Just like my bedroom last week. Just like everything."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" You step closer to him, your eyes blazing. "Let me ask you something. Honestly. Do you still have feelings for her? That girl? The one from the video call?"
Jungwon blinks, clearly thrown by the shift in topic. "What? No. I told you, I'm over that. She's with Heeseung. They're happy. I'm happy for them."
"Then what is it? If you're over her, and you're out there hooking up with other people, then what's so different about me? Why can't you see me the way you see them? Am I not attractive enough? Am I not-"
"Stop." His voice is sharp, sharper than you've ever heard it. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to anyone else. This isn't about you not being enough. This is about-"
"About what?"
"About the fact that you're the only thing in my life that's ever been mine!" The words burst out of him like a dam breaking, and suddenly he's not the calm, measured Jungwon anymore. His eyes are bright, his hands shaking slightly at his sides. "Do you understand that? You're it. You're the one thing I've always had. When my parents were fighting, when school was hell, when I was sitting in my dorm room at college feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, I always had you. You were always there. And I can't lose that. I can't."
"So you'd rather keep me as a friend than risk having me as something more?"
"Yes." The word is quiet but firm. "Yes. Because if we tried and it didn't work...if we broke up, if we hurt each other...I wouldn't just lose a girlfriend. I'd lose everything. I'd lose my best friend. I'd lose the person who knows me better than anyone. I'd lose fifteen years of history and memories and-" His voice cracks. "I can't do that. I won't."
"You're a coward," you say, and your voice comes out quieter than you expected. Softer. Almost sad.
Jungwon flinches. "Y/N-"
"No. You are. You're a coward. You've always been a coward. You liked that girl for months and never said anything, and someone else got to her first. And now you're doing the same thing again. You're so scared of losing what we have that you won't even consider the possibility of something more." You swallow hard, the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "You said you changed. You said after that whole situation, you decided to stop waiting and start living. But you haven't changed at all. You're still the same guy who waits too long and lets things slip away because he's too scared to take a risk."
"Please," he says, and his voice is raw, desperate. "Please don't do this. We can still be friends. We can go back to how things were. Nothing has to change."
"I don't want to be friends!" The words tear out of you, loud and broken. "That's the whole point! I don't want to be your friend anymore! I want to be more! I want you to look at me the way you looked at her! I want you to touch me like you mean it and not pretend it was nothing afterward! I want to be the person you think about when you can't sleep at night! But I'm not! I'm never going to be! Because you won't let me!"
Tears are streaming down your face now, hot and unstoppable. You don't bother wiping them away.
"I have been here," you say, your voice cracking. "I have been here for fifteen years. I was here when you failed your first math test. I was here when you got your heart broken for the first time. I was here when you needed someone to talk to at 3 AM. And I've been here this whole summer, watching you, wanting you, and you didn't even notice. You never notice."
Jungwon's face crumples. "I notice," he whispers. "I notice everything about you. That's the problem."
"Then what is it?" You step closer, your chest tight with frustration and hurt and the desperate need to understand. "You've been giving me mixed signals since I got back. The way you look at me. The way you touch me. The convenience store. The lake. Carrying me around in the water with your hands all over me. What am I supposed to think?"
"I wasn't...I didn't mean to..."
"Didn't mean to what? Lead me on? Make me think there was something there when there wasn't?"
Jungwon's face crumples, and for the first time in this conversation, he looks genuinely stricken. "I wasn't trying to lead you on. I was just... being myself. That's how I've always been with you."
"Maybe that's the problem." Your voice cracks, and you hate it. You hate that he's seeing you like this. "Maybe you've always been like this with me, and I've just been too blind to notice that it doesn't mean anything to you. But it means something to me. It means everything to me."
"Y/N..."
"You know what I hate the most?" You're crying, tears spilling down your cheeks, hot and uninvited. "I hate her. That girl from the video call. I hate her so much it makes me sick."
"That's not fair. She didn't do anything-"
"I know she didn't do anything! That's what makes it worse!" The words are pouring out of you now, unstoppable. "She didn't do anything except exist, and she still managed to change you. She's the reason you're like this now. She's the reason you decided to stop waiting and start living. She's the reason you bought condoms and hooked up with people and became this whole new version of yourself. And I...I've been here the whole time. I've been here for fifteen years, and I've never been able to make you look at me the way you looked at her."
"Y/N, please-"
"You've known her for what, a few months? And she got to have your heart. She got to be the one who changed you. And I've been here since we were kids, and I've never...I've never been anything more than your best friend.. The person you carry around and ruffle the hair of and tell all your secrets to, but never, ever look at the way I want you to."
The tears are falling faster now, and you can barely see his face through the blur. You wipe at your eyes furiously, angry at yourself for crying, angry at him for making you cry, angry at the whole stupid universe for putting you in this situation.
"I've always been here," you whisper. "I've always been yours. And you've never once seen me."
Jungwon's composure cracks. His eyes are wet, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he's trying very hard to hold himself together and failing. When he speaks, his voice is raw in a way you've never heard before.
"You asked what she had that you don't? Nothing. She had nothing that you don't. But she was safe. She was someone I could have a crush on from a distance and then let go when it didn't work out. But you...you're not safe. You're not distant. You're under my skin and in my bones and wrapped around every part of who I am. And if I let myself feel what I'm afraid I might feel for you, and it goes wrong..."
He stops, his voice breaking. A tear slips down his cheek, and he doesn't bother to wipe it away.
"I can't lose you," he says quietly. "I would rather have you as a friend for the rest of my life than risk losing you entirely."
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The street is quiet. The stars are starting to come out. And then you shake your head.
"We can figure this out. We can-"
"No. You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to reject me and then ask me to stay exactly the same. That's not fair."
"Please." His voice cracks, and he reaches for your hand. "Please don't do this. You're too important to me. Our friendship is too important."
"Goodnight, Jungwon," you say.
"Y/N, wait-"
But you're already walking away. Already climbing the steps to your front porch. Already reaching for the door handle with hands that won't stop shaking.
You don't look back. You can't. If you look back, you'll break completely.
The front door closes behind you with a soft click, and you lean against it, pressing your palms to your face, and you let the tears come. All the tears you've been holding back for weeks. All the feelings you've been pretending not to have. They pour out of you in great, heaving sobs that shake your entire body.
You understand. God help you, you understand. He's scared. He's been scared his whole life, scared of losing people, scared of taking risks, scared of wanting something too much and having it slip through his fingers. He looks at you and sees everything he's afraid to lose, and instead of reaching for more, he's clinging to what he already has.
But understanding doesn't make it hurt less. Understanding doesn't fill the hollow ache in your chest or stop the tears from falling or make you forget the way his face looked when you walked away.
You don't know how long you sit there. The house stays quiet. The stars wheel overhead. And somewhere out there, on the street in front of your house, Jungwon is still standing by his car, staring at the door you just closed, hoping you'll come back out.
bsf!jungwon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀you're jungwon's favorite headache—a fact that he can't bring himself to admit, and you can't bring your dense self to realize.
MASTERLIST. ┆ CONTAINS ➤ SMAU. college!au. to be loved is to be known type shi. ACTS-OF-SERVICE!WON!!!!! he's a lil dry and nonchalant but still pathetic and down BADDDD. reader's a bit oblivious and dumb. slowburn. fluff. angst. two idiots in love. profanity. miscommunication. comedy, maybe. petnames (princess, baby, etc.) ignore timestamps & typos. ✮ cameos from enhypen's ni-ki, riize's anton, &team's maki, illit, and other idols.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧
FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ for a bit more context, the mission: wony/n gc has been made the morning after jungwon wake up drunk so right around chapter O8 because riki finally FINALLY got jungwon's confession 😂 i cba to add it in slides because there's so much story to fit and i want to keep the chapters as low as possible LOL
심재윤) being with jake meant never having to think before you spoke. he was the first person you told everything to, no matter how important or stupid it was. but after hearing him call you irritating, even once, you can’t stop wondering if he’s been thinking it all along. what starts as giving him a little space slowly turns into shorter answers, unfinished stories, and eventually, complete silence.
content warning !
emotional hurt, relationship conflict, miscommunication, insecurity, self-doubt, crying, hurt feelings, guilt, comfort, reconciliation, and fluff with angst.
the apartment had that soft late afternoon glow. rain tapping the windows and a candle burning somewhere in the kitchen because you swore expensive candles made the place feel “emotionally moisturized.” jake said that phrase haunted him daily.
you were curled up on the couch beside him in oversized pink pajama shorts, talking with your hands at full speed.
“and THEN she blended the contour with a damp sponge instead of a brush and i’m telling you jake, it literally changed the structural integrity of her face.”
jake blinked slowly from where he sat, one arm stretched behind you. “structural integrity.”
“yes!” you laughed. “like she went from moon emoji to greek statue in thirty seconds.”
he gave a small chuckle at first. he always did. even when he didn’t understand you, he liked hearing you excited. your voice filled rooms too easily. like confetti someone forgot to clean up.
“and okay wait because THEN i started thinking maybe i should try that peach undertone thing? but i don’t know because the lighting in sephora is literally government propaganda.”
jake rubbed a hand down his face.
“mhm.”
you didn’t notice the shift at first.
“and babe, imagine me with that glossy lip combo i showed you? the one with the liner and—”
jake exhaled hard this time.
you paused for half a second. “what?”
“nothin.” but his eyes had already drifted away from you toward the tv that wasn’t even on.
you tried smiling anyway. “no, tell me.”
another sigh.
“baby…” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i just… i don’t understand any of this stuff.”
your fingers slowly stilled in your lap.
“i know…” you said softly, trying to laugh it off. “you don’t gotta understand makeup.”
“no but it’s like…” he shook his head. “can you stop talking about it for like, one second?”
the room went weirdly quiet after that.
jake looked irritated in the careless way people do right before they realize they crossed a line.
“it’s just… damn.” he let out a dry laugh. “you’re kinda irritating when you get like this.”
and there it was.
it wasn’t not yelled or cruel. just tossed at you casually like it wouldn’t land somewhere permanent.
your smile faded almost invisibly.
jake finally looked at you properly then.
you swallowed once and nodded a little too quickly. “oh.. yeah. okay.”
jake looked like he had been slapped by his own sentence. just genuinely stunned at what came out of him earlier.
his eyebrows pulled together.
“no—” he let out a breath, almost disbelieving at himself. “no, i did not mean that.”
the bubbly energy that had been bouncing around the room seconds ago vanished like somebody unplugged it from the wall.
you stood up carefully, smoothing your shorts even though they didn’t need smoothing.
“i think i’m gonna take a nap.” you said quietly. “i’m tired.”
you usually argued back. teased him. dramatically gasped and called him rude before talking again five minutes later anyway. but this? this was different. your eyes wouldn’t even stay on him now.
he sat up straighter. “baby, wait, i didn’t mean it like that.”
you nodded again. too nice. too fast. “it’s okay.”
it was the “okay” people use when it absolutely is not okay.
you started walking toward the bedroom.
jake stared at your back for two seconds before standing abruptly. “babe.”
you stopped but didn’t turn around.
he ran a hand through his hair, already hating himself. “don’t do that.”
you looked down at the floor. “i’m not doing anything.”
and somehow that hurt him more.
jake reached for your wrist gently. “baby… look at me.”
you finally did and your eyes were glossy now, trying so hard not to be.
the regret hit him like a truck with brass knuckles.
“shit…” he whispered immediately. “no, no, sweetheart…”
his hand slid up your arm carefully like he thought you might pull away.
“i didn’t mean you’re irritating.” his voice softened fast. “i was irritated. that’s different.”
you gave the tiniest shrug. “it’s fine.”
“it’s not fine if i made you feel bad.”
your face crumpled just a little at that, enough for him to realize how hard you were trying to hold it together over one stupid comment.
jake cursed under his breath and pulled you into him before you could protest.
“you get excited and you ramble.” he murmured into your hair. “i know that. i love that about you.”
you stayed quiet against his chest.
“i’m just an idiot.” he rubbed your back slowly. “a giant one. like medically concerning levels.”
a tiny laugh escaped you accidentally.
“there she is…” he whispered immediately, relief flooding his voice like sunlight through cracked blinds.
you hid your face against him. “you hurt my feelings.”
“i know.” his grip tightened. “i know, baby. i’m sorry.”
after jake apologized. more than once, actually. he hugged you and kissed your forehead and called himself an idiot, and swore he never meant it the way it came out.
but suddenly that sentence would flash through your head out of nowhere.
irritating.
it lodged itself somewhere ugly in your brain and refused to leave.
and you hated that.
because logically, you knew jake loved you.
you knew it every time he pulled you into his lap while playing games. every time he saved the pickles from his burger because you liked them. every time he looked for you first in crowded rooms like his eyes did it automatically.
you knew.
but insecurities are weird little parasites.
they don’t care about logic.
so now every time you got excited, something inside you hesitated first.
you started noticing yourself more. maybe too much.
the way your voice got louder when you were passionate about something. the way you interrupted yourself because your thoughts moved too fast. the way you jumped from topic to topic without warning.
before, it used to feel natural.
now it felt embarrassing. like becoming aware of how loudly you chew. you couldn’t unnotice it anymore.
and the worst part?
jake didn’t even realize how much it affected you because you tried so hard to act normal.
you still smiled, still laughed and still cuddled him at night.
you just… edited yourself now.
when you got excited about something from tiktok, you’d think about bringing it up… then decide not to.
sometimes you caught yourself literally checking his face while talking to see if he looked annoyed.
that part made you feel pathetic.
and the next few days they felt… off.
not in an obvious fighting way, probably worse. but you just got quiet.
jake noticed it almost immediately.
usually when you came home from college, the apartment exploded with noise within five minutes. your bag hitting the floor dramatically. you talking about professors like they were reality show villains. random makeup opinions nobody asked for. twenty different stories tangled together at once.
but now?
nothing.
that afternoon the apartment was filled with the low hum of rain again, the tv playing some random show neither of you were paying attention to.
you sat curled into the opposite end of the couch, knees tucked to your chest while scrolling on your phone silently.
too silently.
jake glanced over from where he sat.
usually you would’ve been halfway laying on top of him by now.
instead there was actual distance between you two.
it bothered him more than he expected.
he muted the tv after a while. “how was college today?”
you didn’t even look up from your phone.
“alright.”
jake waited.
normally that question unlocked a forty minute recap complete with impressions, side quests, and emotional damage.
but that was it.
“…busy, i guess.”
his eyes narrowed slightly.
“busy?” he repeated.
“mhm.”
silence again.
the rain tapped softly against the windows.
jake stared at you for another second before leaning back slowly.
another ten minutes passed and you barely spoke. every answer was short, polite or neat. like you were trying not to bother him.
jake finally tossed the remote onto the couch with a sigh.
“okay, no.”
you looked up finally. “what?”
“why are you acting like that?”
you blinked innocently. “like what?”
“like you’re in a waiting room.”
your fingers paused against your phone screen.
“i’m not.”
“baby, you’ve said maybe six words since you got home.”
you shrugged lightly. “i’m tired.”
jake stared at you.
that shrug almost pissed him off because it was so obviously fake-casual.
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “you’re still upset about the other night?”
your eyes dropped back to your phone instantly. “i said it was fine.”
“yeah, and i’m starting to realize that when you say ‘it’s fine’ it actually means i should start preparing my funeral arrangements.”
that almost got a smile.
he scooted closer slowly. “hey…”
you kept staring at your phone even though you hadn’t scrolled in thirty seconds.
his voice softened.
“baby.”
you swallowed. “what?”
“talk to me.”
your throat tightened a little at that because the stupid part was… you wanted to.
you missed talking to him normally.
but now every time you got excited about something, that sentence echoed in your head.
you’re kinda irritating when you get like this.
so instead you just shrugged again. “there’s nothing to talk about.”
jake’s expression shifted immediately.
hurt.
real hurt.
“don’t do that.”
you frowned softly. “do what?”
“shut me out because i said something stupid.”
you finally looked at him then.
“i’m not shutting you out.”
“yes you are.” he said quietly. “you don’t even ramble anymore.”
that word made your chest ache.
ramble…
because before, he used to say it like it was something fond.
now it just felt embarrassing.
you looked down at your lap. “i didn’t realize it was that annoying.”
jake’s face dropped instantly.
“baby…”
“it’s okay.” you said quickly. too quickly. “i’ve been trying to chill out more anyway.”
that sentence hit him like a brick to the throat.
because you sounded sincere.
like you were genuinely trying to make yourself smaller for him.
“no.” jake moved closer immediately. “no, don’t do that.”
you looked confused. “do what?”
“this.” he gestured toward you helplessly. “being all quiet and weird.”
your voice came out tiny. “i thought you wanted me to.”
jake physically flinched and silence filled the room again.
then suddenly he was pulling your phone gently out of your hands and tossing it onto the couch beside him.
“c’mere.”
before you could protest, he tugged you into his lap.
you let out a surprised noise, hands instinctively grabbing his hoodie.
jake wrapped both arms around you tightly. “i was irritated one time.” he muttered into your shoulder. “one time, and now my girlfriend acts like she needs customer service training before speaking.”
you huffed the tiniest laugh despite yourself.
“baby, i miss hearing you talk.” he admitted quietly. “the apartment feels creepy without it.”
you looked down. “really?”
“yes, really.” he said immediately. “i wanna hear about your professors and your makeup theories and whatever random thing your tiktok algorithm taught you today.” he rested his chin against your shoulder, holding you a little closer. “i don’t want you sitting here and second guess every thought before you say it.”
your eyes stung a little at that.
jake noticed instantly and groaned softly. “i meant it baby.”
he pulled you closer against his chest, rubbing your back slowly.
“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” he murmured into your hair. “seriously.”
then after a second.
“…now tell me how college was for real this time.”
you sniffled once.
“my sociology professor accidentally emailed the entire class her grocery list.”
jake blinked.
“…see? this is the quality content i’ve been missing.”
