Summary: A drunken one night stand went wrong when news of the darling socialite was seen leaving the penthouse of CEO Park Jongseong, one of the most sought bachelors in Korea. In order to save face and reputation, a fake dating contract of six months was proposed.
The problem? Turns out you and Jay were ex-lovers — a secret relationship that ended up in a bad light and three years after not seeing each other, you two ended up in the headline of the tabloids and gossip articles. Fake it 'til you make it, they say, and it doesn't help that your ex-boyfriend is great with the act, blurring the lines between repressed feelings and acting like everything's fine between the two of you.
Third installment of Big reputations series.
✰ Song inspirations: Call it what you want by Taylor swift, Radio by Lana del rey, Love me like you do by Ellie goulding
✰ Word count: 25k
✰ Tags: CEO au, ex-lovers, fake dating, aged-up characters (both of them are 28), miscommunication? No, the other party doesn’t want to communicate, repressed feelings, both of them are bad with their feelings, not-so-slow burn!!! yearning!!! They’re kinda toxic ngl, rich people activities lmaooo, fluff and angst!!! smut, reader is kinda a spoiled brat (and is actually just a heartbroken girl, let her live), jay is a mix of green and red flag, heeseung is a menace, kys jokes, mentions of kpop idols (ft. jangkku as a couple.) NOT PROOFREAD.
✰ CW: plot with porn ofc. Soft vanilla sex that’s mwa, p in v sex, unprotected sex (pls don’t), makeup sex, cumming inside, they’re just very tender and in love. I am not sorry at all, oral (f receiving), body worship, praise, soft aftercare, crying after sex.
✰ Asul's note: this was so harddddddd, why is fake dating so harddddd!!! Anyways, I wrote this at 2 am so sue me if its messy. But think of this as an advance christmas gift ig?? Also, I only have a little knowledge about formula one, sue jay for influencing me in this one. I also eyeballed the places mentioned, sorry once again. I think this is the most romantic smut I have ever wrote lmaoo, i live for makeup sex.
Enjoy this fic! sending loves and an advance merry christmas to everyone! <3
Sunlight peeked through the black curtains of the bedroom, giving light through the dimmed, masculine room. It landed on your face directly, earning a groan from you as you turned your body away from the light. The silence was relaxing, save it for the soft and comfortable bed that you’re on —
That’s when it sank into you. Opening your eyes slowly, you come face to face to the sturdy back beside you. Your eyes widened and you freezed on your position, slowly, you looked into your body and that’s when you realized that you’re left with nothing but your panties.
Embarrassment washed over you. You couldn’t believe that you just had a one-night stand — a drunken one to be exact! You’re not even the type to do casual sex! You groaned internally before you felt him moved beside you, completely startling you.
But he didn’t wake up, he just fixed his position. So you quietly moved your way out of the bed, careful not to wake him up, and you were thanking the gods that he’s a heavy sleeper.
Your hangover’s still had your head throbbing, last night’s drinks hitting you like a baseball bat which made you wince at every movement. You managed to find your clothes scattered around the place and shame was all you felt as you picked it one by one.
You found your phone inside your sling bag on the floor, picking it up to see the missed calls and texts from your brother. You cursed internally, preparing from his lecture as you called him back.
“Where the fuck are you!?” Heeseung’s angry tone welcomed you, making you wince as you brushed your messy, bed hair.
“I don’t know but can you pick me up please please,” you plead, whispering as you tiptoe your way out of the bedroom.
“Mama’s worried sick! What the fuck y/n —”
“Can you save all your naggings when you see me, I’ll send my location and fucking pick me up!” you whisper-shouted, cutting off the call and sending your location to your brother.
Heeseung 😛: Fifteen minutes. Stay put and I’ll call you if I’m outside.
8:43 AM
You let out a deep sigh before you started walking away from the long hallway. As you reached the living room of his place, your eyes went wide at the sight of the living room. It was huge and luxurious, with designer furniture and rare figurines on display. You also noticed a few formula one merchandise which made you curious about the guy you slept with.
Unfortunately, there’s not a single picture of him on display inside the area, so you quickly brushed it off, since it was just a drunken one night stand, he’d forget about it just like what you’re planning to do.
You found the exit of the place, the hallways were exquisite and clean, and it just sinked into you that you ended up in someone’s penthouse. Oh well. You thought. At least he’s some snobbish rich guy. Your drunk self still has taste.
As you rode the elevator down, that’s when questions started running through your head, adding more headache for you.
Where are you? Who’s the guy sleeping on the bed? How did this happen? It’s pretty obvious that you were black-out dead last night and was convinced that something happened but what led you to sleeping with him?
You tried to recall last night’s events but the only thing you remembered was you buying another bottle of tequila and after that, everything was a blur. You don’t even know where he popped into the night.
Was the sex even good!? You mentally groaned when you felt your phone vibrate. Picking it up to see that your brother’s almost near.
The lobby of the building had a few people on it when you arrived. Observing their proud faces and designer clothes, it is safe to assume that you ended up at a high-end sky building somewhere in the city. The front-desk agent gave you a small smile and nod which you reciprocated awkwardly before you exit the lobby.
You waited for a few minutes before you noticed the white ford mustang and familiar car plate of your brother’s, making you sigh in relief.
You smiled as you opened the door of the passenger seat, ignoring your brother’s stabbing glare as you put on the seatbelt.
“Go on, nag all you want but a little disclaimer, I have a hangover so all your words will just fly away from my mind,” you stated as you rested your head by the window.
“You’re so reckless y/n,” Heeseung started as he drove away from the building.
“I am careful,” you replied, knowing that you’re also wrong.
Heeseung chuckled sarcastically, “careful? Right, because if you’re being careful you would’ve ended up going home last night and not to some random stranger’s place.”
“Hey! At least you found me at some high-end building and not some cheap motel, alive and breathing if I may add.” you justified.
“Not my point but whatever,” Heeseung sighed, accepting defeat. “Just stay out of trouble, I know that you love to party but tone it down please, you still have a reputation to hold.”
“Yeah, gonna keep the family name clean,” you mocked.
“I’m serious.” he warned and that made you shut up.
You’re one of the most-loved socialites in your country. The darling of the crowd, a head-turner at every formal event or dinner you attend. The sweet, youngest daughter of the Lee family — one of the well-known names in South Korea.
You’re the life of the party. Always present at every party, fashion weeks, and formal events with confidence. Free days come in the form of luxury shopping and traveling around the world. Everyone may look at you as the young and spoiled, socialite of your family, but you didn’t care about it because honestly? It’s true though.
Your family lets you do whatever you want. Whether it involves your family’s business or just spending their money on luxurious items, you’re living the life. You don’t have a permanent job but because of your name and influence, you were able to earn money independently by collaborating with brands and luxurious houses.
Your parents didn’t force you to work for the family business since your older brother had already taken over the company. They told you that you’re free to do what you want as long as you don’t ruin the family’s name.
You’re careful. You were always careful about your image. It leaves you anxious even though you’re used to the spotlight. As much as you had the freedom, there are still consequences whenever you made irrational decisions, hence why despite shrugging casually to your brother’s lecture, you were nervous deep inside.
You’re not the type to do one night stands and all that casual sex and situationships. You hated those kinds of things. Love is a sentimental thing for you. That’s why you were nervous deep inside. You ended up at a stranger’s house, and based from his fucking huge penthouse, he’s not just any rich man — he probably had a reputable name in your country.
You’re curious about him. It left you pondering about his identity, but at the same time, you were silently praying that last night wouldn't blow up in a huge portion.
-
You don’t know why your brother was eager for you to go to his office on a Tuesday afternoon.
You almost ignored his chat, but when it ended with a note of cutting off your credit card, you had no choice but to visit him.
As you entered the office, you weren’t even able to greet him because he looked at you mad, like you did something unforgivable
“Look at what you have done,” he said with an angry tone. Heeseung took heavy strides before he flashed his phone screen in front of you.
Lee Y/n and Park Jongseong caught leaving Royalty together — is it a new romance brewing? Or just a night of happiness?
You freezed.
No way. You thought. No fucking way, there’s no fucking way —
You grabbed his phone and scrolled through the article. Pictures of you being carried outside the club, by the lobby of the building, and when you were leaving the building. Your eyes widened. You couldn’t believe that they followed you and even waited for you outside the building. It was obvious that it’s you. They didn’t even attempt to hide your face! God, you couldn’t believe that you were smiling ear to ear in the first photo — like you were madly, deeply with the man who was carrying you.
Park Jongseong.
His name still gives chills to your body, and just seeing his face, which was smiling too, had your heart beating. You don’t know why your heart started acting like that. Was it out of nervousness? Pain? Anxiety? You were confused and stunned at the same time.
Out of all the men in this world, it has to be Park fucking Jongseong. Your secret ex-boyfriend. Your whirlwind semester romance. Your best and worst mistake. The guy that you gave your everything that the moment he left, you were completely nothing.
You wanted to curse him. Three years have passed and he’s still handsome as ever — more handsome than ever. He got rid of his rebellious silver-like blonde hair and ear piercings, and grungy, rockstar outfits and had it replaced with the more sophisticated and clean get-up, living up to the reputation of the old money Parks.
Three years passed and he’s now back in South Korea. He’s here and that thought made you anxious.
He’s here. In South Korea. Breathing the same air as you — you just felt your world ended.
“I told you to be careful,” Heeseung warned, snapping you away from your thoughts.
“I was being careful! I didn’t know that there were paparazzis there! Why would they be invested to get a scoop from me!?” you questioned.
“You were out partying with other socialites. Royalty is a high-end club — damn it y/n! It’s not only you who they wanted a scoop from, it’s also them and Jongseong — do you even know him?”
Of course. Of course you do. You know him damn well. You know what his cologne combination was and every name of his guitar collection. You know that he’s allergic to flowers, that's why not once did you receive a bouquet from him when the two of you were together. You knew Park Jongseong too well, but unfortunately, you couldn’t say it out loud to your strict brother.
“What’s with him anyway,” you crossed your arms instead. The last time you’ve heard from Jay was three years ago, when the two of you had a fight because he’s leaving for America.
You wanted him to stay, he wanted to go to America. He called you selfish and spoiled, you called him heartless, and perhaps, both of it were true because you two called it off that same night. Jay moved to America while you returned to South Korea, spending more than you used to in hopes that it’ll ease your broken heart.
“His name is currently on-trend along with his twin brother, Park Sunghoon, formula one driver for Ferrari. Both of them are promising bachelors here. Charismatic and old money rich, Jongseong’s currently the CEO of Park Land and Leisures. And you? The sweet and darling socialite of Northern Stars Inc., just happened to have slept with him. You two are a fucking scandal at the moment,” Heeseung explained and you only rolled your eyes.
“It’s not like he’s married, oh my god Heeseung, he’s single! And so am I! What’s wrong with what we did?” you pointed out.
“People are still conservative y/n, one night stands and things like that are still scandalous, mom and dad are fucking furious at the moment,” he rebutted and your eyes widened.
“They knew!?”
“Of course y/n, they knew, your name’s all over the headlines and newspapers!” Heeseung argued before heaving out a sigh, eyes still leaving heavy glares on you. “That’s why I am proposing something.”
Your forehead creased, “what do you mean?”
A knock on the door interrupted your conversation, you turned around and from the glass door, you froze when you saw who it was.
It felt like a movie — a horror movie to be exact. It was like seeing a ghost, the ghost of your past to be exact. You became quiet, heart beating rapidly that it’ll burst out of your chest any moment now. With your throat turned dry and cold sweat forming on your skin, you were nailed from where you were standing as you watched Jay walk into the office.
He still looks as good as ever. Much sophisticated and clean, far from his rebellious and roughed image back then. You watched as he passed by you — completely ignoring you as he approached Heeseung with a smile and firm handshake while your eyes remained at him.
“Thanks for coming,” Heeseung greeted, making you snap out of your daze.
Jay chuckled, “no worries, we need to clean some rumors right?”
His eyes landed on you. A frown on your face as you crossed your arms.
“Nice meeting you again y/n,” Jay greeted and you scoffed at his words.
Heeseung’s forehead creased, “you guys know each other?”
“No!?” you shouted defensively, panic starting to get into you. Heeseung raised an eyebrow before shaking his head out of disappointment.
“I guess you were really too drunk to remember that night,” Jay taunted and you scoffed at his words. You swear to God, he was testing you.
“Whatever, why are you even here?”
“Because of the rumor, of course,” Jay explained casually. “It’s going to be hard to convince the public that what happened that night was nothing, especially when they captured us in different locations. They even followed us in our building.”
“There’s nothing to worry about that, my family knows how to handle bad pr,” you rebutted.
“Good for you, but I also have a reputation to hold on,” he stated.
You raised an eyebrow, “Why? Afraid to lose your hottest bachelor image, Mr. Park?”
“You’re right, Ms. Lee, I don’t want the public to see me as someone who’s a playboy of sort, casual shits like this aren’t my things.” Jay smirked casually.
You only rolled your eyes at his answer. He even had the audacity to taunt you? You swear if only Heeseung wasn’t present in this room, you would’ve kicked his balls out of rage.
“That’s why I’m here to resolve your problem,” Heeseung butted in. “Think of it as a punishment for your recklessness too y/n.”
You chuckled in disbelief, “a fucking punishment? What am I, sixteen?”
“The proposal is simple. We convince the public that you two are currently seeing each other on good terms, date publicly and act the deal, then break up due to busy schedules.” Heeseung explained, ignoring your words and how your face distorted into confusion.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” You cursed.
“When do I joke about this kind of thing y/n? I told you to be careful, and these are the consequences of your reckless actions, so owe up to it,” Heeseung authoritatively stated, making you flinch at his tone.
It really was a fucking punishment for you. What do you mean you’re going to fake date your ex-boyfriend for the sake of the publicity? It was like the devil had possessed your brother that he resorted to that idea.
“How long?” Jay asked.
“Six months.” Heeseung answered quickly.
Six months? What a fucking joke — it’s the same length you and Jay dated. You don’t know if they’re playing tricks with you but one thing is that you aren’t pleased with the situation.
“What if I don’t want to?” you asked.
Heeseung glared, “and why the fuck not?”
“I don’t like him.” you pointed out Jay who only smirked at your comment.
“Why? You basically met him last Saturday, you two are barely strangers,” Heeseung pointed out. “Unless you two met prior to this one.”
You became quiet. You only looked away as you heard Jay’s soft chuckle was all you heard — making you even more irritated.
“It’s just six months,” Jay casually commented. “It’s not like we’re going to see each other everyday, Ms. Lee, we can set dates and public events where we’ll go together. We can also set boundaries too, since we’re just faking it after all.”
His words hurt you. You don’t know if the two of them were setting you up or everything about this was just a mere coincidence. But knowing Heeseung, if he knew your past with Jay, he would’ve confronted him about it. And yet, the two of them were seemingly civil, which leaves you completely hopeless knowing that as much as you oppose the idea, your brother doesn’t change his mind that easily.
One thing for sure was that you had pushed your brother’s patience this time. He could’ve brushed it off. Casually deny the rumor or let it die down but he chose this weird publicity stunt just to tame your attitude. You groaned internally. In the end, you’re still at fault too.
“I don’t have a choice in this one, right?” you crossed your arms, as a defeated look formed on your face.
“Mom and dad already approved this proposal,” Heeseung shared. “For once they hope that you’d tame your lifestyle now that you’re linked to Jongseong.”
“Just like how they threw me in Barcelona for that fucking fall semester,” you muttered under your breath, yet loud enough for your brother to hear.
“Just read the damn contract y/n, and hurry up, I have a meeting in an hour,” Heeseung grabbed the envelope from his desk and handed you a copy which you accepted in defeat.
You began reading the contract. It has a lot of terms and conditions that you skimmed through but basically, you and Jay are going to pretend to be dating for six months. Attending events together are a must unless the other party’s on an important schedule. There were no rules of skinships between the two of you, hugs and kisses are a must since it convinces the public that you two are real. Dates aren’t required but it’ll be good publicity for your relationship.
This also meant that you’re not allowed to date anyone and so does Jay. You don’t know why but reading it assured you somehow. It meant that for the next six months, the only girl Jay will be seeing is you and no one else. That’s a small win for you for sure.
Jay said earlier that you two didn’t need to meet everyday. Which is good for you. You just have to keep yourself busy for the next six months — maybe travel around the world or join a cruise ship, if it means avoiding Jay at all cost.
The idea was bright in your mind. You nodded at yourself before you placed down the contract at the coffee table.
“Fine, give me a pen, I’ll sign it,” you announced, making the two men look at you.
“That was fast,” Heeseung comments before going to his desk to grab a pen.
“It’s just six months, I think I can manage,” you shrugged, completely signing the contract. You placed down the pen and glanced at Jay with a taunting smirk. “Let’s just say that we keep our relationship private, so that means we don’t need to meet in public and date outside. Let’s just wait for six months to pass by and then call it off, sounds good right?”
“Y/n, wait —”
“Now, if you excuse me, I have a spa treatment with my girls, so goodbye to the two of you,” you gave them a teasing flying kiss before you walked out of Heeseung’s office, completely ignoring him calling you out.
You could only laugh mischievously as you skipped your way towards the elevator. As you reached the area, you pressed down the button and while waiting, a hand grabbed your arms suddenly, completely startling you.
“What the fuck — let me go!” you snapped your arms away from Jay who only looked at you angrily.
“We’re not done yet y/n,” he stated, making you raise an eyebrow.
“That’s not what you said to me three years ago,” you smiled.
But instead of getting irritated, Jay chuckled in disbelief, “oh my god, you’re still not over that, am I right?”
Your forehead creased, “dream on Jay, why are you even here? I thought you’re living your life in America.”
“I have a company to take over with, which from what I recall, I informed you about that one, but someone thinks that I am staying in America for good.”
“Because you were.” you sassed.
“Oh my god, are we really going to dump our issues here? We could settle this down —”
“No Jay, I am not going to settle this down. We’re done and we’re through, we made that very fucking clear that night.” You breathed out, feeling your heart getting heavy as you said those words. “And don’t you think just because I signed the contract doesn’t mean I wanted to act according to it. I am not going to show up to you Jay. Just being near you makes me sick.”
The elevator door rang. You didn’t wait for his answer. You went your way inside the elevator, pushing the close button in hurry as the last thing you saw was Jay’s disappointed face.
-
When did your love story with Jay even start?
Fall in Barcelona. One semester at a prestigious international school that specializes in business and economics. It sounds so preppy and nice to hear but you attended it by force.
You were young. Living on your daddy’s credit card and older brother’s headache. Your mother enabled you and your grandparents loved their beautiful and only granddaughter. You get away with everything, well, almost.
It wasn’t a huge scandal that involved your name getting tainted and your company’s stocks going down. Your father was just sick of you partying and traveling around the world with no clear goal about your future. Sure, you have a degree in fashion merchandising, but the moment you got your diploma, you threw everything you’ve learned and just spent your life spoiled and loved.
Hence, your cards got declined and you were forced to pack your bags and move to a foreign country just to study again. It was a punishment, you insisted, but your parents justified that in case you’re needed in the company, you have the basic skills about how business works. What a lame excuse, you think.
Of course, you’re not going to waste your parent’s money by not attending the semester. You’re actually fine with it. At least it’s in a foreign country. You’re living alone in a decent-size dorm room inside the university, and somehow, taking a crash course about something you’re quite interested in would be preferable than living the routine of your wild, youthful life. You still benefited from it since it was something productive and you also wanted to prove to your parents that you still have directions in your life.
Jay was a classmate of yours. He sticks out like a sore thumb from the whole section. He looked like he’s the one whose parents forced him to attend the semester rather than you.
Jay looked like a mixture of a rebel emo and a rockstar. Wearing nothing but rugged and baggy streetwear clothes in the shades of black and gray, and nothing else. Even his accessories were silver along with his almost silver-like blonde hair that looked like it’s been bleached a hundred times to achieve the shade.
It was easy to say that he did catch your attention. But you’re not the type to make the first move, and particularly, he wasn’t your type at first. Perhaps it was just a small crush, a fleeting feeling inside your stomach because despite his intimidating image, Jay was one of the impressive students in your section.
It happened a month later. At a small gathering with your other classmates after class, you accepted it shyly, and unbeknownst to you, Jay was also there. The gathering was nice. At a restaurant nearby the school that’s known for its paella and wine. You conversed happily with some of them, and as an hour passed by, Jay had joined in naturally.
The conversation started small. You didn’t even notice that it was just the two of you talking to each other later on. The wine had hit off, and the two of you were laughing your hearts off. He felt familiar — Jay reminded you of home given that both of you are from South Korea. You didn’t even realise that you were homesick until you had a talk with Jay.
He walked you home, the conversation and laughter never stopped and somehow, fall felt warm compared to its weather. He bid you goodbye with a smile which you reciprocated.
As you reached your dorm room, the smile on your face never left. Your heart was beating rapidly and you felt like a teenage girl experiencing her first love.
Jay entered your life naturally. The two of you became friends after that night. The sense of having someone you could relate to was the comfort that you needed in Barcelona. You’ve learned so much about Jay — his passion for music, love for cooking, and traveling. He was also a family man, the oldest among the two sons of the Park family.
He has a twin brother. A total opposite of him who chose his dream of becoming a racer. Jay was left to take over the business even though he had a liking for producing music. You also learned that he took the semester program so that he doesn’t have to do an internship under his uncle in America. His parents agreed with his deal and as soon as the semester ends, just like you, he’ll go home to South Korea.
You don’t know when it started. That crush of yours became deeper and soon, you could hear your heart beating rapidly than it should. Your cheeks warming just being near Jay, and the slightest actions that he does — placing you on the safer side of the road, carrying your bag, and dropping you off to your dorm building after class, makes you wonder if there’s a deeper meaning to it. You couldn’t even look into his eyes anymore.
You tried to conceal your feelings. Afraid to ruin the friendship — only for Jay to ruin it first.
The confession came unexpectedly. Really unexpectedly. At his apartment room after dinner. The leftovers of takeouts were still on his dining table. You were laying on his bed while he’s seated on the huge bean bag that he insisted was his couch, strumming his guitar named Tongtongie as he hummed an unfamiliar song by Bon Jovi.
Then he stopped, stared at you for a while. The phrase, “I like you,” slipped out of his lips suddenly, your eyes widened and you almost fell off his bed out of shock. You hated him for catching you off-guard that night but you were happy because he has feelings for you — it was the easiest acceptance you ever did and the last thing you remembered was Jay’s blissful smile before he pulled you for a kiss.
That night ended passionately. Tangled in the sheets and warmth shared with each other. You two weren’t each other’s first, but it felt so special than your past experiences. When you woke up next to him, looking at him who’s still in his slumber, the only thing you could think of was how lucky you were — and perhaps, it was fate that brought you to Barcelona so that you could meet Jay.
Your whirlwind relationship with Jay started. Suddenly, everything felt so right and there’s nothing in this world that matters except you and Jay. You two were on your honeymoon phase during the duration of the semester. Always together, crashing into each other’s place, and traveling to other cities as dates. Fights rarely happened and you two felt like you two understood each other the most.
The two of you didn’t hide your relationship from your family not because they won’t accept it, but it just so happens that you two are in Barcelona, you didn’t feel the need to tell your family about it and so did Jay. You were focused on your relationship with Jay. The codependency was there and it may seem sickening for others to always see you together everyday, but for the two of you, the world would probably end if one of you aren’t with the other.
Months passed and your relationship with Jay became deeper. More stronger and intimate. Promises were made and the future seems to be bright for the two of you. There are talks of ‘what-ifs’ and future plans, and one of them was that when two of you returned to South Korea, you’d tell everyone your relationship with Jay, and so will he.
Soon, the fall semester ended. You stayed for another month just to travel around Europe with Jay. Enjoying your time together before you two return home. Everything felt so right for you. It was perfect — way too perfect that the news that came after hit you harder than a bullet straight to your heart.
Jay wasn’t going to return to South Korea. He’s going to America to work for his uncle. To work. Not just a temporary internship but work. A stable job with stable income. Something that he needs to do before taking over his parent’s company.
You were betrayed. Tears started to blur your sight as Jay casually told you the news. Destroying every plan and promises you two had. Your luggage was packed. Everything was settled. You were just about to wait for tomorrow to come for you to take your flight home, all excited and happy but Jay had to ruin it.
He insisted that your relationship could still work and his promises weren’t broken — just halted. You asked him when he will return to his home country. He couldn’t give you a definite answer and that was your cue.
You exploded and he was irritated. You two had a shouting contest, not one wanted to lower each other’s pride. It was messy, arguments became less logical and flaws started to be brought. In the end, you were a desperate mess as you begged him to stay with you. You were crying as you fell onto your knees and asked to stay with you.
Jay didn’t budge. He was mad at you. He couldn’t understand why you couldn’t understand that he was needed by his family? He’s doing this not only for his future, but your future together. He’s just going on a detour with his future — and you couldn’t understand that. He told you that not everything would go in your way just because you were spoiled growing up.
You slapped him right there. His left cheek burned and turned bright red, you called him every name you could think of like you didn’t love him for the past few months. Despite that, he didn’t say another thing about you. Jay just looked you dead in the eye and broke up with you. You didn’t fight for it, too tired and heartbroken that him calling it off didn’t hurt you anymore.
That was the last time you saw him. No goodbyes or closure. Jay left you there alone and devastated. The next day, you went home to your home country. Pale, depressed, and heartbroken. You acted like you were fine, but every time your family or relatives asked you about Barcelona, there was still a stinging pain in your heart. All you could think of was him.
You blocked him on every social media platform. Deleted every picture you had with him. Threw and burned every gift he has given to you, whether expensive or not — even the Cartier ring he brought you as a promise ring. You burned everything that’ll remind you of him — even the clothes you wore when you were in Barcelona. You did it in hopes that you’d get over him and heal your broken heart.
Three years had passed. You thought that you’ve moved on. You’re living your life now! You have a good reputation. Not a stable job but hey, at least your name has a price tag on it. You’re still a headache to your older brother but less tamer now. You didn’t date anyone around because of the trauma you had with Jay, you thought that it was better to keep yourself single for now.
Now, fate seems to have other plans. Three years of moving on and suddenly you’re now going to be stuck with him for the following six months. Life could be cruel sometimes.
A week has passed and you’re in your bedroom. After last week’s fiasco at Heeseung’s office. You shut yourself in your room. Ignoring all the invitations your friends invited you, cancelling your treatment appointments, and just spending in bed rotting as you scroll through your social media.
The dating article of you and Jay had been confirmed by both sides. It was said that the two of you were seeing each other for almost a month. You two met in Italy wherein you attended the Milan fashion week while Jay was at the F1 grand prix to support his brother. An acquaintance set you two up and you two hit off right away. Yeah right.
The two of you agreed to keep your relationship a secret at the moment since you two are at the courting stage. It was also said in the article that Jay picked you up at the club wherein the paparazzis had taken photos of you and let you stay at his place which shouldn’t be anything malicious given that the two of you are seeing each other. You wanted to laugh at their lame excuses, and yet, it was still believable since the public believed it anyway.
They also stated to give respect to your relationship and the two of you would prefer for it to be private, which made you smile. That’s right. You thought. Keep it private, so you won’t have to act along with Jay in public.
You closed your phone and went out of your room to have your first meal of the day. It was ten in the morning. The whole house was empty except for the house helpers and the head butler. You gave them a simple greeting and smile before you proceeded to the kitchen to find something to eat.
“Ms. Lee,” you turned around to see a maid holding a huge box which stopped you.
“Another pr package? Could you place it inside my room? I’ll open it there, thank you,” you ordered with a smile.
“Of course Miss, it also came with a flower bouquet. Would you want to place it in a vase? It was quite big too.” she explained.
Having used these kinds of packages, you only nodded to her question. “Who sent them anyway?”
“It’s from Park Jongseong Miss.”
You stopped. Almost dropping the tupperware of your overnight oats as you heard his name.
“Throw it, I don’t care if it’s big — just throw it okay?” you ordered before eyeing at the box. “Leave that here. Next time, when you receive a package from Park Jongseong, just throw it okay? If it benefits you, you can keep it, just don’t give it to me nor inform me about things like that okay?”
Shaking in fear, the maid nodded, “yes miss.”
She placed the box in front of the kitchen island while you closed the fridge. Having no appetite anymore, you decided to open the sturdy box and to your surprise a dress was neatly folded inside.
But it wasn’t just any dress. It was a vintage Prada dress. You quickly placed the cover on the side and grabbed the dress. Placing it in front of you, your forehead creased as your hands trailed at the delicate piece. Clothes like these don't surprise you, but you were shocked that Jay had sent you this one.
Was it an invitation? I might be. You thought. There’s no way that Jay would send you a dress out of blue especially when you walked out of him last week.
“Miss, this came along with the bouquet,” your attention shifted to the maid who handed you over a small envelope.
You mumbled your thanks before eyeing at the envelope. It was small with a wax seal in the middle. You opened it quietly as your hunches were right — Jay has given you an invitation.
Save the date. — like it was a wedding or something. You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes as you eyed at the invitation once again. The logo of their company stood out on the corner while Jay’s signature was on the bottom right corner of the paper. You wondered what it was about but you guessed that it involved their company.
You decided to bring everything back to your room. Closing the door, that’s when you noticed the numerous missed calls from an unknown number.
Please don’t tell me this is Jay. You thought before pressing the number and letting it ring.
“Good, you picked up, I’ve been calling you for minutes now,” you closed your eyes out of frustration. You were right. It was Jay who called you.
“How did you get my number?” you asked.
“Heeseung gave it to me, since you walked out last week when we have a lot of things to talk about —”
“Wow, “a lot of things to talk about?” good call Mr. Park,” you sarcastically remarked. “When clearly, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Ms. Lee, I wanted to inform you that whatever we had in the past is in the past, there’s no need to bring it up. I am talking about our publicity stunt that involves our image and reputation.” Jay spoke with a formal tone and you are fighting the urge to curse him on the phone.
“Clearly, I don’t give a fuck about the publicity stunt,” you answered, smiling sweetly as you spoke. “And I made myself clear last week, we can just convince the public that we like to keep our relationship secret and there’s no need for public exposure and stuff.”
“This involves my family Ms. Lee, clearly they don’t know that we’re dating for the sake of publicity.”
“Then that’s a you-problem Jongseong, not mine.”
“Have you even read the damn contract or just skimmed it and called it a day?” Jay asked with an irritated tone. “It is implied there that if one of the parties doesn't comply with the contract’s conditions, they have to pay five billion won as a fine?”
Your eyes widened, “what kind of damn contract is that!? Five billion won!? Are fucking kidding me!?”
“Heeseung made the contract, he made sure that you’re going to comply with it, whether you like it or not. Your signed contract was notarized now by your family’s lawyer by the way,” Jay explained, and you swear to God that you could see his teasing smile over the phone.
“I’m gonna kill him and then I’m gonna kill you after.”
“That’s really nice babe but I still need to show up at my company’s housing project’s grand launching on Saturday — oh by the way, I hope you received the dress, the jewelry set should arrive this afternoon, wear it okay?”
“I guessed I’d just kill myself instead,” you answered instead. “And don’t ever call me that.”
Jay chuckled from the phone, “what? Do you want me to call you ‘wifey’ instead? I don’t mind though. We can settle with the endearments on Saturday, all right? I’ll pick you up at six this Saturday. Goodbye wifey.”
The call ended. You stood there frozen as your phone’s still on your ears. The silence deafened you as Jay’s words kept on ringing in your ears for a minute.
It’s been so long since you heard him call you that. That endearment that used to be so meaningful for you, now became something traumatizing to hear. You could have your heart tearing up once again as you bite your lips to conceal yourself from crying once again.
You don’t understand why Jay was acting like what you had in the past was just something light and casual — like you two didn’t end in a bad light and had many issues to talk about. You couldn’t comprehend in your mind how Jay talked to you like you were his business partner — as if he didn’t make you the happiest girl back in Barcelona.
But then again, this is Jay that we’re talking about. The same guy who left you for his career. He’s just doing this for the sake of his image and reputation. He’s not doing it for you, you convinced. You’re just a stain that almost ruined his image — nothing more and nothing less.
-
A black sleek Mercedes-Benz arrived at the doorsteps of your house by six in the evening.
Upon the announcement of his arrival, that was cue. You grabbed your purse that matched the dress’ color, and with a few touches and perfume spray, you left your room.
Jay was waiting by the living room, perfect in his three-piece suit as he checked his cufflinks last minute. Only did you get his attention when your Louboutin's clinked against the marbled tiles of your house’s staircase. Jay’s head turned quickly, eyes locked on you who’s walking downstairs.
His hand reached for you instinctively, and you quickly rolled your eyes as you ignored his hands, going downstairs on your own — it didn’t take too long for him to grab you by your arms.
“Oh my god, are you going to keep on grabbing my arms!?” you shrieked, tugging your arms away but his hold tightens. “Jay, you’re hurting me —”
“Could you please be professional for once and just go along with the contract?” he asked with a serious tone, making you raise an eyebrow.
“Unlike you Jay, I could never act professional when you’re around,” you stated. “Call me immature or whatever but do you think it’s easy for me to forget everything about us?”
“I am not asking you to forget about it,” he replied sharply. “Just for six months. Six damn months just go along with it. Just for the sake of our reputation, just do it. After six months, you can hate me all you want — loathe me, I don’t care! Just play pretend for once.”
Perhaps it was his tone that settled your anger down. The mixture of frustration and desperation. You hated that you quickly understood Jay despite all the hatred you had for him — just like you, he doesn’t like the situation too, but for reputation’s sake, he had no choice.
You wanted to lash out, to push him away, and tell him to fuck off, you don’t want to see his face ever again — but you signed the contract. You have to comply with every condition written there.
For your family’s name and for your reputation. That’s all you had to look after, not your past with Jay or whatever lingering feelings you have with him.
Six months. Just six months. You could pretend that you two are okay, and he’s the love of your life — what a damn joke.
It’s a sickening play to act, but you had no choice. Everything was your fault after all. That’s why you lowered your pride this time, face softening as you look at him.
“Fine.” you said in defeat.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me Jay, don’t you ever thank me,” you dictated. “I’m doing this for myself.”
The drive on the way to the convention hall was idly quiet. It was a silent truce for the two of you. The act had just begun and you’re internally praying for your frail heart to not be weakened by whatever scheme Jay will pull up from his sleeves.
Once you two reached the entrance, Jay had left his seat, giving the keys to the valet before opening your car’s door. You only gave him a glance before accepting his hand, his hold firm on yours, giving you the warmth that you’re in denial to accept.
“Ready?” he asked.
You looked at him before giving him a short nod. He removed his hand and placed it with his arms, you wrapped yours around it and with one last glance, the two of you went inside the convention hall.
The hall was bustling with people. Known names and wealthy businessmen gathered together for the grand launch of another housing project of the Park’s company. Press and reporters were also present, that’s why it didn’t surprise you when flashes of cameras welcomed you the moment you two entered the hall.
Whispers became louder and the camera’s flashes became blinding, and yet, you kept your smile as your hold on Jay’s arm tightened. You could feel your heart bursting out anytime, your nerve coming all over you now that the attention’s on you and Jay.
Unlike you, Jay was calm and collected, wearing his usual formal smile as he looked at the cameras one-by-one before he tugged you towards the direction of his parents.
“So this is the girl who swept your feet Jongseongie?” his mother started, eyeing at you with a smile. You felt intimidated as it felt like she was dissecting you.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Park,” you greeted with a soft tone. “I do apologize because of the trouble I caused —”
“Nonsense! Young love, and rumors, articles tend to be overexaggerated. I’m sure that what you and Jongseong had is real." she quickly brushed it off before giving you a genuine smile, making you chuckle out of nervousness.
“Nonetheless ma’am, I wish you could’ve known my relationship with Jongseong in a better manner,” you insisted.
The old woman chuckled once again at your words and instead of saying anything, she just pats your shoulder, “it’s not your fault sweetie don’t worry, I just wished Jongseong had introduced you earlier.”
“Mom, we’re taking things slow, it’s been just a month for us,” Jay justified. “Could you please excuse us now? I think y/n needs a drink.”
His mother eyed her son for a second before nodding. “Alright son, seems like you just want some alone time with her.”
Jay ignored his mother’s teasing tone before pulling you away from her — almost dragging you towards the wine section.
“She seems nice,” you commented.
“And interrogative,” Jay objected. “She’s just playing along, my mother almost fainted because of our scandal. She doesn’t believe that what we’re doing right now is real.”
You raised an eyebrow, “well, she has a good sense then, why not just tell her the truth?”
“Because she’s conservative, she believes in the sanctity of marriage and seeing me having a one-night stand scandal outraged her — why would I even have sex with someone I don’t even want to marry?”
“Right, why would you Jay? To someone you don’t want to marry?” you asked with a teasing tone.
He glanced at you, eyes glaring as he passed you the glass of wine which you accepted, electrified by the small touch of his skin, “you don’t even remember that night y/n.”
“And I could see that you were sober enough to know what happened,” you pointed out. “So why? Why would you sleep with me, knowing well of our past?”
“Have you ever thought that maybe it was you who threw herself to me that night?” he rebutted and you merely hummed.
“And you took advantage of it, right? I was drunk Jay, I was not in the right mind — while you? I supposed you’re sober that night since you keep on insisting that I barely remember anything.”
Jay didn’t say a word, he only stared at you as he took a sip on his wine. You chuckled in disbelief as you took a sip of yours.
“So why?” you asked once again.
“We’re not having that conversation here.” Jay stated.
You smirked, “right, gonna play lovers first, alright hubby, what’s the next agenda?”
“Y/n.”
“What? You asked for this didn’t you?” you smiled.
He wasn’t able to rebut your words because someone had approached him regarding the formal opening of the event. He glared at you one last time, and you offered him a sweet smile before he decided to just follow the organizer of the event instead. A sigh of relief escaping you since you had won this time.
You were left to entertain your own. Some were friendly enough to approach and strike a conversation with you, knowing that your family’s a prominent name in the country. You’re used to these scenarios, so with a fake smile and sweet tone, you played nice in front of the public — just like what your family wishes you to do.
Conversations were mostly about you and Jay. Same questions; when did you guys meet, what did you like about him, and apologies for getting caught with the scandal. It annoyed you for a moment, but you just decided to brush it off and gave them the information that they wanted.
Another hour had passed before the event had formally started. Jay was in front, a glass of champagne on his hand as he recited his speech about their company’s new housing project somewhere in Seoul.
Everyone applauded, while you stood there, eyes never leaving him. He looked so mature — so clear of his future. Far from the Jay you met in Barcelona. He knew the words that he needed to say and the words were eloquent and appropriate — far from your reckless and spoiled self, and that stung you for a bit.
It felt bitter. Seeing your ex-boyfriend achieving everything that he wanted. He’s the CEO of their company now. He has a bright goal for his company while you’re still hung up with your freedom — still hung up with your past relationship with him.
Now, watching him from a distance, you wondered what would’ve been if you weren’t that drunk that night. Maybe, you could’ve saved you and Jay’s reputation. In that way, you could’ve saved your heart from its incoming pain too.
“So, you’re my twin brother’s girlfriend,” you flinched when you heard a voice from your left side.
There stood a man who’s pale as a ghost. Hair cleaned and bangs down along with his glasses, he was wearing a more leaned smart casual compared to Jay’s expensive suits. He was smiling at you, and you raised an eyebrow.
“Jay’s twin brother?” you asked.
“Park Sunghoon,” he introduced as he stretched out his hand.
“Oh, the racer,” you remembered before accepting his hands. “You’re quite handsome.”
“Thanks, I get that a lot,” he spoke and you smiled at his words.
“More handsome than Jay though.” you clarified and he chuckled at your compliment.
“I have a girlfriend, for your information.”
You smiled became sweeter, more flirtier as you removed your hands from his. “Can I compliment you without thinking that I am hitting on you?”
“You said I’m more handsome than your boyfriend.”
“Why? It’s a subjective preference,” you insisted, casually shrugging. “Despite being more handsome than him, Jay’s still my type though. Hope that eases you that I am clearly not interested in you.”
“You’re weird, I wonder why Jay talks about you like you’re a goddess or something.”
“Now you’re exaggerating.”
“I know,” he smirked. “I hope you'll take good care of Jay.”
“What am I? His caretaker?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Just looking after him. Do you know that he used to work in America?” Sunghoon asked and you shook your head as answer.
“Why? What’s up with America?” you asked.
Sunghoon leans close to you, your breath halting as you feel him too close to you.
“Why don’t you go and ask him about what happened to him in America?” he whispered in your right ear before giving you a meaningful stare, making you confused as to what he meant.
“What do you mean?”
But Sunghoon only smirked as he glanced at your back, making you turn around only to see Jay walking towards the two of you.
“Well, I guess our conversation had been cut short, I hope I’ll see you around y/n,” Sunghoon raised his wine glass before walking away from you — just in time for Jay to arrive at your place.
“People are looking y/n,” he warned and you raised an eyebrow.
“I am just talking to your brother, if you see it with any malicious intent, that’s your problem,” you stated. “Unless you’re jealous.”
He scoffed, “I am not jealous. I am just making sure —”
“That my image is good? I care for it too Jay. There's nothing wrong with talking to Sunghoon. Was I the one who leaned close to him? No right? So don’t you think that I was doing something bad here, ” you refuted.
“Just be careful,” he advised once again.
“I am careful,” you smiled at him sweetly. “It’s you who should be careful. Now, if you want to convince people that we’re a couple, give me a smile and kiss rather than throwing daggers at me with your stare.”
Jay’s serious expression softened for a moment. He heaved out a sigh before wrapping his arms around your shoulder, before you knew, his lips landed on the temple of your face. Murmurs began to fill the venue but you chose to ignore it as you stare at Jay with a devilish smirk on your face.
“See? It’s not that bad right?” you taunted.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered to you.
“Not if you killed me first,” you whispered back. “But then again, you agreed to this idea, so you better suck it up, Park.”
Jay didn’t say another word — not when his father tapped his shoulder, requesting his presence to talk to some business partner. Jay nodded at his father’s request and you’re sure that he was about to leave you alone, but Jay had pulled you along with him. His right hand snaked around your waist, holding you tightly as he leaned to your ears.
“Better put on a great show wifey,” his words sent chills down your spine. You only stared at him and the next thing was he had stolen a kiss from you. With a smirk on his face and the shocked expression of yours, it was easy to say who had won the argument that moment.
You weren’t able to refute his words. You stuck beside him as your persona changed into that sweet and darling socialite of your family, now in a more upgraded version of being Jay’s significant other.
The whole night, you stood beside Jay, like a trophy wife of his. Smiling and charming every businessman he talked to which left them impressed by your presence.
Jay easily went along with it. He felt natural with the way he held your waist dearly, the subtle kisses on your temple and forehead, and even leaning down when you wanted to say something — you two could pass as actors just for the show.
Never did he think that your insides were churning, every smile and gestures he made you want to throw up.
If this is what you’ll be doing for the next six months, you’d soon feel yourself slowly being killed inside — and yet, you suck it up. It was out of sheer spite. You wanted to prove him wrong that you could be professional and set aside everything you two had, just to prove to him — to everyone, especially your family that you could comply with the stunt.
The event ended before the clock struck twelve.
Jay dropped you off at your place. The whole ride was nothing but mere silence. Something about tonight felt so draining compared to the past events you’ve attended. You assumed it was because pretending was way harder than you thought, especially when you have to deal with your ex-boyfriend who seemed to be casual with the idea.
Thankfully, Jay didn’t bother you throughout the ride. He could’ve sensed that you had no energy to talk to him and he let it be. Drowning the silence of the ride with the music humming on the radio.
“Thank you,” Jay blurted out before you could even get out of the vehicle. “For playing along.”
You blinked, sinking in what just happened that night. You looked at him dead in the eye. “I told you to not thank me Jay. I am doing this for my own good.”
“You’re quick to dissolve the act,” he commented.
“It’s just the two of us here, there’s no need to pretend,” you mumbled before opening the door. “I hope tonight was enough for you, don’t call me or text me anymore, I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“You know you have to put up with me for the next six months right?”
“Why?” you glanced back at him. “Why Jay? Why do we have to suffer in this pretend relationship when both of us are too angry at each other?”
“Who says I am angry at you?”
You looked at him for a minute. His expression was serious yet soft, and you almost fell for it.
A scoff of disbelief escaped your lips instead, stepping out of the car before leaning down to look at him. “Jay, I hate you enough that I don’t want to see your face, and I am saying this again, I am doing this for my reputation, not yours, and I am not going to be at every event and public appearance you have. I hope this will be the last time we see each other.”
Jay didn’t say a word. The door slammed so hard that he had gritted his teeth at the sound. He watched as you entered your house and did not even bother looking back at him — leaving him there looking like a fool, as he brushed his hair out of frustration before deciding to drive away.
-
If only the contract had a one month validation then you would have peace.
Surely, it’s been a month since that Saturday event occurred. You were thankful that Jay was still a CEO nevertheless — which means he’s a busy man, and that also means he’s too busy to spare time for you.
Jay didn’t text nor call you for a month, and you could feel relieved at the idea that your past isn’t haunting you — and hopefully, for the next few months, he won’t either.
You kept yourself busy. You attended events, went to brand launches, and spent your free time with just you and only you alone, like you used to do. Acting like you don’t have a boyfriend who is supposed to be there to carry your bag, to shower you with love in public, but whatever, you’re good on your own.
Perhaps a month was too long because it caught you off-guard that Jay showed up at one of the charity events you launched along with your friends, wearing smart-casuals and holding a huge bouquet of lilies on his hands.
“What are you doing here?” you asked the moment you’re in front of him, glaring at him whose nose was runny and red, a funny sight for you.
“Congratulations on the event, I didn’t know you’re the type to throw events like this,” he said before handing you the bouquet, way too harsher than he supposed but you know that he couldn’t breathe properly at that moment, so you accepted.
“You’re so performative,” you commented, eyeing at the gorgeous flower arrangement which should’ve flattered your heart but Jay’s continuous sniffing wasn’t helping. “Stop giving me flowers if it’s going to be the death of you, showing up would be fine — how did you even know about this?”
“A friend of a friend informed me that you’re one of the main organizers, which saddens me that you didn’t inform me about this.” Jay explained, making you roll your eyes.
“It’s a charity event Jay, you think that it’s necessary for us to show PDA when there are children dying?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Touchè.” he commented and you only groaned at his comment.
“Are you done? You could leave now, I am busy here and if you’re going to disturb me then —”
“Pack your bags,” Jay told you, halting your words.
“Excuse me what?”
“Pack something worth a week, it’s f1’s grand prix in Singapore this week, we’re going to watch it.” he explained.
“Jay, I have plans this week.”
“Already asked Heeseung to clear them,” Jay replied. “We’re going to support Sunghoon. Singapore is his lucky country.”
“Is this necessary? Would it be bothersome that your twin’s race would be overshadowed by us?”
Jay chuckled at your words, “the Park twins in one event? It’s a blast, with their girlfriends? That’s another headline to watch out for.”
“Is that really necessary?” you asked once again, groaning against his words.
“Just supporting my brother wifey,” he answered.
“You’re going to be the death of me Jongseong,” you mumbled back, and yet, you were left with no choice, knowing if you didn’t comply, you had to pay the fine. “Alright, this event will end around three, I don’t know what you want to do, maybe stick around and donate a huge amount — just don’t disturb me at the moment, I am busy.”
“I already did donate earlier, I’m just passing by,” he didn’t let you say another word when he placed a quick peck on your cheeks, completely catching you off-guard. You watched as the smirk on his lips became evident as he stared at you. “I’ll pick you up later at eight wifey, don’t worry about the expenses too, I had it covered.”
He left you there with jaw-dropped and a blushing mess. You badly wanted to throw the lilies back to him but you concealed it, changing your demeanor and pretending that what he did just made your heart skip a beat.
-
Singapore was heated — both from the weather and the grand prix.
You and Jay arrived at the day of the race, gathering attention from the media and crowd. You wore a muted red dress that’s thin enough for the hot weather, while Jay was wearing a red polo shirt with Ferrari's logo embroidered on the right chest area — a perfectly curated choice of outfit for the race and the stunt. You were holding hands with Jay as you plastered your smile as the media continued taking photos of the two of you.
After a short interview about how you two feel about the race, you two moved towards the Ferrari team’s pit garage. Jay seemed to be used to the place, greeting the staff and team there with a smile and firm handshake, along with introducing you to them. You gave them your bright smile as they guided you to an area where you could monitor the race.
“Wonyoung!” Jay shouted, calling the attention of the girl who was monitoring the screen. She glanced at the two of you before giving them a smile and wave.
“Y/n this is Wonyoung, Sunghoon’s girlfriend,” Jay introduced as she waved once again.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she greeted with a smile which you reciprocated immediately.
“It was nice meeting you two — wow, you’re so beautiful,” you complimented, making her smile wider. “What do you do for a living? You could be a model, you know?”
“Thank you, I’m taking law at the moment, but I’m also a professional ballerina,” she shared and that amazed you further.
“How long have you and Sunghoon been together?” you asked.
“About four years. We met in New York,” Wonyoung shared, before eyeing you and Jay. “You two are fairly new right? Sorry, Sunghoon talked about you two that’s why I knew.”
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” you assured before continuing your conversation with her.
The race started a few minutes later. With the countdown going down to zero, all you could hear was the loud sprint of race cars towards the route for the following moment.
Unfortunate to you, you have zero knowledge about formula one and racing. Wearing earmuffs, you stared at the screen with your mind blank, only eyeing Sunghoon’s car that had an 8 placed on it, not knowing what’s happening as the announcer continued to ramble about the race.
You aren’t used to this kind of event. It’s too noisy, too masculine, but Wonyoung, who was standing next to you, seemed to be used to it. Eyeing carefully at the monitor screen as her hands clasped like she’s praying for her boyfriend’s safety.
Your eyes would shift to her from time to time, feeling a small envy at how she’s maintained her long relationship with Sunghoon. Even after your short conversation with her earlier, you’ve felt that their relationship was a fairytale-like dream especially with how they met.
While you? Here you are playing pretend with your ex-boyfriend. Jay was too focused on the race, too distracted that he’s being too loud and noisy — and it irritated you.
“Jay, could you please calm down? You’re like a kid who ate a whole jar of sugar,” you nagged and Jay only eyed you.
“You don’t understand, Sunghoon’s on fifth — that’s his highest place in his career, if he could pass the others, he might have a chance of getting a podium.” he explained and yet, everything he said just flew past your head.
“Frankly, I really don’t understand Jay, you literally dragged me here just to watch Sunghoon’s race.” You reiterated.
“Could you at least act like you’re enjoying the race?”
“Jay, you know me, these kinds of things aren’t exactly my type of hobbies.” you pointed out. “What kind of boyfriend are you if you’re going to bring your girlfriend to places that she clearly doesn’t give a fuck about?”
“What kind of girlfriend are you if you couldn’t support your boyfriend’s brother’s career?” he spatted. “And stop frowning, cameras are everywhere.”
“Funny that you warned me about that when you’re the one who looks like an angry bird here.”
“Just shut the fuck up.” he commanded and you smiled at him.
“Or what?” you taunted, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you guys fighting?” you two stopped when Wonyoung’s voice hovered in the area. The two of you turned your heads towards her, who had a worried expression on her face.
“Just a small misunderstanding, y/n was just asking some questions,” Jay immediately reasoned out. “What happened?”
The girl seemed to be convinced, nodding as she shifted her eyes back to the screen. “Still halfway through the race, Sunghoon’s place is still fifth — just praying everything’s going well.”
Jay nodded at her words, focusing his attention towards the screen while you grumbled something under your breath as you tried to watch the race once again.
“Behave.” Jay spoke with an authoritative tone.
“You’re not the boss of me Park,” you sassed.
He stared at you for a second, ice cold that you flinched.
But you were startled when his lips landed on yours perfectly. Loud and soft that it didn’t process in your mind what just happened.
“That’ll shut you up,” he smirked before shifting back towards the race leaving you alone.
You became quiet for the remaining moments — the only thing you were thinking of was how warm Jay’s lips were on yours. Kisses were still part of the contract, but you didn’t expect him to kiss you on the lips — in front of the public, if you may add.
It didn’t even process in your mind that the pit garage started to become more noisy and rougher as an announcement that felt deaf to your ears boomed through the whole place.
“What happened?” you asked.
“Sunghoon just secured a podium after taking over Mercedes,” Jay explained, excitement written all over his place. “If he remains in his position until the final lap, it’ll be his first podium since he started his career.”
“Oh, is that great?” you asked, internally wincing at how dumb you feel right now.
“Of course, it means that his career won’t go to waste,” Jay shared. “It’s also a big slap to our parents that he’s on the right path.”
You nodded, eyes darting back on the screen. You don’t know how many laps are left in the race but Jay became louder, shouting encouraging words and curses as he watched his twin brother’s race against the other sports car. You only stood there watching as your eyes remained on the screen, still processing everything that’s happening.
Then it came. A shout. A string of curses as Jay and Wonyoung started screaming. The whole pit garage started to celebrate. Everyone was crying and shouting in happiness while you only looked at them confused.
“Oh my god!” Wonyoung shouted, eyes almost like a saucer and mouth opened wide. “Oh my god Jay!”
“Holy shit!” Jay shouted as he roughly brushed his hair, a deep exhale escaped his lips. “P1! He got a fucking p1!”
“Sunghoon won! He won — oh my goodness!” Wonyoung shouted, tears started to drip from her eyes as her knees weakened at the news.
“What —” you weren’t able to process everything when Jay hugged you all of the sudden. Your eyes widened at his action but you weren’t able to do anything but to let his whole body swallow you whole.
“Sunghoon won! He won this race y/n!” Jay announced. Lifting you up and spinning you around like a doll. That’s when it sinked into you why the team became more loud, more rougher as their cheer boomed inside the pit garage.
You eyed the monitor. Seeing Sunghoon’s car drawing circles inside the track before getting out of the car. His voice was loud enough as he screamed for his victory. He removed his helmet out of excitement, running towards his team where he was welcomed with scream and cheers.
Then Wonyoung went out of the garage, jumping in joy as Sunghoon ran towards her. Lifting her up as he gave her the most bone-crushing hug you have ever witnessed. You watched as Wonyoung kissed Sunghoon who reciprocated it more aggressively. Cameras started to swarm them — it looked like something straight out of a romance movie. Your eyes were on them that it hadn’t sinked into you that Jay was still hugging you, his hug becoming tighter as his head rested on top of yours.
“Fuck — holy shit —” you could hear his muffled sobs, which surprised you, that’s why you became concerned as Jay’s body started to shake.
“There, there,” you hushed as you rubbed circles on his back. “Sunghoon did great, he won.”
“I’m so proud of him,” Jay shared before lifting his head. You looked at him as his eyes were watery and red. Quipping a smile, you only cupped his cheeks, brushing it tenderly as you felt a sigh of relief escaping his lips which settled you down.
“I’m sure you are,” you only told him with a smile.
“Thank you, thank gods — I,” you nodded at his stutters. Knowing it was hard to process his twin brother’s win, you let him crash down on you as you pulled him on a hug once again even though your heart was panicking deep inside.
-
Sunghoon’s win was historic.
His name was all over the news and everything varied; his win, his victory kiss with his girlfriend, and of course, Jay’s presence in the pit garage along with you. Every article was filled with positive feedback from the public, and even your moment with Jay at the pit garage trended because of the sweet moment.
After the race day, Sunghoon stayed in Singapore for another day. The twins had surprised you and Wonyoung with a double date, and you weren’t able to reject it since it’s a celebration of Sunghoon’s win too.
The Marina Bay Sands looked breathtaking by evening. You arrived at the dock around seven in the evening. The waters were calm as the night was filled with a chill breeze. You were wearing something casual for the night, not knowing what the Park twin’s plans were as the four of you arrived by the dock.
“What do you mean this isn’t a double date?” you whispered to Jay as the two of you were being separated from the couple, going to another yacht parked nearby.
“Sunghoon has plans,” Jay shrugged. “Just enjoy the night, think of it as a celebration of his win.”
“Right, but he’s not my boyfriend.” you objected.
“Of course, he’s your boyfriend’s twin brother.”
You scoffed, “you’re enjoying this too much hubby.”
“I like teasing you wifey,” he smirked before he leaned closer to you. “And don’t forget to smile, photographers are everywhere. You don’t want to make a scene right?”
You only stared at him before rolling your eyes. Jay chuckled at his win, grabbing your hands as the two of you were guided towards the yacht’s entrance.
The yacht sailed off. You enjoyed the breeze of the night as it flew past the waters and stopped somewhere in the middle wherein it’s far enough from the land yet still near to see a portion of Singapore. The night fell into a cool breeze, and thankful enough, you were wearing a long-sleeved blouse for tonight.
Jay led you outside wherein a table for two was set along with the candle lights and fancy wine. You stared at it for a second before Jay guided you towards your seat. He was chivalrous enough to push the seat for you before going to his seat.
“So, Sunghoon and Wonyoung are having the same thing?” you asked, eyeing at the yacht a few meters apart from the two of you.
“Of course,” Jay said. “We planned this after all.”
“Planned?” you raised an eyebrow.
“For publicity of course,” he reminded, making you quiet before a bitter smile formed on your lips.
“Right, of course,” you mumbled. “Then don’t forget your sweetest smile then Jay — like you’re hopelessly in love with me.”
“Do you really want it? You might fall in love with me again.” he tested.
“I’d rather fall out of this yacht than let it happen.” you told him with a smile.
“Then I’d dive in to save you.”
You scoffed at his words, “can we start eating now?”
Dinner was served a few minutes later. Despite the tension you two had earlier, you ate with ease. The food was great, a bit cold but you understand that it’s been sitting inside the yacht for hours, and since you were hungry, you ate without any complaints.
The two of you ate in silence — in an awkward, quiet silence since this has been the first time you two had gone out for a “date.” you ignore the way Jay kept looking at you from every minute. It had you wondering if he wanted to strike a conversation or maybe, he just wanted to check on you.
As the night became deeper, the tension started to dissolve as the plates became clean and the bottle of wine had been half-emptied.
“Did you enjoy Singapore?” Jay asked out of nowhere.
“It was okay,” you answered bluntly, since for the past few days, you were just at the grand prix with Jay. “I’ve been here a hundred times, so this is nothing new for me.”
“Even the grand prix?”
“I was totally clueless about it,” you stated. “I think I’m going to trend for looking bored inside the pit garage.”
Jay looks at his phone, smiling as he shows you the screen, “I think we’re trending for a different reason.”
You knew what he meant. You nodded at his words, “You were crying.”
“I was just overjoyed. Sunghoon’s been pushing himself hard just to get a podium — but a win? It was more than we wished for.”
“You’re proud of him.”
“I am, of course I am,” he only smiled and that made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you for comforting me too. That’s the reason why we’re trending too.”
“Good job to us then,” you only said, hoping that your words didn’t feel bitter. “So what’s Sunghoon’s plan?”
“You’ll see.” Jay shortly replied.
“Does that mean we have to wait til it happens? I’m getting sleepy now.” you complained and Jay only chuckled.
He then glanced at his watch, smiling as the time ticked before looking up to the sky. “Just wait, it’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Just in time he had finished his words. A loud explosion of fireworks lit up the sky, surprising you. Colorful lights and fire hovered over Singapore's sky. A gasp escaped your lips as you stood up from your seat. Head staring at the sky as you watch the continuous fireworks show.
“Oh my god!” you shouted the moment your eyes landed on the other yacht.
“He’s proposing! Sunghoon’s proposing!” you shouted in excitement as you looked at Jay who only had a small smile.
“I told you he has plans,” Jay stated, eyes on you who was watching the scene unfold.
Your heart glistened in bliss as despite not hearing their conversation, you knew that Wonyoung said yes. The way she jumped in joy, hands covering her opened mouth before placing her right hand in front of Sunghoon.
They hugged and Sunghoon pulled her to a loving kiss — and you became quiet yet filled with joy for Wonyoung.
“Wow,” it was the only thing you could say before sitting back on your seat. “It was so beautiful.”
“Really?” Jay amusingly asked.
You nodded. Smile still wide at the thought. “They’re made for each other too — I just, gosh, being in love is such a beautiful thing right?”
Jay’s stare on you never left, his gaze softening as he replied, “of course.”
The atmosphere changed. Throughout the remainder of the night, the two of you talked like a couple who’s out on a date. None of your minds ever crossed what you two used to be. No one dared to ruin the atmosphere of the night. Perhaps just for once — the two of you wanted to set it aside, confined with the pretend relationship you two had — that is, if you two are even pretending at that moment.
Because you didn’t notice how Jay’s eyes glistened as he stared at you, or how you talked nonstop to him, sharing gossip and laughter as if you weren’t rolling your eyes at him earlier. The night shifted into this atmosphere that somehow felt peaceful for the two of you.
Even when you two had arrived back at the dock, the smile on your face never left. It even became wider when you approached Wonyoung who gave you a tight hug.
“It’s so gorgeous!” you complimented as you looked at the silver band with a huge deep peridot as the stone.
“It’s my birthstone,” Wonyoung smiled.
“It’s a Park tradition,” Sunghoon explained, his smile proud. “The ring she’s wearing is a family heirloom. It means that she’s part of the family now.”
“Congratulations,” you bid to Wonyoung again.
“I’m expecting you at my wedding,” she stated.
You only nodded at her words before you two looked at the ring once again, ignoring the twins who looked at the two of you with much fondness.
“Someday, you’d be in my place too,” Sunghoon whispered to his twin.
Jay bitterly laughed, “you think so?”
“Just hold on there man,” he stated before shifting his gaze back at you. “It takes time after all.”
-
Perhaps it’s the way he holds you — or the way Jay looks at you. Your heart doesn’t skip a beat anymore and all your anxiety starts to wash off.
Slowly, you’re convinced that you’ve grown adjusted to it.
Got used to his hands wrapped around your waist, his hand holding yours — even brushing your hair. Got used to his hands, the kisses — cheeks, temples, and hands. It feels natural every time he does it that your heart doesn’t betray you anymore. It got so used to all of it that you’ve become numb at it.
You also got used to his dates and invitations. The big public appearance on important events or just a stroll by the park. You had the choice to refuse, make up a lie and convince him that you’re not feeling well. But you always say yes because in the back of your mind, if you don’t comply, you have to pay a hefty amount of money — as if it was even a problem in the first place.
“You okay?” your thoughts snapped out when you heard Jay’s voice.
“I’m okay,” you immediately replied. “What are we doing again?”
“We’re going to our family seamstress, we need to get your own dress for Sunghoon’s wedding,” Jay explained.
“Is this why you invited me over lunch?” you asked as you took a sip on your juice.
“You don’t turn down my invites though,” he rebutted.
“Well I don’t want to pay five billion won,” you said. “Why is it necessary for us to go and shop for clothes together when you could just have it delivered to me like the previous dresses.”
“Because I want us to match,” he suggested, and you raised an eyebrow at him. “And just think of it as a last gift for you.”
“So romantic,” you sarcastically replied and yet you let him be, because you’re used to this scenario. The dates that were always filled with bitterness and remarks. The way he smirks and you scoff at his words as the tension between you continues to leak and yet — from an outsider’s perspective, you two are just a couple who’s in love with each other.
You two didn’t end up at the shopping district — Jay drove towards a farther shop outskirts. You raised an eyebrow as you ended up somewhere less crowded and in a more quiet street in the area.
“We have a custom tailor for weddings and important family events,” Jay shared as he opened the car’s door for you. “They’ve been making our suits and gowns for generations, that’s why I brought you here.”
“I’m not even going to be part of your family,” you stated and Jay bitterly smiled.
“I just want to give it to you as a gift.” he reasoned out. “Come on.”
The store was huge nonetheless. The first thing you saw were the hundreds of ready-to-wear gowns and suits on display. It was quiet, faintly smelled like fabrics and peppermint tea. You wandered at the photos displayed on the walls, seeing their creations and designs that left you in awe.
The two of you were greeted by an elderly couple who seemed to have known Jay since he was baby. With a couple of instructions and suggestions, Jay was being led by the old man while your eyes were still on the photo wall.
“Why don’t you try some first?” Jay suggested. “I needed to get my measurements done, you can go check out some of the gowns.”
“Alright,” you proceeded to skimmed at the rack, choosing some different gowns before proceeding towards the fitting room.
Every gown was perfect for you. The material, the design, and even the color. You badly wanted to take them all but you knew it’ll be too much to ask — you just needed the perfect gown for the wedding.
You returned to the rack a few minutes later before proceeding to grab a few more to try. You were so busy looking at the displays that you didn’t notice that the old lady had approached you.
“Try this one,” the old lady said, handing you a white one, making your eyes wide.
“Oh, I shouldn’t wear that, it’ll be disrespectful for the bride,” you said.
“Of course dear, but would you like to try?” she asked. “You’re here nonetheless, might as well try on the gowns you’ve never seen before.”
You stared at her before she insisted on the gown. Hence, you grabbed it without any complaints and returned to the fitting room.
The gown doesn’t even suit your taste. A huge ballgown that has an off-shoulder and long-sleeves, it felt too old and traditional for your taste and yet you were surprised how it fit you like a glove — that old lady picked the right one for you.
“You look gorgeous dear,” the owner spoke. “Oh, Jongseongie chose the right girl for him.”
You laughed at her words, “thank you ma’am.”
“Should we show it to Jongseong?” she asked. You stood there for a second before you nodded to her request.
Jay was too busy with getting his measurements checked, not even noticing your presence as the seamstress helped you with carrying the train of the gown.
You didn’t even need to call him out, the tailor who’s measuring him tapped him and pointed at you, and the moment he turned around, you held down your breath.
Jay — in a slow motion, walked towards you. Eyes wide and breath stolen by your mere presence in the white wedding dress.
“Woah,” he breathes out. “You…you look like a bride.”
“Thanks,” you shortly replied with a smile.
“No seriously,” Jay stated, eyes still on yours. “It suits you, you look ethereal.”
You laughed at his words, “using deep words now Jongseong?”
“You know that I like using deep words to compliment someone that I really like.”
“I know, it makes you more smart than you look.”
He smiled and before you knew it, he held your hand and kissed it gently — too gentle for the act as he stared at you like you’re on your wedding day and he’s your groom.
“You’d be the most beautiful bride the world will see,” he stated and your heart stopped.
Not because his words flustered you nor did you blush by his act, but because you found it ironic that he’s the one who’s telling you that compliment.
And yet, you didn’t have the guts to ruin the moment, so you gave him a smile and nod, “thank you Jay.”
The conversation was cut short. You found a cute powder pink gown for the wedding and not long after, they took your measurements for the alterations before you and Jay left the shop for some coffee and pastries back in the shopping district.
“You should buy the wedding gown,” Jay suggested making you glance at him.
“Where would I even use it?” you asked, laughing.
“For your wedding.”
“Really? You think I’ll still get married?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Someday,” he spoke, eyes gleaming softly. “It’s your only dream right? To have your own happy ending?”
“You’re making it sound like it’s a childish thing to dream for.”
“No, I always admired that for you,” he said. “You have everything already, it’s the only thing you wanted the most.”
“I could’ve had it,” years ago. If only you two worked out. But you only stared at Jay and he knew immediately what you meant.
He took a sip on his drink, and you followed him shortly. Letting the silence pour between the two of you — a sudden halt in the conversation as you two telepathically decided that it was best to keep that afternoon quiet instead of letting the atmosphere turn sour by bringing up the past.
And yet, it left a bitter impression on you. At how Jay could be so casual about inviting you on dates and events. How he doesn’t seem to be bothered by your past and everything he does were strictly in compliance with the contract, meanwhile your heart’s burning in ache just by being a few meters near him.
Still, you’ve adjusted to him — and you hated that he had swooned you in just a short span of time, internally cursing your poor heart for being too weak for Park Jongseong.
-
It didn’t help that a few weeks later, Jay showed up at your house for a family dinner — making you raise an eyebrow.
“Your parents invited me,” Jay shared.
“Why?” you asked.
“Why not?” it wasn’t him who answered but instead, your older brother. “They’re curious about Jay, they haven’t formally met him after all. Both of you are still the talk of the town at the moment.”
“Why? They both know that we’re pretending,” you justified.
“Yet, Jay managed to tame you for a bit,” Heeseung smirked and you rolled your eyes.
“That means I don’t have to act sweet towards you,” you snarled at Jay. “good, I’m getting tired of it.”
“You seem used to it,” Jay commented with a devilish smirk.
“Don’t push my buttons Jongseong,” you barked before going towards the dining room.
“Sorry about her,” Heeseung apologized to the younger male, while Jay only laughed.
“It’s okay, I’m used to it,” Jay assured and Heeseung raised an eyebrow knowingly, clicking his tongue as he pats the former’s shoulder.
“Used to it huh?” He spoke with a meaningful smile. “I guess you two got to know each other in just that short span of time.”
Dinner happened around seven in the evening. Complete course meals with rare delicacies and your favorite salad. The first few minutes were just for small talks, but when the wine started to be poured and desserts had sweetened everyone on their seats, conversations became endless, coursing through your pretend relationship and business-related topics.
“You’re a very fine man Jongseong,” your mother spoke with a smile. “Very charming right y/n?”
You chose to ignore her words, focused on your cake which earned a dead air in the table.
“y/n, mom’s talking to you,” Heeseung called out, making you glance at them.
“Yes, Jay’s charming — deadly charming I must say,” you said in a venomous tone.
“Do you have any problems with Jongseong, y/n?” your father asked, raising a suspicious glance at the man.
“She’s just being stubborn again,” your brother justified.
“Wow, it feels like he’s your pretend boyfriend with the way you defend him,” you commented at your brother.
“Because you’re acting like Jay killed you or something — why do you even hate him?” he asked you back, and you suddenly became quiet.
Would it be a perfect way to ruin the dinner by confessing to them that Jay used to be part of your past? Perhaps, if you were feeling irrational tonight, you would’ve let that secret pass your lips, and hopefully, your parents would’ve understood why you had an attitude with the man sitting next to you.
But before you could even speak, Jay’s hands grabbed yours underneath the table. You looked at him who had a genuine smile on his face as he looked at your brother.
“Heeseung, it’s okay,” Jay interjected. “I know it’s not really ideal, our relationship you must say, I understand where y/n’s coming from and don’t worry, there are no hard feelings for both of us.”
“If Jay has no problems, then you shouldn’t be too stubborn y/n,” your father commented. “It’s embarrassing for Jongseong if you keep that attitude.”
“Clearly, he’s used to my attitude,” you spoke before standing up. “And clearly, I am not going to let myself be tamed by some guy just because of one mistake.”
“Your mistake I may add,” Heeseung butted in and you groaned heavily.
“One mistake doesn’t define me,” you gritted before glancing at Jay. “and one mistake is enough for me to learn my lesson. I have enough of this.”
You left the dining room. Your slippers striking against the marbled floor before Jay moved, standing up and excusing himself to follow you eventually.
“That’s quite a show,” Heeseung commented before taking a sip on his wine.
“Heeseung,” his father called out and he only hummed.
“Just trust me with this one dad,” he smiled meaningly. “Just be patient, Jay knows what to do with her.”
You don’t know how Jay somehow found you in your mother’s garden, by the bench nearby the orchid walls. Sitting with your arms wrapped around your knees, a thing you do when you’re worried.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, tone cold and angry that Jay was taken back.
“What the hell is your problem?” Jay asked as he approached you with his expression turned into confusion. “I thought we’re okay? We were fine weeks ago.”
“That’s the problem,” you pointed out. “We’re okay when we’re not supposed to! I should be loathing you Jongseong! Cursing you for breaking my heart and leaving me devastated.”
“You’re still hung up with that!? It’s been three years, you have to move on.”
“Don’t fucking tell me to move on, you don’t dictate that to me when for the past three years that’s what I’ve been trying to do!” you shouted at him, standing up just to face him with nothing but hatred. “Then suddenly, you’re here with this fake relationship stunt, and you’re acting like we’re okay and I hate you for thinking that you could casually enter my life again!”
“We’re in a damn contract y/n, I told you for six months just set everything aside. Just for six months.” he reminded.
“You think I could handle that? Do you think I can handle everything you do to me? Touching me, kissing me, and smiling at me like you’re still in love with me!? You’re so damn good in this pretend act Jay that I don’t even know if what you’re doing is real or not.” you rebutted.
Jay became quiet. He looked at you with a meaningful stare — and that immediately hit you.
“No fucking way.” you breathed out.
“I am not faking it,” Jay confessed. “Everything I do, it’s real.”
“Fuck you.” you sneered.
“y/n, I still love you —”
“No! Don’t finish that sentence, don’t ever say those words when three years ago you broke my heart.”
“What do you want me to do then? Beg for your forgiveness? Say sorry for what happened that night? It’s not my fault that you couldn’t understand that I’m doing it for our future —”
“Because you knew! You knew that you were going to America and yet you made those promises! You acted like everything’s fine and then you fucking dropped the bomb the night before our flight! Why did you have to hide it from me?” you shouted at him.
“Because I was scared of hurting you!” Jay immediately interjected.
A chuckle of disbelief escaped your lips, “I can handle it, you hurted me more than you were scared of!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
You shook your head. “You promised me that once we settle here we’ll announce our relationship then we’ll get married after two years, but it didn’t happen Jay. You just made empty promises.”
Jay looked at you, his eyes softened, a much calmer demeanor than your angry ones. He looked at you with pleading eyes as he spoke, “those aren’t empty promises y/n. I am still planning to fulfill my promise.”
“Liar.” you dictated.
“I am here y/n, why can’t you see that!?”
“Because I don’t want to see you anymore Jongseong,” you shook your head once again. “You can’t just — can’t just enter my life again, swoon me with gifts and grant gestures. You can’t. It’s unfair.”
“Could you please understand me? Have you ever thought of hearing my side? Do you even know what I went through in America for the past three years?” he pleaded as he tried to get close to you but you immediately took a step back.
“No. I don’t want to. One was enough for us.” you dictated.
“See? You don’t even want to hear my side, now tell me, who’s the selfish one here?” he accused and your forehead creased.
“Is it bad that I want peace? That I want to save myself from hurting again? Call me selfish Jay but I don’t want any of us, not now, not even in the future. I am done with you.” you reasoned out.
“You know we can still make this work right?” Jay spoke. “I can see it y/n, don’t deny it. I know you. I know that your heart still beats for me.”
“I know! And I hate that you still managed to capture my heart even after breaking it.” you confessed. “I hated everything about us because it feels so terribly wrong to still be in love with the man who ruined me that I became nothing. Do you think it’s easy Jay? No, it’s never going to be easy for the two of us.”
“Then we’ll get through it, through hardships, we can make it work this time, alright?” he convinced once again, hands finally getting a hold on you as he pulled you close to him.
“I love you Jay,” you confessed, tugging yourself away from you. “But I love myself more, and I don’t want to be hurt again, and not from the same person all over again.”
Jay was left in daze the moment you confessed those words. He stood frozen as you gave him a soft yet pitiful look, a desperate plea to let you go. He didn’t say another word but instead, let you walk away from him.
-
A knock on the door interrupted Heeseung’s focus on his switch yet he didn’t bother raising his head.
“Heeseung?” you peeked from the small gap of the door, eyeing your brother who’s in his house clothes, playing his switch like a kid — a usual scenario when he’s on his free day.
“Can I come in?” you asked and without sparing a glance, your older brother nodded.
You closed the door of his room and lay beside him, staring at the ceiling of his childhood room which still has glowing stars stuck on it — the same glowing stars that comforted you whenever you had nightmares back when you were just a kid.
Somehow, it gave you a sense of relief. It’s been two weeks since you walked out of Jay. Two weeks of silence and it is eating you alive.
You knew it was Heeseung who started the commotion. It was your brother who started the idea of a pretend relationship in order to save image. Somehow, you wanted to blame your older brother for everything, and yet, you still found yourself running towards him when things became too overwhelming for you.
After all, he doesn’t know about you and Jay.
You have a few months left. You convinced yourself that you can do it and you’d do it out of spite to prove everyone wrong. But fuck it, you don’t need everyone’s validation. The only thing you wanted now was peace in your mind and heart, and continuing your fake relationship with Jay would just tear you furthermore. You couldn’t find the courage to face Jay anymore. Your insides couldn’t handle the feeling of just being near Jay.
Two weeks and you’ve been locking yourself inside your house. Sleeping, eating, and doing nothing — just like what you did when you returned to Barcelona. What a funny deja vu. You thought. What’s more ironic was that it’s because of the same person again.
“Are you here to bother me or do you want to talk about it?” your thoughts snapped away when you heard Heeseung’s tone. Not angry nor annoyed, somehow authoritative and brotherly that your heart frailed for a second.
You gulped at his words, tears started to flow from your eyes as a small sob escaped your lips. “Heeseung — Jay —”
“What about him?” he asked, still playing his game.
“I used to date Jay,” you confessed. “And — and remember Barcelona? I met him there and we dated for months and he broke up with me and it was a really bad breakup. Now the fake dating isn’t helping me at all because I feel like I love him again when I’m supposed to hate him and now I’m scared because I don’t want to get hurt anymore.”
Your cries echoed inside the room. Your older brother was still in his game, still focused for another minute, letting you cry on his bed before he let out a deep sigh. His game was finished, he closed his switch and placed it on the table before shifting to you.
“I know.” Heeseung simply said.
Your crying stopped. Looking at him before sitting up from your position, “wha — what? What do you mean?”
“y/n, I know you and Jay are exes, but not before the scandal,” Heeseung shared, quipping a small smile. “I knew it the day you signed the contract. I followed you two by the elevator and I saw you two fighting.”
Your eyes widened. “You were there?”
Heeseung nodded, “yeah, I was curious why Jay followed you and I witnessed the scene. Right after that, I kinda snooped into Jay’s profile and information and later on, I discovered that he also entered that same fall semester in Barcelona, and I just kinda connected the dots after.”
You stared at him with your eyes still wide before you cried loudly once again. Your brother merely chuckled as he rubbed circles on your back.
“You looked like you went through hell when you returned,” your older brother added. “You barely go out, eat, and you even burned some of your stuff. I didn’t ask you about it because it looked like you were traumatized during your stay there.”
You didn’t say a word but instead you cried once again while your brother chuckled at your childish behavior. He continued to rub your back softly while you let the tears fall from your eyes.
“I’m sorry for causing trouble during our dinner, I was hoping you’d tell the truth to us — but I shouldn’t have pressured you to do so.” he immediately spoke and you only shook your head.
“No, it’s my fault too, I should’ve told you about Jay — even when I was in Barcelona,” you explained.
“Do you want me to pull the ‘older brother’ act and scare him? I haven’t brought it to him that I know about your relationship, I supposed that you two will eventually fix it,” he asked.
“No, I — I don’t know, Heeseung, I just hate him,” you told him. “I hate how he casually entered my life again when the only thing that I’ve been trying to do was forget him.”
“So your feelings came back?”
You nodded as an answer. “And I hated it. I hated that I had fallen for him once again,” you confessed before sniffling your tears. “How can I not? Everything felt real. Us, our pretend relationship, it felt so real and nostalgic for me Heeseung. It’s like Barcelona all over again.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you two used to date, I should’ve prevented it but the contract was already sealed,” Heeseung softly apologized and you shook your head as an objection.
“It’s not your fault Heeseung, things just didn’t go our way. We were planning to tell everyone once we return here but…he left me for America.” you deeply exhaled as you sniffed your tears in. “Now, he’s here, asking for another chance and — and I’m scared that he might hurt me again.”
“It sounds like you wanted to give him a chance, you’re just scared of falling apart again,” Heeseung pointed out. “You know love isn’t always going to be perfect right?”
“I know, I know there will be hardships and challenges,” you mumbled. “But there’s still a part of me who’s afraid.”
“Of getting hurt? It’s pretty normal.”
“Yet I don’t want it to happen again. Once is enough, you know? Why would I give the guy who broke my heart another chance?”
“Because you love him,” Heeseung stated, making you face him. “And even if he had ruined you, if you love him enough that you could forgive him and give him another chance. You’ll live y/n. I know you, you’re stronger than you think.”
With your brother’s words, your heart eased for a bit. You nodded to his words, “can I think about it?”
“You don’t need to rush your feelings, you’re still hurting after all.” Your older brother spoke before giving you a hug. “If it helps, you could lay low — which reminds me, how many months left in the contract?”
“I don’t know, I don’t care about it anymore Heeseung, I don’t want to be near him anymore.” you answered.
“Alright, don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” your older brother assured. “For now, rest, all right? I’ll take care of your contract with Jongseong.”
“You’re not going to punch him aren’t you?”
Heeseung merely chuckled. “Nah, just a few kicks and maybe threats —”
“Heeseung!”
-
The past months moved in a blur. It became an unsteady series for you — filled with fear and anxiety as the time ticks you still couldn’t process everything that just happened to you.
It didn’t help that now, you’re on your way toward Sunghoon’s wedding. Wearing the powder pink gown Jay had delivered at your footsteps a few weeks earlier.
It was his only request — to be his date at his twin brother’s wedding. After that, you two will call it quits and after a month of silence, the two of you will officially call it off to the public. He won’t bother you anymore and your heart, like you wished to be, would be at peace now.
“You’ll be okay,” your older brother comforted the moment he parked the car in front of the entrance. It wasn’t crowded. Only closest friends and relatives were invited to the wedding. It eases you a bit that there’s less people to put on a show to.
“Thank you.” you mumbled to him.
“Just enjoy the rest of the day, alright?” you nodded to his words. “Jay will be driving you home later, would that be okay?”
“Okay, thank you Hee,” were your last words to your brother before you stepped out of the car. You watched as he drove away from the place, leaving you alone with your anxious mind and cold, sweaty hands.
But becoming too anxious wouldn’t help you at all. You decided to enter the venue, informing Jay that you have arrived. He had reserved a seat for you but for now, he couldn’t be with you since he’s helping with Sunghoon’s preparation. Good. That thought relaxed you for a moment.
You kept yourself entertained while waiting for the ceremony. Looking around the ceremony hall wherein photos of the couple were on display in the hallway, filled with arrangements of white baby breaths and powder pink roses. Your smile becomes wider as you look at every photo — love has always been a beautiful thing for you, and attending Wonyoung’s wedding was still something you look forward to.
A few minutes later, you were guided to Wonyoung’s room to give your congratulations. The bride was glowing in her immaculate white gown, smiling as she accepted your gifts before taking a smile.
“You’re nervous?” you asked as you sat beside her.
She merely shakes her head, “not really, I am confident that he’s the one that I wanted to marry after all — I hope you have that same confidence with Jay.”
You meekly smiled, “thank you.”
“Someday, it’ll be your turn,” she whispered to you. “And I hope that I'll be invited.”
“Of course you will,” you lied, smiling at her genuinely before giving her one last hug.
You returned to your seat when the event planner announced that the ceremony will be held in a few minutes later. Soon, the hall was filled with people — friends, families, and people who had witnessed the couple’s love grow.
Sunghoon and Jay entered the venue first. Sunghoon stood in front of the altar with Jay beside him. Immediately, it was noticeable that the groom was nervous, but your eyes were on Jay, and in that minute, your heart skipped a beat.
In contrast to Sunghoon’s white suit, Jay was wearing a black suit, with a pink rose pinned on his side. He was calm and relaxed as he stood beside his twin, easing his nerves as any moment now, the bride will be entering the hall.
A familiar love song from the 80s started to be played by a violinist. The crowd stood up in sync as the door opened, revealing Wonyoung in her wedding dress. Smiling ear-to-ear as she slowly walked in the aisle.
Everyone was in awe. Wonyoung was glowing like a goddess, eyes locked on her future husband who’s waiting at the end of the aisle. But you couldn’t even stay your gaze at the bride. Every second your eyes would shift to Jay — hoping that your eyes would meet. Wondering if he had seen you or was he keeping his distance like you asked him to.
The ceremony started. The vows were simple and the kiss was breathtaking. The newlyweds were smiling ear to ear as everyone stood up to applause and congratulated the couple. You shed a few tears at the love you just witnessed.
You clapped your hands as the couple kissed once again in front of you, your eyes shifted to Jay once again and just like you wished for — your eyes met.
Jay looked at you softly. With a nod, he mouthed, “thank you.” and you knew what he meant, so you just gave him a small smile as you returned your gaze to the newlyweds who cheered at the celebration of a new chapter in their life.
The reception was more glamorous — loud, and fun. The couple had changed into more comfortable reception outfits as they did wedding traditions like their first dance and of course — throwing off the wedding bouquet, which Wonyoung insisted that you should join.
In your relief, someone else had got it. You watched the fun fold further as the night deepened. A few minutes later, you decided to grab a glass of wine since you were feeling parched.
“Enjoying the party?” you turned around to see Sunghoon standing in front of you.
You smiled at him. “Of course, congratulations Sunghoon.”
“Soon it’ll be your turn, you know?” Sunghoon smiled, and your smile turned bitter.
“That’s too good to be true,” you answered, knowing that after tonight, you and Jay will part ways.
“Why? Can’t forgive him after what he did to you at Barcelona?”
You flinched at the mention of the place. Your eyes wide at Sunghoon who flashes a smile. “What? You think I don’t know you two are just pretending? He’s my twin brother, he tells me everything.”
“And here you are telling me that it’ll be my turn.” you commented with an eye roll.
“You know he was planning to propose to you back then?” Sunghoon shared. “He always rambles about you, how you’re the love of his life and all that romantic shits, telling me that he can’t wait to go home and introduce you to the family — he’s so hopelessly in love with you, you know?
“I know because I’ve witnessed it, Sunghoon. But shit happens” you stated. “Telling me this wouldn’t convince me Sunghoon, this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.”
“You’re the only one who makes him happy,” Sunghoon added, tone softer than usual. “And I am saying this as his twin brother, you’re the only one he truly loved. You don’t know how depressed he was when he was in America. I couldn’t even meet him because he’s just working his ass off —”
“Just to forget about me? I did the same thing here in Seoul. If that’s what really happened, then our breakup was hell and we’re just not meant to be.” you insisted.
“I didn’t mean to disregard your pain,” he acknowledged. “But things like that always happen in relationships. Wonyoung and I? We had a bad breakup two years ago. We didn’t talk to each other for months and it was the worst season in my career. But we made it work, because we love each other.”
“How?” you asked, words almost whispered. “How did you make it work, knowing that you have hurt each other?”
“It came naturally, we’ve talked, we settled down, love works like a miracle, you know?” he spoke with a smile before glancing at his wife who’s dancing with her father.
“I wish it was that easy for us.”
“It’ll be easy for both of you, love is still there after all.” Sunghoon assured.
“Even if the love we had is killing us slowly?” you asked.
“It’s not love if it kills you,” he pointed out. “Maybe what you two had back in Barcelona was just a mere infatuation. Now, three years have passed and maybe, what you two have right now is the love you two deserve.”
“Now you’re confusing me,” you chuckled. “If that wasn’t love, then why now?”
“Time heals everything. You two settled down, set aside feelings for this pretend relationship — does it ever cross your mind? Despite hating him and everything, you still went here? Because deep inside you still care for him.”
You only stared at him, and Sunghoon smiled at you softly. “He deserves a chance y/n — so do you. It’s never too late to fix everything.”
You watched as Sunghoon turned his heel away from you. You stood there frozen as his words lingered in your mind. You mindlessly took a sip on your wine before turning around — only to bump into Jay.
“You okay?” he asked as he held your arms. You stared at him before nodding. This has been the first time you two have been together since you’ve arrived.
“I didn’t stain your suit, didn’t I?” you asked worriedly as the glass of wine remained in your hands.
“You didn’t, don’t worry.” Jay assured. “Were you talking to Sunghoon earlier?”
You nodded, “he knows about us.”
“Yeah, I told him. I told him way back in Barcelona.”
“Oh.” you breathed. “Why?”
“I just couldn’t help it,” Jay confessed. “Not when you’re something that I am proud of.”
You remained quiet to his words. The two of you stood there as the tension between the two of you arose. Quiet and suffocating before Jay cleared his throat.
“Do you want to dance?” Jay asked out of nowhere, making you look at him.
Then your eyes shifted at the couples on the dance floor, dancing in their own world. Feeling the romantic atmosphere of the event.
“Of course,” you took his hand, you let it be — you knew that this will be the last time for you two after all.
Jay held you close — too close for your preference, too close for your poor heart because if only, you weren’t so angry and hateful towards him, and all of this was just for a show, then maybe you would’ve been savoring the moment.
Both of his hands were wrapped around your waist, while yours were resting on his shoulders only, but you let yourself fall for his warmth, hence, you rested your head on his chest. Hearing the soft faint of his heartbeat as well yours.
The two of you danced around in circles, it would’ve looked stupid on the outside but for you — maybe for Jay too, this was the only way you two could be this close without the past lingering on your mind. Without any hindrance of each other’s feeling because the second Jay released his hold on you, you sighed in relief, looking at him with eyes almost glassy which made him give you an assuring smile.
“Thank you,” he said with much gratitude that your heart shrivelled in pain. To add to that, he kisses the top of your forehead leaving you speechless.
You wanted to ask him why he had to do that? But you had no energy to confront him anymore, too tired to deal with everything you and Jay had. That’s why the only thing you did was smile bitterly at him.
The night ended with a glamorous firework display. Sparklers were given to each guest as they waved for the couple’s exit. With one last kiss for the night, the newlywed had driven off from the villa using Sunghoon’s Ferrari.
“Let’s go?” Jay asked, making you glance at him. His right hand opened with a soft smile on his face.
“Okay,” you muttered before accepting his hand. The newlywed had left. Everyone was either leaving or going back to their room. It’s time to go home.
It meant that the night had ended — you and Jay had officially ended.
Jay’s hold tightened onto you. The whole villa was still a beau for you as you wandered around. Eyes looking around as the two of you seemed to be darting further from the open field.
“Is this where your car’s parked?” you asked, and Jay chuckled at your question.
“No, we’re going somewhere.”
“Somewhere?”
Jay stopped, “think of this as our last goodbye.”
His words stung, and yet, you faintly nodded to his words. This is the last time you two are going to be together, might as well endure everything he had prepared for you.
You let Jay lead the way, walking further and further until you two stopped.
“Jay? What is this?” you asked, eyeing at the small helicopter parked downstairs on a wider cemented lot.
Jay only smiled and tugged you downstairs. You were appalled, speechless as the two walked towards the vehicle. You watched as Jay talked to some men with a smile and nods, a few handshakes before they handed something to him.
“Let’s go?” Jay asked, and you weren’t able to do anything when he helped you enter the helicopter.
“Wait — you can drive?” you asked, noticing that it was Jay who sat on the driver’s seat. He casually closed the door. Putting your seatbelt and ear muffs on you before putting on his.
“Yeah, I got my license in America,” he proudly said.
“What? Why?”
“I told you, I’ll fulfill your promise,” Jay said and you weren’t able to say another word.
You watched as Jay turned on the engine with much skill. Pressing unknown buttons and keys in front of you before you heard the noisy turn of the helicopter’s rotor blade. Slowly, the vehicle was being lifted in the air while you held onto your seat tightly.
“Can you really drive?” you asked once again, too nervous for the sudden ride.
“Of course, just trust me,” he smiled at you. “I’m not going to put you in danger after all.”
Your tensed body relaxed for a moment. You sat there as the helicopter slowly rose from the ground until you could see the villa becoming small from your vision.
“Hold on tight,” Jay whispered to you and you let out a small yelp when the vehicle moved faster yet smoothly glided through the sky. The moon beamed in the peak of the night along with the stars that scattered throughout the horizon.
You kept on glancing at Jay who’s relaxed as he controlled the helicopter, driving farther and farther from the land until you could only see nothing but the deep blue sea that’s pitch black in the night yet you were appalled at the view.
You two were up in the air for half an hour before Jay landed at a small island, completely surprising you. A villa that has the same exterior as their country villa welcomed you, the lights were on but the whole place was surprisingly quiet.
“Where are we?” you asked, eyeing at the area.
“Our private villa,” Jay shared as he helped you get down from the helicopter. “This is supposed to be for Sunghoon’s honeymoon but Wonyoung has a schedule in Paris, so they decided to just go there for their honeymoon.”
“Then why —”
“I asked Sunghoon if we could go on behalf of them.” Jay spoke. “You told me one time that you wanted to go here, remember? When I show you some photos from when I was a kid. Well, we’re here now. It’s very beautiful here during the daytime.”
You became quiet as your heart started to race again, betraying you as Jay guided you inside their villa. It was huge and spacious. Its interior was a vintage coastal complementing the cool waves outside. You wander around the space as Jay watched you from a far, a smile on his face beamed.
“It’s beautiful here,” you whispered, looking at Jay.
“We always make sure it’s well-maintained and clean, every summer, we’d have a family reunion here for a week, everyone in the Park lineage would be here to enjoy a week of vacation.”
“Sounds like a dream.” you whispered. Settling down on the couch as Jay remained on where he was standing, eyes on you as the silence deafened the two of you.
“Can we talk about it?” Jay opened up. “Please?”
You knew what he meant. You don’t want to talk about it anymore but perhaps, it is for the betterment of your peace. A closure you could say, since when tomorrow arrives, the two of you would go separate ways.
“Okay, I’ll listen.” you said in defeat.
“Thank you,” Jay merely nodded, hands clasped as he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m deeply sorry for hurting you. I know I shouldn’t compete but I was hurt too. I was devastated when I went to America. Drown everything by working, day and night, I didn’t stop — it was unhealthy for me, but I did it just to forget about you too.”
“I’m sorry for lying to you and hiding it from you, I was scared that I might ruin our moment. I don’t want our happy days to feel like it should be something that we should cherish because it’ll come to an end — you were so happy, and I was happy that you were. I don’t want to ruin it.” he explained and you only stared at him who held a bitter smile on his face.
“It’s my fault, mostly it’s mine. I’m sorry and I know that I’ve hurt you enough but please, you’re all I want,” Jay whispered, begging as he looked at you with tears in his reddening eyes. “I still love you y/n, there’s not a day where I think of you and if you’re doing fine.”
He then approached you, propping on his knees that it caught you off-guard. “You don’t know how much it kills me whenever you looked at me with nothing but hatred and coldness in your eyes — it fucking kills me that it’s my fault that you couldn't look at me the same way anymore, but please — I still want that future with you.”
A tear dropped from your eyes as you stared at him. You couldn’t bear to see Jay crying. You were hurt by him, and he was hurt by his actions too. Maybe Sunghoon was right. Maybe what you two had was just a mere infatuation. You two were immature back then, too stuck in the honeymoon phase that when the real challenge came, it ended badly.
And it’s not too late for the two of you. Not when everything that happened for the past few months were clear signs that both of your hearts still yearn for each other.
You’re just too scared. Too afraid to be hurt by Jay again.
And yet here you are, heart weakening at the sight of Jay who was crying his soul out in front of you. You didn’t say anything but instead you pulled him out from his place and wrapped your arms around him, head buried on his chest as you started to cry in his arms. Jay’s arms tightened his hold on you. His body twitched at every sob he emitted, holding it back as he kissed the top of your head.
“I’m sorry, I was selfish too,” you apologized. “But it really, really hurt me, Jay.”
“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, okay? I’m going to make things right, for us,” Jay promised. “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here for good — for you. No more lies, no more acting, I want us to be real this time. I want you to give your full trust to me.”
“Prove it to me Jay,” you asked him. Looking up to meet his eyes, both yours were puffy and red as your lips shook from crying too much. “I want you to prove to me that this is going to be real. We’re going to be real and there’s a future that awaits us.”
Jay didn’t say a word but instead, leaned close to you. His lips landed on yours so perfectly that it felt heaven was placed down on you.
He moved his lips to get a better taste of you. Deeper, hungrier — yet, there’s no rush. You two have the whole night — the whole future to make the moment last.
From there, you kissed him back, with the sense of longing craving for him, you reciprocated his kisses as you snaked your arms around his neck. You tugged him closer to you, feeling his body against you — you could only moan softly, it’s been so long since you two were this close.
Both your worlds fell apart. Jay didn’t want to miss any chance anymore. He grabbed you by the waist and carried you bridal style, earning a yelp from you as he ran his way towards the nearest bedroom.
He placed you down on the bed gently before hovering over you for another heated kiss. Soon, the temperature became hotter. Sweat started to bead as the soft hum of the ocean waves served as a background for the two of you.
Jay’s lips never left yours as he took off every piece of clothing he wore, mindlessly threw it away before he separated and pulled you to stand up and turn around.
His breath was fanning down on your neck, sending you goosebumps as his hands trailed on the zipper of the dress that you were wearing. Gently, he pulled it down as you shrugged off the strap of the dress until you were left with nothing but your undergarments.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jay admired, kissing your nape then towards your shoulder as his hands trailed on your arms before wrapping it around waist. His hands pressed on your stomach, caressing every skin his hands could reach. You could only throw your head back to his touch as his lips continued to leave kisses on your neck while his hands reached your breast, cupping it gently, he playfully teased your perked nipples which made you moan softly.
“All mine, all of these — are going to be mine,” Jay possessively said before he lay you down to the bed once again. Your back hitting softly against the mattress, you watch as Jay crawls over you, eyes locked on yours as a soft smile formed on his lips.
“And I’m going to be yours, wifey, you like that right? Make me yours?” he teased and you weren’t able to say another word when he kissed you once again. Soft and steady before he separates and kisses you on your cheeks, down to your jawline — until it goes slowly down your neck and shoulder.
“I can’t believe I lost you,” he whispered against your skin. He looked at you whose eyes were red and stained with mascara, yet you still the most beautiful girl in his eyes. “I’m gonna make it up to you — even if it’ll take years or decades — just let me prove to you that you’re the only one I love.”
“Jay —” a whimper escaped on your lips as his lips travelled on your breast. His teeth grazing on your nipples before biting and sucking it making you moan louder than you should’ve. Jay hummed at the sound as his tongue swirled around it playfully before giving attention to your other breast, repeating the same action that had you whining heavenly at the pleasure.
Before you knew it, Jay's lips travelled down to your stomach, soft and careful as he looked up to you who’s holding her breath. His hands hold the panty’s waistband and you only nod as a signal, with that, he tugs it down with his gentle hands leaving you bare in front of him.
He kneeled in front of you, hands on your thighs as he stared at you lovingly, “always so beautiful for me. My prettiest girl,” he kisses your inner thighs, soft, peppered kisses as an act of devotion to you. His hold became firm as Jay spread your thighs wider, giving him a clearer view of your cunt.
The kiss was slow — too slow for your own good. You whined at his actions, wanting more than he could give, but Jay was savoring his time. The kiss was then replaced by his tongue. Giving your cunt a huge stripe before giving full attention to your throbbing clit.
“God, you always taste heavenly, so sweet for me,” Jay swore before he latched into your pussy once again. This time, his tongue did the wonders of teasing your core, lapping onto it messily as he pushed his head deeper. His mouth and chin smeared with your slick and his saliva as he became hungrier than before while you writhe against his mouth.
Jay devoured you for minutes. He didn’t stop, not even when you were crying your hearts out as the stimulation had become overwhelming to you. He wanted to see you writhing in pleasure, it turns him on to see you being pleasured by him. Jay’s grip on your thighs tightened, ignoring your heel that sinked deep on his back as his mouth continued to invade your cunt that’s been sensitive for the past few minutes.
He felt your hands on his hair, tugging a handful making him look up to you. Your breathing’s unstable, sweat beads on your body, glistening against the moon’s reflection. He could only smile at the view before he kissed your throbbing clit.
“You’re going to cum aren’t you?” he asked and you barely nodded.
“I want you inside me,” you breathed, almost a mumble. “I want to cum with you inside me.”
“You’d have that later wifey,” Jay smiled. “But let me savor my moment of proving you my love.”
Another cry of pleasure escaped your mouth as Jay lowered himself to your cunt once again. This time, he’s in a rush. A more desired plea to make you cum in no time. He laps in between your labia upwards your clit, sucking that little bud harsher before using his tongue to protrude your entrance.
It was too much for you. Your legs started to shake on his hold as Jay continued eating you out until that coil in your stomach snapped. Your back arched naturally as you writhe out of his hold. Jay didn’t stop, but instead, became more hasty, more sloppy than before, drinking all the juice his tongue could taste. Moaning loudly as he finds himself drunk in your pussy.
“So fucking good for me,” he stated as he removed himself from your cunt. He wiped off the excess using the back of his hand before he crawled over you. You let him kiss you, whining at the taste of your own juice from his lips.
Jay’s kisses became torrid, asserting dominance as he pushed his tongue to enter your mouth. Licking every inch of you as you couldn’t do anything but to let him devour you in the most animalistic manner.
“Jay — I need you, right now,” you whispered the moment the kiss broke off.
“I know love, I know,” he softly hushes you with a kiss, making you whine. “Do you want to be on top? Ride me just like before or —”
“No, I just want you close — this close Jay, please,” you begged and only a gentle kiss was all you received.
Jay pulled down his brief, revealing his hard and girthy length, already red and beading with pre-cum. He kneeled in front of you whose legs already spread, he grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled you close to him. You watched as he spat on his palm before stroking his shaft. Gulping at the sight, your heart started thumping out of nervousness.
“Just relax for me,” he gestured, free hand brushing your hair as his right hand nudged his cock on your entrance. Stroking it up and down, and circling on your clit makes you whimper.
“Good girl, look at me, alright?” Jay ordered and you looked at him. His eyes were calm, lifting your worries before the fat head of his cock started to penetrate your entrance. You could only suck your breath hard as your hold on Jay’s arms tightened.
Jay slides his cock inside with ease. You were so warm and wet for him as he buried it further, ignoring the muted whines escaping your lips. He sheathes in fully, glancing at you whose eyes were searching for his — eyes began to water as your nails dig deep on his skin.
“Comfy?” he asked.
“I’m so full,” you confessed, biting your lips as your warm walls pulled his cock tightly. “So full — Jay, please move.”
Jay complies. He started to thrust in and out of your cunt, finding a pace wherein you could feel him all the way to your cervix. It wasn’t rough that it had you curling your toes — but it was enough for you to feel him take you all over again. It felt euphoric just by the sheer thought that you had Jay this close once again.
All those years and pain started to fade away, tears started to swell as Jay captured your lips again, igniting the heat in between the two of you. It felt surreal. It hasn’t sinked into you that Jay’s within your reach again — proving his love and devotion to you in the most intimate way.
If this was a dream, you don’t want to wake up — but the moment he breaks off the kiss and looks at you, cupping your cheeks so dearly that tears trailed down your eyes that’s when it sinked into you — Jay’s here and he’s not going anywhere.
He smiled softly before wiping off the tears from your eyes, kissing your temple so gently and lightly before resting his forehead on yours, his hips started to move faster and soon the tranquil feeling was replaced with the intense pleasure on your core.
“Jay — ha! Ah!” moans started to break out of your lips. Jay was fucking you good underneath that you couldn’t help but to thrust your hips upwards, meeting his movement in the middle, creating more pleasure and friction on your cunt.
“Fuck, that’s it — fuck, you’re doing good for me, wifey,” Jay assured as his strokes become more rough, more eager to meet your pussy in between, his right hand trailed on your left hand, intertwining with your fingers, assuring you further as you continued your movement.
“So good — hhhh, Jay! Jay!” you shouted as your right hand held onto his shoulder tighter.
“I’m right here — look at me wifey, ‘right here alright,” he ordered as he pushed his cock deeper in you, pushing your hips down the mattress as he continued to rail your pussy with much intensity.
“Gonna cum — want to cum,” you mumbled in between your whimpers.
“Just cum wifey, I got you,” Jay whispered to you, kissing the shell of your ears.
Jay changes his angle, finding your g-spot that had you arching your back instinctively, that’s when he knew. He continued pounding at the spot, right hand squeezing your hand tightly, burying it down on the pillow as his free hand held on the headboard for balance. The bed squeaked due the intensity, banging against the wall as Jay thrusted deeper inside you, hungry to feel you come underneath him.
In a glimpse your orgasm came, along with a broken moan and cry as your pussy clamped around Jay’s cock, squeezing him tight as he groaned against the sensation. He didn’t stop his movement, not when he could feel your warm juices lubricating his length more, the squelching was so obscene inside the room but it only made him go animalistic.
“Gonna cum, ‘m going to,” Jay stated in between his raspy groans, eyes locked onto yours as he removed his hands from the headboard and rested it on the side of your face.
“Inside Jay please,” you ordered. Ignoring how he’s making you oversensitive all over again, you found strength to wrap your legs around his waist, locking his position on you which made him cursed under his breath.
“Don’t — I can’t —”
“Please Jay,” you begged, hands finding their way to cup his face. “Want to feel you again, please?”
He didn’t answer you but instead, placed a long, deep kiss on your lips which you responded immediately.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips before resting his forehead on the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him, coddling him dearly as he repeated the words like a mantra.
“I love you too Jay, so much, so fucking much,” you confessed as you felt his lips biting down on the skin near your collarbones.
Jay comes in no time. His groan muffled against your skin, biting down harsher earning cries from you. Hot cum spilled inside you, painting your walls white, Jay continued pumping inside you, thrust becoming slow as his energy dies down due to the high.
With the last drop of his semen spilling inside your cunt, he kisses the bite on your skin before lifting his head up to look at you.
Then a cry — that ugly cry of yours when things get too overwhelmed started. Jay was surprised at first but he instinctively lay on his back before pulling you to his side.
“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going to leave you,” he whispered, hands drawing circles on your back as you cried on his chest.
“You’re not going to leave?” you asked in between your sobs. “This is real right? This isn’t just nothing right Jay? You’re not going to leave me? I don’t want to be hurt again.”
“I’m sorry for hurting, I really am,” Jay apologized once again. “But I’m here now, I am not going to let you go. See? I’m here wifey, just cry it all out. If you’re still mad at me, punch me or slap me, I deserve it.”
“Sorry,” you whispered to him, nuzzling against his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m being spoiled and weak again, I just — this is real right Jay?”
“Of course, this is real wifey,” he assured, planting a kiss on top of your head. “We’re going to be okay alright? Just be with me, okay?”
You hummed, your emotions finally calming down as you felt Jay’s faint heartbeat. “Okay.”
With that one word, Jay’s body felt relieved. He continued rubbing your back before removing himself from you, startling you who looked at him who quickly gave you a comforting smile, “just trust me okay?”
He gets up from the bed, grabbing the black coat he was wearing earlier before scrambling inside its inner pocket.
“Jay…” you were speechless the moment Jay returned to bed holding a small velvet box. You were reluctant to accept it, but with Jay’s patient expression, you grabbed it from his palm, opening it and revealing to you a ring with your birthstone as its centerpiece.
You knew what it was. You looked at him with teary eyes as he smiled at you, hands grabbing the box, taking out the ring and placing it on your ring finger — to your surprise, it fitted perfectly like it was made for you.
“We’re you planning to?” you asked.
“Of course not during Sunghoon’s wedding,” he answered. “I just — I brought it, just in case, you gave me another chance.”
You looked at the ring in front of you, the sheer size of the gemstone was nothing but mesmerizing for you. You always dream of this day. To have your ring finger occupied by the most exquisite engagement ring you could ever have. You’d never thought that that day had finally arrived.
“I am doing this, not because I wanted to fulfill my promise three years ago,” Jay started, hands trailing at your delicate ones. “But I want it to be a new start for us, a stepping stone for our future. I know I can’t just say forget everything about our past, but I hope this is a second chance for us.”
“It is Jay,” you assured, nodding before your eyes started to water again. “It is — thank you, I can’t believe — I love you, I love you so much Jay. I love you enough that I forgive you about everything.”
Jay gave you an assuring kiss on the forehead. Light and gentle before he pulled you to his touch, letting you sob incoherently as his warmth gave nothing but comfort to you.
“Thank you y/n, I love you too — we’d start anew, you don’t have to worry about us anymore.”
-
Morning swept through the thin curtains in the form of salty breeze and ocean waves. It kissed your skin, gently and yet, the warmth of the man beside you was no match for the morning sun.
You opened your eyes slowly and steadily. Hair falling through your shoulders as Jay’s peaceful, sleeping face was the first thing you saw. You were resting on his arms thrown over the pillow. His other arm around your waist like he doesn’t want to let you go.
The wave crashed behind the background. Everything was serene and like a dream — but you knew, everything was real when you felt the cold band of your engagement ring on your ring finger.
Your hands crept onto Jay’s face. Tracing his face gently, afraid of waking him up as you ponder what happened last night — everything felt right suddenly for the two of you.
And it was as if he heard your worries, Jay’s free hand grabbed yours, intertwining his fingers as he placed it on his lips, a smile forming before he hummed.
“Good morning wifey,” he greeted as he opened his eyes. “I could get used to a view like this. Feels like I’m in paradise.”
You chuckled at his words, “well, we’re in paradise hubby.”
“Paradise is anywhere with you,” Jay pointed out, chuckling to his words. “Want to go out and take a dip?”
“That sounds nice — but I don’t think I have proper clothes to wear,” you reminded, remembering that both of you are naked under the sheets.
Jay only hummed, his smile becoming menacing before he grabbed you by your waist, standing up from the bed as you let out a startled yelp.
“Jay — oh my god, Jay! We’re naked!” you shouted as he had tugged the sheets along with you.
“It’s just the two of us here, don’t worry wifey,” he assured, walking towards the exit of the bedroom where the beach was in full view.
“What are you planning — Jay, I swear to God!”
But your words fell deaf when he ran quicker towards the waters — and before you could’ve processed everything, you felt your body splashing into the cold, morning sea.
Your scream echoed in the small island the moment you two rose from the waters. You were gasping for air while Jay laughed beside you, both wet and a mess from his action.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you!” you shouted, splashing water on him who’s still laughing hysterically as his arms wrapped on your waist tighter.
“You were panicking,” he teased.
“Because you suddenly carried me into the sea! You know I don’t know how to swim Jay,” you stated and quickly, you were shut up when his lips landed on yours.
“I’m not going to let you drown of course,” he smiled.
Despite rolling your eyes on him, it wasn’t hard that you were flustered by his actions. The only thing you could do was slap him in the chest as you stare at him.
“You brought our blanket along with us,” you pointed out.
“We have a lot of blankets — and rooms, we could stay here as long as you want.” Jay explained and you became quiet.
“I don’t have any clothes Jay.”
“Already prepared a bag for you, thank your brother wifey,” he said.
That made you raise an eyebrow. “You and Heeseung planned this, didn’t you?”
“I did, I just asked permission from him,” Jay shared. “He has a pretty good kick, you know?”
You hummed, “He used to do Muay Thai, I hope you got what you deserve.”
“It’s worth it, now that I got his approval,” he shared before you a quick kiss. “And I got my second chance from you.”
You only smiled as you looked at him — a better view of his face now that you had held him this closer and longer.
Even after years have passed, he’s still the Jay that you’ve loved. He’s still here, smiling at you, looking at you lovingly as his hold on you tightened. Your right hand caressed his cheeks, he kissed it softly, just right above the ring he gave you last night, and that assured you further as your heart convinced you he’s the right one for you.
“Do you even remember the night that we had a one-night stand?” Jay asked, making you tilt your head confusingly.
“Still a blurry memory to me to be honest.” you answered. “What happened back then?”
“I was invited there by my friend, and then I saw you — dancing and heavily drunk,” he chuckled. “And I don’t know why, but I had the urge to approach you and then, you didn’t even recognize me, but you know what you told me?”
“What?”
“That I look like your first and last love,” he smiled. “And that you’re not going to love anyone anymore if it wasn’t me.”
“Well, you’ve changed drastically, I probably didn't recognize you,” you pointed out.
“And that is because you’re too drunk too.” Jay added.
“What happened then?”
“We danced, and kissed — and you wanted more, almost begging me, and maybe I just missed you so fucking much that I agreed.”
You only stared at him, memories still blurry and hazy, you wanted to remember — wanted to know more of that night.
“I’m sorry if I took advantage of you,” Jay apologized. “I’m sorry for the mess it led to.”
“I don’t care anymore,” you simply said. “Well, it did lead me back into you. It really was a second chance for us.”
“I know, and I’m glad Heeseung decided to pull a publicity stunt for us.” he grinned and just that thought made you smile.
“You enjoyed it too much Jongseong,”
“Well, I wasn’t pretending the whole time after all.”
You blinked for a second before smiling at him, “I know.”
“No more pretending?” he suggested and you only hummed.
“No more — and lying, no more.” you added.
Jay pulled you to kiss once again, you let yourself fall for him as you cupped his face and reciprocated the kiss. As he broke away from the kiss, he stared at you lovingly as he smiled. “Of course.”
Summary: You have a secret — you have a daughter. A four year old little girl who's the bright definition of summer sun. You have another secret, the father is nothing but a bartender at a local beach bar where you had a vacation a few years ago. With your reputation on the line, you forced yourself to keep them hidden from the world and thankfully, Jake was willing to hide his daughter and agree with your conditions — until he decided he doesn't want to for his daughter's sake, leaving you questioning your life as a career woman and a mother.
Second installment of Big reputations series.
✰ Song inspirations: So it goes… by Taylor swift, Love by Lana del rey, Saturn By SZA
✰ Word count: 19.4k
✰ Tags: CEO au, small town au, co-parenting, aged-up characters (Jake’s 28, reader’s 27,) kidfic, fluff and fluff!!! smut somewhere there, this is just a wholesome fic with very minimal angst i swear, reader and jake have feelings for each other (they just couldn’t confess lol,) down bad! sim jaeyun (and he drives a motorbike, now that’s fucking hot), family issues and eldest daughter rage, mentions of pregnancy ofc and abortion, kpop idols as characters. Not proofread.
✰ CW: plot with porn lol ofc, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stopppp,) kitchen sex, clothed sex ig, getting caught oops, dom! jake, sub! reader, breeding kink goes hard brrrr, mutual masturbation, usage of “mommy” and “daddy” but as a pet name rather than a kink, praise hahaha. Shitty smut ahead, my horny brain’s dead af.
✰ Asul’s note: made it before November ends so that it’s still falls under Jake’s birth month yay :D also I’m eyeballing everything, especially the business stuff, let me live!! I love sim jaeyun so much so i present you dilf! Jake!!! BARK BARK. Also Seonyangdo’s a fictional town and name. enjoy this wholesome fic and not proofread once again. this is so completely self-indulgent and i love sim jaeyun so much once again <3.
Running a company, despite inheriting it from your parents who had inherited it from their parents up to their parents, wasn’t that easy. But you’ve learned the hard way. Having to grow up being exposed to the world of businesses and investments, you knew what to do and what not to do the moment your parents passed down the title on you.
The answer was simple: discipline. You just need discipline to keep your company stable. Your office hours and working days are completely fixed and sorted based on agendas. Some may say that you’re too organized and there’s no way it won’t work — but it did for you. Three years had passed, and you kept your parents’ company stable in terms of its net worth and reputation.
Three years may be short, but it was enough for your young age. Some may say that you're a privileged nepo baby whose parents passed down the title to you without any hesitation, but you’ve been preparing this ever since you were a kid, and you wanted to prove everyone that despite the nepotism you received, you still worked your way up to be respected as one of the well-known CEOs in South Korea.
You were an icon. Your name was in every business section in newspapers and magazines. One of the promising young billionaires in your country. Beautiful, charismatic, and intelligent. Youngsters look up to you as an inspiration.
You’re also well-known for your fixed and organized schedule. It never fails to be brought up in your interviews and talks. But you brushed it off with a laugh, stating that having a fixed schedule and routine helps you in running the company without any faults.
Mondays would be your weekly recap of last week’s updates and accomplishments. Just light tasks and internal meetings to ease up the following week. You’re focused on the internal employees inside your office, accommodating as many concerns as you could within the eight working hours.
Tuesdays and Wednesdays were heavier. External meetings and business events would be entertained. You run these days with bitter coffee and tooth-rotting cakes to keep your energy throughout the day. These are the days where you work overtime, thinking that it's better to work overtime, so that you’d be able to keep the other days free on your schedule.
Thursdays were last minute schedules. Unexpected emergencies and moved meetings due to unforeseen circumstances would land here. They’re heavy, and sometimes, you’re required to work outside your office. Meetings with potential clients and grievances which leaves you drained before the clock strikes five.
Lastly, on Friday — it’s your favorite day because Fridays are your half-day.
You’re only available during Friday morning, in case any important documents or updates are required, your employees could squeeze a few minutes on your Friday morning for that, and once the clock strikes twelve, you turned into a modern-day Cinderella and had left the building.
No one questions why you do half-days during Fridays. Well, that’s the perks of being the company’s boss.
Today was no different from the past Fridays you had. Your desk computer had turned off, your desk tables were clean, and you just zipped your office bag before you pushed your desk chair inside your table.
Your smile was wide as you closed your office lights. Stepping out of your office, your heels clanked against the marbled tiles of the twenty-fifth floor of the building.
“Goodbye Sunghoon, see you on Monday!” you cheerfully bid to the man who was startled by your voice.
“Hold up missy, it’s only eleven-fifty,” your executive assistant-slash-best friend, Park Sunghoon stated, making you stop to turn around to him who made his way out of his desk.
“It’s near twelve, let your boss be ten minutes early for her half-day,” you sassed and Sunghoon laughed at your comment.
“I think I forgot to tell you that you have a scheduled online meeting with Mr. Wen at two-thirty this afternoon,” Sunghoon informed and your eyes went wide.
“What did I tell you about external meetings? You know I’m not available during Fridays for that,” you nagged and yet, Sunghoon’s teasing laughter echoed inside the floor.
“I’m just messing with you,” he teased and a smack on his arms was all you could give.
“Bitch,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.
“I know you’re eager to go home to them,” Sunghoon smiled before giving you a huge paperbag which you didn’t notice that he was holding.
“What the hell is this?” you asked as you received the paperbag.
“Coloring materials — books, crayons, pencils, all sorts. Heard my godchild’s great at drawing,” he smiled. “Got to make sure my ‘best godfather’ title won’t be snatched by Riki.”
“You spoil her too much,” you commented as you looked at the inside.
“It’s nothing,” he shrugged. “Now go before your employees get a glimpse of you and hold you back.”
You hugged Sunghoon one last time before leaving your office. As the elevator closed, your smile became wide along with your heart thumping out of excitement
Every Friday, you’d travel five hours to a small town outside Seoul.
To say that it was a small town was an understatement. The humble town of Seonyangdo resides on the west sea. A warm beau during summer and a cold comfort during winter. Seonyangdo was a quiet town with a few people living in the small village. They're a knit-tight community who knows everyone that they’ll know whether you’re a tourist visiting the place.
It was your safe haven. You didn’t mind driving for five hours every Friday to travel to Seonyangdo. You couldn't. Especially when the long baywalk of the sea welcomes you after passing by the bridge that is considered as Seonyangdo's entrance. You’d arrive there just in time for the sunset, welcoming you with the warm breeze of clean and salty air. The orange and pink hues of sky would be your guide as you drive towards your exact final destination.
You parked the car in front of the house. The small wooden gate was already open. Staring at the small humble house in front of you, you couldn’t help but to feel giddy and excited to see them again.
As you're busy grabbing your things from the passenger seat, you hear the door of the house open, making you turn around with a smile.
In Seonyangdo you weren’t the CEO of the largest construction firm in South Korea. You were just you. A simple woman living peacefully in the small town — a mother, to her four-year-old daughter who could compete with the sun in terms of brightness and gleefulness.
“Mommy!” her voice was high-pitched as she excitedly ran towards you. You closed the door of your car quickly before proceeding to hug your daughter and lift her in your arms.
“Hi baby,” you whispered, kissing her hair that smelled like salt air. Her shirt’s wet which alarmed you. Quickly, you placed her down to the ground. “Aely, you’re sweaty, were you playing outside while waiting for me?”
Your daughter nodded excitedly. “Dada said that I could play with Kino and Yuri at the beach today because I got five stars, look ma!” she shows off her hands, huge stamps of red stars were painted on her skin, which made you smile as you held her tiny, chubby hands.
“Oh, my baby is so smart!” you kissed her cheeks once again before brushing her hair. “Let’s go inside now alright? Have you changed into a comfortable one, what do you say?”
Aelia nodded eagerly before she ran off inside the house once again, passing by Jake who was standing in front of the door, watching the scene earlier fold.
“Hey,” he greeted with a lazy smile.
“Hi Jake,” you smiled back.
Ironic to your well-disciplined and sophisticated reputation today, you used to be a young and reckless fresh graduate years ago.
You’re not going to let yourself be thrown into your parent’s company as soon as you receive your diploma. You wanted to enjoy your freedom as an unemployed young adult. That is why after your graduation, you packed your bag and chose the smallest, most strange yet beautiful beach town in South Korea.
That’s where you ended up at Seonyangdo. Seonyangdo was small and wasn’t a tourist-catching town. It was less crowded and hidden, but their beach was a gem in the west. Its population was less than five thousand, which made you even more content with your chosen destination.
Seonyangdo was Jake’s hometown. That’s where you met him, at night, at the local beach bar that stood idly by the bay. The moment you walked into the bar, your eyes were already on him.
To say that he was hot was an understatement, Jake looked like the gods themselves had carved and brought to life. He wore a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, exposing his strong and lean muscles and arms. Along with his unruly, jet-black hair and soft puppy-like smile that greeted you when you entered the establishment — that’s when you had set your goal to at least get his attention.
It was easy for you though. Jake was a natural flirt but a gentleman at least. He entertained you throughout the whole night. Took care of you like you were the only customer there. He didn’t let you drink too much alcohol and even though you could afford to buy the whole bar establishment itself, he gave you half a discount to every cocktail you ordered.
You spent your days in Seonyangdo with Jake. It was a summer fling, you insisted, but you couldn’t hide the fact that there were butterflies in your stomach whenever he’s beside you, laughing, smiling, and acting like it’s only the two of you in the room.
Oh but the two of you were young and wild. It was obvious that you two were eager for more. The sex was too good and intimate — too intimate for a summer fling, but you two didn’t care because what mattered was how close you two were every time you two did it.
Which shouldn’t surprise you when you found out you were pregnant a month after you left Seonyangdo. Your world crashed. It can’t be. This wasn’t part of your plan. You were only twenty-two. You were young and had a clear view of her future. Getting pregnant wasn’t one of them.
You had options. A lot of options. You knew that your parents would be very disappointed when they found out that you got pregnant, especially when they’re preparing you to take over the family business. You could’ve simply got rid of the fetus and moved on with your life — but you didn’t, because something was holding you back to abort it.
That’s why you packed your bags, lied to your parents that you wanted more time for yourself before working for their company, and drove to Seonyangdo for Jake.
Fatherhood at a young age wasn’t part of Jake’s plan either, but as you confessed to him that you’re pregnant and you were planning to keep it, all he could think of was to make sure that the baby would grow up with loving parents and a happy family.
You were just planning to inform Jake about your pregnancy. But as soon as he took responsibility for it, you decided that it was best to hide your pregnancy in Seonyangdo. Hidden, cared, and loved not only by Jake but also by the townspeople. They didn’t mind the news, but instead, they were overjoyed that a baby would be arriving in their community. Nine months later after an enduring labor, your daughter was born.
Aelia was born during summer. At the time of one in the afternoon where the sun beamed at its brightest. It was significant, the older folks said.
She was the brightest warm for you and Jake. Aelia was the splitting image of you. Everyone can see it but when she smiles — she got her father’s puppy-like smile. Everyone cooed at your daughter and small family. It felt right for you and Jake. You remained in Seonyangdo for another year, wanting to take care of Aelia and live a simple, mundane life with Jake.
But your small town life came to an end at some point. Your parents are now eager to have you work for them, forcing you to go back to Seoul, leaving Jake and Aelia in Seonyangdo.
Jake knew what life awaits for you in Seoul. He’s not going to let Aelia hold you back from achieving your career and future. That’s why he was willing to hide Aelia from your world. He was fine taking care of her on his own, assuring you that he had the townspeople of Seonyangdo to help him when you were hesitant to leave. You two compromised. You promised to visit them during weekends despite the tiring travel because you're not going to let yourself be an absent mother to your own daughter.
Three years had passed and you had adjusted to your setup with Jake. The three of you were an open secret in Seonyangdo. Everyone in the town knows that you were a well-known figure in Seoul, but for the sake of Aelia, they kept their mouths shut for her safety.
Jake’s house was small, enough for the two of them — for the three of you every weekend. Back then, he was renting a small room nearby the beach, but ever since Aelia came, he moved into a bigger, cozier one for his daughter’s well-being.
Something about his house felt like him. The mismatched furniture, the small kitchen, and potted plants outside. It feels cozy, like a home for you to come to.
“Thank you,” you warmly said as Jake placed down the plate of curry in front of you.
“It’s nothing,” he shrugged as he returned to the kitchen. You started digging on your food, and you couldn’t help but to feel relaxed. Nothing beats home-cooked meals. You didn’t care if it was instant curry blocks along with some uneven chopped vegetables. Something about the way Jake always prepares home-cooked meals for you every Friday night eases your heart.
It feels welcoming. Hearty you could say, it couldn’t beat those expensive meals you eat at high-end restaurants in Seoul. In Seonyangdo, you could let all your walls down. There are no people watching your every movement. There were no fake smiles and personalities to tolerate. You don’t feel controlled in the small town, which is why you consider it as your safe haven.
“It’s pretty!” Aelia shouted from the living room, and hurriedly, her small steps made its way towards you. “Mommy, thank you!”
“Baby, Uncle Sunghoon got that for you,” you told her as soon as you noticed what she was holding — the box of crayons that Sunghoon had bought for her. Her eyes smiled wide as she stared at the box.
“It looks expensive,” Jake commented as he stared at the box.
“Really? I didn’t know, Sunghoon just gave it to me, along with some stuff,” you told Jake.
“Typical Sunghoon,” Jake chuckled. “You have to take care of it, Aelia okay? Don’t break it immediately.”
Aelia nodded, “can I use it now?”
“Of course sunshine, you can use it now,” Jake ruffled his daughter’s hair which made the child shout in glee before stepping out of the dining room, leaving you and Jake in a comforting silence.
“Hungry?” he asked, eyes locked into you who continued eating.
“I wasn’t able to eat lunch,” you answered.
“Of course you don’t,” Jake laughed. “Excited to see Aelia?”
“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes.
“What about me then?” he teased.
You didn’t answer but instead you placed down your utensils. Your plate was clean and not a single grain of rice was left. “Thanks for the meal Jake,” you spoke before standing up and going towards the living room.
Your relationship with Jake was blurry. You don’t know what’s the label between the two of you but one thing for sure, you two are prioritising on raising Aelia.
You told him that you didn’t mind if he dated other girls, and he as well, doesn’t mind if you date other guys too. But it never crossed your mind to look for someone else. You were too focused on your career and Aelia to find love — and it seems like Jake thinks the same way too.
Both of you never crossed each other’s boundaries. It was as if the two didn’t have a blissful, youthful summer love affair. Perhaps you two are too afraid to destroy the setup. You knew about co-parenting nightmares. Emotions blinding each other and realizing that you two aren’t compatible at all. It scares you that Jake might not be deeply in love with you and everything you two were just something fun and casual for him.
That’s why three years later and you let your feelings for Jake be buried somewhere in your heart. It’s hard to deal with your feelings, and you’re not scared to admit that it hurts to feel that there is still that fluttering feeling that ignites in you whenever he’s near or whenever it was just the two of you.
There was not a day where you thought of what would happen if you’d crossed the line.
But for Aelia’s sake, you never tried to. You chose to give her a complete family rather than have your love be reciprocated by Jake.
-
Saturdays for you are family day. You make sure that you spend your day solely for Aelia. No phone calls, no messages or emails. Your phone’s on a “Do not Disturb” mode and sometimes, you would even leave it inside your bag.
Today, Aelia wanted to go to the beach. The sun’s out but not too hot that it’ll leave you irritated, while the breeze was cool and fresh, which was a perfect weather for a family outing.
You parked your car by the roadside. Turning off the engine, Jake had already left his seat, going towards the trunk to take out everything you brought for the outing. The cooler, a basket full of homemade sandwiches and snacks, and of course, Aelia’s donut floater.
“Mommy can I swim now? Please?” Aelia excitedly said as you helped Jake with carrying the bags.
“A minute baby, we have to put a sun screen on you,” you told her, but it seems like your words fell deaf to your daughter’s ears as she raced towards the seaside.
“Aelia!” you shouted and before you could move, Jake had placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Relax, the waves are small, she’s used to the water,” Jake casually said but that didn’t remove the ease on your heart.
“Still, you know how dangers lurk around somewhere.”
“It’s not, let her discover things.”
“So that explains why her legs are full of scratches and wounds?” you raised an eyebrow.
“It’s part of being a kid,” he argued.
You didn’t say another word. Jake raised Aelia himself. They lived in Seonyangdo wherein there were less vehicles and people walked. Nature is part of their town and dangers were seldom compared to living in the busy streets of Seoul. She had a different childhood from you after all.
After finding a good spot and placing down the beach mat. Aelia and Jake dived into the deep water first, leaving you alone to look after your things.
You watched as Jake taught Aelia how to swim, his wide smile beamed against the warm sun. He guided Aelia while the little one struggled to kick her feet against the salty water. They laughed and that makes your heart giddy, hearing their laugh and the calm waves of the sea felt relaxing after a week of hard work.
You smiled at the scene. Their smiles really mirrored each other. Day by day, Aelia is now slowly resembling Jake — bright, hyper, and enthusiastic. Moments like these will always remind you that you were lucky that Jake was Aelia’s father.
You find yourself reading a novel that you’ve been trying to finish whenever you have free time. The beach only has a few people around, enjoying their free time to swim and relax. Jake and Aelia continued playing in the sea while you were left in your own world, enjoying your “me time.”
“Mommy, mommy!” A few minutes later, Aelia left the water. Running towards you with excitement which made you place down your book before grabbing her small towel which she rejected immediately but instead, she grabbed you by your arms, pulling you with all her strength.
“Mommy, let’s swim!” she said as she continued tugging your arms while you chuckled at her actions.
“Baby, no one’s going to look after —”
“Switch with me,” Jake butted in. You didn’t even notice that he’s standing next to Aelia. Your eyes darted on his thin white shirt that wasn't able to hide his strong chest and carved abs. Jake stood there with confidence and his signature smile as he brushed his wet hair.
Fuck. You almost drooled at the sight. It was the same Jake Sim you fell in love with when you were twenty-two.
Perhaps you stared at him for too long that Jake had to call you out again, snapping you out of your thoughts while he only chuckled.
“Alright — just a minute,” you stood up from your place, brushing off the sands from your legs before you removed your shirt and shorts, leaving you in a one-piece swimsuit.
“Still pretty as ever,” Jake wolf-whistled and you glared at him.
“Shut up,” you said despite your cheeks turning red. You pulled your daughter and the two of you proceeded to submerge into the cold water.
“This is nice,” you hummed as you let your body float on the salty surface. Meanwhile Aelia was relaxing on her floater, following your pose on her floater.
“I want to be like this forever mommy,” Aelia said which made you hum.
“Really sweetie?”
“Yup! I want us to stay in the water forever!” she excitedly said, making you chuckle.
“Baby, we couldn’t do that, our hands will wrinkle,” you said before returning to your normal position, you swam towards your daughter who’s smiling widely in front of you. You couldn’t help but to smile as you booped her nose out.
“But I want to be with mommy forever,” she pouted and that thought only made you chuckle softly.
“We’d be together baby okay? Mommy’s not going anywhere,” you said before giving her a kiss on the head. “I love you, Aely.”
“Aely loves mommy too!” she shouted and proceeded to give her a hug.
You spend the following time teaching Aelia how to float. Guiding her as she attempts to float while your hands are underneath her back.
“You’re doing good, Aely, that’s it! Don’t be tense! Just feel the water —” you stopped your words when you heard a loud laughter coming from Jake’s direction.
But it wasn’t his laugh. The voice was feminine, making you stop to glance at Jake’s direction and the view made your smile drop.
There’s a woman talking to Jake. She was wearing a two-piece bikini set that was too skimpy for her body. You watched as she laughed so hard that she’s throwing her head back.
Jake was smiling. Arms crossed, showing off his defined arms that you always had the urge to bite — his stare remained at the girl as he talked to her so casually that it felt like two former colleagues reuniting and having an idle talk.
And that makes your blood boil suddenly.
Then it happened, her hands on Jake’s chest — you almost forgot that you’re holding Aelia. You watched as Jake didn’t even falter by her action and that made you scoff internally.
You suddenly grabbed Aelia by her waist, carrying her out of the water, which left her confused.
“Baby, can you stay on the shore for a minute?” you asked. “Mommy just needs to bring dada so we can swim together, alright?”
“Okay!” she answered without any hesitation.
Aelia stayed on the shore, letting the small waves hit her body as she sat there, while you made your way towards Jake and the girl.
“Jake,” you called out, making them turn their attention to you.
“Yeah?” he asked casually like he wasn’t flirting with the girl.
So you smiled at him sweetly before you wrapped your hands around his arms before leaning against it. “Our daughter is looking for her dad right now, she said she wanted us to swim together.” before you darted your stare at the girl, giving her a small smile. “I’m sorry but we have to go.”
“Oh! I was just asking directions to the bus stop —”
“You’d see the waiting shed for the bus if you walked for ten minutes from here to there,” you stated, pointing the wrong direction before giving her another smile. “Hope that helps, bye!”
You didn’t even wait for her to say another word. You pulled Jake away from her, feet stomping against the warm sand.
“Jealous?” Jake laughed.
“I don’t want Aelia to see her dad talking to another woman, she’d think you’re unfaithful,” you stated.
“Hey, for the record, you did say I can date another woman,” Jake pointed out, making you stop.
“Well did you?” you asked.
“No.” he answered back and somehow, that eased your heart.
“Good, then lets just keep the loyal parents image for Aelia,” you concluded before you proceeded to drag him to the waters where Aelia was shouting in joy to see her parents together.
-
The day passed by in a glimpse. Suddenly, the sun was slowly setting down as you packed your things inside the trunk of your car.
A simple dinner of kimchi jjigae and side dishes were served as soon as you arrived at Jake’s place. Aelia lets out a loud yawn a few minutes after she finishes her meal. You volunteered to tug her to sleep while Jake was left to clean the table and dishes.
“No more bed time stories baby?” you asked before you could even grab the storybooks on her bookshelf.
Aelia shakes her head before rubbing her eyes. “Just…want, mommy.”
“Of course Aely, mommy’s going to be here,” you said before you sat on the edge of the bed. Brushing her hair, you hummed a soft lullaby that you heard when you were a kid. You sat there for a few minutes before Aelia had drifted to sleep.
You looked at her softly. Smiling wide as you could see her resemblance to you.
“Goodnight baby,” you bid before kissing her hair. You turned on her night lamp and closed the room light before leaving the room.
“She’s asleep now,” you announced as you walked towards the kitchen where Jake had finished placing the plates inside the cupboard.
You hummed at his words. Leaning against the counter, you watched as Jake grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge. He hands one to you which you accepted without any questions.
The two of you stood there in the kitchen. Silence emitted inside the place as both bodies felt weary from the beach today. You two were a few feet apart, quiet and settling down with the distance between the two of you.
You heard Jake chuckle all of the sudden, you turned your head towards him who’s smiling ear-to-ear.
“I just remembered the scene earlier,” he shared before giving you a teasing look.
“What’s so funny about it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You were jealous,” Jake teased.
You scoffed, “jealous? Excuse me Jake, I was just making sure Aelia doesn’t see her dad talking with another woman.”
“Sure y/n, use Aelia as an excuse,” he smirked before taking a sip on his beer.
“You’re so infuriating,” you mumbled. “Letting her touch you — ew.”
“I just had the charm,” Jake casually said.
“Sure you do.” you laughed sarcastically.
“Yeah well, that’s why I got you pregnant —”
“Oh my god, can you stop with that?”
“Well it’s the truth,” he laughed.
You didn’t answer anymore but instead, your eyes remained at him. Jake’s smile was wide — almost teasing. It was the same boyish smile that you fell in love with years ago.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” he teased but your gaze remained.
“Do you ever regret it?” you asked with a serious tone, and for the first time ever since Aelia was born, you had asked him that question.
Jake’s smile faded, expression shifting into a confused one. “What?”
“Getting me pregnant?” you asked.
But Jake, with an assuring gaze and fond smile spoke, “if I regret it, I wouldn’t be here with you.”
You nodded, shifting your attention on your can, you took a small sip as the atmosphere became quiet — somber you must say. It had you wondering if it was your fault.
“Did you regret it?” he asked you back, startling you.
“Getting pregnant?” you asked.
“Keeping Aelia,” Jake clarified and you quietly stared at him.
A small yet soft smile formed on your lips, “never. I would never regret keeping her.”
“That’s good,” Jake sighed. “Glad we’re on the same page then.”
“We were young and reckless, but there’s not a moment about us that I’d ever regret Jake,” you opened up.
“Us?”
Shit. Your eyes widened — you just opened Pandora’s Box. You and Jake never brought up that summer. You think it's awkward, especially when it resulted of Aelia.
But tonight felt different with the beer and your jealousy seeping — you wanted nothing but assurance from him.
“Yes, us — whatever we had, I’d never ever regret it,” you confessed and everything almost slipped from there.
Jake stared at you for a good minute. His eyes gazed darkly as he placed down his beer can. You remained calm, leaned against the counter as you held a staring contest with him.
“Do you?” you asked in the midst of the silence, watching him walk closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you — your breath hitched and your heart started beating fast.
“No.” he answered too quickly that it meant he didn’t have to think twice about it — and that thought had eased your heart.
“Good.”
The first kiss was breathless. Jake took action first, grabbing your face with much force that you basically bumped into his lips. Still, you didn’t care about it, you reciprocated it with the same energy. Arms wrapping around his neck, you pulled him close to you until you found yourself trapped against the kitchen counter.
“We — we shouldn’t do this,” you reminded him as the two of you separated, and yet your arms were still around his.
“But we want to,” Jake rebutted, and you didn’t object at all but instead, kissed him once again like you were starving for his taste, because just like what he said, both of you want this.
Your relationship with Jake was blurry. When Aelia came into your life, you two agreed to prioritize being a parent to her. Aelia was a catalyst for you two to mature quickly and be responsible young adults in a snap.
But tonight was different. Suddenly, you’re that twenty-two year old girl who flirted with the bartender in a small town. Your actions were rash and maybe you could blame the low alcoholic drink you just drank, but in your mind, you knew that you were just hungry for Jake.
Maybe it was jealousy that’s talking. It left a sour taste in your tongue seeing that girl flirt with Jake. You had that urge — to claim him yours.
Or maybe, all the years of yearning for him all broke down tonight. It was an itch that you’ve been wanting to scratch. The years of silently loving him and wondering of crossing the line — you had enough of it. You wanted Jake and now that opportunity gave you a moment to be alone with him, you jumped into it.
Jake didn’t stop, but instead he grabbed you by your waist and placed you on top of the counter. Placing himself in between your legs, he had you drowning in his lips and moans. His hands finding its way on your nightgown, cupping your breasts against the silk cloth as his long fingers flickered against your erected nipples.
“Always so gorgeous for me,” he whispered, hands attempting to yank it down when you stopped him.
“Aelia might wake up,” you told him.
He raised an eyebrow. “You just told me that she’s fast asleep.”
“That doesn’t mean she might not wake up any moment.”
“Being careful, aren’t we?” Jake teased. “Do you want me to stop or —”
“No.” You quickly replied. “I want — I need you Jake.”
Jake hummed, smiling teasingly as his hands rested on your thighs.
“You need to be more specific love.”
“I —” you gulped. “Need your cock — please, fuck me again.”
Jake didn’t answer you but instead, he kissed you once again, taking your breath away as his kisses became more aggressive, more hungrier than it was.
“You’re crazy,” he whispered to you. “Want me to fuck you here? Right here?”
“Need you so bad please,” you begged, a small whine escaping your lips. “Need your cock daddy.”
Jake cooed, “mommy’s cock hungry? Does she care if her daughter might walk into the kitchen all of the sudden?”
“Jake —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when Jake licks a stripe on your throat, earning a gasp from you. He began leaving small kisses on your neck downwards your collarbones which left you whimpering by the soft touch.
“Come on love, your words are rules here,” he hummed against your shoulders, his smirk evident knowing that a few caress and touch from him had you melting.
“Fuck, use me Jake, I don’t care — fuck me til I can’t walk, breed me. I don’t care!” you exclaimed, earning a soft chuckle from him.
“Easy right? Mommy’s going to get what she wants, don't worry,” he kisses you once again. This time it was much softer, much delicate and careful — like he was tasting every inch of your lips, and that only swelled your heart with pride.
His hands find their way to slip inside your night gown. You could feel the warmth of his hands going upwards your stomach, caressing the stretched skin of your tummy which made him chuckle darkly against your shoulders.
“You were so beautiful carrying Aelia,” Jake said as he stared at you with longing. “Fuck — you’re so round and swell, and — I might fuck a baby in you again.”
His words sent chills to your body. You could feel your core getting warm and wet as you bite your lips in an attempt to hold any sinful sound you could emit.
“You want that? Make you a mommy again? Fuck you dumb and breed you ‘til you’re leaking with my cum?” he asked.
“I want it,” you eagerly replied, not caring about the consequences afterwards. It felt deja vu. The same question and same answer years ago. “Jake please — put a baby in me again. You’d love it. Imagine Aelia as an older sister. That would be cute right?”
Jake was stunned. He didn’t hesitate anymore and just grabbed the ends of your nightdress before shoving it up to your waist.
“You planned this didn’t you? You wore this flimsy dress just to get fucked again, right?” he taunted, hands immediately circling on the wet patch of your panties which made you shudder against his touch.
“So wet and eager, I can’t wait anymore,” he tugged your panties down, exposing your wet pussy that’s glistening with slickness. His fingers slid down on the entrance, which made you throw your head back at the sudden contact with his slender digits.
“Doing great for me love,” he whispered to you hands guiding your thighs to be spread wider. “Why don’t you help and prepare daddy for your pussy?”
With his order, your hand reached his pajama pants, his cock already printing against the soft fabric. You didn’t think twice but to tug his pants down along with his brief. Jake’s length sprang free, hard and already leaking with pre-cum. You could only gasp at the view as you spit on your palm before wrapping it around his cock.
“Good girl, so fucking good for daddy,” Jake cooed as he inserts one finger inside you. Your walls clenching against his fingers as he slides it in and out, which had you throbbing on the counter.
You stroke his cock faster — more eager and aggressive as you squeeze hard at every chance you reach his tip. Your thumb played with his slit, making him hiss at your action. Before he could react more, you tugged his shirt to pull him to another heated makeout session that intensified the tension between your bodies.
“Always so feel good for me — fuck your squeezing my fingers tight, what more if I fuck you with my dick?” he taunted. His long, slender finger played inside you, scissoring and curling your g-spot which made your legs twitch.
“Found your spot huh? Do you want to cum using my fingers mommy?” he asked as he fastened his pace.
Eagerly you nodded, “please! Want to cum on your fingers.” you begged as you continued stroking his dick harder, hoping that you’d give him the same energy as he gives to you.
“Fuck — that’s right baby, make me cum too,” Jake ordered as he could feel his body tensing with the way your hands fisted his dick. His breathing became unstable. He found himself thrusting against your fist while his right hand continued abusing your pussy.
You came first. Legs shaking and closing against his arms as an unstable whine left your lips the moment Jake finger-fucked your g-spot harshly. He didn’t stop when you told him to, but instead, he fastened his pace more, making you wince at the overwhelming pleasure.
It didn’t take him a while before Jake reached his high. He groaned against your shoulders. Almost losing his balance as your hands continued to stroke his dick, releasing the thick, warm liquid that spilled on the floor and on your hand.
Catching each other’s breath, Jake was first to remove his fingers out of your pussy, making you whimper of the sudden loss, but he merely chuckled before he grabbed the kitchen towel to wipe off the cum on both your hands.
“Want more?” he asked, and you only nodded.
Jake kisses you once again before he spreads your thighs once again, revealing your sensitive, twitching pussy from the previous orgasm. He looked at you once again and you eagerly nodded as a go signal.
Jake slides inside with ease, and yet, your walls get ripped by his girthy length. Your hands reached to get a hold on his arms as Jake peppered you with kisses to divert your attention from the pain.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, and you whined as an answer. “Well, you’re fucking tight mommy — tighter than ever, couldn’t even take daddy’s cock that well?”
“Careful please.”
Jake hushed you quietly, with a much slower pace, he started thrusting inside you, wherein the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs.
“You’re so warm and — fuck,” Jake thrusted once again. “You birthed Aelia and still so tight — always tight for me love,”
“So — so big, daddy,” you mumbled between your moans. “Faster please, I can take it.”
Jake started to fasten his pace. A precise thrust that bumps into your spot at every movement. The kitchen was filled with nothing but the sound of bodies slapping at each other. Both of you were too immersed with the act as both groans and moans were the only thing that left each other's lips.
If it wasn’t enough, you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him deep inside you which made him chuckle before tilting your head for a kiss. You hold him close to you, arms around his neck, playing with his hair as you respond to his kisses. Meanwhile his arms hold your waist for balance while he continues to thrust inside you.
Sex with Jake has always been like this. The obvious small details that give away that you two weren’t just lusting for each other. The kisses weren't just for pleasure and the way both of your bodies moved was not just for the sake of getting off. It was obvious that there’s more than that — unspoken feelings, wanting more than what you two have. A deeper intimacy that is scary to say outloud, hence, you both let your actions do it.
This was the first time you two crossed the line ever since Aelia was born. Something shifted and perhaps there was a trigger — a desire. A hunger to be claimed by Jake and be assured once again that you’re the only girl that he’ll have his eyes on.
Your possessiveness reeked with the way you snatched him away earlier. Jake was right, you were jealous, and of course, you were too prideful to admit it. Scared that it might scare him away.
So feeling Jake inside you. Chest to chest as both your lips raveled onto each other, assured you. It gave you hope that there’s still fire igniting between the two of you. And though you had no plans of igniting it more, all you wanted was to keep it alive.
The two of you found your rhythm. Brushing against the spot that made your toes curl, he lifted your waist wherein you weren’t sitting on the counter anymore. The new angle was much better and his dick kissed your cervix much deeper. It became more intense and raw that you couldn’t help but to arch your back out of pleasure. He kisses your bare skin, worshipping you like a goddess while you fall under his touch.
“Jake — ah! — gonna cum,” it didn’t take a while for you to feel the heat pooling inside your stomach. Your hold on his nape tightened, almost tugging his luscious hair which earned a soft groan from him.
Jake was moaning against your skin, he could feel your pussy tightening against his dick. It made him shudder under his breath. Your warm walls engulfed his cock as he continued his precise movement, not wanting for the heat to die down.
“Want to cum mommy? Cream my cock before I spill my cum on you?” he taunted before he thrusted deeper inside you.
“Jake! Jake —” you started to babble his name. Eyes shut as Jake fucked you until you were a whimpering mess, you couldn’t even answer his question, you were too cock-drunk by how he moved inside you.
“Open your eyes,” Jake ordered. “Look at me love. I want to look at you while you cum.”
With tears in your eyes, you opened your eyes. Looking at his raven-colored ones, you couldn’t help but to bite your lips as the heat in your stomach became more intense. You were holding your whimpers as you stared at Jake’s eyes and you cursed internally — he looked at you so soft and gentle, that it felt like he was making love with you instead of just a reckless sex.
“Go on mommy, cum on my cock,” Jake stated and that was your cue. Your pussy tightened and your orgasm came crashing down. You bit your lips harder to conceal the moans, scared that Aelia might wake up from the noise, while Jake started to chase after his high.
“Fuck — going to cum too,” Jake breathed. Resting his forehead on your shoulders as he fastened his thrust inside you. You were still coming down from the high but Jake wasn’t stopping. You could only do nothing but cry as Jake continued using like a fuckdoll for him.
“Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted before he released his cum inside you. Jake couldn’t help but to place you down on the counter, his breathing heavy and unheavy as he sloppily thrusted inside you, making sure that there’s not an ounce that would spill out of your pussy.
“So…warm, fuck,” you whispered against his head which made him chuckle darkly.
“So good, so good for me after all this time,” he whispered back and you didn’t say anything. The two of you sat there, catching your breath as the high slowly dissolved between the two of you.
“Mommy?” the two of you were startled when the door creaked and closed. Light footsteps against the wooden floor became loud making you push Jake out of you.
“Fix yourself!” you whisper-shouted before you jumped out of the counter. Hurriedly, you tugged down your night gown and fixed the fallen strap while Jake pulled up his pajama pants, cursing softly that his cock was still aching hard even after the act.
“Mommy?” Aelia was rubbing her eyes when she entered the kitchen. Voice droopy as she holds the brown dog plushie her Uncle Riki gave her.
“Hi baby, nightmares?” you asked casually, trying to act normal even though you could feel something dripping down your thighs.
Aelia shook her head. “Are you and dada fighting?”
Both your and Jake’s eyes widened. You let out an awkward laugh, “why — why would you think of that baby?”
“I heard shouting, and you were screaming dada’s name,” she said innocently, making you groan while Jake chuckled in amusement.
“No, no, baby, we weren’t. We were just talking, sorry we were loud, I guess we got a bit drunk and got carried away,” Jake vaguely excused. “Do you want to tug you back to bed, baby? Mommy needs a bit of air to breathe due to the drink.”
Your daughter let out a yawn instead. Too drowsy to argue, she turned her heels and left the kitchen.
The silence beat into the two of you. With the high of the act coming down, your mind washed over the fact that you two crossed the line.
“We shouldn’t have done this,” Jake started and for a moment you were quiet, before you nodded.
“Right. I guess it was the beer,” although it was such a lame excuse to blame it on a can of five-percent fruity alcohol, you two were convinced that it was just that — not because of the pent-up feelings you two had for each other.
“Let’s just forget about this,” he suggested. Tone formal and calm, acting like this was just a one-night stand for the two of you. “For Aelia.”
Right. It should’ve hurt you when he said those words. But then you remembered — you two are focused on your daughter.
“Of course,” it was the only thing you could say before nodding. “For Aelia.”
Jake nodded. Convinced as he let out a deep sigh. “I’ll tug Aelia back to sleep, I’ll return —”
“It’s okay Jake, I’ll clean myself up,” you told him. “It’s my safe day today too, don’t worry about knocking me up again.”
Although your words felt teasing from your perspective, Jake’s blank expression didn’t falter, he only gave you a nod and a simple, “alright, goodnight.” before he left the kitchen, leaving you standing there while you could still feel him inside you.
It could’ve felt more intimate for you, but now, all you could feel was how pathetic you were for him. Resorting to such brass action that might lead to another unexpected incident again.
-
Sundays are your lazy days.
Literally, lazy days. Jake lets you sleep ‘til noon (that is if Aelia doesn’t barge into your room because she wants to eat breakfast with you.) or maybe if you’re feeling productive, you’d play with Aelia or help Jake with the chores.
Today’s Sunday was different. You’re lounged casually on the couch, watching some Disney Pixar film along with Aelia — which she abandoned to color on her new coloring book. You didn’t mind at all, since you’re midway into the film
But your peace was disrupted when your phone rang all of the sudden. You knew that ringtone. It’s for emergency emergency purposes. The type of calls that you need to answer or perhaps a sign for you to pack your things and return to Seoul.
There were only five people who you placed on that ringtone; Jake, Sunghoon, your parents, and younger brother. So when you picked up the phone, you were already guessing who decided to disturb your peaceful Sunday.
“Hi dad,” you greeted. Pressing the pause on the remote control, you excused yourself and went out of the house to get a better signal.
“Where are you? I contacted Sunghoon and he said "you're out of town, what for?” he asked.
“Just somewhere, why?” you asked him back.
“You’re supposed to be here helping us, it’s mother’s eighty-fifth birthday, have you forgotten?” your father lectured, which made you groan lightly.
“Right, right, I forgot, I wasn’t —”
“Forget it, just be here, your grandma’s expecting you. Wearing something formal, this is a formal event.”
The call ended without any goodbye. Just a short order from your father which made you stand there frozen, a bitter smile forming on your lips as you stared at your phone’s lockscreen.
Usually, you’d go home after the sunset. It’s a bit late in your perspective but it didn’t matter to you if you arrived in Seoul late-night. Especially when you only have the weekend for your daughter — you wanted to make the most out of it after all.
You had no choice. You couldn’t ditch your grandmother’s birthday. All your relatives will be there and it would be suspicious if you’re absent and you’re just somewhere in South Korea.
So with an apologetic smile and sorry, you informed Jake and Aelia that you need to go home early due to an emergency. Aelia was quite fussy about it given that it was just eleven in the morning, but Jake brushed it off, knowing that these circumstances couldn’t be controlled.
You placed down your bag on the backseat before closing it. You returned to Jake and Aelia who were patiently waiting for you to bid your goodbye.
“I’ll return on Friday okay? I’m sorry that I have to leave early,” you sincerely told your daughter who did nothing but to accept your hug.
“Mommy, can me and dada visit you next time in Seoul?” Aelia asked the moment you two broke out the hug.
“Why would you want to go to Seoul sweetie?” you asked her back.
“Because that’s where you live and I want to live in your house, dada said it’s huge and tall on the top of the building,” your daughter explained, stretching the words 'huge' and 'tall' along with her raising her arms.
You gave Jake a glance but he only shrugged, “she was curious.”
“Maybe next time sweetie okay? You get to visit me instead,” you smiled, cupping her soft cheeks before giving it a soft peck.
“You promise?” she asked, raising her pinky finger which made you stare at it for a minute.
“I promise,” you swore before intertwining your pinky finger with her. You don’t even know when you’d allow her to visit you in Seoul. Maybe when the time’s right, you could show her to the world. But not right now, maybe someday — and hopefully, that when that day comes, she’d understand why.
You hugged her one last time before you glanced at Jake. He only gave you a small smile which you bitterly reciprocated with a fake one. Ignoring the small pinch in your heart after last Saturday night’s act.
You went inside your car, rolling down your car window, you looked up to Jake who had carried Aelia in his arms.
“Drive safe there, text me when you get home,” he reminded and you nodded to his words.
“Alright, I’ll be going now,” you bid. “See you next week?”
“See you.”
“Bye mommy!” Aelia shouted once again. You gave her a smile before you turned on your car’s engine.
Jake watched as your car disappeared from his sight. It always feels bitter to watch you drive away from their place. It was a constant reminder for him — your place was in Seoul, not in Seonyangdo. He knows that his hometown was your safe haven, but it will never be your home.
“Dada,” Aelia called out, tapping his cheeks which made him hum in response.
“What is it baby?” he asked, placing her down but Aelia shakes her head.
“Does mommy love me?”
Jake became quiet. He stared at Aelia whose eyes gleamed with innocence. His throat got stuck, not knowing what to say as his eyes remained at his daughter.
He didn’t expect that Aelia would question your love for her. He doesn’t understand why, but it hurts him. Jake could feel his heart shattering into pieces.
Sure, you weren’t there when she lost her first tooth, or when she won first place in a drawing competition, but you were trying — he could see it. You drive five hours every Friday just to be with Aelia. You tried to make sure that you’re attentive to her and everything she loves.
You never, ever tried for once, neglected her, so hearing those words from his daughter, he wondered what Aelia sees in you that made her ask him that.
“Why — why would you say that? Mommy loves you of course, she’s just busy, okay?” he stuttered. His hands held onto his daughter’s arms a bit tight while his eyes widened out of panic.
“She’s always away, does she not like living here? Is Seoul much prettier than here?” Aelia asked once again.
“No, of course not baby, I just —” Jake wasn’t able to say anything but instead, his lips turned into a straight line. In a minute of silence, he carried Aelia in his arms as he let out a sigh. “She’s busy working for you okay? She needs to save money so that you could have a bright future. When you grow up, you might follow in her footsteps and work in Seoul in her office, do you want that?”
Aelia’s curious expression beamed into a bright one. “I want that! I want to be like mommy when I grow up!” she excitedly said, making Jake nod.
“That’s great baby,” he spoke as he delicately placed a kiss on top of her hair. “Tell that to mommy when she visits you okay? Don’t worry sunshine, Friday will quickly approach without you knowing. Okay?”
“Okay!”
Jake smiled at his daughter, brushing her soft hair, all he could about was her question earlier. Wondering if this was now a sign for him to change some things with your setup.
-
“You look like you haven't slept for years,” Sunghoon commented the moment you entered the floor. Monday arrived and somehow, it felt heavy for you to return to your office.
“Tell me about it,” you groaned. “I need coffee right now.”
“Some hot americano or some iced mocha latte with two pumps of salted caramel syrup and extra ice?” your executive assistant asked.
“The latter, thanks,” you said without any hesitation.
“How’s your weekend by the way?” Sunghoon asked as he followed you inside your office. He sat casually at the long couch nearby while you went straight to your desk.
“It was alright, beach day during Saturday — by the way, Aelia loved your gift for her,” you started.
Sunghoon grinned, “that’s great to hear. Ordered your drink now, it’ll arrive in twenty minutes.” He glanced at you once again. “You seemed stressed for someone who just got home from Seonyangdo.”
“No — I just, we had an event last night because it’s grandma’s birthday,” you leaned against your chair. “Turns out it’s just a blind date for me in disguise.”
Sunghoon laughed. That mocking laughter of his that wants you to throw him out of the building. But you couldn't do anything as the headache throbbing on your head wasn’t helping.
“How’d it go?”
“Fucking bad — dad tried me to setup with someone in his forties! Oh my god, he was so awful too, bragging about his divorce with his wife! It sounded like he was the problem.”
“Well he was.”
“I’m just tired of them setting me up on blind dates. They’re eager y’know? They’re telling me that I’m at the appropriate age of marriage and no one would want me if I reached my thirties,” you ranted.
“Sounds like to me, that they just want you to settle in and give them grandchildren, they aren’t getting any younger either.”
You heaved out a sigh, “they brought that up too.”
Sunghoon didn’t answer. He looked at you warily as you gave him a knowing smile before you leaned on your seat, “you know it always makes me wonder if I reveal to the public Aelia.”
“Are you ready for it? The criticisms, the comments, and hate?”
But you faintly laughed, “I’ve learned to ignore those shits growing up, I think I can manage it — but Aelia and Jake, I’m still trying to protect them.”
“Do it when you’re ready then,” Sunghoon advised.
“What if I told you that I am not?”
“What’s holding you back then? Jake?”
A thin line formed on your lips. Nodding as you remember that Saturday night. The mixture of heaven and reality that happened that night. The blissful ignorance you two danced on later on Sunday — Jake was the only thing that was holding you back.
Jake was also your secret. He was the man who knocked you up. The father of your daughter. You admit that his social status and job isn’t going to be pleasing to the public’s eyes. You could’ve not care about it, but you don’t want Jake to be the target of harsh comments too.
Maybe, there’s a part of you that wants to tell the world that the three of you are a happy family — not just a co-parenting setup. It sounded selfish on your part but you knew that Aelia’s too young to understand your relationship with Jake. In her eyes, you two are together. A loving parents who loved her dearly, when that’s even far from reality.
“The situation’s still unstable,” you admitted before glancing at your best friend. “Me and Jake, I admit Sunghoon, our relationship’s still blurry and that’s holding me back.”
Sunghoon groaned after hearing your problem, “then confess?”
“I did.” you confessed and before Sunghoon could react, you got him first, “not verbally, but we — something happened to us last Saturday.”
“Oh my god,” Sunghoon complained. “You two fucked again!? Did you really confess to him or did you just miss his dick?”
“Don’t worry about it, he told me that we pretend it was nothing after cumming inside me,” you brushed off quickly. “Clearly, we’re prioritizing Aelia, so that means that we’ll have to stick to our setup.”
“That quickly!? Wow, suddenly he’s a responsible man,” your best friend sarcastically commented.
“It’s fine — it hurts, yes, but it’s fine. It was a reckless act too, so it was a good thing he snapped me out of it before I fell for him harder.”
Sunghoon whistled slowly before he stood up from his seat, “no more confessions?”
You shook your head as an answer.
“And when Jake wanted to make some changes with the setup, what then?”
You blinked to his words. Quiet as you shrugged, “I’m okay with it, he’s still Aelia’s father after all.”
“Even if it means telling the public about Aelia? And may I add — this doesn’t mean that he wanted your co-parenting setup with him?”
“We'll cross that bridge when we get there.” you stated and Sunghoon stared at you for a moment before a chuckle in disbelief escaped his lips.
“That’s what you said to me when you told me you were pregnant and I asked you what’s your plan with the baby,” Sunghoon pointed out, like it was a nostalgic thing that happened.
“Don’t worry, no more stupid decisions after this,” you convinced and Sunghoon only stared at you with an unconvinced expression before he left you alone inside your office.
-
You didn’t expect that what was only a conversation with your best friend would happen too quickly — within the same week.
It was Thursday. You were in your office sorting some documents and contracts that you needed to read before signing when a visitor came.
A knock on the door made you lift your head towards the sound. The wooden door opened, revealing Sunghoon who had a soft smile on his face.
“Someone wanted to talk to you,” he informed and before you could say another word, Jake entered your office, making you stop.
This was the first time Jake has ever visited you in Seoul. He looks rough, wearing a black leather jacket and gloves, which meant that he drove all the way from Seonyangdo to Seoul just to talk to you. Something rare for him to do so.
You felt your heart stop for a second — you’re used to calls and messages from him, even during emergencies. But this one — something about his visit to you tells you that there’s more to it.
“Where’s Aelia?” you asked as you stood up from your seat. Eyes darting behind him while your word carried with fear.
“Don’t worry, she’s in Seonyangdo, Riki and Rei’s taking care of her for the day,” Jake casually replied, which made you sigh in relief.
“That’s a bummer, I miss her,” Sunghoon butted in and Jake chuckled at Sunghoon’s comment.
“You can go visit her in Seonyangdo, you know?” Jake suggested.
“I would, if only y/n doesn’t have me working overtime,” your assistant teased, earning a glare from you.
“Anyways, can you give us a moment for a while, Hoon?” Jake asked, and your best friend gazed at you.
“It’s okay Hoon, it may be something important,” you convinced.
Sunghoon smirked, “alright lovebirds, want me to close your security camera for a while?”
“Hoon!”
Sunghoon laughed softly before he left with the door closing in a soft shut. You stared at Jake for a second before you moved once again.
“You didn’t say you’re visiting, I could’ve prepared some food for you,” you stated, going through your desk’s drawers where you keep some snacks for yourself.
“It’s okay, I don’t want to take much of your time.” he insisted, making you stop as you placed down the pack of biscuits on top of the table.
“What is it by the way?” you asked.
“Aelia’s daycare center is going to have a field trip here in Seoul next month,” Jake stated. “It’s like a whole family day trip kind of thing and at least one guardian should go.”
“You couldn’t accompany her?” you asked.
“I could, but she wants her mother to come with her,” Jake crossed his arms. “It’s going to be held here in Seoul, and you know how badly she wanted to go in Seoul just to see you.”
“What exact date?” you asked.
“On the tenth,” he answered.
You stopped immediately. That’s the same exact date for your investor’s meeting. This meeting basically summarizes your accomplishments and upcoming future projects. All of the board of executives will be there — this includes your father, mother, and other relatives. This will prove to your family that your company’s stable and earning under your leadership.
“I have an investors’ meeting at that exact date,” you glanced at Jake. “I couldn’t come, can you do it? Or maybe Riki or Rei?”
Jake stared at you for a moment. “As much as I want to, Aelia wants you to come with her.”
You looked at him confused, “why me?”
Jake laughed, “why not? You’re her mother. She wanted her mother, do you even know how many achievements and events in her life have you missed?”
“Jake, I have a life here in Seoul — you know how busy I am with my life.” you explained.
“Of course you do.”
“Jake,” you called out as you flinched at his sarcastic remark.
“You really couldn’t spare time for Aelia in this one?” he asked one more time. His tone filled with disappointment which drilled guilt into you.
“This is an important meeting Jake, my family — investors, everyone will be here,” you stated. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t leave the meeting for a field trip.”
Jake clicks his tongue, a more disappointed expression was written on his face. “it’s not just any field trip y/n, it’s Aelia’s first family field trip and she wants to spend it with you.”
“You don’t understand Jake.”
“I know, and I may not know how running a business works, but you need to understand that the moment you decided to keep Aelia, you should’ve known that she has to be your priority too.”
You were stunned, quiet as Jake’s lips turned thin. He walks over you. Expression serious and arms still crossed. “You had choices y/n. When you were pregnant, you had choices — get rid of it, placed it in an orphanage or something, but you chose to keep her and raise her. I respected that decision of yours and I fulfilled my duties as her father. Now, I care about my daughter and there are some things that she wanted that only her mother could fulfill.”
“I know, but not right now okay? Maybe, next time, I’ll be there —”
“Your daughter is tired of understanding. Aelia is tired of waiting. Do you even know what she told me when you left last Sunday?” he asked and before you could even speak, Jake got you first. “She asked me if you really love her. She asked me that y/n and I don’t know what to say.”
You were flabbergasted. Your heart started to shrill in pain by the thought of your daughter doubting your love for her. Unknowingly, your fist balled, nails digging on your palms as you conceal yourself from crying.
“It was an innocent question y/n, but it hurts me that she had asked that, because it meant that your love wasn’t enough for her,” Jake lets out a deep sigh. “And I’m not going to let her grow up understanding her mother who’s always away and couldn’t be there for her. I am not going to have her adjust to this setup especially when I know that you’re lacking in some ways.”
“What do you want me to do? Tell the world about us? About Aelia? Is that what you want Jake!?” you shouted, but Jake remained unfazed.
“No,” Jake firmly said. “Show up to Aelia. That’s what I want. It’s just as simple as that. I don’t care about us, but I care about my daughter who wants to spend her first field trip with her mother.”
“You’re making me choose,” you told him with an accusing tone. “You’re making me choose between Aelia and my company.”
But Jake scoffed in disbelief. “The choice is yours, just like five years ago, it was also your choice whether to keep Aelia or not. Just because you have a life here and I agreed to keep her in Seonyangdo, doesn’t mean you’d get away with being a mother to her.”
You became quiet for a moment. Heart hurt as you stared at him for a minute, tears started to leak “that’s too much Jake.”
“Truth hurts I guess? I’m just being a good father to my daughter,” he shrugged so casually that you hate him for that — and you hate yourself because what he said was true. “I swore to myself that I’ll make sure that Aelia gets to have the loving parents that she deserves, and I couldn’t do that alone, you know? She needs her mother too.”
“Just this time Jake, please,” you muttered, completely desperate. “I’ll make up to her, I promise.”
“Don’t say that to me, the choice of showing up for Aelia is yours, not mine,” Jake pointed out. “But don’t act surprised if Aelia grows distant to you.”
You weren’t able to say another word when a knock on the door interrupted you two.
“Hey, sorry for the interruption, but your meeting with Mrs. Song will start in twenty minutes,” Sunghoon informed.
With that, Jake looked at you and bitterly smiled, “I’ll be going now, don’t want to have you late on your important meetings.”
“Jake —”
“By the way, Aelia knows I was going to meet you, and she wanted to give you this,” Jake fished out a crumpled, folded paper from his jacket’s pocket and handed it to you. The paper felt heavy in your hold as you only stared at Jake, but he only gave you a smile.
“You know, she wants to be like you when she grows up.” Jake shared. “So I hope you’d think about the field trip, I’m not rushing you. You have a whole month to think about it.”
He didn’t say goodbye to you, he gave Sunghoon a small nod and quick goodbye before leaving your office.
“What — are you crying? Did he hurt you?” Sunghoon quickly asked as he entered the office.
“No, it’s nothing serious,” you quickly brushed off, sniffing the tears away as you grabbed the tissue from your box and gently wiped the tears away. “I got it Sunghoon, I just need to compose myself.”
“You sure? We can move it —”
“No, it’s fine, I know Mrs. Song doesn’t want sudden cancellations, inform them immediately, okay?”
Sunghoon didn’t say anything, he just quickly nodded as he left you alone inside your office.
As soon as you felt yourself calming, that’s when you realized that Aelia’s gift to you remained on your hands. As you opened the paper, you saw Aelia’s drawing of you and her.
She drew you and her together. Just you and her. With her scribble that says “I love you mommy!” along with a pink heart drawn by a pink crayon.
It was your final straw. The tears burst out without any warning. Your hands gripped onto the paper tightly as you continued to cry your heart out — filled with guilt, hatred, and disappointment at the thought of rejecting your own daughter’s wish.
-
Jake didn’t mean to guilt trip you.
He slumped onto the soft couch in his friend’s house. Tired from driving back and forth from Seoul to Seonyangdo, Jake felt his body weary and exhausted as he hastily removed his leather gloves.
“You’re here early,” Riki greeted, placing down the cold glass of water at the coffee table which Jake ignored. His eyes closed as he tried his best to regain his energy.
“How’s Aelia?” Jake asked.
“Watching some cartoons with Rei,” the younger male answered and Jake nodded.
“Look dude, you can crash in for tonight, we don’t mind. I mean, your house is ten minutes away, but you’re clearly exhausted and Aelia’s probably on the brink of sleeping,” it was almost nine when Jake arrived in his hometown. He didn’t even choose to eat dinner, he was just eager to go home to his daughter.
“Thanks but no thanks, I don’t want to intrude you guys,” the older male answered, making Riki chuckle.
“Since when did you guys ever intrude on us? Come on, we’re here to help and we kinda expect that you’d be arriving late night,” Riki explained. “I already changed the bedsheets in the guest room, so be my guest.”
Jake could only smile as he nodded, “thanks dude.”
“How did it go by the way?” Riki asked out of nowhere, and he was answered with a disappointed stare before he became quiet.
“That’s fucked up,” Riki commented.
“I don't know how to say it to Aelia,” Jake shared.
“Just say it, don’t make up some white lies and have her thinking that her mom could make it, it’ll hurt her that she’ll be waiting for nothing.” his friend advised.
“Better said than done,” he simply shrugged.
“Well, at least you’d be there.”
“I’m always there for her.”
Jake was tired. Tired of being there — not because he’s tired of being a father to Aelia, but because he felt like he had to make up to all your lapses.
He knew that you’re not meant to stay in Seonyangdo. You were born in Seoul. Grew up with a silver spoon on your mouth. Everything about your future was fixed and planned by your parents, and a pregnancy at a young age shouldn’t stop you from your career and future.
That’s why he agreed with your condition. Jake agreed to take care of Aelia when she was only one and you returned to Seoul to take over your parent’s company.
He remembers those sleepless nights. Aelia’s endless cries and tantrums. Jake had a hard time adjusting her to drink on baby bottles. She was always restless. He remembered the apologetic look he had whenever he drops Aelia in his parent’s house or in Riki’s place because he has to work his shift at the bar, because even though you were sustaining Aelia financially, he doesn't want to rely on your money fully.
But all his efforts paid off with good results. Jake was there when Aelia took her first steps, when her first word was “dada,” and how as day passed by, she grew up into a cheerful and bright girl who embodied the sun’s brightness.
He was happy that he was able to raise Aelia well. Jake was fine with your setup and he didn’t mind at all. But there were days that Aelia would ask about you, would search for you, and Jake was helpless — and his pure heart couldn’t bear to lie to his daughter.
As Aelia continues to grow, the more she yearns for her — a mother figure, someone she could look up to. Jake knows that Aelia had grown envious of her other classmates. He noticed it by the way Aelia would stare at her classmates who were picked by their mother, because in her class, Aelia’s the only one who gets picked up by her father.
It's the littlest things. The way Aelia may grow without any guidance by a feminine figure in her life. She was adventurous, a bit tomboyish based on his observation. Sure, Jake was great at raising her daughter into a kind and well-mannered child, but it wasn’t enough, she still needs her mother. She still needed someone she could look up to.
When Mrs. Kim announced to her class about the fieldtrip, the first thing Aelia asked was,
“Can mommy come with me?”
After asking Jake that question a few days earlier, Jake couldn’t bear in his poor heart to say no to Aelia. He has to prove to her that you love her and the only way he could do so was for you to show up.
He knows that it was dick move for him to show up to your office unannounced and corner you about Aelia’s request, but he had no choice. He was helping you too — he knows that you have a life in Seoul, but he wanted to remind you that you also have a daughter who’s waiting for you in Seonyangdo.
“Dada!” Jake hugged Aelia as soon as they made contact. Lifting her and swinging her lightly before planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Hi sunshine, did you behave well here?” he asked.
“She had some cookies that Mrs. Ryu dropped off earlier, so I guess she’s a bit hyper tonight,” Jake turned to Rei who answered for her instead. “Hopefully it’ll wear off before bed time.”
“Dada, will mommy come?” Aelia asked which made Jake shift his attention to her.
Oh right. That one.
“Aelia, listen,” Jake started before placing his daughter down. “She’s not going to come.”
His daughter’s forehead creased, “Why?”
“Because mommy needs to talk with some important people,” Jake explained carefully as he stared at Aelia who’s sinking in his words. “She’s very busy that day, that’s why dada will come with you okay?”
“But dada, you’re busy that day too,” Aelia pointed out and Jake softly chuckled.
“Yeah, but I’d drop it off for you.”
“Why can’t mommy come? We’ll be in Seoul, she’s in Seoul,” Aelia rebutted and Jake swore internally because why does his daughter have to be this smart.
“Aelia, she’s busy, she’ll make up to you next time —”
“No! I want mommy!” the kid shouted, surprising Jake.
Aelia rarely threw tantrums. Sure she fusses about things a lot but it never reached this far.
“Aelia,” Jake firmly scolded. “Stop being so stubborn.”
“No! I want my mommy! Mommy!” she shouted.
“Aelia!” Jake authoritatively shouted and yet, Aelia wasn’t fazed by his father’s voice.
“I hate you! I hate you and mommy!”
Jake was frozen. Eyes wide as he couldn’t sinked into his mind that Aelia just said those words. He wasn’t able to do anything when Aelia struggled out of his hold and ran towards Rei’s bedroom. Ignoring the two other adults inside the house and slamming the door shut.
“I’d take care of it,” the older girl volunteered, leaving a sulking Jake in the living room. He returned to the couch, slumping down as he brushed his hair out of frustration.
“I can’t believe it.”
“It’s alright,” Riki assured, arms patting Jake. “She also has to learn that she won’t be able to get what she wants all the time.”
“I can’t believe she said those words to me.” Jake breathed.
“She didn’t mean it. She’s a kid, I’m pretty sure she’s just sad that her mommy couldn’t go.” Jake knew that, and yet, it still hurt him that Aelia said those words to him. He couldn’t even wonder where she learned to say those words.
“This is all my fault.” Jake groaned.
“No. This isn’t yours. You did your part and there’s nothing she can do about it.”
“I — I shouldn’t have tried harder. Convince her —”
“Jake hyung, just forget about her. Clearly, she’s not going to choose Aelia over her career, because if she did, she’d say yes without any hesitations,” Riki pointed out.
“I have a month, Riki,” Jake rebutted. “I gave her a month to think about it.”
“You think you’d change her mind within a month?”
“I hope so,” Jake said in defeat before glancing at his friend. “I hope so, Riki. This is about Aelia after all.”
-
The view from your office never fails to amaze you.
It was ten in the evening. The whole building was empty — saved from yourself who just finished an international call with an investor.
Now, you stood in front of the glass wall of your building. You could see the whole business district of Seoul — the sky towers, high-rise penthouses, and busy streets. You stared at it for a whole good minute, deeply pondering about your life.
Aelia’s drawing lay inside your desk’s drawer, reminding yourself that you need to buy a frame for it tomorrow. The call with Mrs. Song went through and safe to say, everything was settled and cleared at each other’s party.
Despite the relief in your shoulders wearing off, you admitted that your mind was afloat throughout the rest of the day. Up until now, you’re still afloat. The view in front of you has turned blurry as your focus is departing somewhere.
“Thought I’d find you here,” you were startled by a masculine voice. Turning around, you see your best friend who’s wearing his workout clothes. The bottle in his hands indicated that he just finished his routine.
While you’re still in your office attire, tired, stressed, and hungry. You gave him a small smile before you returned your stare at the view. Sunghoon walks up to you, standing beside you as he imitates your action, he crosses his arms as he looks at the view in front of him. Just like you, Sunghoon was always in awe with the view from the floor.
“She’s not taking it well,” you shared, making him glance at you. Sunghoon didn’t say a word when you showed him the message Jake sent to you.
Jake: She wasn’t happy with the news. You still have a month though, I hope you’d change your mind.
9:36 PM
“What’s your verdict then?” he asked.
“I — just this once can I be a bad mother?” you asked with a defeated tone. “I know she’s my responsibility. I know that Sunghoon! But, not all the time, I’d be there for her — and it could happen with Jake, not all the time, he’d be there for her.”
“Just because you missed one thing doesn't equate you to being a bad mother,” Sunghoon pointed out. “But the thing is, Jake’s been with her ever since she gained consciousness of herself, but you, you’re still not that present in her life y/n.”
“I know.” you admitted, and that thought deeply hurt you.
“So you’re choosing the meeting?”
Biting your lips, you nodded while Sunghoon didn’t say a word. He knows that it’s hard on your part too, that’s why he didn’t comment furthermore.
“I’m doing this for her after all,” you whispered. “Just like what my parents did for me, just like every parent in this world would do for their children.”
“Sacrifices, I guess, are meant to be made,” he commented.
“I don’t like it too, but I have to,” you stated. “Does that make me a bad parent?”
Sunghoon glanced at you. “You’re doing this for Aelia, I’m pretty sure she’d understand it someday — just like what you were with your parents.”
“I always hated this company,” you confessed. “I didn’t even like that I have to inherit our family business, but slowly, I grew to love it. I've come to realize that I was lucky that my parents were able to provide me with stability.”
“Even if they’re emotionally distant with you?” he asked and you could only bitterly laugh.
“I guess parents love in different ways.” you shrugged and the two of you shared a few laughter.
“Hey, you’re different from your parents okay?” Sunghoon assured, tapping your arms as he gave you a gentle smile. “You’re not like them. You don’t have to love Aelia the same way they loved you.”
You stared at him before a bitter smile escaped your lips. “Thank you.”
“Just make up to her after this meeting,” Sunghoon advised. “She’s only four, you have all the time in this world you know? It’s not like it’s the end of the world if you didn’t show up once.”
“But Jake —”
“Jake was just trying to guilt trip you,” your best friend assured. “And I get his part because Aelia’s still his daughter, but he’s acting like you’re leaving Aelia for good. While you missy, are guilty about it because you’re also thinking about disappointing Jake too.”
You chuckled in disbelief. “You caught me.”
“Don’t be so bothered by it, he’d understand, the same way he understands that you have to leave Seonyangdo to take over the company, he loves you.”
“Now you’re exaggerating.”
“Admit it, you wanted to hear those words too,” Sunghoon teased and you only smacked his shoulders out of frustration.
“Thank you,” you breathed. A deep sigh escaped your lips, knowing that you’re assured and seen by someone who knew what you went through. “Seriously, thank you Hoon.”
“I’m always your ride or die no matter what.” Sunghoon smiled, making you smile back at him. The two of you fall under silence as you shift your attention towards the view again.
“Are you nervous for the meeting?” he asked out of nowhere.
“Not at all.” you commented and he only laughed.
“Of course, you aren’t.”
-
Weeks passed and the investor’s meeting was fast approaching. Between the last minute reports and coffee fuels, the day finally had arrived.
You weren’t nervous per se, but you couldn’t help but to think about Aelia. It’s ten in the morning. They’re probably on their way to Seoul now. Your guilt still lingers, especially whenever you visit Aelia, she would always ask you to accompany her to her field trip.
And between the white lies and “I’ll think about it okay?” you’d notice how every visit, she doesn’t bring it up anymore. She probably had given up, and the way Jake looks at you disappointingly added more to your guilt.
You tried to encourage yourself. Convincing that you’re doing this for Aelia — this is just one day, and after this, you’d make sure to make up to her. Probably let her stay over in Seoul for a week. That would be nice, or perhaps, an overseas vacation. Anything, just for her to be happy again.
“They’re here,” Sunghoon announced.
You only gave him a nod, giving him a signal to escort the other investors towards the conference room, while you stood up to escort your family personally.
“Hi dad, hi mom,” you greeted them with a formal hug which they reciprocated.
“You look tense,” your mother warmly said. “You’ve been doing this for years, you shouldn’t be worrying about this anymore.”
You gave her a small smile, “I always get nervous whenever you guys are around.”
“Don’t let us down then,” your father commented. Your genuine smile disappeared as you nodded to his words.
“Of course I won’t,” it was the only thing you could say.
They didn’t comment furthermore, both your parents went straight towards the conference room. That’s when you noticed your younger brother trailing them, making you grab him by his arms.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised.
But he only gave you a bitter smile — so much for a fourteen year old. “To learn, they said. It’s better to know these things at an early age.”
Looking at him felt like deja vu. You remembered the first time your parents brought you to a meeting, you were twelve and barely aware of the business world. You doze off midway the meeting and were given a scornful lecture on the way home, leaving you crying inside your room.
It shouldn’t surprise you that they’re also training your younger brother to join the company. You could only loosen your hold on him.
“They got you too, huh?” you joked and your younger brother only laughed at your comment.
The two of you entered the conference room together. He found his seat at the corner, while you went in front wherein Sunghoon was busy arranging the presentation on a laptop.
“You’re ready?” he asked, and you only nod at his words.
With a smile on your lips. Voice loud and clear, you were able to steal everyone’s attention inside the room. Chin up, straight body, and with a confident tone, you started your presentation.
You were not nervous deep inside. You were confident at every report you explained. Detail by detail, you answer every question from the board without even stuttering. Your smile becomes wider and confidence boosting up as you continue your talk.
The investors were impressed, but your parents — they haven’t said anything, and though it bothered you, you didn’t let it falter your momentum. You continued with your report. Accomplishments, goals, and surveys were shown, your company has improved and its net worth has doubled than last year.
Midway, your parents started asking questions. The type that should have you stuttering, but you didn’t. You managed to compete with it. You had always known that your parents will always be your biggest critic until the day you died. They prepared you for this, and you’re going to show them that you didn’t fail not only as the CEO of the company, but also as their daughter.
Then came the comments. The critics that were useless, unrelated to your reports. The backhanded compliments that will have the whole room laugh while you stood there in silence because you’re used to this. They do this to weaken you, to lower your self-esteem because if you can't handle it, then how will you survive the real world?
But today felt different. The words were heavier and something inside you was churning. You felt sick as your parents continued spewing jokes about how you couldn’t actually lead the company because you’re a female. They even complemented Sunghoon who was put into a more awkward situation.
You burst. A sharp “Please be quiet.” slipped out of your lips. It wasn’t loud, but it commanded the whole room.
Everyone fell into a deep silence, with a heavy tension brewing as you stood there with your eyes remained on your parents. “Please be quiet if you have nothing good to say.”
“Y/n? What is this?” your mother’s eyebrow raised, you could see the disappointment on her face as your eyes remained on her.
“I am not going to stand here and listen to every back-handed and snobbish comment you throw about my leadership when I have done nothing but to keep it stable and running after you handed it to me,” you told them before a chuckle in disbelief escaped your lips. “You think I couldn’t do it? You shouldn’t have given it to me then. You could’ve just given it to your youngest child because it seems like you’re also preparing him to enter this company.”
Your parents were taken back. Surprised to hear you talk back to them. Your younger brother looked at you with confusion. The tension became more heavy as your expression became cold and sharp.
“I am not going to spend the rest of my day being belittled by my own family when —” your lips trembled, your breath stopped as you looked at them with anger. “When I should be spending this day with my daughter instead.”
A gasp — suddenly, there’s commotion inside the room. Your parents’ jaw dropped but you remained there, calm and easy.
“y/n? What is the meaning of this?”
You stared at your father, “my daughter is in Seoul right now, she’s on this family field trip and I didn’t show up because I chose this company over her! And now I am regretting my decision especially when you couldn’t even see all my efforts and hard work for this company! Three years and I’ve done everything to keep this company stable and reputable when it was on the edge of bankruptcy when you handed it to me.”
“You’re so ungrateful!” your mother shouted, making you glance at her, eyes prickled with tears as the years of their absence had finally gotten into you. “We poured all our hard work just so you could have a bright future! We shouldn’t have given this company to you!”
“Like you have another choice,” you sarcastically remarked. “I saved this company and yet, it’s not enough for the two of you — and I am saying this as your daughter, not as the chief executive officer of this company, but you two will never ever be satisfied with everything I do and I had enough of it.”
“Are you telling us that you’re quitting!?” your father angrily pointed his fingers at you.
But you only chuckled at his words, “no. This is my company. I am just not going to let any of you control my life and leadership here.”
You threw down the papers on the table. Letting it scatter as your parents stood there appalled by your action. You gave them a smile before you glanced at Sunghoon who only nodded as an assurance.
“I’ve done my part in this meeting. I won’t be entertaining questions anymore, especially stupid ones,” you stated. “Now if you excuse me, I am late for my daughter’s field trip. My executive assistant will continue from here on, since you like him better than me anyway.”
“Don’t you dare walk out of this room y/n,” your father ordered as you walked your way towards the glass door of the conference room. “The moment you stepped out of this room, you’d be completely out of this company.”
You looked at him, dead in the eye as you heaved out a sigh, “after giving it to me, you’re going to throw me away suddenly? I guess you never treat me as your daughter at all. Thanks for enlightening me with that one.”
“Don’t you ever talk to your father like that!” your mother shouted. “After everything we’ve done, this is how you're going to repay us? A child? Is this why you stayed in that cheap town years ago!?”
“Yes,” you answered. “And believe me, for the past three years I managed to balance being a mother to her and running this company, something you two couldn’t do to the two of us.”
You left the room. The place fell under a commotion. Your parents were filled with rage and disappointment as their heads ached, your other relatives started gossiping about your secret daughter, while the rest of the investors were left confused by the sudden scene.
Sunghoon cleared his throat loudly, looking at everyone who turned their attention towards him, he only smiled as he stared at the paper that you left for him, “now let’s settle down please, we still have a few documents to report, shall we?”
-
Aelia’s huge gasp was all Jake could hear as she looked through the telescope inside the Namsan Tower.
He watched her daughter with a smile on his face as Aelia tries to lift the device but it doesn't even budge.
“What do you want to see, sunshine?” he asked.
“Mommy’s house,” Aelia answered. “Maybe I could see it from here!”
Jake, although felt bitter at the mention of you, only laughed. “Seoul is pretty big sunshine, you couldn’t find mommy’s place here.”
“Is it far?”
Jake wasn’t sure either. “I guess, I’m not familiar with Seoul yet.”
That’s when Aelia removed herself from the telescope, glancing at Jake with a pouted expression. “I wish mommy’s here.”
Jake brushes her hair, with a bitter smile, he softly said, “next time okay? She’d be with you.”
The day drifted in bliss. Wandering Seoul was a bit tiring but Jake was still amazed by the city nevertheless. After lunch, they found themselves by Love Padlock where Aelia was curious about the written messages on each lock. Reading it out loud as Jake trailed behind her.
“Jae…jaeyun! Dada, is this yours?” Aelia pointed out a small yellow lock in the middle of the thousands.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jake teasingly replied. “Unless it has mommy’s name on it too, then it’s not mine.”
Aelia creased her forehead before she glanced back, “it’s not mommy’s name! Dada you’re a cheater!”
Jake laughed, “me? Cheating? I would not.”
“Then why is mommy’s name not written there?” Aelia stomped her feet out of anger. Her pout widened and her arms crossed. Jake swears he just wants to hug his daughter because of her cuteness.
“It may be someone else, sunshine, you know that there’s a thousand Jaeyun’s out there,” Jake explained.
“Then prove it!” Aelia shouted.
“What?”
“You have to put a lock there for you and mommy!”
Jake only stared at Aelia, holding his laughter at his daughter’s silly antics.
“She’s right.” but his heart stopped for a second when he heard a familiar voice. “You should put a lock here.”
“Mommy!”
Jake was frozen when he watched as Aelia passed by him. He could only turn around as he saw you in front of Aelia — hugging her tight as you were holding a pair of locks. You were still in your office clothes — a black slacks paired with a designer blouse in a neutral shade. Your smile was wide as you squeezed your daughter tight, while your soft hands rubbed her back.
“I’m sorry I was late, mommy’s really, really sorry,” you apologized to Aelia once you broke out from the hug. You smiled as you cupped her cheeks dearly. “But don’t worry now, okay? Mommy’s here now, we’ll enjoy the rest of the field trip right?”
Aelia squealed in joy as she hugged you once again before planting a loud kiss on your cheeks, “you’re the best mommy! I love you!”
“I love you too, Aely,” you whispered to her.
Jake was still appalled as you approached him. Hands holding Aelia tightly as you gave him a small smile.
“You’re here.” It was the only thing he could say, but you could see in his face that he was washed over with relief.
“Sorry I was late,” you apologetically told him.
“No — it’s okay, your meeting?”
“Sunghoon got it covered,” you shrugged. “And I may or may not have told them that I am going to my daughter’s field trip.”
His eyes widened. “What!? How —”
“Let’s talk about it later Jake,” you assured before giving him the lock. “How about you fulfill Aelia’s wish first?”
Jake reluctantly accepted the lock. He stared at you for a second before he moved. Finding a spot where he can write on the orange lock, and returning a few minutes later. Your names were written with his messy handwriting but Aelia was excited to find a spot for it and had it locked along with the thousand others.
“Mommy can you keep it?” Aelia asked, handing you the key which you accepted without a beat.
“Of course baby, then we’ll return here after a few years, what do you think?” you suggested.
“I want that mommy!” she excitedly answered, jumping out of joy as she tugged your hand. “Mommy, I want to go there!”
You only laughed as you let your daughter pull you to wherever she wants. “Alright, slow down Aely, we have the whole afternoon for this.”
The three of you had moved to the nearby park. With Aelia walking first, you and Jake trailed behind her, quiet yet the seeping tension between the two of you were starting to leak. Jake was wary, while your eyes were focused on Aelia who’s following a trail path, careful to not step onto the grass.
“Some are staring,” Jake opened up and you only hummed.
It shouldn’t surprise you. In broad daylight, you’re walking beside Jake — an unknown man in your life while following a four year old who’s the splitting image of you. It was a brewing scandal for your image, but you only smiled as you continued your walk.
“I don’t care,” you shrugged. “Unless you're conscious by the stare, we can leave this place for your safety.”
“Don’t worry about it, I got it covered okay?” you assured. “But for now, let’s just let Aelia enjoy her field trip."
The weight on Jake’s shoulder loosened. He only gave you a nod as you smiled back at him.
The afternoon was filled with nothing but warm happiness. The two of you let Aelia wander around the place. Her curiosity beamed in that she kept on running around. It did stress Jake especially in crowded places, but you only laughed at him as you tagged along to your daughter’s adventures.
The three of you met with the rest of the class at a nearby spot where the daycare center’s teacher, Mrs. Kim, held a small picnic for her class. There were parents and familiar faces there too, you only greeted them with a smile and had small talk before you returned to the bench where Jake and Aelia were waiting.
“How did you even find us?” Jake asked as he held the half-bitten sandwich.
“I asked Mrs. Kim about your location,” you confessed. “Do you know how huge this place is? I was looking for almost fifteen minutes before I found you two!”
Jake only laughed, “thank you, for showing up.”
“I was late though.”
“Still, you show up,” Jake justified. “She’s been talking about you the whole trip.”
You gasped, leaning against your daughter who only squealed at your action, “did you baby? Oh! Mommy’s so, so happy to hear that.”
“We tried looking for your house mommy!” your daughter shared.
“Really? It’s a bit far from here, you know,” you answered, making her gasp in excitement.
“Can we go? Dada, can we please go to mommy’s house?” Aelia pleaded, looking at Jake with her sad eyes and pout making her father freeze.
“I — I don’t know baby, we have to return to Seonyangdo after this —”
“Actually,” you laughed at his words. “I already asked Mrs. Kim, if you two could stay here in Seoul.”
Jake’s eyes widened along with Aelia’s gasp, “really mommy!?”
“Wait, y/n, we don’t want to intrude —”
“Jake, I live alone, don’t worry,” you assured. “You’re not intruding on me, you two are my family.”
Jake wasn’t able to say anything. He only nodded and returned to his snacks. He seemed flustered by the thought and you only stared at him with soft laughter escaping your lips before you returned to your snacks.
The whole afternoon felt tiring for you, stressful at first especially when you walked out of the conference room — but you’ve made up your mind. You knew the consequences and you were confident that you won’t be removed from your position.
Sunghoon’s message from you a few minutes later was a confirmation that your position will remain, removing the relief from your shoulders before you sent him your thanks for saving your life there. You closed your phone and let the fresh breeze of the afternoon ease your mind.
It didn’t take a minute for you to feel Aelia’s head bumping against your arms, you looked to her side and her eyes were half-closed.
“She’s on the verge of sleeping,” you laughed as Jake stood up from his seat and carried his daughter in his arms.
“She’s tired now, we should get going now,” Jake suggested while he rubbed Aelia’s back.
“I’ll inform Mrs. Kim about it, just wait there alright?” Jake nodded at you before you went towards the teacher and informed her that the three of you will be leaving now.
“I’m really glad that you arrived for Aelia,” the old lady smiled. “I know how busy your job is, but I am really happy that you’re here. Aelia looks up to you a lot.”
Her words warmed your heart. You could only give Mrs. Kim a hug as gratitude for her words. Breaking from the hug, the old lady glanced at Jake who’s standing cluelessly as he swayed his body to comfort his sleeping daughter.
“You’re lucky with Jaeyunnie too,” Mrs. Kim stated. “Keep him, alright?”
You only chuckled at her words, “of course. There’s no way I’m gonna let him go.”
You bid goodbye to her before you returned to Jake with a smile on your lips.
“We’re good to go,” you told him.
“Alright,” he smiled at you. “Let’s go home.”
You stopped for a second. Heart beating fast as Jake’s smile felt warm against the golden afternoon.
Right. Home.
It made you smile, “of course, let’s go home, Jake.”
-
The door of your penthouse floor swung open. Revealing a huge living room that felt like the size of Jake’s whole house.
“Woah, it’s huge!” Aelia excitedly shouted as she ran towards the couch, standing there and jumping in joy. Seeing her all hyper once again after napping on the drive home only made you laugh as you walked inside while Jake closed the door.
“Aelia! Get down there,” Jake shouted as soon as he noticed his daughter was still jumping on the couch.
“It’s okay Jake,” you said as you dropped off your shoes on the racks. “Feel at home.”
Jake watched as you approached Aelia, sitting beside her who immediately sat down with you.
“This is so pretty! And huge!” Aelia exclaimed.
“You like it here?” you asked, and your daughter eagerly nodded.
“Yup! I want to live here!” she excitedly replied.
“Do you want to see the view outside?” you asked before grabbing her into your arms and carrying her towards the huge windows of your penthouse.
Aelia’s eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she pressed her hands on the window. Gazing at the golden afternoon of Seoul city. Skyscrapers and buildings stood tall against the busy city as the whole sky was painted in pink and orange skies.
You didn’t even notice that Jake had stood beside you. He stared at the view outside. Unsure and somehow, small even though it was mesmerizing for him. Jake knew couldn’t compete. This is the place you grew up with. This was your view for years of living here in Seoul — far from the small house he rents in his hometown.
Jake wondered, what could he even bring into your life?
“Dada, can we live here?” Aelia excitedly asked Jake who snapped out of his thoughts.
“I — actually, if y/n want to,” he insisted and you only stared at him before a smile formed on your lips.
“Aelia, could you go sit on the couch for a while? Mommy wants to talk to Dada first,” you told your daughter as you placed her down on the floor.
“Is it important?” she asked innocently and you only brushed her hair.
“Yup, it’s important and for adults only, now, be a good girl and go sit on the couch please?” you answered.
“Okay.” Aelia answered before going back towards the couch. You watched her for a second before you turned your attention towards Jake.
“I’m sorry,” Jake blurted out first, catching you off-guard. He looked at you embarrassed as he darted his stare at the window.
“Look, I know how important your career and company is, and I didn’t mean to ruin your meeting and future. Now that I think of it, it was stupid of me to guilt trip you into attending Aelia’s field trip, but at the same time — how could I not do it? I did it for her too.” Jake explained before a deep sigh escaped his lips.
“Jake, don't apologize,” you assured. Hands grabbing his, you lightly squeezed it which made him look at you. “I’m the one who should say sorry. You’re right, I should’ve been more of a mother to Aelia. I should’ve known better when I chose to keep her.”
Jake nodded. An assuring smile forms on his lips as he squeezes your hands back.
“The truth is, I kept her because of you,” you confessed, and immediately, Jake’s eyes widened out of shock. “I kept her because she has a part of you and I don’t want whatever we had that summer to just be a passing time for me.”
“It may be indecisive and too rash for us. I wasn’t expecting you to take responsibility for her but I was still glad that you did,” then, you laughed bitterly. “You’re even a greater parent to her than me, and I thought that our setup was fine and alright. I mean, I sustain her and visit her weekly but when we had that talk, I realized that what I am doing isn't enough.”
He didn’t say anything. Jake let you explain everything, watch as the soft smile on your face turned bitter.
“I guess I thought it was okay because that’s just how I was raised, my parents weren’t that present when I was a kid either, so I thought it was okay, because I convinced myself that they’re doing it because they love me,” your lips trembled as your hand started to become cold. “But I knew that I could show my love to Aelia differently, and I want to make it right. So, thank you Jake for knocking some senses on me.”
His forehead creased. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m going to tell the public about our relationship,” you admitted. “I don’t want to hide it anymore, I don’t want any weekly visits and poor attempts at becoming a mother. I wanted to be there for Aelia — that is, if you want it too.”
“You’re okay with that?” he asked you back.
You nodded. “I don’t want Aelia to think that I am ashamed of her — of us, I want to give her a bright future too, and if I could, I should be more present in her life, you know?”
“But your company, your image —”
“What? You think I couldn’t multitask? They aren’t going to kick me out of my position just because of it,” you laughed. “My parents were already mad at me, but I was planning to cut them off since I’m tired of them controlling me.”
But Jake’s face remained soft and scared, “you’re okay with it? I have nothing to give you. They’d think you’re reckless, having a baby with a town boy, it doesn’t sound good —”
“He is a great father to my daughter, that’s what matters,” you whispered. “And I love that town boy, I couldn’t see myself with anyone other than him.”
Jake wasn’t able to say anything. His lips turned into a thin line as he looked at you who only gave him an assuring smile.
That was his signal. He lets go of your hand and reaches out for you, who instinctively melted into his touch.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that,” Jake confessed, thumb caressing your cheeks. “From the moment we had Aelia — us, when we were raising her peacefully in Seonyangdo, I wanted that. A family, but I don’t want to trap you, so I stayed in a corner, contented with us.”
“You did it for me?” you asked, appalled.
“I was scared — and I don’t want to dwell on my insecurities, but — why me? You could do much better.” he told you.
“Because you’re you, there’s no other explanation other than that Jake.” you stated with a smile on your face, your words were light and genuine that something inside Jake’s neverending insecurities was eased. “I just know, from the moment I first saw you, I don’t want anyone else other than you.”
He stared at you, eyes almost watery as a deep sharp of exhale escaped his lips — almost a sigh of relief, the only thing he could do was to pull you closer to him. Jake had trapped you in his arms, warm and tender as he pressed a deep kiss on top of your head.
“I love you,” he confessed. “I love you so much and we’ll make this family work, alright? Us and Aelia, I’ll make sure that we’d be a happy family.”
“Thank you too Jake,” you answered. “I love you too, I’m sorry, if I made you wait for too long. You don’t know how much I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. I was just scared of ruining what we have.”
“I understand don’t worry, but I’m here now, I will always be here,” he then breaks out of the hug and faces you. “If things go wrong, I’ll be here, I won’t leave your side, and — there’s always a place for you in Seonyangdo.”
“It’ll always be my safe haven.” you told him.
“It could be your home too.”
Right. Because your home is where Jake and Aelia are. Whether in Seoul or Seonyangdo, as long as you’re with them, you’re home.
A teary smile was all you could do before you nodded eagerly. “Of course — I love that, I would love that Jake.”
“Don’t cry now, pretty,” he chuckled. “We’d be okay, right? Should we go tell Aelia about this?”
You nodded at his words. Jake gave you a quick kiss on your temples before he guided you towards Aelia who’s actually watching the two of you.
“Why is mommy crying?” your daughter asked, making you burst into tears further.
“Those are just happy tears baby, okay?” Jake assured before he pulled her close to him. “Listen Aelia, mommy and I discussed something very important, and we would like to hear your thoughts.”
“Are we going to get a puppy?” she asked innocently.
“Depends on your answer,” Jake laughed. “But, mommy wanted Aelia and Dada to move here in Seoul with her. That means we get to live together forever. What do you say sunshine?”
Aelia’s eyes widened. Her mouth went agape before she jumped in joy. “Yes! I would love that! Can I sleep here tonight?”
“Of course baby, but are you sure? We’re going to live here forever now,” you clarified, making her stop, eyes wide.
“Here? Forever? What about Uncle Riki and Auntie Rei? And my friends! And grandpops and mama? Wouldn’t I be seeing them anymore?” she asked.
“We could still visit Seonyangdo Aelia. It’s just, we’ll move here so that we can see mommy everyday, not during weekends anymore. If that’s okay with you, alright?” Jake explained further and your confused daughter thought about it deeper.
“Can I sleep with mommy if we move here?” she asked, and you only chuckled.
“Sure baby, we can share the bed, and dada will take the couch,” you teased.
“Hey!” Jake called out.
You only laughed at his defeated face along with your daughter. That’s why it surprised you that before you could even move, Jake had his arms wrapped around you already, lifting you in his arms which made you yelp out of fear while Aelia’s squeal and laughter echoed inside the whole place.
“I can’t wait for what the future awaits for us,” Jake confessed as he looked at you dearly. His arms around your waist while you place yours on his shoulders.
“So do I,” you softly confessed. “And I’m glad that it’ll be you Jake.”
Jake could only smile before he leaned close for a kiss. You quickly reciprocated it but it was cut short when Aelia made a fake gagging sound.
“Ew! No kissing in front of me!” she shouted, crossing her arms like a diva.
Jake laughed before he removed his arms from you, “how about a hug instead?”
Aelia ran towards the two of you. Jake had carried her in his arms, warm as Aelia wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck before she leaned on his shoulders. Meanwhile Jake pulled you close to them, his free hand around your waist as you hugged him along with Aelia. Planting a kiss on your daughter’s back before leaning on it. Jake’s hold on you tightened making you sigh in relief.
“I’m so happy,” Aelia mumbled, making you and Jake glance at each other.
“We’re happy too baby,” you told her.
“And we’ll make sure that you’ll be happy forever, alright?” Jake assured before looking at you once again.
You only gave him a smile as you answered, “of course.”
Letting the tranquility take over, you felt yourself relaxed at the warmth of the two of them. There were no more fears and what-ifs. Your future with Jake and Aelia is now stable. And as you look at the bright orange sunset of Seoul city, the only thing you could think of was the upcoming days with your lover and your daughter, whom you loved dearly.
Summary: Your divorce has been the talk of the town. The cold and meticulous CEO who wasn’t able to give affection to her ex-husband, eventually was replaced with someone younger and prettier in less than five months after the divorce. You tried to keep your reputation stable despite all the names thrown to you, but when an art gallery exhibit trailed you to Nishimura Riki — handsome, fine, reputable-looking yet younger male who seems to be drawn to you, tension arises and gossip articles start to brew.
Riki seems to love playing with the fire he started, meanwhile it’s clear that you’re not playing along with his games — especially when you swore to yourself that you're not going to stoop to your ex-husband’s level.
First installment of Big reputations series.
✰ Song inspiration: Don’t blame me by Taylor Swift, Kill bill by SZA, Love again by Dua Lipa.
✰ Word count: 22.4k
✰ Tags: CEO au, age gap (5 years), aged-up characters (ni-ki’s 24, reader’s 29), sexual tension, slow-burn, power imbalance, denial of feelings, confessions, smut, fluff with angst ofc, painter! ni-ki, ceo! reader, heeseung as reader’s ex-husband, they’re civil? with a lot of banter and snarky comments, huge flirt & pathetic yearner nishimura riki, he calls reader noona sometimes, nude painting slayyyy, kpop idols as other characters. Not proofread.
✰ CW: plot with porn, smut, kissing, makeout, power imbalance, sub! ni-ki, dom! reader, cowgirl, unprotected sex (pls. don’t), edging, dirty talk, overstimulation, cream pies, hand jobs, oral (f receiving), cum eating, noona kink? I don’t know lol. Shitty smut but sub!ni-ki is so sexy hahaha.
✰ Asul’s note: oh hey, starting my new series with Ni-ki’s story. I hope you enjoy this one and the upcoming stories of the other members. I still couldn’t believe that this reached 20k words, I was hoping for it to be less than 20k words, but I guessed I enjoyed writing it too much lmao, and I hope you guys enjoy this fic!
A model. The new face of beauty brands and high-end clothing lines. Her face was on every mall establishment and billboard in your country. Thin, pale, a bit shorter than Heeseung, but she was tall nevertheless, but most of all — younger.
Younger than you. Six years younger than you. A fresh face that seems to be at the peak of her career — something guys would love to have. A rising star that would vanish all of the sudden and become a housewife for their hardworking, business-minded husband. A beautiful, younger wife who eventually, will end up as a trophy wife for husbands to brag during company dinners and important events.
Something your ex-husband couldn’t do to you, because in the spotlight of your relationship with Heeseung, the public has always seen you two as equal to each other.
Having the same age as your ex-husband used to have a lot of pros. Both of you relate and understand each other. Given that you two run a company, you assumed that you and Heeseung will always be on the same page.
The public called you the power couple, your relationship was always on the public’s display. Marriage, future, and company collaborations were always on the line. There was peer pressure for you, but you love him. You were sure that he’d be the one you want to spend your forever with. That’s why it was easy for you to marry Heeseung
It was a small and intimate wedding. No press or reporters, just you, him, and people who had witnessed your relationship grew. It was filled with happiness and love, and you found yourself secured. Everything in your life was perfect — you have a loving husband, a famous company, and your reputation’s in good hands.
But that didn’t even last a year.
You noticed it immediately. The way Heeseung wanted more than just marriage — a family. A happy one that’s picture perfect from the public’s perspective.
Heeseung didn’t ask you to step down from your position, but he wanted you more to be his wife. He wanted domesticity and the simplicity of marriage. Not a penthouse that’s big, cold, and lacked any colors, and perhaps, your cold and quiet personality was too suffocating for him. Both of you were busy, but in his mind, you were busier. You couldn’t spare time for him and feelings started to fade. You didn’t notice that little by little, your marriage was crumbling.
Maybe Heeseung couldn’t handle the fact that he couldn’t control you. You didn’t want to be controlled by him either. Serious arguments came a few months after the marriage. It wasn’t the type that you two were shouting at each other and throwing things out of rage, the arguments came cold and rational, logical like a debate wherein no one wanted to lower their pride. Heeseung always ended up defeated, because all he could see was how cold you were when you looked at him — like you don’t love him at all and he wasn’t your husband.
It probably hurt him. You’re a tough cookie to break, and believe me because Lee Heeseung, who’s always oozing with charisma and had learned the art of persuasion, wasn’t able to manipulate his own wife. That probably hurt his ego.
Divorce papers were sent not even ten months after your marriage. Signed immediately. The divorce was settled and you two decided that maybe, you two aren’t just compatible. Your four-years relationship with Lee Heeseung vanished all of the sudden.
Of course, the news spread out like wildfire. Comments about your marriage and divorce came left and right — mostly about you, unfortunate to your side.
How Lee Heeseung couldn’t even get you to settle down. How heartless you were and Heeseung probably didn’t love you completely. You were a workaholic, you’re married to your company instead. Every name they could think of was thrown to you and despite everything, they still quiver when you're in their presence. Your reputation never faded and your company stood strong despite the criticisms on you. After all, you didn’t care about what they said, since they didn’t even care that the divorce was just a matter of fallout.
Now, it’s not even less than five months since your divorce, and your ex-husband’s getting married. It surprised you at first, but when you saw his fiance, it didn’t surprise you anymore. She looks like something straight out of a men’s magazine — every guy’s fantasy, and all you could think of was that Heeseung probably found a girl who he can control. Good for him though.
It was Heeseung who’s getting married, and yet, in some ways, the press had managed to find a way to drag your name in his articles.
Comparisons between you and the fiance were the topic. The public wasn’t surprised that Heeseung replaced you with someone younger and prettier. Someone who’s kind at heart and bubbly. The fiance was on the trend now, the nation’s sweet darling, as what everyone calls her. She’s smart and media-trained. Her answers and words were articulated and well-spoken, as if she was in a beauty pageant.
She was the complete opposite of you. She’s what Heeseung deserves, they say. Praises were given to the new couple while you were thrown into the pit of shame, because you may be the CEO of the biggest magazine publishing company in your country, you’re the one who’s ex-husband divorced due to your cold personality.
If only. They say. If only you weren’t cold or evil or too much, then maybe, Heeseung wouldn’t have divorced you. If only you weren’t self-centered who only thinks about herself, then maybe, you could’ve had the happy marriage that was supposed to last forever.
Still, you didn’t care nonetheless about it. You thought that maybe, marriage and love wasn’t just for you. You could read all the hateful comments and opinions from the public all day, but not a single sting could be felt on your heart.
That’s when you decided to close your phone, realizing that maybe, you’re just a heartless monster just like what everybody says. You placed your phone on your table and focused once again at your monthly due dates for the month when you heard the door open.
“Hey chief, I hope a bun of cinnamon roll would cheer you up,” you looked up and saw Sunoo standing in front of you. Holding a paper bag wherein a faint smell of freshly baked pastry filled the air.
Talking about right timing, Sunoo came in with your favorite pastry. He placed down the paperbag and you only grabbed the box out of it. Your best friend sat on the chair in front of you as he took a sip on his strawberry latte.
“You’re done with the article I sent you?” You asked as you took a bite on the bread.
“I did, I guess you haven’t opened my email yet because you’re too busy reading Heeseung’s article.” Sunoo teased.
You only chuckled in disbelief, “people are funny you know? My ex-husband’s getting married but somehow, I’m still the one getting all the negative comments.”
That made your best friend groan. Rolling his eyes as he spoke, “Right? Not even a what if Heeseung and that girl were having an affair while you two were married — I mean come on now! Five months? Not even a dating article or rumors? It’s been five months since you two divorced and he’s getting married already? What’s the rush?”
Now that you think about it, five months was indeed too fast, as if you and Heeseung didn’t have a long-term relationship before getting married. It never crossed your mind whether he had an affair while you two married — you didn’t care about that thought. Perhaps, Heeseung really just wanted to settle down and have a family. If he couldn’t do it with you, he’d find someone else for sure.
“He has certain goals that he wanted to hit before turning thirty, so it’s not a surprise he’s a rush.” you commented.
“I bet my next bonus that the girl’s pregnant,” Sunoo joked.
“Already? That’s a shame for the girl,” you mumbled before taking a bite on the bun. “Imagine, you’re at the peak of your career and you had to throw it all away just to become a wife and a mother.”
“Something you don’t want to do.” your best friend teased.
You smiled at him, “Yeah, that’s why he divorced me.”
“I don’t know if I should feel bad for you or not.”
Before you could even speak, a knock on the door interrupted you two. Both looked towards the direction wherein the door opened revealing one of the company’s interns.
“Good morning Ma’am — and Sir Kim, Sir Kang asked me if I could get your comments regarding the articles of your ex-husband’s marriage.” she asked, voice almost timid and unhearable for you.
You crossed your arms as you looked at the intern. “Why?”
She flinched at your tone. Looking up to see your icy gaze that sent chills to her spine. “He — Sir Kang just instructed me to, it’s for the press release Ma’am, everyone’s reaching out to him for your statement regarding Mr. Lee’s marriage.”
Of course. Your statement will just add fuel to the fire. Everyone loves drama, and what’s a good mess if there’s a statement from the ex-wife?
“Tell him I don’t have any comments about it,” you stated loud and clear. “And next time, if he wanted my statement, he’d come up to my office instead of sending you. Tell them that to him.”
The intern nodded frantically. “Of course, thank you Ma’am. Thank you so much —”
“You may go.”
She bowed one last time before leaving the office. You took another bite on your pastry while Sunoo only gave you a side eye.
“You’re scaring all of our interns,” he remarked.
“I have to,” you let out a sigh. “If I’m all bubbly and happy-go-lucky, no one will take me seriously.”
“Maybe a smile wouldn’t kill you y/n.” Sunoo suggested
“There’s nothing to smile about.” you mumbled.
“Gosh, and here I am wondering how I was able to put up with you.” Sunoo rolled his eyes while you only smirked teasingly at his snarky remark.
“You’re the only one who could put up with me.”
“Heeseung used to, but now he’s not here anymore.”
“Maybe love isn’t for me Sunoo,” you stated. “I don’t care nonetheless, what good will it give me, right?”
Sunoo didn’t agree to your statement. He only took a sip on his latte, watching you take a bite on your pastry as he deeply pondered about whether you’re greatly affected by your ex-husband’s marriage or not.
And as he looked at your dead eyes, filled with nothing but ice-cold stares and blank expressions, he wondered if there would come a time that there would be someone who’d be able to melt your heart — someone who’s completely the opposite of your ex-husband.
-
Your company’s PR officer advised you to stay out of the public’s eyes for a moment.
Unknowingly, you followed their advice. It’s not like you’re the type to follow someone’s instructions, it just happens that you didn’t have any schedule that required you to go out. Next month’s issue is coming by and you spent most of your days inside your office, evaluating articles, photoshoots, and contents for the magazine like a good CEO would do.
Your “no comment” on your ex-husband’s marriage was still a statement that the public bought. It caused some drama, people love to stir the pot after all. They thought you were bitter about it but didn’t want to show it to the public, while others think that you’re just a heartless and workaholic CEO who doesn’t care about her ex-husband. The comments never stopped just like how you never stopped working.
It’s been two weeks since the announcement was released. You spent your days hiding in the shadows of your office and in the comfort of your house. Your family couldn’t reach out to you and the only person who you talked to was Sunoo. You’ve done this when your divorce was publicized, it’ll eventually pass — hopefully, because you’re tired of dealing with the press and drama.
The elevator bell rang, and everyone stopped when you got out of the elevator. Greetings were given left and right while you strutted your way towards your office, not even bothering giving a glance to your employees. Everyone could feel the cold aura you emit — powerful and overbearing. Not a single word was spoken by you and as soon as you’re inside your office, everyone sighed in relief.
You haven’t even sat in your chair when the door opened once again, revealing Sunoo who’s holding two cups of coffee.
“Thank fucking god it’s a Friday,” you stated as you received the coffee from Sunoo.
“You know how Taehyun advised you to not go out in public for a while,” Sunoo started and you only stared at him.
“What about it?”
“Well, there’s an art gallery in the Aphrodite Hall today. The painter’s making a name in the art industry, and he had held exhibits around the world and wanted to finish the last exhibit here,” Sunoo explained. “What if you look into it?”
“Why me? Are our writers incompetent now that I have to do it?” you asked with an irritated tone.
But your best friend only laughed. “Well, you’re our biggest critic.”
“Art’s not even on my forte.”
“Well, I just want some good drama, the cold and heartless CEO l/n at the exhibition of Nishimura? It’ll draw attention.” he suggested.
“You’re just convincing me for your entertainment’s sake?” you raised an eyebrow.
Sunoo lets out a sigh of defeat. “You know, sometimes, you just have to be petty and play with the fire Heeseung started.”
That’s when you laughed. “There’s no fucking way that I am going to stoop on my ex-husband’s level.”
“Oh come on now, I heard Mr. Nishimura’s fine as hell.” he convinced.
That’s when you gave him a judging expression, “are you trying to set me up with someone? You know that I’m done with love and dating.”
“I am not trying to set you up, I’m just trying to convince you to go out and touch some grass rather than lock yourself here in the office.” Sunoo elaborated.
You stared at Sunoo for a good minute. Friday’s are usually your lazy days, tasks aren’t that heavy at the moment, so perhaps, you do need some time outside your office.
That’s what made you grab your bag and coffee. “Fine, I’d do it for your entertainment, if I found the gallery ugly and boring, I’m blaming you.”
“You’ll thank me.” Your best friend winked at you and you didn’t say anything. Knowing Sunoo, he’s not just going to suggest anything if it wasn’t to your standard.
You left the building and drove your way towards Aphrodite Hall. Arriving there after twenty minutes, you parked at the underground parking and rode the elevator upwards the hall.
The outside layout of the exhibit’s entrance was already touched with the artist’s brand. It didn’t look cheap at all which tells you that he isn’t just a novice artist. Every detail and layouts felt like a welcoming notion to know the artist before entering the exhibit itself. Impressive. You thought.
There were a few people around, given that it was ten in the morning and a Friday. No reporters or photographers around, you found the right time to visit the place.
“Ms. l/n!” you looked to your left and saw a woman approaching you. She gave you a smile while you only stared at her.
“We’re surprised to see you here! Please, allow us to guide you through the exhibit —”
“You don’t need to. It’ll just distract me from my work,” you halted her words. “I’d prefer to be alone and see the gallery for myself. Thank you.”
She was left stunned. It took her a minute to recover before she nodded. “I understand Ma’am — I hope you enjoy the gallery.”
Still much enthusiasm left on her even though she was stuttering through her words. You eyed her one last time before entering the exhibit.
A display of portraits and paintings welcomed you. It was a mixture of avant-garde and contemporary art. Bright and vivid portraits against dull and muted backgrounds. The artist had a vision in every painting. More or less, every painting spoke, and you couldn’t help but to be in awe at how he perfectly used the vivid colors to tell a story.
You pass by every painting, stopping one by one to observe every description of the paintings. Every painting was given two sentence descriptions. You noticed that it was intentional — perhaps it meant that it’s up to the audience to interpret what it means.
“Ms. l/n, a pleasure to see you here,” a deep voice startled you. Turning to your left, you saw a tall man standing in front of you.
Sharp, refined visuals, he looks boyish nevertheless, alongside his youthful grace with sophistication. He wore something custom-made. A suit that perfectly captured his body proportions. Nice skin, with moles scattered on his face, he looked foreign yet familiar for you.
He looked at you like he’s happy to see you, with milder enthusiasm compared to the woman earlier — just something that will show you that he’s used to known public figures in his exhibit.
“You must be Mr. Nishimura,” you said as you stretched out your hands. “You seem to know me.”
“It’ll be a shame not to know you Ms. l/n,” he chuckled before accepting your hand. But the next thing you knew, he pulled it towards his lips, landing a perfect kiss on your knuckles which immediately startled you — retrieving your hands from him.
“You’re too bold,” you commented, shaking off your right hand.
“That’s what everybody says to me,” he said without batting an eye. “That’s what brought me here.”
“Would a little humbling keep you grounded?”
“If it’s from you, I don’t mind.”
He’s flirting. You’re not dumb to notice it immediately. He didn’t also hide it from the way he looked at you. The sparks on his eyes, it faintly ignited something fiery from him — and that made you curious yet wary about him.
“I’m not someone who humble strangers Mr. Nishimura.” you pointed.
“You can call me Riki, Mr. Nishimura is too formal.” he chuckled.
“I prefer formality,” you crossed your arms. “I’m just here to look into your gallery.”
“Well, I do hope you’re enjoying the gallery.”
“I do, until you decide to show up.”
Riki laughed, a bit loud enough to draw attention from the people around. Your gaze at him remained, brow raised with your arms crossed. You weren’t supposed to draw attention but it’s the total opposite for him. He seems to be feeding off the attention because all eyes were on you two and you knew what it meant for your image. You’re already dreading the articles that’ll be released today or tomorrow.
“It seems like you did, I noticed you loved ‘At the right time’ the most,” Riki explained.
“I didn’t certainly love it, but it caught my attention the most,” you clarified. “Care to explain it further?”
“Just like what the title says, at the right time,” he casually explained. “Everything has its own right time. Maybe for you, now’s not the right time, but somewhere in the future, there will be. I used the bold colors of orange and yellow because it shows hope and warmth. It gives hope against the blues and gray. Dull days happen but you don’t have to make it everyday either.”
His words were shallow. Not depth nor critical. It was simple, yet it left you impressed. He’s not those snobbish painters that paint the most sub-standard paintings and slaps a deep meaning behind it. Riki paints to tell stories and encourages it. A fresh face in the industry, you understood why he’s a rising name too.
That’s why you look around. Seeing the public enjoy his paintings, the smiles and nods, everything about the exhibit makes sense that Riki’s gallery perfectly captured the public rather than a specific group of people.
It amazed you, and yet, you kept a blank expression throughout. “You seem satisfied with the outcome of your gallery.”
“It’s my first,” Riki shared, tone filled with pride. “I did have a lot of doubts about it, but seeing how the public was able to interpret every painting in their own perspective, it leaves a lasting impression on me. If they were able to understand it, then it satisfies me as an artist.”
“What about your perspective then,” you asked. “You’re a painter. I’m pretty sure you made some paintings with a clear message. What would happen if they understood it in a different message?”
“There’s no clear intentions for me, we have different perspectives, and it enlightens me — that my paintings can be interpreted that way aside from mine.”
“You really are a rookie,” you commented. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“But did it impress you?”
“I have a fair share of rookies like you. Some are too goal-oriented, some are hungry for success, while others like you — are people pleasers.”
“I don’t please people. But for you, I would be very glad to do so.” he jabbed and one more flirty remark, you’re going to turn around and walk away.
“Flattery won’t give you a good article, Mr. Nishimura.” you stated.
“Who says I’m doing it for a good article?” he taunted
“What is it for then?”
“Oh come on, am I not that obvious?” he chuckled, and that was your answer. He was definitely flirting with you.
“You are,” you started. “But I am simply ignoring it Mr. Nishimura.”
Yet, the smirk on his face only widened. Riki chuckled softly before shifting his gaze at the painting in front of him.
“Do you know the meaning of this painting?”
You gazed at the painting in front of you. Red streaks, bold and seem rushed. Streaks of gold and orange hues can be seen. The title of the painting, ‘per chance’ meant that everything just didn’t simply happen because of fate or destiny, some just took the chance and got away with it.
It meant that the moment Riki saw you, he took the chance to approach you and talk — flirt with you. If he had noticed that you stopped at one of his paintings for too long compared to the others, it meant that he had been inside the gallery the whole time.
With that said, he approached you perfectly when you were at this painting in front of you, which meant that he perfectly took that right time to approach you.
What a brave heart, you think. Bold and courageous just like any man who assumed they found the one for them.
You already know these patterns. Approach them, start with small talks with subtle hints of flirting until you two could go on a date. Fall in love, think that this will be a happy ending, and then expectations will fall — part ways.
“I do, and chances are, there are no chances for you Mr. Nishimura,” you immediately stated, before looking at your watch. “It seems that I have spent too long in this exhibit. I will be going now.”
“I’d be happy to walk you out Miss —”
“There’s no need, I don’t need tabloids dragging my name along with yours, I’ve already had enough with it for the past few weeks.”
“I don’t care about them.”
You simply chuckled in disbelief. “I do, and for a rookie like you, ignorance may seem like a bliss, but it’ll eventually eat you out as you stay longer in this industry.”
But the smirk on Riki’s lips never faded. He simply gave you a bow, his eyes still dark and desireful remained on you. No matter how many jabs or cold statements were given to him, he never faltered.
“Have a safe drive back to your office, Ms. l/n.” he bid, eyes still gazing on you.
You didn’t say a word but instead, turned your heel and walked out of the hall — you didn’t even bother turning around one last time to glance at the young painter, afraid that it might give him the wrong intention.
The moment you reached your car, you turned on the engine and reached out for your phone first. Looking at the notifications, there weren’t any important or urgent messages for today. You only let out a sigh before you decided that instead of going back to the office, you opted to go home instead.
On your drive home, all you could think about was Riki. The tall height, deep voice, and never faltering confidence. He was a newbie, yet he wasn’t afraid of you — he even had the guts to flirt with you, which bugged you. Why?
You’re used to being feared, knowing how powerful your words were. You can twist his image in just a snap, but he didn’t care about that, and instead, continued to throw those chill-sending words that if you were a normal teenager, you would’ve been flustered.
But you weren’t. You’re a divorcee who’s sick of love and happiness, and yet, the younger remained in your mind when he should’ve been out of it the moment you left the hall.
Maybe because, and as much as you wanted to deny it, Riki reminds you oddly of your ex-husband. The way he acted around you, his words and actions — it was like Heeseung when you two started dating.
Perhaps that’s the reason why you couldn’t get him out of your mind — and that thought scared the hell out of you.
-
As expected, the cheap tabloids took the opportunity to link you with Riki.
“I hope you enjoy it,” you teased Sunoo who’s reading the article. The same cheap tabloids who were calling you names are now insisting that you were meeting someone new, which was unfortunate to you, was Riki.
Coincidentally, someone managed to capture Riki kissing your hand, and of course, they started to speculate things with it. But you know the truth — you were there for work purposes.
“He’s good-looking,” Sunoo commented, scrolling through his phone as he took a closer look at the pictures.
“And young,” you pointed out, eyes locked on your screen. After finishing your draft for the review article, you decided to look up Nishimura Riki.
Twenty-four years old. Born December 9. Sagittarius. He studied in a famous art school in Tokyo, Japan, moved to South Korea at the age of seventeen and was an apprentice to one of their famed painters for seven years before debuting his own exhibit.
Aside from that, he seems to be secretive about his private life. His family lives in Okayama and no details about them were disclosed either. No scandals nor issues but maybe because he’s just a rising name in the industry. Most of his articles were about his current exhibit, and just like Sunoo mentioned, he debuted it in different countries.
There were also some short articles about his fashion style and choices, aside from his artistry, it seems like the public is swooning over his looks and enigmatic aura.
“You’re making it sound like it’s a problem,” Sunoo laughed.
“It is,” you stated. “Younger guys are immature, older ones are manipulative.”
“And same-age guys?”
“Are a mix of both.” you joked, making your best friend laugh.
“So, you’re just going to stay single forever?” Sunoo asked.
“I think that’s fated to me,” you shrugged. “I couldn’t care nonetheless.”
“Hey, you’re still young you know? Who knows, maybe you’d meet him at Mr. Young’s dinner party this Saturday”
That’s when a groan escaped your lips. “Do I really have to go there?”
“You’re invited by Mr. Young himself, you had no choice.”
“Could you at least accompany me?”
“As much as I want to, I have plans that night, so good luck chief — oh, and don’t get caught in another gossip okay?”
“Sounds hard, they’re the one following me after all.” you joked, earning a hearty laugh from your best friend.
-
Dinner parties and charity events under the disguise of money-bragging are the things you hated the most.
But there are things called decency, and some business people still think that it’s decency to invite you to their expensive yet cheap-looking dinner parties just for the sake of impressing you.
An hour had passed and all you could do was plaster fake smiles and kisses, indulging in their egoist comments as you chugged down the tasteless wine they served.
Seriously, you could’ve just spent your Saturday night watching the latest series in your watchlist, but here you are trying to understand their next projects and vision which you utterly don’t give a fuck about.
Bored of the conversations, you looked at your watch and thought that it was too early to leave, so you excused yourself from a circle and wandered around the venue. Looking for something interesting when someone caught your attention.
Coincidentally, he caught yours too. With a soft smile from the people he was talking to, he excused himself and approached you who only stood there frozen.
“It’s a surprise seeing you here,” your ex-husband started.
“A surprise?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Still a pleasure,” he smiled, the same boyish smile you fell in love with years ago. “It’s been a while.”
“You must be busy, with the wedding preparations and everything,” you commented. “Congratulations by the way, sorry it took me weeks to tell you that.”
“I don’t know if you’re being sarcastic,” Heeseung jabbed.
“Of course not,” you smiled at him. A genuine one. Not a fake one that’ll show him that you’re fine and not a bitter ex-wife. “You deserve it, you deserve someone who’d put up with all you want.”
Heeseung didn’t say a word. He knew what you meant. An apologetic expression shifted in him. “You know that that’s not the reason why we separated.”
“I know,” you agreed and yet, it didn’t hide the bitterness in your tone. “But let’s not dwell in the past. I’m tired of hearing about us Heeseung, the public wasn’t very nice to me for the past few weeks.”
“Yes, the public wasn’t really nice,” Heeseung commented. “Although, I’ve heard some interesting things lately from the tabloids.”
“I didn’t know you read cheap tabloids Mr. Lee.”
“The headline caught my attention — a rising painter trying to swoon Ms. l/n? He seems a charmer to me.” he teased.
“He’s bold,” you pointed out. “But young. Tabloids love to speculate things, I was just doing my job there.”
“Of course you are, when were you not doing your job?” Heeseung joked.
“Tonight supposedly, binge-watching some series,” you replied with a shrug. “But here I am.”
“Here you are,” he raised his glass and you only toast to his wishes. Your eyes were on your husband’s hands as you took a sip on your wine. The gleaming gold band of his engagement ring stood out. It was a sudden reminder for you, he’s going to marry someone else while you’re here single, and oddly, having a conversation with him.
“You’re happy with her?” you couldn’t help but to ask.
“I am,” he admitted and you only smiled at him.
“Good.” you said with diction.
“One day, you’d experience this kind of love too,” Heeseung told you and that made you laugh in disbelief.
“I did experience it once, four years ago,” you stared at him for a second. “It’s a frightening feeling now that I get to experience it. I think once is enough for me.”
“Really? Not even a change of heart?” he mocked.
“You know me Heeseung, I never changed,” you answered.
“Then it’s a shame.” he bitterly smiled.
“For you it is, but I’m fine with it.” With that, you looked at your surroundings. Of course, all eyes were on the two of you. Whispers began to be loud and all you could think about were the gossip articles that were to be released tomorrow morning. So you took a small sip on your wine again and glanced at Heeseung one last time.
“I think it’s time for me to go, don’t want to cause any chaos in your soon-to-be married life,” you bid.
“It was nice talking to you,” Heeseung softly spoke. “Genuinely, I miss you.”
“Goodbye Heeseung,” you answered instead. “And to answer your invitation, I’m not going to your wedding, I don’t want to ruin your soon-to-be wife’s wedding day.”
You gave him one last smile before you left him standing there. The stare became more and more obvious, but you ignored it as you walked with confidence towards the champagne table wherein you got yourself another glass.
You decided that socializing more will drain the energy out of you, that’s why you opted to go to the veranda for some breather. The cold air welcomed you as you pushed the door open. Placing down the champagne glass on the corner table, you leaned against the railings as the silence swallowed you whole.
You let out a deep sigh as the loneliness felt comforting. This is what you needed. You’re on your own, yet you’re in your own peace. It deeply moved you found yourself more relaxed and having fun staring at the stars rather than conversing with the people inside.
“Thought I’d find you here,” but your fun faded when you heard the glassdoor open. At first, you ignored it, but you turned around when you heard a familiar voice. Raising an eyebrow as you look at Riki who’s smiling ear to ear.
“Wine?” he offered and you only glanced at the glass on the corner table.
Riki seemed to understand what you meant, he placed both glasses he was holding on the table and stood beside you.
“What are you even doing here?” you asked, still staring at the view in front of you.
“Mr. Young bought two of my paintings, and he invited me as a form of gratitude too.” Riki answered, tone filled with pride which made you roll your eyes.
“Not that,” you clarified. “Here, what are you —”
“Thought you need some company.” the younger male grinned.
“I don’t need company Mr. Nishimura, I am fine with my own solitude.” you told him.
“I told you, Riki would be fine,” he insisted.
“Would it offend you that I call you kid instead?”
“You’re acting like I’m way too young,” he sounded offended with your words.
“Five years, I’m older than you by five years,” you heave out a sigh.
“That doesn’t stop me though,” he smirked and you could only scoff in disbelief.
You didn’t answer him, but you glanced at him. Riki was wearing the usual boring suit and tie just like any other gentlemen out there. He had his hair pushed back and cleaned, probably drowning in hair gel meanwhile the small rectangular glasses enhanced his visual. — a charmer overall, you noticed how despite wearing boring clothes, he makes it up to his accessories and jewellery.
Truly, this kid is a casanova. That's one thing you should be careful of. People are now watching you two since he’s romantically linked to you, it didn’t help that your ex-husband’s marriage is still being the talk of the town.
It’s an avoidable scandal. Just tell him to back off, you’re not interested and move on. It should’ve been easy but Riki seems to be the type to persuade you more the more you reject him — a casual act from your ex-husband during his younger years.
“Mr. Nishimura, I am going to repeat myself. I am not interested in any bullshit you have in your sleeves,” you told him. “I had enough of scandals and cheap gossips on my end due to my ex-husband’s marriage, I am not going to let my name be dragged down by a mere rookie like you who couldn’t take a fucking hint.”
“That wound me,” he teased, acting like you shot him in his heart. “Your ex-husband was an asshole for letting you go.”
“Don’t disrespect my ex-husband like that, people divorce for a reason, we weren’t just compatible.”
“Maybe, just like him, you need someone younger, you know?” he suggested.
There was silence for a minute. You only stare at Riki whose eyes never left you. You could feel your cheeks red, ears warm as the blood rushed on your body like you were a teenager.
Yet, there’s a hint of annoyance in your face. A sigh of disappointment before grabbing your wine glass. “I’ll let you know this one last time Mr. Nishimura, if there’s one thing about me that you should know, I am not going to lower myself to any man, especially my ex-husband. So give up now, and find someone your age to charm.”
“It’s a shame, when I have my eyes on someone, I am very determined to have it.” he stated with a disappointed tone.
“You’re playing with fire Mr. Nishimura.”
“If it’s you who I am playing with, I don’t mind.” Riki casually shrugged, taking a step forward wherein he’s just an inch close to you.
It deeply frightened you and yet, you didn’t move. You’re not one who’d backed out of fear, especially in front of a guy? You’d rather die.
“I’m not going to play with your childish games,” you whispered to him, eyes cold at his burning ones. “I’m too old for that bullshit.”
“But not too old for me.”
“Goodbye Mr. Nishimura,” it was the only thing you could say. “I hope this is the last time we see each other.”
“I’m afraid this is just the beginning of our many wonderful encounters, Ms. l/n.” he smiled, a charming one which stunned you for a split second.
Riki watched as you went back towards the hall, closing the door of the veranda, you stared at him through the glass door. He stood there, with wine on his glass, a toast for you and a smirk forming on his lips.
You could feel your heart beating fast. Scared and unable to process anything that you two had exchanged, you left the place with a wondering heart and mind about the younger who seems to have his goal set to have you.
-
Another article. Another speculation about you and Riki. Of course, it was news worthy that you and Riki were talking alone on the veranda.
Your PR officer is now lecturing you for not being careful which annoyed the fuck out of you. It was Monday morning and he’s already waiting in your office, sitting on the chair in front of your desk while Sunoo was on the couch, scrolling through his phone and reading all the comments the public had left for you.
“I told you to be careful,” Taehyun said with an annoyed look.
“I am being careful,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not my fault that he’s insistent about me —”
“Insistent?” he breathed. “You two are having a private moment at the veranda of Mr. Young’s hotel, and dare you say, insistent?”
“You think I am doing this on purpose?” you asked with a cold tone, standing up from your seat as you stared at Taehyun, your gaze dark and powering that your employee flinched.
“You think I want to be linked to an immature painter who doesn’t know how to accept a rejection? You think lowly of me Taehyun.” you smiled at him, a taunting smile that kept the male shut. “You think, after all the names that were thrown to me because of my ex-husband’s marriage, I wanted the public and media to be their money-maker with this baseless rumor? I am busy running an empire here, I don’t have time to deal with all of this bullshit.”
The whole room fell into utter silence. Taehyun looked away, embarrassed, meanwhile Sunoo’s stare at you never faltered. A proud expression written on his face despite the tense atmosphere.
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to accuse you of such things,” Taehyun said. “As your PR officer, I am doing my best to clean —”
“I only want you to take care of my company’s image, not mine. Let the public speculate, no matter what statements we release, they don’t even listen,” you rolled your eyes heavenwards. That’s when Taehyun stood up from his seat, brushing off the dust from his suit as he looked at you, pissed yet defeated.
“Right, just doing my best. Have a nice day Ms. l/n.” Taehyun excused himself and you stood there, watching him leave your office with the door closing in a soft thud. You couldn’t help but to take a sip on your coffee before heaving a deep sigh.
“How do I even get rid of the kid?” you asked, glancing at Sunoo who only smiled at you.
“Asking the same question four years ago,” he observed. “Feels like deva ju right?”
“A nightmare you could say,” you sat on your chair before opening your desktop computer.
“Does Mr. Nishimura scare you?” Sunoo asked and you only quipped a smile.
“Not really, he’s like a pest that no matter I step on, he’s still alive and beating.”
“Well, maybe that’s your sign to just play along with his games.”
“I don’t have time to deal with his bullshit Sunoo.” you complained.
“You’d say that right now, but knowing you, you’d end up doing it too.” Sunoo pointed out.
“Please kill me if that happens.”
“I’d have my hitman ready then.”
Sunoo stands up from his seat, you didn’t bother raising your head to bid goodbye to your best friend, eyes already focused on your work when you hear the door closed.
It didn’t take a minute for it to open once again.
“You left something Sunoo?” you asked, eyes still on your computer.
“Chief, you have a visitor,” Sunoo said, voice filled with excitement and teasing which made you glance at him — immediately halting you.
“So, this is what the office of Ms. l/n looks like,” Riki’s eyes wandered around your office before glancing at you. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“I don’t entertain unwanted visitors,” you coldly said. “I am busy if you couldn’t see it.”
“I can see and I apologize for disturbing your working hours but I have a concern, deeply regarding the article you wrote about me,” Riki flashes a smile and you scoff.
“You have the nerve to say that Mr. Nishimura, you should be thankful that I spare time to write an article about you and your gallery.” you stated.
“I am honored Ms. l/n, but you missed a small piece of information about me.” he insisted.
You smiled at him. That smile that tells people who you are and they shouldn’t have opened their mouth.
You’ve seen hundreds of reactions to your smile. Wide smiles fading, the fear in the eyes, and avoidance of contact — some even shook in fear.
But Riki? He only stood there, hands on his back with his head held high. Smiling and waiting for your answer, and that’s when you felt deja vu.
Not again. You thought as you stared at the younger man. You swore to yourself. No more, not anymore. Especially when this young man in front of you scarily reminds you of your first love.
“What piece of information could I possibly have missed about you?” you asked, trying to shake off that feeling of yours about the young painter.
“That I am single, and very ready to mingle.” he proudly said.
You wanted to laugh out loud. You couldn’t believe it. You’d think that he’s joking but he remained his cool expression as you stared at him, lips thinning as you let out a sigh.
“That piece of information is irrelevant.”
“The public loves to dive into every personality’s lovelife, you probably know that right?”
“Right,” you smiled, knowing what he meant. “But I am not your PR officer, I am just a writer who writes articles about trending topics, and while you may be a rising painter, I think you haven’t made any noise in this world, don’t you think?”
He tilted his head amusingly, “I don’t know Ms. l/n, lately my name’s popping out in every article and media page, along with a pretty familiar name, don’t you think?”
“You know your way of words kid.”
“Just want to swoon a woman, is that bad?”
You blink for a minute and then smile. “Just fucking tell me your intentions before I call security, there are enough articles about us and I am not going to double it up especially when you just fucking walked into my office without any notice.”
“Too bad, I was planning on tripling it.”
You didn’t say a word but instead, you picked up the telephone on your table, glancing at Riki who only chuckled.
“I’m just kidding Ms. l/n, you’re too tense.” Riki teased. “But I am actually here regarding the article you wrote — how do I say this without offending you? It’s too shallow.”
You raised an eyebrow, “shallow?”
“Well, we might’ve started on the wrong foot but your article isn’t good.”
“And you can do a better article than what I wrote?” you raised an eyebrow.
“No, but there are some ways that you can get to know the painter and his art aside from scouring through the internet for his information and visiting his gallery.”
Riki has a point and that infuriates you. As much as you want to scrape off the article that you wrote about Riki and his art because it’s too shallow compared to your other articles, you must push through it to avoid the rumors of you two. It was your stunt to prove that you were just at the gallery because you were doing your job.
Deep inside, you were unsatisfied with what you have published and found the article cringe. Riki was right with his point but of course, you’re not going to say that to him. Showing your weakness to a man only inflates his ego.
“Then what do you suggest Mr. Nishimura?” you asked, crossing your arms especially when you knew what he’s going to say.
“An interview, a more in-depth conversation with the painter for more than an hour or maybe two.”
“Is this your way of asking me out?”
“No, of course not,” he sarcastically smiled. “But if you insist I wouldn’t mind.”
You only rolled your eyes before leaning back against your chair, since it's in your lapses, you must comply with it. It’s just a mere interview, a conversation with Nishimura Riki. Surely, you could handle an hour or two with this eager kid who wanted to score a date with you.
“Fine,” you said in defeat. “I’ll send you the details of the interview along with the venue and time and date. Don’t be late Mr. Nishimura.”
“Can I pick you up?”
“It’s an interview Mr. Nishimura, not a date,” you clarified. “If you don’t have any questions, you may leave now, I still have things to do.”
“Can I bring you flowers?”
“Leave.”
-
A hotel cafe was your choice for the interview venue.
Late lunch. Wednesday. A fifteen minute drive from your company. Located in the business district, the cafe was filled with influential people who, just like you, have set a meeting with their clients or business partners.
You took a sip on the chamomile tea that you ordered before glancing at the glass wall wherein the hotel’s garden could be seen. Spring has arrived, and you could only stare at the bright and pastel-colored flowers blooming against its green bushes and plants.
Indeed, it was beautiful weather to go outside. You could’ve spent the hours inside your office, helping with the gala ball preparations but unfortunately, you’re mentally preparing yourself for your interview with Riki.
Speaking of the kid, he immediately caught your attention when he was walking towards you. Your eyes went wide at the huge flower bouquet he’s casually holding.
“Hi.” he greeted with a smile which made you stand up from your seat.
“What is this?” you asked, eyeing on the flower.
“Uhm…flowers?” Riki stated the obvious, raising the bouquet to give you a clearer look.
“Mr. Nishimura, this is a formal interview, strictly professional,” you lectured.
“I know, take it, as a token of appreciation.”
“That is not necessary.” you told him, and despite your words, you still accepted the bouquet as an act of decency.
“Anything you want Mr. Nishimura?” you asked the moment he sat on the chair in front of you.
“A glass of water would be fine, I ate lunch before going here, how about you?” he said casually, leaning against the chair.
“Skipped one,” you nonchalantly replied, opening your small notebook which you use whenever you do an interview with someone.
“What? You should’ve — wait, let me order you some food —”
“I am fine with my tea Mr. Nishimura,” you stated, clicking your pen open. “Let’s formally start this interview.”
“You know, you need to loosen up a little bit,” Riki commented and it made you glare at him.
“There’s no need to loosen up in a formal interview — look, do you even want an article or not, I could throw away my article if you keep acting like a kid.” you threatened and your words only had him forming a teasing smile.
“Do you have any drag on me other than calling me a kid?”
“That’s all I could think of,” you answered sternly. “After all, I barely know you.”
“Would you like to get to know me more?” he asked, his tone hinted with flirtiness that you lightly scoff.
“Sure,” you gave him a fake smile. “Let’s start from the very start, I’d like to know when you first discovered your love for painting.”
Riki chuckled in disbelief as he leaned against the chair, legs crossed as he looked at you. “Fine, if that’s what you want, Ms. l/n, I’d happily oblige.”
For the duration of your talk with your Riki, you have learned so much about him.
Riki’s well-spoken and his answers were articulate and formal. If he didn’t open his mouth to flirt with you, you would’ve taken him seriously.
You observed that he’s also a sentimental person, most of his answers about his art and passion were influenced by his mentor and family, which you found quite impressive.
You were half-glad that Riki didn’t drop some flirty remarks and jabs throughout the interview — if he had done it, you would’ve walked out of the cafe without any hesitation.
“When will we expect your new exhibit Mr. Nishimura?” you asked as you continued jotting down some notable answers from him.
“That’s hard to identify Ms. l/n,” Riki laughed, there’s a hint of bitterness in his words, which made you glance at him.
“Artist block?” you asked.
He only nodded to your question.
“Would it be hard for you? You’re at your momentum at the moment, disappearing in the spotlight all of the sudden will ruin it.”
“I know, but for me, I shouldn’t rush art, and my last exhibition was mentally and physically exhausting for me, that I couldn’t think of another collection at the moment,” he lets out a deep sigh as he looks at you. “I am lacking a muse, you see.”
“A muse huh?”
“Yes, a muse — my last exhibition's muse was my journey and my hometown, but right now, I wanted to paint something — someone perhaps.”
“You’re looking for a muse,” you mumbled mindlessly as you wrote it down in your notebook.
“I am actually looking at her, right now.” That's when you stopped writing. Looking up, you noticed how Riki’s staring — no, gazing at you like a predator that had found his own prey. His eyes darkening, lips stretching into a smirk as his arms rested casually on the armrest of the chair.
You felt your heart skip a beat. Eyes never faltered as you two held an intense staring contest.
It snapped in you within a few seconds, eyes shifting to a bored one.
“I think you should keep on searching for your muse, Mr. Nishimura,” you coldly said.
“Not going to help me out?” he taunted.
“You’re a grown man, you can do it.”
“Funny, because you just called me a kid earlier.”
“And here I thought, you’d take this seriously.” you whispered.
“I take things seriously Ms. l/n, maybe try and change your perspectives on the people you meet — seems like you’re the one who doesn’t take me seriously.”
You stopped. His tone was serious. A bit defensive on your end but when you looked at him, he gazed at you with a small smile, teasing like he’s right about what he said.
You’d admit to him that he’s right. Why on earth would you take a twenty-four year old rookie seriously when he had done nothing but to fuck around whenever you’re around him and act like a kid chasing after his favorite toy? Unless he shows a deeper motive about his intentions to you, that’s all you could see of him.
You find him impressive as an artist, you’re not going to deny it, but it’s hard to avoid that he’s clearly a love-struck fool to you. He seems to be enjoying every bit of it, and it had you wondering — was the game you two had talked about during Mr. Young’s event had already started?
No wonder why. Riki seems to be enjoying playing games with you who haven’t made a move yet.
“I think we’re done with this interview Mr. Nishimura, do you have some last words to say before we part ways?” but you’re not one who loves to play games. That’s why you chose to ignore his words, closing your notebook as you looked at Riki who clicks his tongue before glancing at you once again.
“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are beautiful?” he asked with a genuine tone.
“Yes, my ex-husband said that same thing four years ago and I am not falling for that same bullshit again,” you explained to him before standing up from your seat. Riki followed shortly, and before you could speak another word, he snatched your notebook and jotted something on a page.
“Well, your ex-husband is no painter,” he stated before returning you your notebook. “What I meant is, your eyes speak more than what your mouth wants to say. It’s the type of eyes that painters wanted to paint.”
“You artists have such a way with words,” you commented. “I’d be flattered, but only my eyes?”
Riki chuckled. “Of course not, and if you’d let me, I’d prove you the truth.”
You raised an eyebrow, “what? Have me convinced to be painted by you.”
“Seems like you’ve read my intentions.”
“I told you, I had memorized every guy’s moves to swoon a woman.” you stated. “And for your information Mr. Nishimura, a woman like me, could never be a good muse.”
“The artist says otherwise though,” he chuckled. “My offer still stands, if you’re interested, you know where to find me.”
He gave you a quiet bow before he started walking away. You stood there appalled, heart beating at a rapid pace as your eyes locked on him, while your clasped on your notebook tightened.
So, the game really has begun, and now, you’re wary about what his next move will be.
-
It’s been a week since your interview with Riki and he’s been radio silent ever since.
You had published Riki’s article three days after your interview with him, and best believe that you’re satisfied with the outcome. You’re half-glad that Riki took it seriously and his answers were sentimental enough to give colors not only to his personality, but also to his paintings.
Four days had passed and Riki hadn't bothered you, and that thought bothered you — you expected his presence afterwards. An unwanted visit with flirty jabs or glamorous gifts he brought to love bomb you. Riki was persistent after all. The type of guy who doesn’t accept rejections. That is why it surprised you that Riki hasn’t made any contact after a week.
The silence was torture — it sinked into you that his silence was much bothering than his loud presence. For you, it wasn’t because you got used to him following you around, but because you felt that there’s something brewing inside — like Riki was up to nothing good again.
You sat on your office chair. The office building has fallen under a dimmed silence. It’s past midnight and usually, around midnight you’d be in your penthouse, relaxing, but you’re stuck in your office, thinking about something — someone perhaps.
The article of your ex-husband’s grandiose wedding filled the screen of your computer. A click on your tongue was all you could do. He looks so happy — even happier than he was during your wedding. Perhaps it was because his new wife really looks like the epitome of sunshine. She looks youthful and stunning — they really are suited for each other.
Yet, it left a distasteful feeling on your heart. It’s not because your ex-husband immediately replaced you, but because he went for someone younger. It made you wonder if age really matters. You wondered if Heeseung had married someone your age or maybe someone older, would there be any difference?
You thought about that rookie painter who has been in your mind for the past few days and the thought of him irritated you — was it necessary for you to fall under the fate as your husband?
That is, if you cave into your own emotional crave. But Nishimura Riki was too young and reckless for your taste. You curse him for being too young and the thought of you going the same route as what your husband did, bruises your ego and pride.
You swore yourself you’ll never love again. Not when all you know was that all men are the same and the damage your ex-husband had scarred in your heart could never be mend by the amountful of love Riki could give.
What’s funnier was that Riki reminds you of Heeseung, and if he ever do the same thing Heeseung did — fuck, that would’ve been the death of you.
That’s when you glanced at your notebook, a phone number and address was scribbled along with your notes. His messy handwriting leaves a torturous yearning for you and you knew that this was his move — wait for you to make the next move.
You hummed quietly, fingernails scraping against the rough texture of the paper. You should’ve been convinced that there’s no need for you to make a move, knowing that you never had any intentions of playing with his games, even though, deep inside you’re curious of what outcome would it be to play along with his game.
Your thoughts were battling, but your rational side couldn’t bear to be the subject of baseless rumors and gossip once again. You’re reminded once again, why Heeseung divorced you. That’s why you ripped off the page and threw it in your trash bin — that was your move in his silly game.
-
You’ve soon learned that the game’s not over when you bump into Riki at the hotel cafe the next day.
“Ms. l/n, what a surprise,” he seemed happy to see you, bright expression and wide smile while you raised an eyebrow.
“What are you doing here?” you asked instead, your heart beating fast and mind being burned into panic especially when you threw away the very last piece of his presence in your life.
“Just sent a painting to a client,” he answered. “You? Another interview.”
“I thought you had an artist block.” you asked
“It’s a commissioned painting, I still need money,” Riki laughed. “There’s no way I’m going to be a starving artist Ms. l/n.”
You blinked at his words before nodding. “That’s good to hear, at least you managed to pick up your brush.”
But Riki shakes his head as a form of disagreement. “You didn’t witness how many times I crashed out and suffered before finishing the piece.”
“Is that how you process when it comes to painting?” you asked.
“Depends, if I’m inspired or not — for that? Well, money’s big, I just have to suck it up and paint,” Riki explained. “But with a muse? It’s easy to pick up a brush and paint.”
“Still lacking a muse I see.”
“I wasn’t able to see her for week, it was torture to be honest.”
“There you go again.”
“You know Ms. l/n, my offer still stands.” he said instead, which completely caught you off-guard. You never expect that those were the things that he’ll say next.
You glanced at him, his words filled with temptation that made you stare at him longer than usual.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, they say. Riki seems to love playing with the fire he started, and you wondered, what more if he found you playing along but — he’s currently on the losing streak.
It was tempting. Something inside you was burning, an odd feeling that you’ve been ignoring for days ever since you walked into his museum. Should you just throw every rational thought you had and play along?
“What’s in for me then?” you asked and you noticed the way Riki’s eyes widened.
Yet, you remained calm and cold. Icy gaze staring at his hopeful one.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice deeper than usual.
It felt luring, like an angel asking for your prayers. His words plead with temptation and desperation. It felt as if you had asked him to be on his knees and beg, he’d be happy to do so.
The thought made you dizzy. You wondered about it —would he be no different than your ex-husband? Was there a reason why Heeseung chose a younger wife? You knew that your answer would only be answered by no one other than you.
“Take me to your studio.”
-
Riki’s studio was clean. It smelled oddly like oil paint and old newspaper. Nevertheless, it was spacious, with a lot of empty canvases on the side and painting tools compiled on a corner.
Riki watched as you looked around the studio before glancing at him. His breath halted. He couldn’t believe it. You’re here in his studio. After weeks of chasing after you, and flirting with you, you walked into his trap. Now, all he wants is nothing but to just grab his materials and draw the most beautiful painting he could ever do.
“Your studio looks nice and clean,” you wondered, glancing at him who kept a casual appearance even though deep inside he was sweating hard. “It doesn’t look like someone suffered painting a piece here.”
“I keep my things clean post-painting,” Riki shrugged. “I don’t like unorganised things.”
You only hummed at his words. “You want to paint me right, Mr. Nishimura?”
“Of course, if you’d let me.”
You smirked for a second, until it formed into a vixen smile as you stared at him for too long, you could see how his throat bobbed.
“Well, there’s one thing that has been one of my interests for years,” you pondered. “Having a nude painting.”
Riki choked on his own saliva and you faintly chuckled. “Flustered?”
“Surprised you said that,” he cleared his throat, watching you wander around his studio, he could feel himself getting nauseous at the thought of you.
His eyes never left you, watching every movement you do, he couldn’t help but to hold his breath as you stopped in the middle of the studio wherein the lights highlight you as the masterpiece in the whole room.
You looked at him as your hands reached out for the zipper on the side of your dress, slowly you pulled it down and without missing a beat, let it drop on the floor.
You stood there in your glory — naked and vulnerable, left with your black seamless panty as your eyes locked on the young painter who was left stunned. If it wasn’t enough your fingers traced the hem of your panty and slowly slid it down to your feet.
Riki stood there frozen as you only approached him with confidence. Alluring and tempting like you’re the greatest sin he could ever commit. He could feel the oxygen leaving his body as you stood an inch closer to him, hands strumming his chest which made him gulp out of nervousness.
“Would you guide me, Mr. Nishimura?” you asked softly yet seductively.
“You’re driving me crazy Ms. l/n,” he chuckled.
“Scared?”
“Of my own urges? Would it scare you if I say yes?”
“But I do want a painting by the end of the day,” you smiled at him and Riki could only compromise.
Riki led you to a long couch in his studio wherein the sun gleamed in the afternoon — which completely kissed your skin as you lay there naked, hair sprawled on your shoulders. You had one arm resting on your stomach while the other one lay above your head. Closing your eyes, you breathe into the cold air as you lifted one leg while the other one lay flat on the couch.
Riki was a few steps away from you, in front of his easel stand where a canvas board was placed, prepared to be filled with your colors. The younger man had his palette on his right hand and a brush on his left hand, eyes darting at you who only relaxed at the warmth of the sun.
“You seem nervous,” you mumbled, eyes still closed as the position felt comfortable and relaxing.
“I have to make sure that everything’s perfect.” Riki answered, he dabbed his brush on the oil paint, mixing colors together before he started to paint on the canvas. Careful as his eyes kept on darting on you at every minute. He holds on his palette tight as he dabs his brush back in the oil paint.
The studio fell under a serene silence. All you could hear was the faint hum of the air conditioner along with the subtle strokes of Riki’s brush against the canvas. You almost fell asleep on the spot — you failed to notice how relaxed and safe you were in your most vulnerable skin, in front of the man you swore was a walking pest for you.
Your hands drafted on your chest, palms closed near your heartbeat faint and soft, Riki didn’t say a word when you moved but instead he kept on going. He glances at you minute by minute as his talent did everything to capture the view in front of him.
“Have you tried realistic portraits?” you couldn’t help but to break the silence in the middle of the session. “Seems like you’re having a hard time painting a portrait.”
“This is my first time,” Riki confessed, and yet his hands never stopped. “Don’t worry about me, art takes time nevertheless.”
“Should I be scared?” you asked.
“No, of course not, there’s no way I am going to let this be imperfect,” he assured and you didn’t answer for a second.
“But what if your subject itself was imperfect?”
Riki stopped. He looked at you whose head had turned away, eyes darted on the window, staring at the view of the studio’s front yard, your lips formed thin as you wondered why those words came out of your mouth.
“That’s such nonsense,” Riki scoffed. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I see you are perfect — beautiful in such ways.”
“Then you think highly of me,” that’s when you glanced at him. “Should I remind you that I’m only human too? I am still flawed Riki, and you look at me as someone who’s perfect in everything — then, you don’t know me at all.”
Riki became quiet for a moment. A part of him was angry. How can someone like you could think of lowly of herself. If only, if only you could see yourself from his perspective, Riki hoped nothing more than to show you that you’re more than what his eyes could speak.
“Come here,” he dropped his palette and brushed, as he walked towards you, helping you stand up from the couch before carefully guiding you towards his canvas.
Riki didn’t say a word. He let you take a glance at the unfinished painting of his. There were no backgrounds nor props. It was just you — only you, naked yet divine. Your eyes closed and body at ease, hands on your chest just like earlier and how Riki managed to capture the change in your position shocked you.
“It’s —” you couldn’t even say it. Your pride got in the way. You didn’t like how Riki painted you so beautiful that you’re in awe of it.
“How?” you asked instead.
“Muses keep the artist alive,” Riki answered. “whether worshipped or admired or inspired — an artist’s creativity never falters.”
His words cut deep through your heart. You weren’t able to say another word when you looked at it one last time before Riki had walked you back towards the couch. You’re suddenly hyperaware of him. How his hand brushed against your back and his figure behind you — so huge yet comforting in some ways.
“I told you,” Riki smiled, making you glance at him. “I see you’re perfect in such ways.”
“And just like I said,” you smiled back at him. “You think highly of me.”
“Maybe, because not even the goddess of beauty could match your beauty.” His hands darted on your face, fingers brushing against your cheeks, careful not to touch your bare skin as the two of you held a staring contest.
The tension was thick, you could feel it as you stare at Riki’s eyes — dark, hungry, and something inside him was fighting against his urges.
What he didn't know was you’re also holding back too.
“There you go again with your exaggerated compliments,” you taunted.
“You think I’m joking?”
“We’re playing a game aren’t we?” you asked.
He tilted his head amusingly, “We were? I thought you’re too old for stupid games.”
But you stepped closer to him. An inch close that Riki was taken back, despite the undeniable height gap between the two of you, you couldn’t help but to feel how you’re still in power between the two of you. It surprised you, but you suddenly felt the urge — to feel more of that power.
“Supposedly, but now, I am curious about the price of playing games with you.” you whispered.
“Why don’t you fuck around and find out?” he teased and you only chuckled at his answer.
“Maybe I do want to.” you smiled and immediately, Riki’s teasing smile faded.
You gave in.
The moment your lips landed on Riki’s lips was the moment you gave in. You’re now playing to win.
Riki’s back landed on the couch, almost stumbling back to sit while you bravely straddled on his lap, naked as his painted-smeared hands held the soft plush of your skin. His kisses were rough, eager, and loud, while yours were aggressive yet testing. Moans began escaping on his lips like he hasn’t touched a girl before —
That’s when you stop, looking at him who stared at you like the goddess of beauty herself offered you to him. His eyes glistened like millions of stars in the sky. That’s when your hands trailed on his face, tracing it softly as your red-painted nails caressed his cheeks.
“You want this right?” you asked, tone low and seductive.
“Ever since you walked inside my gallery, I knew that I wanted to have you,” he confessed, like a sin, and it gave you nothing but chills in your body. He looked at you like you were his greatest desire and that deeply burned you into your chest.
“Then you have to earn it.” you said to him before you locked him into another deep kiss — lustful and greedy, completely breaking down every wall you had built against him.
The studio became hot as you two continued making out on the couch. Sweat started to bead on your forehead as your lips travelled down on Riki’s jaws towards his neck which made him throw his head back with a breathy groan. Your hands busied itself on unbuttoning Riki’s blouse shirt, which made his hands tighten on your waist. You pushed it open and broke away from him.
“Hands down, you can’t touch me unless I told you so,” you ordered. “You want me right? Follow my instructions and I'll give you all.”
A whimper escaped on the younger’s lips before he nodded, removing his hold on you and placing his hands on his side, palm flat against the soft surface of the furniture. He watched as a faint smirk formed on your lips before your finger began tracing his sturdy chest, trailing it down to his refined abs that clenched against your feather touch, until you reached downwards to the obvious bulge in his slacks.
Your soft hands ghosted against it, and Riki could only make soft moans from his lips as the first press sent shivers down his spine. He was breathless as you started to palm it. Squeezing every inch your hands could hold, you looked at the younger male whose eyes shut tightly, the smirk on your lips widened as you unzipped his slacks before pulling it down enough to leave him on his boxers.
His cock was straining underneath the garments. Without any second thought, you pulled down his boxer, revealing his hard length, already red and leaking with pre-cum. You spat on your palm before wrapping your hands around his shaft, earning an airy whimper from Riki which made you stroke his cock at a fast pace.
“Fuck — fuck, fuck!” Riki lets out a string of curses as your hand does wonders around his cock. He tried to thrust upwards, but you straddled his hips down. Firm hands pushing his chest to relax as you squeezed his tip gently before stroking his cock once again.
“Stay still,” you commanded and Riki could only nod as another groan escaped his lips. He couldn’t do anything but to feel your hand stroke his dick faster then suddenly, slower — then proceed to stroke it fast once again. You were a fucking tease, squeezing his tip, thumbing his slit, and using his precum to lubricate his length more.
“Shit — please,” he stuttered, making you glance at him. He’s sweating hard, eyes shut as his tearline was already wet. You wanted to laugh at him. He was flushing red which amused you. Where did the confident and flirty Riki go?
There was an undeniable greed and lust brewing inside you as you watched Riki fall under you. You knew he was desperate to have you. But you didn’t think this would be the outcome — to let you control him in everything.
“Open your eyes,” and he was quick to obey too. Teary eyes staring at you while you fasten your stroke against his cock. His mouth was opened apart, only breathy moans and soft whines escaped his lips which only made you smile wider.
“Please,” he begged and you only cooed, your free hand cupping his cheeks as the tears strolled down from his eyes. Wiping the tears away as if you’re not the reason he’s a crying mess.
“You want to cum?” you asked so sweetly that it felt chilling. Riki feverishly nodded. You could feel him too, his body shaking and dick twitching. He’s about to cum. Any moment now, and he’s about to give in, he’s just holding back because of you.
“Fuck — I — god —” Riki wasn’t able to finish his words when you removed your hands. A choke cry left his lips as his dick stood there red, denied, and twitching.
“Look at you,” you hushed, gripping his face to look at you upwards. “You look so pathetic Riki, do you really want this?”
“Please! I’m begging you,” he pleaded as his desperation could be seen in his stare.
You chuckled darkly before you reached for his cock once again. Riki whined loudly as you stroke his dick all of the sudden. His head fell onto your shoulders, like he was seeking for your warmth as your hands continued its pace.
His hands could do anything but to form into knuckles on his side. Afraid of disobeying you, Riki could only do nothing but to feel your hands fuck his dick, his stomach tensing and breathing becoming unstable. He could feel it again, his orgasm coming —
“Fuck!” his voice echoed inside his studio as you removed your hands once again. The soft laugh escaping your hands before placing a kiss on his cheeks. Riki whimpered at the thought of being denied once again and yet, he remained from where he was seated.
“Poor boy, couldn’t even try to cum because of me,” you teased as you planted a kiss on his lips. Soft and tender as you separated, you caught how Riki reached for you.
“Relax, I’ll take good care of you, don’t worry,” you assured before you pushed him to lean against the headboard. Clean hands cupping his cheeks softly, that you could feel his soft breathing relaxing against your touch.
Riki watched as you fixed your position, hips up enough before you grabbed his hard shaft. He watched as you lined his tip on your entrance and slowly sank down on his cock. The stretch was new for you, he’s big and girthy that it burned against your walls.
“Fuck — you feel so good,” you moaned as your tight pussy swallowed him whole, making you full as squirm around his cock. Adjusting to his size as soft exhales escaped your lips.
Riki couldn’t help but to reach for your body, in a snap, you swat it away and placed it on his side.
“No touching.” you reminded him coldly.
“But —”
“Riki.” you warned, staring at him who looked at you with pitied eyes.
“How could I not, when you look so beautiful in front of me?” he muttered and though his words had your heart skip a beat, you only stared at him deadpan.
“Flattery won’t take you anywhere,” you whispered to him. “But obedience will.”
You started moving. Grinding against his hard dick meanwhile the only thing he could do was watch you use him. Taking everything you give him, your pussy sucking his dick hard that it got him holding his breath, his hands turning red against his knuckles as he fights himself from cumming inside you.
“There you go, good boy,” you whispered darkly against his ears before you started bouncing onto his dick. Your wet pussy squelched against his hard shaft, the sound echoing inside the studio along with Riki’s whimpering cries.
“Y/n — fuck —”
“What?”
“N-noona, please,” he breathed and his begging only had your pussy twitching. The way he stuttered his words, calling you that word — something inside you was triggered.
So this is what it feels like to have control of your partner? It’s no wonder your ex-husband chose a younger significant other. They’d fall under your command in just a snap.
You thought that Riki was a different case. He was a man. You thought he was so desperate to have you that he’d do everything to dominate you — but instead, he’s desperate to have you so that he’s willing to submit himself to you.
That’s why a chuckle of disbelief escaped your lips. Men have never been nice to you. You were a woman and the only place that you had dominated was your company and its industry. Never in your life had you dominated Heeseung, and it never crossed your mind to even dominate a man.
But now, seeing how Riki beg, whine, and choke under everything you do, thrilled you — in the end, you still have power even outside your work.
“Hold it.” you ordered and it only made him whimper as you took all of him, harder and harsher. His cock kissing your cervix as you moans become more louder than before. Your right hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, tilting his head upwards to make him look at you.
“Shit.” Riki groaned loudly and the next thing you knew, you felt warm liquid spilling inside your pussy. You stopped your actions as his hot cum continued spurting inside you, filling your insides all of the sudden.
“Fuck! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Riki begged, tears flowing from his eyes as your hold on his hair loosen up.
“I told you to hold it,” you stated with a cold tone.
“I tried — I’m sorry, I just — you just feel so good,” he excused but a click on your tongue was the only thing you could do.
“And here I thought you’d do anything for me.” you said with a disappointed tone.
“I do, please, I’m sorry! I’ll do anything please.” Riki pleaded. His cries became loud while your gaze remained on him.
“Anything you said?” you asked, and without any second thought, Riki nodded.
So you began moving your body once again, you felt Riki stiffening beneath you. His cock was still rock hard despite having to cum.
“W-wait, what are —”
“Don’t fucking move, I haven’t get to cum yet,” you stated before moving up and down. Grinding against his cock as Riki started to shake against your hold.
“Stop —”
“You said you’d do anything right? Now don’t move and let me use your dumb cock.”
Riki could only whimper. Your hands rested on his shoulders, nails digging on it deep as you bounced on his cock, eager for it to brush against your sensitive spots. Your pussy’s wet and loud, mixed with both of your juices, you continued your ministrations, trying to chase after your high.
“Slow down please,” Riki begged. He could feel his dick twitching and aching, hard as your warm walls engulf around him.
You brought your clean hands to muffle his mouth, dark eyes staring at him as your hips fastened its movement.
“You know what I like in a guy? When they’re quiet and don't tell me what to do. You’d do that for me Riki? Stay pretty and quiet like a doll while I use your dick to get me off?” you asked with your most rotting sweet tone. You watch as Riki’s eyes gleam with desire and mercy, nodding eagerly, making you smile.
“Good, let’s put you to use don’t we? You’re fucking me good baby, my good, good boy,” you taunted as you could feel your body becoming more sensitive. Your stomach’s curling and movement getting sloppy.
You removed your hands from his mouth before locking it with your lips which he reciprocated with much aggressiveness, both leaving hefty moans against the wet kisses as you quickened your pace, chasing after your orgasm as you felt Riki’s heavy breaths against your mouth — he’s near too.
“You’re going to cum?” you asked against his lips.
“Please — I’ll be good — fuck, please let me cum,” he begged and you only kissed his lips one last time.
“Cum with me baby, fill me good with your cum,” you ordered, and with a harsh thrust, you squeezed on his cock tight that it triggered Riki’s orgasm along with yours.
Both of you could feel the overwhelming sensation of the high, louder moans filling the studio, but that didn’t stop you from bouncing on his cock, you continued moving until Riki’s became messier underneath you. You’re eager to milk his shaft dry as you continued to fuck both of you into your highs.
The studio was warm and smelled like sex once you stopped. You lean on Riki’s shoulders as both of you are catching your breath. Riki couldn’t help but to rest his head on the headboard, tired and fucked-out, as his hands finds itself around your waist, in which you didn’t mind as you snuggled closer to his body.
“You alright?” he asked, strong hands rubbing warmly your back meanwhile a soft exhale escaped your lips.
“Yeah.” you shortly replied.
“Did I do a good job?” he asked once again, making you lift your head, looking at him, you only smiled as you planted a kiss on his lips.
“You’d do good if you help me clean up.” you teased.
Riki didn’t hesitate. He helped you get off his lap, mixtures of liquid spilling out of your pussy, which only made the younger blush hard.
“Noona — if you let me —”
“Hmm? What is it?”
“I’d clean you up,” he offered. “If you let me.”
Before you could say another word, he laid you down on the couch, kneeling in front of you as he spread your legs wide.
“Riki —”
“I want to make you feel good, please,” he requested, hands already on your thighs which left you with no choice.
“Fine.”
With that, Riki didn’t hesitate to lick a strip on your pussy. Tasting both his cum and yours, he didn’t care about the odd taste as he licked gently, moaning against your pussy as his tongue flicked against your entrance up to your clit.
“Fuck,” your moans began to fill the studio and Riki hold onto it like his pride that’s why he cleaned off your pussy fast and eager, slurping at every liquid his tongue could taste. Eager like a dog in heat, he buried his face close to your cunt.
“Right there Riki — shit! You’re doing good baby,” you cooed, which only earned a strong lick from him. His tongue doing wonders in your pussy, licking your entrance and swiping right on your clit. Giving it much attention makes you shake underneath his touch. His hands gripped on your thighs tightly, spreading your legs wider as he continued his ministrations.
You couldn’t help but to hold onto Riki’s hair as your hips started to thrust upwards to meet his tongue, you could only shut your eyes close as your curses escaped your lips.
“Cleaning me good like a good boy you are, fuck Riki —” you softly said as you could feel your body shaking because you’re all over sensitive.
Riki didn’t stop, but instead used his tongue deep inside your entrance, protruding and sucking your pussy clean. He continued bobbing his face to meet your thrust, his nose bumping on your clit on purpose which only left you moaning and shaking in pleasure.
“Oh my — gonna cum — ah!” your legs began shaking, toes curling and body twitching as your second orgasm came crashing down, you were a crying mess as Riki continued sucking your pussy harshly, drinking every juice it emits, his hold on you tight as you whine in pain for the overwhelming sensation.
With a harsh tug, you lifted Riki’s face from your core. He looks at you with his glistening eyes and mouth and chin filled with your slick.
“Get up,” and he only did what you told him.
“Did I do good?” he asked once again.
A breathy chuckle escaped your lips, “it was perfect.”
Riki only smiled at your words before locking his lips on your once again. You kissed him back without any hesitation, tasting yourself on his lips as your arms wrapped around his neck and tugged him closer to your warmth.
-
“Something’s inaudibly different about you,” Sunoo pointed out.
You looked at him, before darting your stare back at your computer desk. “What are you talking about?”
Sunoo was quiet for a second. He was observing you like you’re a criminal in an interrogation room. “You had that glow in your face, the same one you had when you first started dating Heeseung. It’s also the same as when you two got married.”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
“You look relaxed, lighter, and happier — did something between you and Riki? Oh my god, you two had sex didn’t you!? That’s a post-sex glow!” he shouted.
“Oh my — office volume please,” you warned but Sunoo clapped insanely as the smile on his face became wide. “So you let the kid bang you.”
You scoffed, but the smirk on your lips was obvious. “More like the other way around.”
“Oh? Oh — you? I mean not surprising though,” Sunoo thought for a moment. “You ended up doing what I told you.”
“Which is?”
“Doing what your ex-husband did.”
“Went to the younger one?”
Sunoo nodded, and that stopped you for a second.
“It’s just sex — not marriage with all the scandals.” you looked at him. “I know what I am doing.”
“So you’re just fucking around.” your best friend clarified.
“Am I not allowed to?”
Sunoo shook his head as an answer. “No, no, of course not, just be careful — situationships are hard, and I am telling you this as a best friend who's concerned about your feelings and image. You don’t want the public to criticize you more, right?”
“Of course,” you breathe. You’re not a reckless person. You knew what you were getting into when you started to play along with Riki. “Thank you, I understand where you’re coming from.”
“Right, just be extra careful and you know, enjoy whatever setup you and Riki have.” your best friend advised one last time.
Sunoo’s words got into you throughout the whole day.
You didn’t even notice it — but Riki did.
“Care to share what you’re thinking of?” Riki asked, his hands never stopped on your portrait while you lay on the same couch where a lot of things happened a few days ago.
“It’s nothing that should concern you,” you brushed off.
“But it concerns you,” Riki rebutted. “Come on, we have all night here.”
“You’re dropping me off at my place at eleven.”
“That’s too bad, I wanted to keep you here.” he smiled.
You only rolled your eyes at his words. The room fell into silence once again as Riki continued his work, he didn’t pry further and it made you wonder how he’s so observant about you.
“Have you always been like this?” you asked.
“Like what?” he asked back, still focused on his painting.
“Observant.”
Riki chuckled. “It’s not hard when my subject’s expression is off.”
“My expression you say?” you hummed at his words. “That’s odd. People always say that I am cold. I always wore a neutral expression and the only expressions I could make were annoyed and disgusted.”
“Maybe you don’t show much of yourself to others, you only show your true self to the people you trust.” Riki pointed out.
“You think I’ve shown my true self to you just because I show an off expression?”
Riki stopped. He peaks over his canvas and stares at you for a minute before smiling. You stopped your trances when Riki places down his palette and paintbrush on the side. He walked towards you who sat up on the couch immediately.
Instead of sitting beside you, Riki squatted in front of you, head up looking at you observingly before he traced your face.
“It’s a pleasure to see that you’ve shown different expressions when it’s just the two of us.” he stated.
“Such as?”
“Bothered, relaxed, satisfied —” his stare darkened. “Pleasured.”
You hummed to his answer. “Which one do you like the most?”
“I haven’t seen it yet.”
Your forehead creased.
“I haven’t seen you happy yet,” Riki confessed, and you only stared at him, stunned with his answer.
“Maybe someday,” you told him, even though you’re unsure when it will happen. “Will you be patient?”
Riki stands up and leans a kiss on you. Something short and sweet that happened in a blink. “If it means waiting for eternity, then I would be happy too.”
You only blinked at his words. It was a hypothetical question which he answered with a promise. He left you there deep in thoughts as returned to his work, making you shift back to your old position before the room fell into utter silence once again.
It was past eleven when you decided to call it a night. After a takeout of ramen and gyoza, you’re getting ready to leave his studio when you open your bag and remember something.
“Here,” you handed Riki a small red envelope, thick and faintly smelled like rose.
“What is this?” he asked as he accepted the envelope.
“An invitation to the Metro Gala Ball,” Riki heard of it, "The Metro Gala Ball is the annual gala ball held by your company. A private yet public event that’s exclusive and knit-tight. You’re the host of the ball and there’s not a year where you exceeded last year’s event.
Every celebrity would die to receive an invitation from you. You hand-picked the guests yourself. Powerful names in the business industries, celebrities from different categories — films, music, fashion, and even sports. You’re selective and weren't the type to hand out invitations to anyone.
With Riki receiving one, it means that his name is known to you.
“Woah,” it was the only thing he could say as he opened the envelope and grabbed the thick paper inside that contained the details and dress code.
“Be in your best behavior there Riki,” you told him and he quipped his head at you with an offended look on his face.
“Why would you say that to me?” he asked, appalled.
“Because my ex-husband will be there.” you informed.
Riki’s forehead creased. “You invited your ex-husband?”
“He’s a well-known businessman, and his wife is the current trending idol-model, it’ll cause a stir if I don't invite them,” you shrugged. “For formality.”
“Should I keep you company then?” he suggested, and you only smiled.
“No Riki, this is an opportunity for you to mingle with potential clients and sponsors,” you told him. “I am doing you a favor.”
“But I want to dance with you there,” he whined, like a kid asking for candy and the act only made you roll your eyes.
“The ball doesn’t require any dance.” you pointed out.
“Well, will I still see you there?” his hands crept onto your hands, fingers intertwining as the warmth immersed between the two of you. Something about his gesture felt soft and gentle — quickly, you could feel your heart’s betrayal due to its rapid beating.
You blinked, looking at him as you only nodded slowly. “Of course.”
-
The night of the gala ball had arrived.
Photographers, reporters, and hosts are on the entrance of the convention hall who took pride in hosting your annual ball.
You arrived last. Stepping out of the limousine, you exit the vehicle alone. You wore a vintage gown lent by one of your sponsored brands. A fiery red gown that perfectly shaped your figure. You wore it along with your hair down and clean makeup.
You were welcomed by the cameras flashing, the photographers screaming your name, and reporters announcing your arrival. You only flashed your professional smile as you did a few poses before arriving inside the hall wherein guests stopped what they were doing the moment you entered the place.
All eyes were on you — the most powerful women not only in the hall, but all in the media and publishing industry. Your words hold every weight and power. For years of running your magazine, you have done nothing but to be brutally honest that everyone either hates you or respects you.
Sunoo guided you towards the stage where you gave your welcoming speech. A small smile and eloquent words were given throughout your speech, not a single word stuttered out of your lips. With a glass of wine in your right hand, you raised a toast to officially open the event.
Then came the socializing part. A lot, of course — a lot of people would love to strike a conversation with you. You knew that you’re in for the whole night. The fake smiles and backhanded compliment, you continued putting your senses on every conversation you had from different strangers, hoping that you wouldn’t end up bored or annoyed.
You had escaped a few strangers when Sunoo had dragged you to talk to you. Thankfully, your best friend knew when you shut down and from time to time, he would drag you to converse with him along with your secretary.
“Excuse me,” the three of you stopped when a masculine voice interrupted your conversation.
To your shock, it was your ex-husband who’s standing in front of you. Looking lavish in his navy blue suit and tie — it looks custom-made especially when it’s hard to not notice the entranced details on his suit.
“Can I borrow y/n for a moment?” he asked.
“Only if she wants to,” Sunoo sassed.
“It’s fine,” you answered. The two of them who only nod at your request, leaving you and your ex-husband alone in that place.
“Congrats y/n,” Heeseung started. “Extravagant yet polished as always, just like the way you like it.”
“Thank you, I do hope you’re enjoying the ball, I heard you just got back from your honeymoon,” you said.
“Santorini was a beau, you should go there sometimes,” he laughed.
“Maybe when I retire from this industry,” you joked and Heeseung merely laughed.
“Your wife’s not clinging on you tonight, a shocker,” you quipped.
“She’s talking to some model friends of hers,” Heeseung turns to his right, glancing at his younger wife who’s sharing laughs with her same-age friends. You noticed how clear her glass was compared to the rosy tint of pink wine of the ball.
“She’s pregnant,” Heeseung announced, and that made you glance at him. “A month pregnant.”
You nod. You could feel your heart palpitating at the news. It felt bitter in your heart but the only thing you could do was click your tongue and nod as you stare at Heeseung, a proud yet small smile on his lips.
“Congratulations then,” you told him, trying hard not to sound bitter at all. “You got what you want. I hope you’re happy now.”
“Thank you,” he quipped. “I don’t see your boyfriend around, afraid to show him to the world?”
You laughed, a sarcastic one. “He’s not my boyfriend Heeseung.”
“Really? What is he to you? Some kid you play with?” he mocked. “I guess you really had a change of heart and went for the younger ones.”
“He keeps following me around, the more I push him the more he wants to be in my life,” you answered. “Does it ring a bell?”
“Sounds like your type of man,” Heeseung teased and you only rolled your eyes.
“More like you guys couldn’t accept rejection.”
“Hey, you rejected me once but look what led us,” Heeseung laughed and you chuckled in disbelief.
“Yes, divorced,” you took a sip on the wine. “If I had known this would be our outcome, then I shouldn’t have given you a chance.”
“You know the divorce wasn’t just my fault,” Heeseung stated with a serious tone.
You stared at him a second, a bitter smile forming on your lips. “Right, because I am incapable. If not, cold and heartless who wouldn’t comply with your wishes.”
“I thought I could change you, but you’re just stubborn.” he answered back.
That’s when you laughed, “change me? With what? The traditional bullshit of being a housewife? I run a company Heeseung, I have a reputation and my name’s something people quiver when heard. You think I’d exchange all of that to become a submissive housewife of yours?”
“That’s not what I want you to do.”
“That’s how I felt.” That's when you heave out a sigh. “What’s the point of arguing this? You’re married Heeseung, and your wife’s fucking pregnant, do we really have to talk about this all over again when this is the reason why we divorced.”
“See, that’s the problem with you, you avoid the problem instead of facing it, you never listened to me nor acknowledge what I feel because you only care about your feelings.” Heeseung argued, his tone becoming higher and angry. “You’re not cold nor heartless, you’re selfish too.”
You only stared at him deadpan. “Maybe I am selfish, and maybe I am incapable of loving someone. It doesn’t matter to me though.”
“You just proved my point,” he breathed. “And just like what you did to me, you’d throw that boyfriend of yours in just a snap, once you see him useless in your life.”
“Throw you away? Like it wasn’t you who delivered the divorce papers in my office —”
“Is he bothering you?” you felt a figure shadowing you from behind. That’s when you realized that it was Riki and it had only sinked into you that this was the first time you saw him in the ball — you didn’t seem to notice him or maybe, you were just too overwhelmed with everything that you failed to look for him.
And talking about right timing, he just happened to show up during your argument with your ex-husband. The scene made Heeseung laugh, “oh look, prince charming’s here.”
“Dude fuck off,” Riki barked and it only made Heeseung chuckle harder.
“I’m older than you, have some respect, dude.” the older man ordered.
“I don’t respect you when clearly you’re bothering y/n.”
“Where are your manners kiddo? Did y/n teach you proper decorum before attending this ball?” your ex-husband taunted.
“Shut up.”
“You fuck off dude, we’re having a conversation here and you’re interrupting it, acting like her boyfriend or something —”
“Heeseung, shut up,” you couldn’t help but to butt in, glaring at your ex-husband before giving the younger one a stare. “Riki, calm down please.”
“Can’t tame your boy toy y/n? Look at him barking at me, when I’m just talking to you.” but Heeseung didn't listen, and instead, he continued with his words.
“You’re insulting her, I could see it,” Riki defended, stepping in for you who was pushed behind his back.
“You’re too protective for someone who’s not even her boyfriend.”
“Heeseung, stop it.” you warned once again.
“Like you didn’t say to me earlier that he’s not your boyfriend,” he cornered before taking a sip of his wine. “Word of advice kid, from man to man, don’t live to your fantasies of y/n.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.” Riki angrily spoke.
Heeseung smirked before glancing at you. “Just saving you from the heartbreak, kid, she’s incapable you know? Her words, not mine, by the way.”
Riki’s forehead creased, “the fuck you mean?”
“Oh? She hasn’t told you, I guess she doesn’t trust you enough.”
“Shut up.” You gritted your teeth, glaring at your ex-husband who fell deaf to your warnings.
“Take it or leave it man, the rumors of her being a coldless monster is true —”
Heeseung wasn’t able to finish his sentence when Riki’s fist landed on his jaw, earning a commotion from the crowd. The older man laughed as he stumbled a few steps. Remaining on his balance, he only stared at the younger man whose fists were red.
“I guess someone forgot to tie a leash on their pet,” Heeseung mocked.
“Take it back —”
“Riki that’s enough,” you told the younger, blocking him from taking another punch on your ex-husband. Heeseung didn’t move either, his wife was already holding his arms too.
The crowd gathered on the four of you. Whispers and words began to spread meanwhile some had the nerve to take out their phone to take a picture. You couldn’t help but to heave out a sigh, leaving with no choice but to pull Riki away and leave the venue.
-
The door of your penthouse closed in a loud slam, you dropped your bag on the couch before proceeding towards the kitchen. Riki was behind you, quiet yet pissed as all he could think of was that he wasn’t able to punch your ex-husband enough after insulting you.
You opened your fridge out of frustration, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging on it. Riki remained at a distance, staring at you who wore nothing but a disappointed expression.
“Noona —”
“You ruined the party Riki, you were careless,” you lectured.
Riki didn’t say a word, he watched as you took another large chug on your water bottle before placing it down on the kitchen counter.
“This gala ball is important to me. It’s my image and reputation — I expect you to behave well, I put my trust in you —”
“You’re making it like I was acting like a fucking kid back there,” Riki defended
“Because you are,” you crossed your arms. “You let Heeseung’s words get into your mind —”
“He’s insulting you.”
“And I don’t care about what he said.”
“I care, everything he said to you — it’s insulting not only for you, but for me too.” Riki pointed out and as much as you wanted to be flattered with his words, you remained quiet because deep down — Heeseung was right.
“He’s not insulting me Riki,” you stated. “Heeseung was just telling the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That I’m incapable.”
“You’re confusing me.”
The weight on your shoulders became heavy. You only stared at him as you leaned at the counter, looking for support. Your lips turned thin as the aching feeling on your heart started to grow.
“Do I really have to tell you about it?” you whispered.
You noticed how Riki’s forehead creased.
“What do you mean?”
“Riki, I am infertile.” you confessed.
Silence took over for a whole minute. Riki stood there frozen as your confession replayed in his mind on a loop.
“What?” he asked, trying to process everything you just said.
“I can’t have kids Riki, my body’s couldn’t — I could never, not even second options could help me,” you told him, crossing your arms like what you just said was nothing heavy. “You think Heeseung and I are incompatible? We divorced because I couldn’t bear children.”
“And you let him get away with it?” Riki asked, almost offended.
“Rather than have him tied up in a childless marriage, what else could I do?” you shrugged. “There are things you’d do for love —”
“Love? Fuck, you still love him right? That’s why you let him insult you, step on you because you still love him.” he accused.
“And if I do? Will it change how you see me? Are you going to stop pursuing me now, knowing that my heart still beats for my ex-husband?”
“You’re fucking kidding me? You still love him despite insulting you? What am I then? You’re fooling around with me!?” Riki lashed out.
“I told you many times, that I am not interested in love anymore, and to answer your question, no, I don’t love Heeseung anymore,” you clarified.
“Then what’s stopping you from being with me?”
“I told you Riki many times, you’re too young for me. You’re a rookie in the art industry, you have a long way to go, I am not going to let your career be ruined by me.” you explained
“Ruined by you? If it means being with you, I don’t mind.”
“You’re fucking pathetic.”
“Damn right I am,” he looked at you, smiling like a madman he was. “And I don’t fucking care if you can’t have kids, that’s your body, it’s your choice to have kids. I just want you.”
You became quiet for a minute. Deja vu rushed and damn, it made your heart shrill in pain.
“You’d say that right now, but then there will come a time where you’d think of having a family, having your own children and blood, and I’m telling you right now, if that’s what you want, I can’t give you that.” you softly said yet your tone was pricked with bitterness.
But Riki reluctantly shook his head. “That’s not what I have in my mind right now, all I care about is you.”
“Of course you don’t,” you interjected immediately. “But time will tell, people change and the next thing you know, you’d want kids and I’d repeat myself for you. I can’t give you that.”
“Why are you telling me this? Why are you pushing me all of the sudden?”
“Because you reminded me so much of Heeseung,” you admitted. A cold statement that you hated so much as your ex-husband’s name slipped out of your lips.
Riki’s eyes widened. Your clasp on your arms tightened, nails digging on your skin as you kept yourself composed.
“You are just the same as my ex-husband when we first met. He was a charmer, a flirt — a man of persuasion that god damn, I had fallen for him without me knowing.” you started and you hated how memories came crashing down like tsunami. Every moment with your ex-husband felt so right that you were assured that he’d be the one for you.
“I told him about my situation, I couldn’t bear his children and he was okay with it.” You confessed. “When we got married, suddenly, he wanted a family. I felt betrayed because I thought he was content with just the two of us.”
“I’m not like him,” Riki gritted his teeth. “It's insulting for me that you think that I am like your asshole of an ex-husband.”
You shake your head in disagreement. “You two are just so alike that it scares me to fall for your charm — but here I am and now I’m scared that if I let you in my life longer, there will still come a day where you’d betray me the same way he betrayed me.”
“You think lowly of me then.”
“I must be,” you admitted. “Because you’re young and free and persistent, but once you mature and decide for yourself, you’d realise that you could’ve done better.”
Riki stared at you. For a minute no one talked, only your eyes spoke for each other. Riki noticed it, the way your eyes softened out of piety and desperation. He understood what you meant. He was defeated by the fact that you think lowly of yourself just because of your past — yet, a part of him was hurt, because no matter how hard he tries, you couldn’t take him seriously.
“When are you going to see me as your equal? Not some kid fooling around and charming his way to be your significant other? When are you going to realize that I am serious when it comes to you and I may have sounded pathetic and foolish through my words, but I am telling you, I like you from the very start — I may be in love with you right now. If that’s not enough for you, then what do you want me to do to prove my love for you?”
You remained quiet due to Riki’s confession. Your heart stopped as all you felt was how speechless you were hearing those words that came out of his lips.
You should’ve been happy hearing those words. It felt assuring despite the desperation on his tone. Riki was willing to fight for you, but all you could feel was deja vu. The same confessions, same sentiments four years ago — and now, you’re scared that it might happen all over again.
Your lips moved, because the longer you stay in whatever you two had, the more you’re going hold Riki back to a future that he deserves.
“Nothing Riki,” you mumbled to him. “Nothing could ever make me look at you the way you want me to.”
“You’re just giving me reasons to walk away,” he pointed out.
“I am really giving you reasons,” you bitterly spoke. “I can’t love you no matter how much you try, I am a heartless monster, just like what the public portrays me to be.”
“Don’t say that —”
“I am telling you this as someone older than you,” you told him. “Just not me. You could never change me nor had me settle down. I am married to my company and love will never be my priority. Just give up now.”
“No.” Riki firmly stated. “I don’t want to let you go. I can prove to you that you can still love —”
“Just leave Riki.” you ordered. “Please.”
“You’re really decided?” he asked once again, almost inaudible.
“In the first place, I never had the intention of loving you,” you confessed. “You played with your own flames, Riki.”
Riki bitterly smiled, he glanced at you one last time before speaking, “just so you know, everything about us wasn’t a game for me.”
The door closed after a few seconds. You stood there frozen as you tried to process everything that just happened. A blink and two, you grabbed the water bottle and threw it in your trash can.
You returned to your bedroom, stripping off the gown all by yourself, you left it creased on the floor as you made your way towards your bathroom wherein you removed your makeup and took a cold shower to wash off tonight’s exhaustion.
You went to bed an hour later after finishing your nightly routine, covering yourself in your warm blanket, you couldn’t help but to curl into a fetal position as the silence deeply devoured you.
The first tear dropped not a few minutes ago, then came the broken and held-back sobs — not until it burst. You cried so loud that it echoed inside your room. You felt pathetic as you curled closer to your own skin, crying in your cold bed which felt huge for you, as the only thing you could think of was how lonely your life is.
-
The fight was all over the news but you didn’t bother acknowledging it.
Your ex-husband made a statement. Of course, along with the scripted words and sorry face as if he wasn’t the one who pushed Riki’s button. Meanwhile, Riki remained quiet on his own, which relieved you. You’re scared that the media might be harsher to him compared to Heeseung.
All you did was bury the news, especially when the ball was tied to your name and in the years of hosting the gala ball, this was the first time a fight occurred. What's funnier was that it was because of you.
Great. You should’ve removed Heeseung from your guest list and you should’ve pulled Riki away the moment Heeseung opened his mouth.
But then again, why are you the one who’s going to fix the mess those dumb guys started? You could only shake your head as you finished your statement. Stating that everything happened because of a small misunderstanding. Small misunderstanding my ass, if only you could say that your ex-husband was an asshole and Riki was immature for getting it inside his head, then you could’ve been having a peaceful post-gala ball week.
Nonetheless, it didn’t even tip off your crown nor did it ruin your image for a bit. For the public, it’s even a more juicy detail; two men fighting over you, a love triangle in the making they say, which sounded more stupid than you’d imagine.
You remained quiet for the past few days. Focused on other priorities and next month's issues. You kept your mind distracted with the hundreds of tasks and meetings, hoping it’ll drown away the loneliness you’ve been feeling.
But it doesn’t help going home to an empty penthouse — so huge and cold with you living alone, it only shows you how you may be everything, but couldn’t have everything. Days passed by and only did it cross your mind whether this is the fate of other female CEOs like you. Powerful, independent, and charismatic in public — yet, lonely deep inside.
“Sunoo you got to be honest with me,” you started.
You convince yourself that your loneliness wasn’t because of him. You had enough to accompany you — your family, your best friend, maybe you need time off from the office and just talk to them in hopes to fill your emptiness.
That’s why you ended up in a quiet bistro with your best friend, sharing plates of steak and red glass of wine.
“What is it chief?” Sunoo asked.
You became quiet for a moment, eyeing on your wine glass before saying, “Am I useless? Just because I can’t have kids.”
“Well, do you want to have kids?”
“I don’t actually. I was twenty-one when they told me about my condition, from there, I had accepted that I could never have kids,” you casually explained. “It’s just, I hated how no matter how powerful and reputable I am, it’s all useless because I couldn’t be a wife and mother — it's like that’s the standard of my womanhood.”
“Since when have you thought of that? That never crossed your mind,” Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Unless, you’re thinking about settling in.”
You shake your head, “I don’t know, I thought I’d be satisfied with my job and company. I like how people respect me, I even like it when they’re scared of me, but still — I feel like it will never be enough for me.”
“Do you want to resign?” your best friend asked.
That made you chuckle as you took another sip. “Fuck no, I spent the last five years running this company, there’s no way I am giving this up.”
“Then where does this conversation lead us?”
“Nothing, just a random thought — blame it on the alcohol,” you merely chuckled. “I just thought about whether things would’ve been different if I wasn’t like this.”
“Like what? Cold? Heartless? Infertile?” Sunoo dramatically sighed before massaging his temples. “Y/n, don’t you ever think of having a change of heart just because of your past mistakes when it comes to guys. Do I really need to give you the pep talk about this?”
You only stare at him for a second before laughing, “if this pep talk is about an hour long, then I don’t need it.”
“Good, because I am not going to be that best friend of yours who wanted to see you getting hurt by those assholes.” Sunoo smiled and although his comforting words eased you, it didn’t help any of your worries at all.
Maybe this time, companionship isn’t what your heart is desiring.
“Sunoo, am I unlovable?” you asked and the question made your best friend stop.
“Why would you even think of that? Is this because of Riki?”
You shook your head as an answer. “No, it’s not just about him — it’s — nevermind, forget I said it.”
“Y/n, you deserve to be loved, and to be loved, they need to accept everything, I meant everything about you. You’re not unlovable because you’re lacking something.” Sunoo’s hands reached for yours, holding it lightly, your best friend gave you a fond smile which you found serene. “I know that someday, you’d find that person.”
“I thought of that same thing. Heeseung accepted me despite everything — then suddenly, he needed something I couldn’t give —”
“Y/n, Riki isn’t Heeseung, not all men are like Heeseung. I know that they may seem alike, but holding onto your ex-husband and your burden of not being able to have kids will be a hindrance for you to have another chance when it comes to love.”
“I’m just scared,” you admitted, and you hated how you’re suddenly vulnerable in front of Sunoo.
“Love is a risk chief,” Sunoo smiled. “Love is never an easy thing, and I just hope that if you meet him again, you’d open your heart instead of closing it.”
It was what you needed to hear. You nodded at Sunoo’s words as you quietly took a sip on your glass. Sunoo’s hands squeezed yours one last time before he shifted his attention to his own drink.
The rest of the night was filled with tranquil silence, your heart remained heavy with thought, but all you knew was that maybe this time was not for you.
-
Surely a month passed by would help you realize that you’d be contended with what you had, right?
Your name has slowly been out of the tabloids and articles. Thankfully, you pray for times like this. Every issue involving you had died down and although the past few weeks weren’t hell for you, you’re just glad that you’re not going to deal with any bullshit from gossipers and pot-stirrer websites.
It was Monday morning. You just parked your car in your usual spot when you hear a familiar ringtone. You quickly grabbed your phone and saw that it was Sunoo who’s calling you.
“What is it? I’m in the building already —”
“Stop, don’t go here, go to Aphrodite Hall, Ms. Miyawaki wanted to have a personal meeting with you about the upcoming event with the Park trades,” your best friend informed you.
Your forehead creased, “wait, that was today? I could’ve swore that it’ll be on Thursday.”
“Adjustments! Her secretary informed Wonhee last night about it, and she reached you through your email but also informed me because she knows that you don’t open your emails on Sunday,” your best friend explained.
“Suddenly?”
“She’d be leaving for Milan later in the afternoon and won’t be back until Friday, that’s why it was best to talk to you before her flight.”
“Fuck, I hate Mondays,” you complained.
“Take care on the way there chief~” with that, your best friend hung up the call and you had no choice but to turn on your car’s engine and drive away from your company building.
Deja vu came crashing into you as you arrived at the said hall. Parking in the underground parking, you sat there for a minute as you thought about Riki. This was the first place where you two first met. A funny yet annoying encounter for you. You wondered how he has been now — he’s been on radio silence ever since that night.
But you had enough dwelling in the past, you have moved on with your life and you wished that he’d do the same too.
Entering the elevator, you pressed the closed button and as the elevator went up, your heart skipped faintly as your anxiety started to heighten up.
The entrance of the hall was empty the moment you stepped outside the elevator. It was relatively quiet and oddly, you’d anticipated that your client would be welcoming you. But there were no people inside, not even their receptionist or guard — was Sunoo pranking you?
But the lights inside the main hall were open, you assumed that Ms. Miyawaki’s inside. You followed your instincts despite your nervous heart palpitating like it's on a race.
You pushed the glass door open and your jaw dropped on the floor. You were frozen from where you were standing at the sight of the painting in front of you.
The first thing you saw was you. Your painting — no, it wasn’t the nude painting you requested Riki. It was something else.
It was you during your visit to his first gallery launch, back shown but clearly, the outfit says that it was you because funny enough, you remember the outfit you wore that day. You stood there astonished as it had sinked into you that the gallery wasn’t that filled much with paintings, but was filled with all of you.
Your feet started to move. Looking at each painting one by one — some were portraits of you during your encounters with Riki while some are just portraits of you. Just you. As if the painter was painting you from his memory.
You remember how Riki doesn’t like to paint portraits but you couldn’t believe how ethereal his paintings were, it didn’t sink into you that all of these paintings were too beautiful to have you as its subject.
The moment you walked further into the room, that’s when you noticed a figure standing in front of a painting — your nude painting. You stopped — your mind went haywire and your heart stopped beating. You were frozen as you stared at the back of the man that you thought you were over now.
Riki was staring fondly at your painting. He had finished it all by himself and the result only left you appalled as you stared at the painting. What you’re seeing right now is his view every time you lay there on the couch. It’s soft — you looked relaxed and calm, a complete contrast to his other portraits of you. It shows vulnerability, and a sight that was only for him and you.
You couldn’t help but to move, hands clutched on your purse tightly as you stood beside Riki. Your heart started to beat in a rapid manner. You ignored the way Riki glanced at you for a second before returning his stare at the painting. The two of you stood there in silence, not knowing how to address each other nor wanting to acknowledge the suffocating tension between the two of you.
“I thought about what you said,” Riki started, breaking the ice. “You’re right. I was blinded by your image and everything. I was desperate for you, and hope I get recognized by you.”
“I did everything, even if it means ruining my image for you, I didn’t care that you’re cold and would push me away — heck, I was even thrilled to play games with you because for once, you noticed me and I am not going to stop until you looked at me the same way.”
Riki shifted his stare at you at the same time you looked at him. You noticed it immediately, how his eyeglasses couldn’t hide the eyebags underneath his eyes, he had aged in less than a month and poor boy, he had grown thin as his cheekbones started to pop out.
“That’s not love Riki, that’s obsession.” you stated.
“You’re right. I was pathetically obsessed with the idea of you, and now, it felt wrong — about us back then, felt wrong.”
You only stared at him, and Riki only smiled bitterly.
“It hurt me when you pushed me away that night. I craved for you — for your presence, your touch — fuck, you drove me insane.” he took a deep exhale, lips thinning as his eyes remained on you. “I wanted to remember everything about you because I don’t want to forget about you.”
That's when it hit you. The gallery, the paintings where every encounter was painted. All those paintings of every inch of your body and face were on display. Raw, vulnerable, and imperfect. An act of devotion of Riki to you.
“I didn’t paint all of this to win you back. But you were my muse and you brought me out of my artist block, I painted all of this just because I want to.” he explained and you nodded.
“And how did it make you feel?”
“I feel good, light, and satisfied. I was happy, because I was painting the image of the woman I love.” Riki muttered. “I was painting it during my deepest sorrow but seeing it right now, I was satisfied — the paintings, that’s how I see you, and I hope that’s how you see yourself too.”
“It's beautiful, you made me too beautiful,” you whispered.
“Well, you’re beautiful.”
“Even when I am incapable?”
“Flawed, heartless, or cold. Regardless of that, you’re everything I’d love to be with — for the rest of my life.” he stated and you swore that his words made your heart leap out of joy..
“That’s too much.” You stared at him, trying to remain composed even though you’re on the edge of exploding due to your suppressed feelings for him. “I don’t want you to revolve your life around me Riki.”
“Too late.”
“Riki, I am serious.” you scolded.
“Right, right, I’ll listen.” he chuckled, and you only let out a deep sigh.
“You’re a good man Riki, a talented painter, you have a long way to go and —” you stared at him for a minute before your lips moved. “Are you sure about me?”
“The moment you walked into my gallery, I wanted to have you,” he confessed. “But the moment you told me everything about you, all I wanted was to love you, to show you that you’re still worth loving despite all the flaws you had.”
You didn’t answer him immediately. You waited for more, because something inside him was holding back. Riki was afraid — afraid that even if he prepared a speech to show his love to you — you’d still reject him anyway.
His mind went blank as you stared at you. Expressionless, yet there’s a faint glimpse on your eyes — patiently, waiting for his words.
And that gave him hope.
“And you may look like the type of woman who doesn’t need a man but, just once, can you please open your heart to love again?” he managed to choke out a few words, Riki himself felt like it was a desperate plea but he couldn’t care less anymore. One month has passed, he’s not going to let you walk away especially when you walked inside his gallery first.
“What good will I gain from loving you then?”
“Do you need to gain anything when it comes to love? Can it be just something that will give you security and comfort? Someone you can run to? A home? Safety? Because I hate to say this to you, but it must feel so lonely that you’re used to your solitude when you can have more than that.” he subjected which completely dazed you.
Your lips trembled. Heart shaking as your breath became unsteady. You looked at Riki as you could feel your eyes getting wet.
“This is stupid, I shouldn’t have gone here,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the incoming tears harshly meanwhile Riki softly chuckled.
“You still look pretty even when you’re on the verge of crying.” Riki teased as his hands found their way to wipe away the tears.
“Flattery doesn’t get you nowhere —”
“I know, I know,” Riki nods. “But I hope my love does, and I am asking you one last time; can you give me another chance?”
“Will I be assured this time Riki? I am giving you a chance to walk away again, think about your future. Think about having kids and —”
“All I can see is you, and I know you’re scared, but I am not going to let you go through the same thing ever again.” he swore to you, and you could nod.
“There’s no turning back here.” you told him. “It’ll be just the two of us — no kids, no tiny riki or tiny me running around. Just the two of us.”
“Sounds like a dream for me,” with that, his hands found the round of your cheeks, cupping it gently as he made you look up at him. “All I need are your words. Everything about us is your choice.”
“I’m already crying, what else could I say?” you whispered.
A teasing smirk formed on his lips. “No, I need to hear it from you.”
“Stubborn kid.”
“You know me well noona.”
“Fine.” you only rolled your eyes. “Yes Riki, I — unfortunately, have fallen for you and it would hurt me to not give you another chance.”
With that, Riki grinned. “Fuck yeah.”
“I can’t believe that’s your response to my confession,” you complained, slapping his arms as he laughed at your words. “If this is what my relationship with you looks like in the incoming years, I’d take back —”
You weren’t able to finish your sentence when Riki leaned down for a kiss. A deep, tender one that had you grasping for breath that moment you two separated.
Riki’s smile was wide, he softly gazed as he said. “No more take backs noona. You’re mine now.”
“I guess you won your game” You stared at him and from there, he only gave you a smile as another kiss was stolen from yours. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you close to his warmth wherein you feel yourself melting.
“Where’s my prize then?” he teased and you only scoffed in disbelief at how he managed to squeeze in another flirty jab to you.
Yet, you only pull him by his collar, locking your lips onto his once again while he leans down on you with much obligation, sharing a kiss full of love and yearning for each other.
genre: college au, eventual simp x simp dynamic, smut, slow burn
synopsis: getting partnered with jake, the tall awkward nerd from on of your computer science classes, should've been simple—work on the project, get your grade, move on. except now you're completely obsessed with him and he's totally clueless about it. between tutoring sessions you definitely don't need and "coincidental" dorm hall run-ins, you're pulling out all the stops. too bad jake's more interested in his textbooks than your very obvious flirting.
you've never been rejected before, so this should be fine.
…right?
warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut (oral sex(f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, big dick!jake, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!jake, dry humping, heavy makeout, whiny!jake), cursing, mild alcohol use, emotional manipulation, jealousy, themes of insecurity, angst, lots computer science related terms(i kind of geeked out here), reader's kind of delulu and a jerk
note: i'm back to my writing style for lighthearted fics for this one hehe. i lovelovelove nerdy shy men tropes sooo much. i did try to keep it a little realistic though. i hope you like this! enjoyyy
word count: 21.8k
taglist | more works!
you were alone in the computer science lab at nearly midnight, which wasn't unusual. assignments had a way of turning the building into a second home. but tonight felt wrong. everything felt too much. the lights buzzed too loud, drilling into your skull with that persistent electrical hum. your eyes burned from staring at your screen for four hours straight, vision going fuzzy at the edges. somewhere around hour three, you'd stopped actually processing code and started just staring through it.
your cold coffee sat forgotten beside your laptop, abandoned but still somehow necessary because the alternative was admitting defeat and going back to your dorm where your roommate and her boyfriend were probably still taking up the entire common space. you'd rather deal with this. the overstimulation. the way every tiny sound felt amplified in the empty lab. the aggressive brightness of your laptop screen. the uncomfortable pressure building behind your eyes that meant you were about to either cry or throw your laptop across the room. probably both.
your code wasn't working. hadn't been working for two days, and you'd tried everything. every forum suggestion, every stack overflow solution, every pathetic office hours visit where you'd explained your problem three times and still left confused. the cursor blinked at you on line two thousand and forty seven, mocking. the compiler kept throwing errors you didn't understand, and you'd rewritten that function six times already. your hands shook slightly from too much caffeine and not enough food. that tight, hot feeling crept up your throat. the one that signalled imminent breakdown.
you pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw spots, trying to reset something in your overwhelmed nervous system. didn't work. nothing worked tonight.
the silence in the lab was the worst part, it was so quiet that it made you hyper-aware of your own breathing, your heartbeat, the small wet sound your tongue made against the roof of your mouth when you swallowed. you hated it.
then suddenly, the power cut out. total darkness that swallowed everything in an instant, your laptop screen going black, even the emergency exit signs disappearing. your heart kicked into overdrive, adrenaline flooding so fast you felt dizzy. you reached out instinctively for your laptop, fingers scrabbling across the desk, needing to confirm it was still there, that everything you'd been working on wasn't just gone.
suddenly you heard footsteps. someone else was in the lab. you hadn't known anyone else was here. the realisation sent fear spiking through your chest because you'd been so certain you were alone. now there was someone moving closer, footsteps uneven and hurried like they couldn't see any better than you. you opened your mouth to say something, but before you could form words there was sudden pressure against your shoulder, hard and unexpected, and then there was the splash of cold liquid, spreading across your lap and chest.
your coffee. the cup tipped and spilt, liquid soaking through your jeans, spreading sticky and uncomfortable across your thighs. panic hit first, pure and primal, because for a split second all you could think was laptop, everything's gone, hours of work, my entire project. your hands flew out in the darkness, patting frantically at the desk, trying to assess the damage. your chest was so tight you couldn't get a full breath.
then came the anger. fast and hot and overwhelming, rising from somewhere deep in your stomach. you wanted to scream. wanted to grab whoever crashed into you and shake them. wanted to cry from sheer frustration because this was exactly what you didn't need tonight, not when you were already hanging on by a thread.
"oh my god, oh my god, i'm so sorry, i didn't see you, i didn't think anyone else was here, i'm so sorry." the voice came rapid-fire from somewhere to your left. male, young, pitched higher than normal with genuine distress.
he kept apologising, words tumbling over each other, and there was something in his tone that didn't sound rehearsed. he sounded actually afraid, like he'd just committed some unforgivable sin.
"i didn't mean to, i couldn't see, the power just went out and i was trying to get to the door and i'm so sorry, did it get on your laptop? please tell me it didn't get on your laptop."
you took a breath, trying to force words past the tightness in your throat, trying to formulate some response that matched the fury still coursing through your veins. your mouth opened, something sharp and cutting right on the edge of your tongue.
the emergency lighting kicked in. not much, just pale green strips along the baseboards casting everything in eerie, insufficient glow. enough to see by. enough to make out shapes, faces.
the guy who'd run into you stood about two feet away, and the first thing you noticed was his hands. hovering in the air between you, trembling visibly even in the dim light, fingers spread like he wanted to help but didn't dare touch anything. he was tall and lean, dark hair stuck up in odd directions like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. glasses had slipped down his nose, and behind them his eyes were wide. genuinely panicked in a way that didn't feel performed at all.
"your laptop," he said, voice still shaking with that same desperate concern. "what model is it? did the coffee get on it? the keyboard is the main concern, if liquid got into the keyboard we need to shut it down immediately and flip it over to drain, we need to know if you had everything backed up."
he was already moving closer, trembling hands reaching toward your desk, and you realised with a start that he hadn't even looked at you properly yet. his entire focus was on your laptop. on the problem he'd created. on fixing it.
"it's fine," you managed, voice coming out rougher than intended. you looked down at your computer. sitting safely to the right of where your coffee had been, completely dry and unharmed. "it didn't get on it."
the relief that washed over his face was so profound you almost felt embarrassed witnessing it. his shoulders sagged. his hands finally dropped to his sides. he let out a long, shaky breath like he'd been holding it since the collision.
"okay. okay, that's good, that's really good." then, almost as an afterthought, his eyes finally moved to actually look at you. taking in your coffee-soaked lap, your tense posture, your expression which you were sure wasn't friendly. "are you okay? did you get burned? that coffee looked hot, if it was hot we should get you to a sink, run cold water on it."
"it was cold," you said. true, but didn't make the situation better. your jeans were soaked through, fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin, coffee starting to seep into your chair. you were sticky and irritated and still running on too much adrenaline. but he looked so genuinely distressed that some of your anger started deflating despite yourself.
"cold coffee is still a problem," he said, already pulling his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it with fumbling fingers. "the sugar content means it'll get sticky when it dries, and it can stain, especially on lighter fabrics. i have napkins, i think, or maybe paper towels, i definitely have something."
he was rummaging through his bag now, pulling out crumpled papers, a graphing calculator, several pens, tangled earbuds, talking the entire time in that same rapid, anxious way.
"i'm really sorry, i should have been more careful, i knew the power was out, i should have used my phone flashlight, i just thought i knew the layout well enough to navigate in the dark but obviously i was wrong."
you watched him. something uncomfortable shifted in your chest. you'd been prepared to snap at him, to unleash all your accumulated frustration on whoever had been careless enough to run into you. but he wasn't making excuses. wasn't trying to minimise what he'd done or deflect blame or make some joke to lighten the mood. he was just genuinely, almost painfully concerned about the problem he'd created. the way he kept apologising, kept trying to fix things, made it very hard to stay angry.
"here," he said triumphantly, producing a small pack of tissues from the bottom of his bag. he held them out, then seemed to realise how inadequate they were and let out a frustrated sound. "these aren't going to be enough. we should go to the bathroom, get some actual paper towels. or maybe the kitchen area on the second floor, they have those industrial dispensers that are way more absorbent."
he paused, finally seeming to register that you hadn't moved, that you were just sitting there watching him. his ears went red, visible even in the dim green emergency lighting. "sorry, i'm sorry, i'm doing it again. my sister always tells me i go into problem-solving mode when i'm anxious and it makes people feel like i'm not actually listening to them. are you okay? like, actually okay, not just physically okay?"
the question caught you off guard. nobody had asked you that in days. maybe weeks. everyone just assumed you were fine because you were handling things, meeting deadlines, showing up to class. but this stranger who'd just spilt coffee all over you was looking at you with genuine concern, waiting for a real answer. something in your chest felt suddenly too tight.
"i'm fine," you said, softer than intended. you took the tissues from him, dabbing uselessly at your jeans. he was right. they weren't nearly enough. but the gesture felt important somehow. "it's been a long night."
"assignments?" he asked. when you nodded he made a sympathetic noise. "yeah, same. i've been here since six. had a project deadline at midnight but then the power went out fifteen minutes before and now i don't know if my submission went through because the wifi died with the electricity." he pushed his glasses up his nose. nervous gesture you got the impression he did frequently.
"i'm jake, by the way. jake sim. i feel like i should probably introduce myself since i just, like, assaulted you with your own beverage."
despite everything, ruined jeans and exhaustion and broken code, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. not quite a smile, but close. "assaulted me with my own beverage?"
"well, yeah," he said, looking vaguely embarrassed. "i mean, i weaponised your coffee against you. that's technically assault, right? or maybe battery? i always get those mixed up. my roommate's a poli-sci major, he'd know."
he was rambling now, words spilling out in that same anxious rush, and there was something almost endearing about how completely lacking in artifice it was. he wasn't trying to be charming. wasn't trying to be funny. just genuinely nervous and dealing with it by talking too much.
you told him your name. he repeated it carefully, like he was committing it to memory. "i really am sorry," he said again, quieter this time. "what were you working on? before i interrupted?"
"data structures project," you said. just thinking about it made your shoulders tense again. "it's due tomorrow and there's a bug i can't figure out and i've been staring at it for hours."
his eyes lit up behind his glasses, spark of interest that transformed his whole face. "what kind of bug? runtime error? logic error? is it a pointer issue? those are always the worst, especially with linked lists."
he was already moving closer to your laptop, stopping himself at the last second like he'd realised he was being presumptuous. "sorry, i mean, i could take a look if you want? i'm pretty good with data structures. it's kind of my thing. i'm a TA for comp 201 actually, so i see a lot of common bugs. but also totally no pressure, i know i just dumped coffee on you so you probably don't want my help."
you should have said no. didn't know this guy, didn't owe him anything. you'd been managing just fine on your own. except you hadn't been managing fine. you'd been on the verge of a breakdown in an empty lab at midnight. now here was this nervous, rambling stranger offering help without expecting anything in return, looking at you like your problem was genuinely important to him.
it was disorienting. how quickly your anger had evaporated, replaced by something you couldn't quite name. you found yourself noticing details you shouldn't care about. the way he kept pushing his glasses up. the way his hands had finally stopped shaking now that he had something concrete to focus on.
"okay," you heard yourself say. his whole face brightened in a way that made something flutter uncomfortably in your stomach. "yeah, if you don't mind looking at it."
"i don't mind at all," he said quickly, already pulling up a chair. he left careful distance between you though, hyper-aware of not invading your space again. "show me what you've got."
you turned your laptop toward him. he leaned in, eyes scanning the lines with immediate focus. his expression shifted into something concentrated, intense. this was probably what he looked like when he wasn't tripping over people in the dark and panicking about it. he started asking questions about your implementation, your logic, what you'd already tried. his voice had lost that nervous edge. this was clearly where he was comfortable. in the clean logic of code, in problems that had solutions.
you answered his questions. watched as he nodded, occasionally pushing his glasses up, finger tracing lines of code on the screen without quite touching it. the emergency lighting cast strange shadows across his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed in concentration.
you were noticing things you shouldn't notice. but you told yourself it wasn't because you found him attractive. you were just paying attention because he was helping. because he'd disrupted your solitary misery and replaced it with something else. something that felt almost like companionship.
"there," he said suddenly, pointing to a line in the middle of your function. "you're incrementing the counter before you check the condition, but you need to check the condition first. it's causing an off-by-one error. see? you're accessing index n when your array only goes up to n minus one."
you stared at the line he was indicating. slowly, horribly, you realised he was right. such a simple mistake, the kind of thing you should have caught hours ago. but you'd been too tired, too frustrated, too deep in your own head to see it. "oh my god," you said quietly. "that's it. that's the whole problem."
"easy fix," jake said, smiling now. a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "just move that line down two spaces and add the conditional check first. you want me to...?" he gestured at your keyboard, asking permission. you nodded, watched as he made the adjustment with quick, confident keystrokes. "there. try running it now."
you hit compile, holding your breath. for the first time in two days the program ran without errors. the output printed exactly the way it was supposed to. clean and correct and perfect. relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it, all the tension you'd been carrying suddenly releasing at once. "thank you," you said, voice more emotional than intended. "seriously, thank you, i've been losing my mind over this."
"it happens to everyone," jake said gently. "sometimes you just need fresh eyes. i've definitely been there." he leaned back in his chair, that nervous energy returning now that the immediate problem was solved. "your code is really clean, by the way. like, really well-structured. that bug was literally the only issue, everything else is solid."
the compliment settled warm in your chest. you realised with a start that you felt calm. actually calm, for the first time all night. your heart rate had slowed. your hands were steady. the overwhelming pressure behind your eyes had eased.
the lab was still too quiet, the emergency lighting still eerie and insufficient, your jeans still soaked with cold coffee. but somehow none of it felt as unbearable as it had fifteen minutes ago. and that was because of him. because jake had crashed into you in the dark and apologised too much and fixed your code and made you feel less alone in this empty building at midnight.
jake was gathering his things, shoving papers and pens back into his backpack with the same energy he'd had while searching for tissues. "i should probably try to find someone about the power situation," he said. "and you should probably change before that coffee stains permanently. there's a campus store in the student centre that's open twenty-four hours, they have overpriced sweatpants but at least they're dry."
"yeah," you said, surprised to find you didn't want him to leave yet. "yeah, i probably should."
he stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and hesitated. "hey, um. if you ever need help with code stuff again, or if you just want to work in the lab at the same time, i'm here most nights. usually not spilling beverages on people, but, you know. tonight was special." he smiled awkwardly. you found yourself smiling back, a real smile this time.
"i might take you up on that," you said. meant it.
jake's expression brightened again. that same transformation you'd noticed earlier. he nodded. "cool. yeah, that would be cool. okay. i'm gonna go now before i accidentally break something else." he gave you a small wave, started toward the door, then turned back. "your code really is good, by the way. i wasn't just saying that."
then he was gone, disappearing into the dark hallway beyond the lab. you were alone again. but that realisation, that awareness that a stranger's clumsy kindness had affected you so much, sat uncomfortable and warm in your chest as you saved your work and finally, finally, packed up to leave.
you walked into your lecture the next morning running on four hours of sleep and caffeine-induced alertness that felt vaguely hallucinogenic. your jeans from last night were balled up in your laundry basket, probably stained beyond saving, and you'd thrown on the first clean thing you could find.
you slid into your usual spot next to yunjin, who was already comparing notes with beomgyu across the aisle. they were your people. your safe zone. the ones you'd suffered through intro courses with, pulled all-nighters with, shared desperate pre-exam breakdowns with.
"you look like death," yunjin said cheerfully, not looking up from her phone.
"thanks. love you too."
"late night?" beomgyu leaned over, stealing one of yunjin's chips. "you missed the group chat meltdown about the algorithms homework."
you hummed noncommittally, pulling out your laptop. your code from last night was still open, that perfect, error-free output staring back at you. you'd submitted it at 12:47 am, seventeen minutes after jake had fixed it. seventeen minutes after he'd disappeared down that dark hallway.
you hadn't told yunjin and beomgyu about any of it. the power outage, the coffee, jake. especially jake. it felt somehow private, like explaining it would cheapen it or make it feel less significant than it had been in the moment.
professor kim walked in, and the room settled into that particular brand of restless attention that morning lectures always had. "alright, alright," she said, pulling up a slide that made half the room groan in unison. "i know you're all thrilled to hear this, but it's time to discuss your semester-long project."
chairs scraped against floors as people twisted around to look at their friends. voices overlapped, people already calling out names, forming pairs out of habit and convenience. you felt yunjin's hand on your arm at the same time beomgyu leaned over.
"partners?" yunjin said.
"obviously we're doing a group," beomgyu added. "the three of us, right?"
you nodded, half-listening, your attention already drifting across the lecture hall. you weren't sure what you were looking for until you found it. him. jake was sitting near the back with a small group of guys you vaguely recognised from other cs classes. he was hunched slightly over his notebook, pen moving across the page, taking notes while everyone else was busy forming alliances. his hair was even messier today, sticking up on one side like he'd rolled out of bed. his glasses kept sliding down his nose and he kept pushing them back up with his index finger, that same nervous gesture from last night.
he looked small somehow, despite being tall. like he was trying to take up less space. one of his friends said something and laughed, nudging jake's shoulder, but jake just smiled politely without really engaging. his attention stayed on his notebook.
you watched him for a moment longer than necessary. watched the way his shoulders curved inward, the way he held his pen, the concentrated furrow of his brow. something in your chest did an uncomfortable little flip.
"so we're agreed then?" yunjin was saying. "i'll handle the frontend, beomgyu can do the database stuff, and you can—"
you stood up. the decision happened before you'd fully processed it, your body moving on instinct or impulse or something you didn't want to examine too closely. your chair scraped loud enough that a few people glanced over.
"actually," you said, already stepping past beomgyu into the aisle. "i'm gonna partner with someone else."
"what?" yunjin's voice pitched up in genuine confusion. "who?"
but you were already walking. moving up the steps toward the back of the lecture hall, weaving between people who were still negotiating partnerships and arguing about skill distributions. you were aware of people watching. of yunjin and beomgyu's matching expressions of confusion. of the way conversations paused as you passed.
jake's friends noticed you first. one of them, a guy with bleached hair, nudged jake's arm and nodded in your direction. another one went quiet mid-sentence, eyes tracking your approach with unconcealed curiosity. jake looked up last, following their gazes, and when his eyes met yours he froze. actually froze, pen suspended over his notebook, lips slightly parted like he'd been about to say something and forgotten how.
you stopped at the edge of their row. suddenly hyperaware of how many people were definitely watching this interaction. "hey," you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near awkward. "you have a partner yet?"
jake blinked. once, twice. his friends were staring at him now, then at you, then back at him like they were watching a tennis match. "i—what?"
"for the project," you clarified, gesturing vaguely at professor kim who was still explaining requirements at the front of the room. "do you have a partner?"
"i—" jake's hand came up to push his glasses up his nose even though they hadn't moved. his ears were already turning red. "no? i mean, no, i don't, but—" he glanced at his friends, then back at you, looking genuinely lost. "are you—do you mean—"
"i'm asking if you want to partner up," you said, more directly this time. your heart was doing something weird and arrhythmic in your chest. "for the semester project."
the guy with bleached hair made a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. another one of jake's friends just gaped openly. jake himself looked like you'd just spoken to him in a language he only half understood. "you want to—with me?"
"yeah."
"but—" he gestured helplessly toward where yunjin and beomgyu were sitting, both of them now watching with unconcealed shock. "don't you usually work with your friends? i thought—"
"i'm asking you," you said, cutting him off before he could talk himself out of it or before you could overthink what you were doing. "if you already have other plans it's fine, i just thought—" you paused, scrambling for justification that didn't sound insane. "you're good at this stuff. you're a TA. you knew exactly what was wrong with my code last night in like, five seconds. it makes sense. strategically."
strategically. god, you sounded unhinged.
jake stared at you. his friends stared at you. half the lecture hall was probably staring at you at this point. "i—" jake swallowed visibly. "yeah. yes. i mean, if you want to, then—yeah. okay."
"yeah?"
"yeah." he nodded, more firmly this time, though he still looked vaguely shell-shocked. "we can—yeah. that would be—yeah."
his friends exchanged glances that were absolutely loaded with unspoken communication. the bleached hair guy, jungwon you think, was grinning now, looking between you and jake like he'd just witnessed something phenomenal. "well," he said, voice thick with amusement, "this is interesting."
you ignored him. "cool. we should probably meet up sometime this week to go over the requirements?"
"yeah, definitely," jake said quickly, already pulling out his phone with hands that trembled slightly. "i can—do you want my number? or i can get yours, or—we could use email if that's easier—"
"number's fine." you rattled it off, watching him type it into his contacts with endearing focus, tongue poking slightly between his teeth. when he looked up his expression was softer, less panicked. almost shy.
"okay," he said. "i'll text you?"
"sounds good."
you turned to head back down to your seat, acutely aware of the weight of multiple stares following your retreat. yunjin grabbed your arm the second you sat down, eyes wide with questions, but professor kim chose that moment to actually start the lecture and yunjin had to settle for furious whisper-hissing "what the hell was that?" while you studiously ignored her.
you pulled up your laptop, pretending to focus on the slides about project requirements and grading rubrics. but your attention kept drifting. you could feel it, that awareness of jake sitting several rows behind you. you wondered if he was taking notes. if his friends were grilling him. if his ears were still red.
you told yourself this was practical. logical. jake was skilled, focused, clearly knew his stuff. working with him made sense from a grades perspective, from an efficiency perspective. it was a smart choice. strategic, like you'd said.
but the justification felt thin even as you repeated it to yourself. because practical partnerships didn't make your pulse spike like this. strategic choices didn't leave you feeling weirdly breathless, or hyperaware of your phone in your pocket, waiting for a text that might come in an hour or a day. smart decisions didn't come with this flutter of satisfaction sitting warm and dangerous in your chest, the kind that felt unearned and a little reckless.
you'd just chosen jake over your actual friends for a semester-long project. you'd walked across the entire lecture hall in front of everyone to ask him specifically. you'd done it without planning it, without fully understanding why, acting on instinct alone.
your phone buzzed. you grabbed it maybe too quickly, ignoring yunjin's pointed look.
unknown number: hi, it's jake. from the lab? and also from just now. obviously. you know who i am. anyway this is my number.
unknown number: we can meet whenever works for you btw. i'm pretty flexible.
unknown number: sorry i'm rambling over text now apparently. i'll stop.
despite everything, despite the weirdness of the entire situation, you felt yourself smile. properly smile, which made yunjin lean over and whisper, "oh my god, you're blushing," which you absolutely were not.
you saved his number. typed out a response. deleted it. typed it again.
you: library tomorrow at 6?
his reply came almost instantly.
jake: perfect. i'll see you there.
yeah. perfect. that's exactly what this was.
you'd gotten there ten minutes early, which was ridiculous and you knew it, but you'd told yourself it was just to secure a good table. not because you were nervous. definitely not because you'd changed your shirt three times.
jake showed up at 6:02, slightly out of breath like he'd been rushing, backpack slung over one shoulder and hair even messier than usual.
"sorry, sorry," he said, sliding into the chair across from you. "my last class ran over and then i couldn't find my charger and—" he stopped himself, ears going pink. "sorry. you don't need the full explanation. i'm here now."
"you're fine," you said, surprised by how much you meant it. "i just got here too."
it was a lie, but whatever.
he pulled out his laptop, a slightly battered thing covered in tech company stickers, and immediately opened what looked like a meticulously organised project folder.
"so i was thinking we could start by breaking down the requirements," he said, already pulling up the assignment sheet. "if we divide it into modules we can work on different parts simultaneously and then integrate everything at the end. i made a rough outline last night, but obviously we can change whatever you want."
you blinked at him. "you made an outline? already?"
"i—yeah?" he looked uncertain suddenly, like he'd done something wrong. "was that—should i not have? i just thought it would be helpful to have a starting point, but if you wanted to plan it together—"
"no, that's—" you leaned closer to look at his screen, close enough that you could smell whatever soap or shampoo he used. something clean and faintly citrusy. "that's really good actually. you're like, super organised."
"oh." he pushed his glasses up, not quite meeting your eyes. "thanks. i just like having things structured, it makes the actual coding part less chaotic."
you shifted your chair around the table, closing the distance between you under the pretence of seeing his screen better. your knees almost touched under the table. jake didn't seem to notice, already walking you through his outline with the kind of focused enthusiasm that made his whole face more animated. he talked with his hands a little, you realised. small gestures that punctuated his explanations.
it was kind of endearing. he was kind of endearing, in this unpolished, genuine way that made you want to keep watching him talk even though you should probably be paying attention to the actual content of what he was saying.
"—so if we use that framework it'll save us a ton of time on the backend. does that make sense?" he glanced at you, expectant.
"yeah, totally," you said, even though you'd caught maybe half of it. "you're really good at this."
"at what?"
"explaining things. breaking stuff down." you let your voice soften deliberately, the kind of tone you'd use on someone you were interested in. testing. "you must be a really good TA."
jake's expression brightened with genuine pleasure, completely innocent. "oh, thanks! i really like teaching actually. it's really satisfying when something clicks for someone, you know?" he turned back to his laptop. "okay so for the first module, i was thinking we could—"
you felt something deflate slightly in your chest. he'd just. moved on. thanked you politely and redirected straight back to work like you'd commented on the weather.
you tried again twenty minutes later, when he'd finished explaining the database architecture. "seriously, how is your brain even wired like this?" you said, letting your hand rest on the table between you, close enough to his that moving a few inches would mean touching. "like, this would've taken me hours to figure out and you just see it."
"i mean, i've been coding since i was like twelve," jake said, smiling in that self-deprecating way that made your stomach flip. "my dad's a software engineer so i kind of grew up around it. you'd be just as good if you'd had the same exposure."
he grabbed his water bottle, took a sip, completely oblivious to the way you were looking at him. "anyway, should we start on the initial setup? i can handle the repository if you want to draft the pseudocode for the first function?"
"sure," you said, trying not to sound as frustrated as you felt.
it continued like that. you'd find little ways to compliment him, to touch his arm when he said something funny, to lean into his space. and every single time jake would light up with friendly appreciation and then just. keep going. keep working. keep being nice in this utterly platonic way that was starting to drive you slightly insane.
when you suggested taking a break and offered to buy him coffee, he'd said "oh that's so sweet, but i'm good, i don't want to lose momentum." when you'd asked about his hobbies, trying to find some common ground beyond code, he'd given you a genuine answer about gaming and soccer and then immediately asked about your hobbies with the same earnest interest he gave to literally everything.
he wasn't being cold. wasn't being dismissive. he was just. friendly. sincerely friendly in a way that suggested he thought you were also just being friendly and nothing more. the idea that you might be flirting with him clearly hadn't even crossed his mind.
it shouldn't have bothered you. it was one study session. you barely knew him. but there was something about the way he was so completely unaffected that made you want to push harder, try more obviously, make him see you the way you were apparently seeing him.
which was insane. you were being insane.
"okay i think that's a good stopping point," jake said eventually, glancing at his phone. "we got through way more than i expected, honestly. you're really fast at this."
"we work well together," you said, maybe too much emphasis on the together part.
"yeah," he agreed easily, already packing up his stuff. "this is gonna be way less painful than i thought. usually group projects are a nightmare but i think we're pretty compatible."
compatible. he said it like he was talking about software versions.
you packed up your own stuff, trying to shake off whatever weird frustrated feeling had settled in your chest. this was good. you had a competent partner who was easy to work with. that's what mattered. not whether he noticed when you laughed at his jokes or sat closer than strictly necessary.
the library had gotten dark outside while you'd been working, the early winter darkness that feeking too heavy for eight pm. you pushed through the doors together, the cold air immediately biting at your face.
"which way are you headed?" jake asked, adjusting his backpack.
you pointed toward the east side of campus. "miller hall."
jake stopped walking. just fully stopped and stared at you. "wait, seriously?"
"yeah?"
"i'm in miller," he said, and his face did this thing, this open, delighted thing like you'd just told him something genuinely exciting. "i'm on the fourth floor. what floor are you?"
"third," you said, trying to keep your voice normal even though your brain was already racing ahead. same building. same building. you lived in the same building and you hadn't known. "that's—what are the odds?"
"i know, right?" jake fell into step beside you, and he seemed more relaxed now, less formal than he'd been in the library. "i can't believe we haven't run into each other before. though i guess i'm not around that much, i'm usually either in class or the lab or—" he laughed. "okay i'm making myself sound really boring."
"no you're not," you said, maybe too quickly. "i'm the same way. especially during midterms."
"the worst," he agreed. "hey, at least now if we need to meet up for the project it's super convenient. we can literally just knock on each other's doors."
he said it so casually. so normally, like it was just a nice logistical benefit and nothing more. meanwhile your mind was already cataloguing possibilities. you could time your meals to match his schedule. figure out when he usually left for class. find reasons to be in the common areas when he might pass through. it would look natural, coincidental. just friendly neighbors running into each other.
you were already strategising.
the realisation made something uncomfortable twist in your stomach. this was. this was too much maybe. you were thinking about him too much, cataloguing details about him like you were studying for an exam. getting frustrated when he didn't respond to your flirting even though you had no actual reason to expect him to. you'd had one late-night interaction and now one study session and somehow you were already rearranging your mental map of campus to accommodate his presence in it.
"you good?" jake asked, and you realised you'd gone quiet.
"yeah, just tired."
"same." he smiled at you, easy and warm. "thanks for picking me as your partner, by the way. i know you could've worked with your friends and i'm—i'm really glad you asked me instead. i think this is gonna be fun."
fun. he was looking forward to the project because he thought it would be fun. because he liked coding and teaching and he probably thought you were a cool person to work with. he was just. happy to have company. happy to make a new friend.
meanwhile you were over here planning imaginary coincidental run-ins and getting weirdly possessive over someone who didn't even know you liked him.
god, you were pathetic.
"yeah," you managed. "me too."
you reached miller hall, and jake held the door open for you, still talking about some technique he wanted to try for the project. you half-listened, watching the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the animated way he gestured when he got excited about something.
the elevator ride to your floor felt too short. jake got off with you, said he'd just walk up the extra flight of stairs for the exercise. "text me if you think of anything for the project," he said, already heading toward the stairwell. "or honestly just text me whenever. i'm always on my phone."
then he was gone, and you were standing alone in the hallway outside your door, feeling weirdly deflated and wired at the same time.
your phone buzzed before you'd even gotten your key out.
jake: forgot to say this but your idea for the UI was really smart. i think it's gonna make the whole thing way more intuitive.
jake: ok NOW i'm done bothering you. have a good night!
you stared at the messages, that dangerous warm feeling spreading through your chest again. he'd texted you immediately to compliment your idea. with absolutely no prompting.
you were smiling at your phone like an idiot.
yeah. you were definitely pathetic.
"i'm just saying, he's clearly not interested," yunjin said, stabbing her salad with more force than necessary. "like, you've tried everything."
you were sitting in the dining hall, picking at your food while yunjin and beomgyu conducted what was essentially an intervention about your jake situation. an intervention you hadn't asked for and definitely didn't want.
"maybe he's just shy," you said, defensive.
beomgyu snorted. "shy guys still notice when someone's flirting with them. they just get weird about it. this guy sounds like he genuinely has no idea."
"which means he's not into you," yunjin added, gentler now. "and that's fine, you know? you can just be project partners. you don't have to keep torturing yourself."
except the thing was, you weren't entirely convinced jake wasn't interested. or maybe you just didn't want to accept it yet. because he texted you unprompted sometimes, sent you memes he thought you'd find funny, always smiled when he saw you in the hallway. that had to mean something, right?
"i'm not torturing myself," you muttered.
"you've mentioned him like fifteen times in the past hour," beomgyu pointed out.
"have not."
"you literally just told us about how he holds his pen. his pen."
okay. maybe you were torturing yourself a little.
you left the dining hall feeling irritated and restless, your friends' words circling in your head. he's not interested. he has no idea. you're torturing yourself. maybe they were right. probably they were right. you should just focus on the project, get a good grade, and move on like a normal person.
you were cutting through the student centre, not really paying attention to where you were going, when you passed the community bulletin board. the usual chaos of flyers and posters, study abroad programs, club meetings, someone selling a barely-used microwave. your eyes skimmed over it automatically, not really looking.
then you saw his name.
TUTORING AVAILABLE - COMP 101, 201, 301
patient, experienced, flexible schedule
contact: jake sim
there was a row of little tear-off tabs at the bottom with his phone number. several were already missing. the flyer itself was simple, almost plain. you stared at it. people flowed around you, conversations and footsteps and the ambient noise of the student centre, but you just stood there staring at jake's handwritten flyer.
you didn't need tutoring. your grades were fine. good, even. you and jake were in the same advanced class, for god's sake. he'd probably seen your test scores when he was TAing. this would be…obvious. wouldn't it? taking a tab would be transparent and desperate and—
your hand moved before you'd fully decided. the paper tore with a soft sound that felt too loud. you stared at the little strip in your palm, jake's number printed in his neat handwriting even though you already had it saved in your phone.
what were you doing?
you shoved the tab in your pocket and walked away quickly, like someone might have witnessed you doing something incriminating. your heart was beating too fast. this was insane. this was transparent. he was going to see right through it.
but.
but it was also legitimate, wasn't it? people got tutoring all the time, even when their grades were fine. wanting to understand the material better, wanting a different perspective, wanting to be extra prepared. those were all valid reasons. normal reasons. and yeah, maybe you had ulterior motives, but the cover story was solid enough that you could maintain plausible deniability. to him. to yourself.
you made it back to your dorm before you pulled out your phone.
you: hey! i saw your tutoring flyer in the student centre. do you still have availability?
you hit send before you could overthink it. then immediately started overthinking it anyway. he was going to ask why. he was going to point out that you clearly didn't need help. he was going to—
your phone buzzed.
jake<3: oh hey! yeah i have some slots open. but wait, aren't you doing pretty well in class? i've seen your test scores when i'm grading and you're like, consistently in the top range
jake<3: not that you CAN'T get tutoring obviously! everyone can benefit from extra help
jake<3: i just want to make sure you actually need it and aren't just being nice or something
god, he was even considerate about this. checking in to make sure you weren't wasting your time or money on something you didn't need. being thoughtful and genuine while you were over here manipulating the situation to manufacture more time with him.
you felt a twinge of something uncomfortable. guilt maybe. but you pushed it down.
you: i mean yeah my grades are okay, but i feel like i'm just memorising patterns without really UNDERSTANDING the concepts you know? like i can solve the problems but i couldn't explain WHY
you: i just want to make sure i actually get it. especially since the material keeps building on itself
it wasn't entirely a lie. you did sometimes feel like you were pattern-matching your way through assignments. and deeper understanding was always good. these were reasonable concerns. the fact that they weren't your primary motivation didn't make them untrue.
jake<3: oh yeah that makes total sense actually. i see that a lot with students. they can execute but the underlying logic isn't solid
jake<3: okay yeah we can definitely work on that! my rate is $20/hour but honestly for you i'd be happy to just do it for free? since we're already working together on the project anyway
you: no way i'm paying you. you're already helping me so much with the project
jake<3: the project is a two person thing, you're helping me just as much
jake<3: but okay we can argue about payment later. when works for you?
you felt that warm, dangerous flutter again. he'd offered to tutor you for free. just casually, like it was no big deal. like spending extra time with you was something he actively wanted to do, even without compensation.
you: i'm pretty flexible. whenever you have time
jake<3: thursdays at 7? we could do the library again or somewhere on our floor if you want somewhere quieter
jake<3: also i promise i'll actually TEACH and not just fix your code for you like last time lol
you smiled at your phone. somewhere on your floor. which meant his room or yours. which meant private, just the two of you, no other students around.
you: thursdays work for me!
jake<3: cool! we can switch off. i'll bring snacks
jake<3: this'll be fun :)
he'd sent a smiley face. an actual emoticon. it shouldn't have made your heart skip but it did.
you locked your phone and sat on your bed, that satisfaction settling warm in your chest. you'd done it. you'd created a legitimate, recurring excuse to see jake outside of project work. an hour a week, minimum, where you'd have his complete attention. where you could sit close to him in the privacy of a dorm room, help him help you, let those boundaries get just a little bit blurrier.
it was harmless. he was offering tutoring anyway, you were just taking him up on it. and yeah, maybe your motivations weren't entirely pure, but you weren't lying to him. not really. you did want to understand the material better. the fact that you also wanted to be around him more was just. additional context. secondary reasoning.
you were being smart about this, honestly. creating opportunities without being pushy. letting things develop naturally within structures that already existed.
you ignored the small, quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered this was too much. that you were engineering situations and manufacturing proximity and maybe that wasn't as harmless as you wanted to believe. that jake was offering to help you in good faith while you had an agenda he knew nothing about.
you were good at ignoring that voice.
your phone buzzed again.
jake<3: btw i've been thinking about the database structure and i had an idea
and just like that you were smiling again, typing back, that uncomfortable feeling dissolving into something easier and warmer and more immediately gratifying.
it was fine. everything was fine. this was just tutoring. just spending time with someone you enjoyed being around. there was nothing wrong with that.
nothing wrong with it at all.
you'd been doing the tutoring sessions for three weeks when your roommate officially moved out. well, not officially officially. her stuff was still there, her side of the room still technically occupied. but she'd been spending every night at her boyfriend's off-campus apartment for the past month, and one day she just stopped pretending she was coming back.
"i'm still paying rent," she'd said, shoving clothes into a duffel bag. "so like, it's still my room. i'll probably crash here sometimes. but you basically have the place to yourself."
you'd nodded sympathetically while internally celebrating. your own space. privacy. no need to coordinate schedules or deal with her boyfriend's annoying habits. it was perfect.
it took you less than a day to realise it was perfect for other reasons too.
the next tutoring session was supposed to be in the library. thursday at seven, like always. but you'd been sitting in your empty apartment that afternoon, looking at your space with new eyes, and the idea had planted itself so naturally you'd almost convinced yourself it was practical.
you: hey, would you maybe want to do tutoring at my place tonight instead? my roommate moved in with her boyfriend so it's way quieter than the library
you: totally fine if you prefer the library though!
the response took longer than usual. long enough that you started second-guessing yourself. maybe this was too much. too obvious. crossing some line from study partner into something else.
jake<3: oh
jake<3: um
jake<3: yeah that's fine. if you're sure?
jake<3: i don't want to like. intrude or anything
jake<3: but yeah quieter is definitely better for focusing
you: you're not intruding i literally invited you haha
you: i'm in 3B. just come by at 7
jake<3: okay! see you then
you spent the next two hours in a cleaning frenzy you absolutely did not want to examine too closely. you weren't trying to impress him. you just wanted the place to look nice and presentable. the fact that you changed your clothes twice and lit a candle that made the whole apartment smell like vanilla and sandalwood was just. coincidence.
the knock came at exactly seven. jake was annoyingly punctual.
you opened the door to find him standing in the hallway looking uncertain, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding a bag of chips. "hi," he said. "i brought snacks. i didn't know what you liked so i just got the variety pack."
"you didn't have to do that."
"i know, but—" he shifted his weight. "i don't know, it felt weird showing up empty-handed."
you stepped back to let him in, watching as he moved into your space with obvious hesitation. he didn't walk in so much as carefully entered, like he was worried about disturbing something. his eyes went immediately to your walls, taking in the art prints you'd hung, the string lights, the bookshelf crammed with novels and textbooks. then to your desk setup, the small kitchen area, the couch that your roommate had left behind.
"wow," he said quietly. "this is. really nice."
"it's just a dorm apartment."
"no, i know, but—" he gestured vaguely at everything. "it's decorated. like, actually decorated. my place looks like a prison cell compared to this." he was still standing near the door, like he hadn't fully committed to being here. "is that an original print?"
you glanced at the framed artwork he was pointing at. "yeah. local artist. i got it at a campus market thing."
"it's really cool." he finally took a few more steps inside, setting his backpack down carefully on the floor like he was afraid it might scuff something. his attention caught on your kitchen counter, where you'd left out the fancy coffee you'd bought yesterday. the expensive cheese and crackers. the fruit you'd pre-cut and arranged in a bowl because apparently you were that person now.
jake went quiet for a second. then he laughed, but it sounded a little uncomfortable. "okay i have to ask. are you like, rich?"
you felt your face heat. "what? no."
"because this—" he gestured at your apartment again, at the candle burning on your coffee table, the throw blanket artfully draped over your couch, the general aesthetic coherence of the space. "this seems like. i don't know. very put together for a college student."
"i just like my space to feel nice," you said, defensive. "there's nothing wrong with that."
"no, definitely not! i didn't mean—" he ran a hand through his hair, flustered. "i just meant. my room has like, a bed and a desk and some clothes on the floor. this looks like an apartment from a magazine. in a good way," he added quickly. "it's impressive. i'm just. you know. mildly intimidated."
"don't be intimidated," you said, softer now. trying for casual. "seriously, make yourself comfortable. do you want something to drink? i have coffee, tea, juice, those fancy sparkling waters—"
"you have fancy sparkling water?"
"they were on sale."
they were absolutely not on sale. you'd bought them specifically because you remembered jake mentioning he liked trying different flavours. but he didn't need to know that.
"um, sure. i'll try one." he was still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, like he couldn't figure out where he was allowed to exist.
you grabbed two cans from the fridge, handing him one and gesturing toward the couch. "we can work there if you want. or the desk. whatever's comfortable."
"couch is good," he said, finally sitting down and immediately looking slightly less tense. he opened the sparkling water, took a sip, and made a surprised noise. "oh this is actually really good."
"told you." you sat next to him, closer than you would have in the library. not touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him next to you. close enough that when he leaned forward to pull his laptop out of his backpack, you caught that familiar scent of soap and citrus.
he pulled up the lesson he'd prepared, something about optimisation algorithms, and fell into his teaching rhythm. you'd noticed this about jake before. when he was explaining code, he became more confident. less apologetic. his hands moved as he talked, tracing invisible diagrams in the air, and his whole face became more animated.
you were trying to focus. really, you were. but you kept getting distracted by the fact that he was here, in your space, sitting on your couch. his knee bumped yours at one point and he apologised even though it was barely contact. you told him it was fine. his handwriting was neat when he sketched out examples in your notebook. he had a small scar on his left hand you'd never noticed before.
"are you following?" he asked, glancing over at you.
"yeah," you said, snapping back to attention. "sorry. just thinking."
"it's kind of a dense topic," he said, apologetic again. "we can take a break if you need."
"no, keep going. you're good at this."
something in his expression softened. "thanks. i—i actually really like doing this. the tutoring, i mean. it's nice having someone to talk through concepts with who actually cares about understanding them properly." he paused, looking around your apartment again like he was seeing it with fresh eyes. "and this is. yeah. this is better than the library for sure."
"yeah?"
"the library's always so loud, even in the quiet sections. and people keep interrupting to ask if they can take chairs from our table." he settled back into your couch slightly, his shoulders loosening. "this is way better. i can actually think here."
you felt that dangerous satisfaction bloom in your chest. this is better. i can actually think here. he was comfortable. in your space. comfortable enough to relax, to take up room, to exist without that careful hesitation he'd had when he first arrived.
"we should do all our sessions here," you said, trying to sound casual. "if you're cool with it."
jake glanced at you, then around the apartment again. for a second you thought he might question it. might recognise this for what it was. but then he just smiled, easy and genuine. "yeah, i'd like that. this is really nice."
"cool," you said. your heart was doing that annoying fluttery thing again.
you went back to the lesson, jake's voice steady and patient as he walked you through increasingly complex problems. his knee stayed pressed against yours. he'd stopped apologising for taking up space. he reached for the fancy crackers you'd set out without asking if it was okay first, just casual and comfortable like he belonged here.
and god help you, you liked seeing him like this. liked having him in your space, surrounded by your things, relaxed and focused and entirely unaware of how much thought you'd put into creating this exact scenario.
he was more comfortable here than he should be. settling into your life with an ease that should have alarmed you but instead just made you want to pull him deeper.
you were playing a game he didn't know existed. creating intimacy in careful increments. manufacturing closeness that felt organic to him but was entirely designed by you.
"okay your turn," jake said, pushing your laptop toward you. "try implementing that function we just talked through."
you pulled the computer into your lap, fingers moving over the keys, hyper-aware of jake watching. of his presence next to you, patient and encouraging. of how easy it would be to let this become routine. thursday nights on your couch, just the two of you, the rest of the world locked outside.
professor kim handed back midterms on a wednesday, and the energy in the lecture hall was exactly what you'd expect. nervous shuffling, people immediately comparing scores, that girl in the front row who always cried regardless of her grade already tearing up.
you flipped your exam over and saw the 100 staring back at you. perfect score. you felt a flush of satisfaction that had nothing to do with the grade itself and everything to do with the fact that jake would see it.
"holy shit," yunjin whispered, leaning over to look. "you got a perfect score?"
"apparently."
"that's insane. i got an 87 and i thought i did well." she shook her head, impressed and maybe slightly annoyed. "what did jake think? he must be so proud, that's basically a direct result of his tutoring."
speaking of jake, he was two rows behind you, and you could hear his friends' voices carrying.
"dude, you got a 98," one of them said. "that's insane."
"i missed this one question," jake said, and he sounded genuinely disappointed. "i can't believe i mixed up the time complexity."
you turned around without really thinking about it, catching his eye. he was already looking at you, and his face did this thing, this hopeful uncertain thing. "how'd you do?"
you held up your exam. his eyes widened.
"you got a hundred?" he said it loud enough that a few people glanced over. then he was standing up, moving past his friends, coming down to your row with his exam still in his hand. "holy shit, that's—that's amazing. you—" he stopped himself, looking almost embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. "sorry, i'm like. weirdly excited about this."
"don't apologise," you said, smiling despite yourself. "you sound more excited than i am."
"because i—" he gestured at your exam, then at you. "you understood it. like really understood it. i could tell during our sessions that things were clicking but seeing it actually translate to a perfect score is just—" he ran his hand through his hair, grinning in a way that made your stomach flip. "i'm really proud of you."
the words hit you weird. i'm proud of you. said with such genuine warmth, such unironic sincerity. like your success was somehow his success too. like he was personally invested in your performance because he'd helped you get there.
except you hadn't really needed the help. you'd manufactured the entire situation. you'd been doing fine before the tutoring started and you'd probably have gotten a perfect score regardless. jake's proud smile was based on a false premise. he thought he'd helped you achieve something when really you'd just. used him. used his time and his patience and his genuine desire to help people, all so you could sit close to him once a week.
something uncomfortable twisted in your chest. you shoved it down.
"i couldn't have done it without you," you said, because that's what you were supposed to say. what he expected to hear. even if it made you feel slightly sick.
"i know, i know. it's a good grade. i just hate making careless mistakes." he smiled at you again, softer this time. "but seriously, i'm really happy for you. you worked really hard for this."
"we should celebrate," you said, before you could second-guess it. "both of us. good scores, successful tutoring, whatever. come over tonight? i'll make dinner, we can watch a movie. my treat, as a thank you."
jake hesitated, just for a second. "you don't have to thank me."
"i want to," you said firmly with a smile. "you've been helping me for weeks and not accepting any payment. the least i can do is feed you."
"when you put it that way." he was smiling again, that easy smile that made your heart do stupid things. "yeah, okay. what time?"
"seven?"
"perfect."
...
you went slightly overboard with dinner. not crazy overboard, just. more effort than was strictly necessary for a casual thank-you meal. homemade pasta, the good parmesan, a salad that actually had more than three ingredients. you'd also bought wine, which felt very adult and sophisticated until you remembered you were literally just having your study partner over.
jake showed up at seven on the dot, holding a bag of cookies from the expensive bakery near campus. "i know you said your treat, but i can't show up empty-handed," he explained, handing them over. "it's like, physically impossible for me."
"you're ridiculous."
"i've been told." he stepped inside, immediately more comfortable than he'd been that first time. he knew where to put his shoes now, where to set his bag. he went straight for the couch like he belonged there.
dinner was easy. conversation flowed naturally, jumping from classes to campus gossip to a debate about whether the dining hall pizza was underrated or genuinely terrible. jake argued passionately for underrated, gesturing with his fork, getting sauce on his chin that he didn't notice until you pointed it out. he laughed, embarrassed, wiping it away.
"wine?" you offered, after you'd cleared the plates.
"oh, um. sure?" he looked uncertain. "i'm not really a big drinker."
"me neither. but we're celebrating, right?"
"right." he accepted the glass you poured, taking a small sip and making a face. "god, why do people like this? it tastes like someone made juice go bad on purpose."
you laughed despite yourself. "it's an acquired taste."
"that's what people say about things that are objectively bad." but he took another sip anyway, settling back into the couch as you pulled up netflix.
you ended up on some action movie neither of you had seen, the kind with improbable stunts and a plot that didn't require much attention. which was good, because you weren't really watching it. you were too aware of jake next to you, closer than he needed to be, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. he'd finished his wine faster than you expected and seemed looser now, more animated. he kept making commentary on the movie, pointing out plot holes and questionable physics, his hands moving as he talked.
"—and there's no way that building would still be structurally sound after that explosion," he was saying, gesturing at the screen. "like, basic engineering, you know?"
"you're thinking too hard about it."
"i can't help it. my brain won't turn off." he glanced at you, something warm in his expression. "this is nice though. just hanging out. we're always studying or talking about the project, it's cool to just…exist. without an agenda."
without an agenda. the words hit harder than they should have. because you did have an agenda. you'd had one this entire time. this whole evening was carefully constructed, from the homemade dinner to the wine to the deliberately casual intimacy of it all.
"yeah," you managed. "it's nice."
the movie continued. jake shifted closer, his thigh pressing against yours. you didn't move away. his arm ended up along the back of the couch, not quite around your shoulders but close enough that you could feel the warmth of it. neither of you acknowledged it, but neither of you adjusted either.
"can i ask you something?" jake said during a particularly slow part of the movie.
"sure."
"why did you pick me? for the project, i mean." he was looking at you now instead of the screen, his expression curious and open. "you could've worked with your friends. people you already knew. but you walked all the way across the lecture hall to ask me."
your heart kicked up. "i told you. you're good at this stuff."
"yeah, but." he paused, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase something. "it felt like. i don't know. like you went out of your way. and i've been trying to figure out if i'm reading too much into it or if there was something else."
the air felt suddenly thinner. "something else like what?"
"i don't know." he laughed, self-conscious. "i'm probably being weird. forget i said anything."
"jake."
"i just—" he met your eyes, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that made your breath catch. "i really like spending time with you. like, more than i probably should for someone who's just a project partner and tutoring student. and sometimes i think maybe you. i don't know, feel the same? but i'm also really bad at reading these things so i'm probably completely wrong."
oh. oh.
"you're not wrong," you said quietly.
his eyes widened slightly. "i'm not?"
instead of answering, you leaned in. gave him enough time to pull back, to stop this, but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. for a second neither of you moved, the kiss chaste and almost careful. then something shifted. his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you pressed closer, your fingers curling into his shirt.
jake made a soft sound against your mouth, surprise or maybe pleasure, and kissed you back with more confidence. his other hand found your waist, tentative at first then firmer, pulling you closer. you ended up in his lap somehow, his hands spanning your back, your fingers threading through his hair. he tasted like wine and something sweet from the cookies he'd brought.
"is this okay?" he whispered against your lips, breathing hard.
"yes," you said, and kissed him again before he could second-guess it.
his hands moved under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you felt him shiver when you rolled your hips experimentally. "god," he breathed, sounding almost pained. "we should—are we really—"
"do you want to stop?"
"no. god, no. i just—" he looked up at you, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen. "i didn't think this would happen. i'm not. i don't usually."
"it's okay," you said softly, meaning it. "we don't have to do anything you don't want."
jake didn’t stop you. instead, he seemed to melt into the contact, his hands trembling as they slid further up your back, skin hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. when you moved to guide him off the couch and onto the rug, he followed with a sort of dazed compliance, his glasses slightly askew on his face.
you knelt between his legs, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the movie was still playing—some distant sound of tires screeching—but all you could hear was the ragged, uneven hitch of jake’s breath. when you reached for the button of his jeans, his hand flew to your wrist, not to stop you, but just to steady himself. his knuckles were white.
"are you sure?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "i—i'm not... i don't want to mess this up. our project, the tutoring... i don't want to make things weird for you."
"jake," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "shut up and let me."
he let out a shaky, half-strangled laugh, his head hitting the base of the couch as he let go of your wrist. "okay. okay, yeah. shutting up."
as you eased his jeans down, you realised the lanky, awkward way he carried himself in the halls was a massive deception. he was built with a surprising, heavy sturdiness that the oversized hoodies always hid. his legs were long, his thighs thick with the kind of muscle that suggested he actually did play soccer as more than just a hobby. and when you finally freed him, you couldn't help the small, sharp intake of breath that escaped you.
"jake," you breathed, your eyes widening. "holy..."
he groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and covered his eyes with his forearm. "don't. don't look at me like that. i know. i'm sorry, is it... is it too much? i can—"
"it's perfect," you cut him off, reaching out to touch him. his skin was searing, and the moment your fingers closed around him, his entire body jolted like he’d been hit with a live wire.
when you leaned forward to take him into your mouth, jake’s reaction was explosive. he arched off the floor, his fingers tangling desperately in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. he was so sensitive, so completely overwhelmed by the sensation that it felt like he was losing his grip on reality.
"oh god," he choked out, his voice high and strained. "wait, wait—that's—you’re so... the pressure, i can't—"
you didn't slow down. you liked the way he lost his composure, the way the articulate, logical TA was reduced to incoherent stutters. you used your hands to keep him steady, your tongue swirling around the head of him, and jake’s hips began to move in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm. he was trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to stay "polite," but the sheer intensity of it was breaking him.
"i'm gonna... i'm actually gonna..." he gasped, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer until he was practically burying himself in you. "please, don't stop. don't stop, just like that—right there—"
he hit his limit with a loud, guttural shout that was muffled only by the back of his hand as he bit down on his own knuckles to stay quiet. his body went rigid, muscles in his arms and chest standing out in sharp relief as he came, the force of it leaving him limp and shuddering against the couch.
it took him a long time to come back down. for several minutes, the only sound in the room was his heavy, labouring breath and the flickering light of the tv. you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a fierce, glowing sense of triumph. he looked completely wrecked—hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear, chest heaving.
you felt powerful. you’d spent weeks engineering this, calculating every move, and seeing him like this—totally undone by you—was better than any perfect exam score.
"you okay?" you asked, leaning your chin on his knee.
jake let out a long, shaky exhale, finally moving his arm to look at you. his eyes were hazy, his face flushed a deep, beautiful red. "i... think my brain just short-circuited," he whispered, a small, dazed smile tugging at his lips.
"in a good way?"
"in the best way." he reached out, his fingers trembling as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "thank you. seriously. i don't—i don't even know what to say."
you smiled, leaning into his touch. the apartment was warm, the air still smelling of vanilla. "you don't have to say anything. you should just stay."
the words were soft, natural. it felt like the obvious next step. but the second they left your mouth, you felt the shift.
it was subtle at first—the way jake’s fingers went still against your skin. then his pupils, which had been blown wide with pleasure, suddenly constricted. he blinked, the haziness clearing as his internal "problem-solving mode" kicked back in with a vengeance.
"stay?" he repeated, his voice sounding suddenly small.
"yeah. it's late, and it's cold out. just stay over. we can... i don't know, wake up and have coffee. maybe look at the project again."
jake’s eyes darted toward his hands, then to his backpack, then to the door. the relaxation in his shoulders vanished, replaced by a rigid, frantic tension. he looked like he’d just realised he was standing in the middle of a minefield.
"i—" he started, scrambling to pull his jeans up. he was moving so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. "i can't. i mean, i should... i have that grading to finish. for kim. and i—i didn't bring my toothbrush. or my meds. and my roommate, he—he'll wonder where i am. he gets worried."
"jake, it’s fine, you can borrow—"
"no!" he said, a bit too loudly. he was fumbling with his belt, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely loop it through. he wouldn't look at you. his face wasn't flushed with pleasure anymore; it was pale, his expression twisted into something that looked dangerously like panic. "no, i really should go. i’m sorry. i just... i realised the time. i have to go."
you stood up, feeling a cold, hollow pit open in your stomach. "did i do something wrong? was it... was it too much?"
"no! no, it was... it was amazing," he said, finally getting his shoes on, not even bothering to tie the laces. he grabbed his backpack, clutching it to his chest like a shield. "it was too amazing. that's the... that's the problem. i'm—i'm not good at this. i think i need to... i need to think. logically. about the implications."
"the implications?" you asked, your voice rising with a sharp, hurt edge. "it was just a night, jake. it doesn't have to be a 'logical problem' to solve."
"i know, i know. i'm sorry. i’m just... i'm a mess." he backed toward the door, his hand fumbling for the handle behind his back. "i'll text you? about the project? we still have that deadline on tuesday."
"jake—"
"goodnight! thank you for dinner. the pasta was really... the texture was perfect. okay. bye."
he practically fell out of the door, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway as he sprinted toward the stairs.
the click of the door closing felt final. you stood in the centre of your perfectly decorated, candle-lit apartment, surrounded by the remnants of the dinner you’d spent hours on. the half-empty wine glasses, the bag of expensive cookies, the rumpled rug.
you felt a hot, stinging prickle behind your eyes. you’d done everything right. you’d been strategic, patient, and kind. you’d gotten him to open up, to trust you, to want you. and yet, watching him run away like you were a bug in his code—something to be deleted or fixed—hurt more than any midterm failure ever could.
you sat back down on the couch, the silence of the room suddenly feeling just as oppressive as it had back in the computer lab. you picked up your phone, looking at his last text. this'll be fun :)
you threw the phone onto the cushions and buried your face in your hands, the smell of his citrus shampoo still clinging to your skin, mocking you.
jake didn't text.
you stared at your phone for the entire next day, watching the screen like you could will a message into existence. the "i'll text you" he'd thrown over his shoulder before fleeing felt increasingly like a polite lie. by saturday afternoon you broke first.
you: hey, you okay?
the message sat there. delivered, but no response.
you tried again sunday morning, going for casual.
you: still on for project work this week?
still no response.
by monday you'd moved past confusion into something that felt uncomfortably like panic. this wasn't how things worked. people didn't just. stop responding to you. they didn't ignore you or avoid you or remove you from their orbit like you were some problem to be managed. you were used to being wanted, pursued, the one who had to let people down gently. this reversed dynamic was unfamiliar and honestly humiliating.
you saw him in the dining hall on tuesday. he was with his friends, laughing at something one of them said, looking completely normal. like nothing had happened. like he hadn't been on your couch four days ago falling apart under your touch.
you started walking toward their table before you could think better of it, but jake's eyes flicked up, met yours for a fraction of a second, and then he was standing, gathering his tray, saying something to his friends. they all got up and left. just. left. walked out the side exit while you stood there holding your lunch like an idiot.
yunjin grabbed your arm. "okay, what the hell was that?"
"nothing," you said, but your voice came out wrong.
"that was not nothing. did something happen with you and jake?"
"no. i don't know. it's complicated."
it wasn't complicated. it was actually pretty simple. you'd pushed too hard and now he wanted nothing to do with you.
wednesday he wasn't in his usual spot in lecture. you spent the entire class scanning the room, finally spotting him in the very back corner, a place he'd never sat before. he kept his eyes on his laptop the entire time, didn't look up once. when class ended he was the first one out the door.
thursday was supposed to be tutoring. seven pm, his room or yours, the standing appointment you'd had for weeks now. you waited in your apartment, laptop open to the half-finished project, telling yourself he'd show up. he was responsible and dedicated. he wouldn't just bail without saying anything.
seven came and went. then seven-thirty. by eight you accepted he wasn't coming.
you: are we still working together on the project? i need to know so i can plan accordingly.
again, no response.
friday morning you were walking to class when you saw him ahead of you on the path. for once he hadn't spotted you first. you sped up, closing the distance, and watched in real time as he seemed to sense your presence. his shoulders tensed. then he took a sharp left turn down a path that definitely wasn't toward any of his classes. he was actively avoiding you. taking different routes. altering his entire routine just to not run into you.
something hot and humiliated burned in your chest.
by next week, you'd had enough. you knew his schedule. knew he had algorithms right before lunch on mondays, in the engineering building, third floor. you positioned yourself outside the classroom before class ended, ignoring the curious looks from other students filing out. you spotted jake immediately when the doors opened. he saw you at the same moment and actually stopped walking, causing someone behind him to bump into his back.
"we need to talk," you said.
"i have—i need to get to—"
"jake." your voice came out sharper than intended. "five minutes. please."
something in his expression shifted. resignation maybe. he nodded once, following you to an empty study room down the hall. you closed the door. the small space suddenly felt suffocating.
"you've been ignoring me," you said.
"i know."
"for a week. you didn't text, you didn't show up to tutoring, you're literally avoiding me on campus."
"i know," he said again, quieter. he wasn't looking at you, his eyes fixed somewhere around your shoulder. "i'm sorry. that wasn't— i should have communicated better."
"so communicate now. what's going on?"
jake was quiet for a long moment. when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. measured. "what happened last week. that crossed a line for me."
"we both wanted it."
"did we?" he looked at you now, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach drop. "because i've been thinking about it a lot. about how we got there. and i feel like. i don't know. like maybe i missed something."
"what do you mean?"
"the tutoring," he said. "you didn't actually need it, did you? your grades were already good. and the project. you had friends you could have worked with. people you actually knew. but you picked me." he paused. "why did you pick me?"
the question hung in the air between you. you could lie. deflect. but something about the way he was looking at you, patient and a little sad, made it feel pointless.
"i liked you," you said finally. "i wanted to spend time with you."
"okay." he nodded slowly. "so the tutoring was. what. an excuse? a way to manufacture time together?"
"it wasn't like that."
"wasn't it though?" there was no anger in his voice. just. tiredness. "because from my perspective, i thought i was helping someone who needed help. i thought we were becoming friends. and then suddenly we're… doing that. and i'm trying to figure out when the shift happened and i can't. because maybe there was no shift. maybe that's what you wanted the whole time and i just didn't see it."
"i did want to be your friend," you said, defensive now. "i wasn't. it's not like i was using you."
"weren't you?"
the words hit harder than they should have. because he wasn't wrong. you had used him. used his kindness, his eagerness to help, his complete inability to see through your motivations. you'd engineered situations and manufactured proximity and told yourself it was harmless.
"i like you," jake said, and somehow that made it worse. "i really do. but i feel. god, i don't even know how to explain it. exposed? like you saw something in me that made me an easy target and you just. went for it. and i didn't even realise what was happening until it had already happened."
"that's not—"
"and the thing is," he continued, talking over you gently, "you're so far out of my league. like, objectively. you're smart and pretty and confident and you have your shit together. and i'm just. me. i'm awkward and i ramble and i spend friday nights debugging code for fun. so the fact that you were interested never made sense. i kept waiting for it to click, for me to understand why, and now i think i do. it wasn't about me. it was about. i don't know. the chase? the conquest? i was a project to you."
"no," you said, but your voice came out weak. "jake, that's not true. you weren't a project."
"then what was i?"
you didn't have an answer. or you did, but it was complicated and messy and saying it out loud would mean admitting things you didn't want to admit.
jake sighed. "i'm not trying to be cruel. i'm really not. but being around you right now makes me feel uncomfortable. like i can't trust my own judgement because i didn't see any of this coming. and that's. that's my issue to work through. but i need space to do it."
"what about the class project?"
"we can do it over email. divide up the work, combine it at the end. we don't have to see each other."
"and tutoring?"
"i think we should stop. you don't actually need it anyway."
each sentence felt like a door closing. practical, reasonable, and completely final.
"i'm sorry," you said, and meant it. "i didn't mean to. i wasn't trying to hurt you."
"i know," jake said, and he sounded sincere. "i don't think you set out to do anything malicious. i just think you didn't really consider how it would feel from my side. and now we're here."
"so that's it? we just stop talking?"
"for now, yeah. maybe later we can be normal around each other. but right now i need. distance."
he moved toward the door, his hand on the handle. you wanted to say something, anything that would fix this. some argument that would make him see you differently. but looking at his face, at the quiet certainty there, you knew there was nothing you could say. he'd made up his mind. he'd set a boundary. and you had no choice but to respect it.
"i really am sorry," you said again.
"i know," jake said. "me too."
then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with that same horrible finality. you stood there in the empty study room, staring at the space where he'd been.
you couldn't even argue with his reasoning. everything he'd said was true. you had manufactured situations. you had used his kindness and his obliviousness to get what you wanted. you'd told yourself it was harmless, that your feelings were real even if your methods were questionable.
but intent didn't matter when the impact was someone feeling manipulated and exposed.
you left the study room feeling hollowed out. the campus looked the same. people laughed and talked and went about their days. somewhere out there jake was probably headed to lunch with his friends, relieved to have finally said what he needed to say.
and you were just. alone. with the sharp realisation that you'd ruined something before it even had a chance to be real.
the party was exactly the kind of loud, chaotic mess you needed. bass thrumming through the floors, bodies packed into every available space, the air thick with sweat and cheap alcohol and too many competing perfumes. yunjin had dragged you here, insisting you needed to "get out of your head" after moping around for two weeks straight.
so here you were. red cup in hand, smile fixed in place, laughing at jokes you weren't really hearing. performing normalcy while your brain kept circling the same thoughts on loop. jake's face in that study room. the careful way he'd said i need space. the hollow feeling that had taken up permanent residence in your chest.
"you good?" beomgyu asked, leaning close to be heard over the music.
"yeah, great," you said automatically, taking another drink.
you were on your third. or fourth. you'd stopped counting. the alcohol sat warm in your stomach but hadn't managed to quiet your thoughts yet. maybe if you drank enough you'd stop replaying every conversation with jake, analysing every moment for signs you'd missed, evidence of how thoroughly you'd fucked everything up.
"i'm gonna get another drink," you said to no one in particular, pushing through the crowd toward the kitchen.
that's when you saw him.
jake. standing near the makeshift bar someone had set up on the counter, red cup in hand, talking to a girl you didn't recognise. and he was laughing. actually laughing, head thrown back, completely at ease in a way that made something hot and ugly twist in your chest.
because he never looked like that with you. even before everything went wrong, even during those tutoring sessions in your apartment when you'd thought you were building something real, he'd always been slightly careful and polite, like he was containing himself. but now he was loose and animated, gesturing with his free hand while the girl laughed at whatever he was saying, her hand resting on his arm.
her hand was on his arm.
you watched as she leaned closer, saying something that made jake grin. that specific grin, the one where his eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his perfect teeth on display. you'd thought that smile was special. something you'd earned. but apparently he was just like this, with everyone who wasn't you.
the jealousy hit so hard it felt physical. burning through your chest, turning your vision sharp and focused. you were moving before you'd decided to, weaving through people, your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
jake saw you coming. his smile faltered, something uncertain crossing his face. "hey—"
"who's this?" you said, gesturing at the girl. your voice came out sharper than you'd intended, heavy with something you couldn't quite name.
the girl looked between you and jake, confused. "i'm mina. jungwon's sister remember? we just met like ten minutes ago."
"oh right." you focused on jake, ignoring her entirely. "you look like you're having fun."
"i—yeah?" jake's eyebrows drew together. "it's a party?"
"funny how you can make time for parties but couldn't respond to any of my texts about the assignment."
"i told you we could do it over email—"
"is that what you're doing right now? project work?" you knew you sounded irrational, accusatory, but you couldn't stop. the words kept spilling out, poisoned by alcohol and jealousy and two weeks of feeling like you'd been the only one affected by any of this.
"or are you just. moving on? found someone new to—"
"okay, i'm gonna go," mina said, backing away with her hands up. "this seems like. a thing. nice meeting you, jake."
she disappeared into the crowd. jake stared at you, his expression shifting from confused to something harder. "what the hell was that?"
"you tell me. you've been ignoring me for two weeks and now you're here flirting with random girls?"
"flirting?" jake's voice pitched up slightly. "flirting? i was literally just talking to her. she asked where the bathroom was and then we started chatting about the music. that's—that's not flirting, that's called being polite."
"she had her hand on your arm."
"so?" jake looked genuinely baffled now. "people touch arms when they talk. that doesn't mean anything. and even if it did—" he stopped himself, jaw tightening. "i don't owe you an explanation. you don't get to. we're not together. we're not anything."
the words hit exactly where they were meant to. "right. because you decided we're not."
"no, because you decided we weren't, like a month ago when you started playing games instead of just being honest." his voice was rising now, frustration bleeding through. "and now you're mad because i'm talking to someone else? you don't get to do that. you don't get to manipulate me into something and then act possessive when i try to move on."
"i'm not—" you started, but stopped. because he was right. you were being possessive and irrational. reading intent into a harmless conversation because you wanted there to be something there. wanted confirmation that jake was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.
but he wasn't. he was just living his life. talking to people at parties. laughing easily with strangers. completely unaffected while you spiralled.
"i wasn't flirting with her," jake said, quieter now. tired. "i was just being friendly. that's what normal people do. they don't engineer entire relationships or manufacture situations. they just exist around each other."
"i know," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have. that was out of line."
jake nodded once, already turning away. "yeah. it was."
you watched him disappear back into the crowd, leaving you standing alone by the kitchen counter. your hands were shaking. you downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to quiet the noise in your head.
you'd just proven everything he'd said about you. possessive. manipulative. unable to let go. you'd projected your own feelings onto a completely innocent interaction and made a scene because you couldn't handle seeing him okay when you were so thoroughly not okay.
you'd been so certain. so sure he was flirting, that the girl meant something, that you'd caught him in some kind of lie. but you'd been wrong. completely, embarrassingly wrong. because you didn't actually know what jake was thinking. you never had. you'd just assumed, projected, filled in the gaps with your own narrative.
and now he was probably telling his friends what a psycho you were. probably regretting he'd ever let you into his life in the first place.
you grabbed another drink.
…
the party had devolved into that late-night haze where everything blurred together. people you didn't recognise, conversations you weren't part of, music that had gotten somehow both quieter and more invasive. you'd lost track of yunjin and beomgyu somewhere around drink number six. or seven. the room tilted slightly when you moved too fast.
you were trying to find your jacket, ready to call it a night, when you spotted him. jake. sitting alone on a couch in the corner, looking absolutely exhausted. his head kept drooping forward like he was fighting to stay conscious, then jerking back up. his eyes were half-closed, his usual careful posture completely abandoned.
you should walk past him. nothing good could come from another interaction tonight. you'd already embarrassed yourself once. but your feet carried you closer anyway, some magnetic pull you couldn't quite resist even knowing it was a bad idea.
you were almost past him when his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "don't," he said, not looking at you. his voice was rough, slurred slightly. "don't leave."
you stopped. "jake—"
"been trying," he mumbled, his grip loosening but not releasing. "trying so hard. but you make it impossible."
"what are you talking about?"
he finally looked up at you, and his eyes were unfocused, glassy with alcohol. "you. i'm talking about you. can't stop thinking about you. it's driving me insane."
your heart lurched. "you're drunk."
"i know but so are you," he said, like that explained everything. "that's the only reason i'm saying this. because sober me knows better. sober me has self-control and boundaries and all that shit." he pulled gently on your wrist, making you stumble slightly closer. "but drunk me is tired. so tired of pretending i don't want you."
"you said you needed space."
"i do need space. because when i'm around you i can't think straight. i can't trust myself." his words were coming out uneven, tripping over each other. "you think i was avoiding you because i was mad? i was avoiding you because if i saw you i'd—" he made a frustrated noise. "i'd do something stupid. like this. this is stupid."
you sat down next to him, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. "jake—"
"you're so pretty," he said, almost accusatory. "and you smell good. and you're smart, like actually smart, not just good at school. and when you laugh it's. it does things to me. and i hate it. i hate that you have this much power over me when i don't even know if you actually like me or if i'm just… convenient."
"i do like you," you said quietly. "i've liked you the whole time."
"but do you?" he turned to face you more fully, his eyes searching yours even though he seemed to be having trouble focusing. "or do you like the idea of me? the nerdy guy you can manipulate? your little project?"
"that's not—" you stopped. "it wasn't like that. it's not like that."
"then what is it like?" he was still holding your wrist, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. "because i've been trying to figure it out for weeks and i can't. i can't understand why you'd want me. what you get out of this. and maybe i'm just stupid but i need you to tell me. plainly. what do you want from me?"
"you," you said, the word coming out more honest than you'd intended. "just. you."
jake laughed, bitter and tired. "that doesn't make sense."
"i know."
"i'm not interesting. i'm not cool or funny or—"
"you are though," you interrupted. "you are all of those things. you just don't see it."
he went quiet for a long moment. then, so quietly you almost missed it: "i've been trying so hard not to want you back. because i knew—i know it's not good for me. but i can't stop. and i'm so tired of trying."
his hand slid from your wrist to your hand, fingers threading through yours. the touch was so much gentler than you expected, almost reverent. "i deleted your texts without reading them," he admitted. "because if i read them i'd respond. and if i responded i'd end up right back where i started. wanting you. letting you in. getting hurt."
"i don't want to hurt you."
"i know. that's what makes it worse." he leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closing. "you don't mean to. you just. do."
you didn't know what to say to that. didn't know how to fix the damage you'd done or convince him that your feelings were real when your actions had been so calculated. so you just sat there, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of him next to you.
"i missed you," jake said, so quiet you barely heard it over the music. "i fucking missed you and i hated myself for it."
"i missed you too."
"yeah?" he opened his eyes, looking at you with something raw and unguarded. "you missed manipulating me?"
"that's not fair."
"isn't it though?" but there was no heat in his words. just exhaustion. "god, i'm so tired. tired of being angry. tired of trying to stay away from you. tired of pretending i don't want you so badly it hurts."
the confession hung in the air between you. jake was looking at you like he was waiting for something, permission or rejection or maybe just confirmation that you'd heard him.
you leaned in. gave him time to pull away, to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with none of the careful hesitation from before. this was messy and desperate, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. he kissed you like he'd been holding back for too long, like all that careful control had finally snapped.
you shifted closer, practically climbing into his lap, and he made a sound against your mouth that went straight through you. his hands were everywhere, spanning your waist, sliding up your back, gripping like he was afraid you'd disappear if he loosened his hold even slightly.
"been thinking about this," he mumbled against your lips, barely pulling back enough to speak. "every night. hated myself for it but couldn't stop."
"me too," you admitted, kissing along his jaw. "i couldn't sleep. kept replaying everything."
"i lied about the texts i didn't respond to," he said, tilting his head to give you better access. "i read them. all of them before deleting. at like three am. read them over and over."
"why didn't you answer?"
"because i wanted to say things i shouldn't say. like how much i missed you. how i kept going to the lab hoping you'd be there. how seeing you at the party tonight fucking destroyed me even though i pretended i was fine." his hands tightened on your waist. "how i've been so fucking miserable without you."
you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing his words. he responded immediately, pulling you fully into his lap now, and you could feel how much he wanted this, wanted you. it was overwhelming. intoxicating. the desperation in every touch, every small sound he made.
"we should," he said between kisses, "we should probably stop."
"do you want to stop?"
"no. god no." he pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown, lips swollen. "but i'm drunk and you're drunk and tomorrow we're gonna regret—"
"i won't," you said firmly. "i won't regret this."
something shifted in his expression. softened. he touched your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "you're gonna break my heart," he said, not quite a question.
"i'm not."
"you will." but he kissed you anyway, softer this time. slower. like he was memorising the feel of you. "and i'm gonna let you. because i'm weak and pathetic and i want you so much i don't even care anymore."
"you're not weak."
"i am though." he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closing. "i'm so weak for you. it's embarrassing."
you could feel his exhaustion creeping in, the way his body was getting heavier against yours, his movements slowing. "come on," you said softly, standing and pulling him up with you. "let's get you somewhere you can actually sleep."
"don't wanna sleep," he protested, but let you guide him anyway. "wanna stay with you."
"you will. i'm not going anywhere."
you found an empty bedroom on the second floor, the door unlocked and the bed mercifully unoccupied. jake collapsed onto it immediately, pulling you down with him. he was asleep within minutes, his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck. his breathing evened out, deep and steady.
you should probably feel guilty. taking advantage of his drunken honesty, letting him confess things he'd normally keep locked away. but you were too tired, too overwhelmed by everything he'd said. i want you so badly it hurts. i've been so fucking miserable without you. you're gonna break my heart and i'm gonna let you.
you didn't have answers. didn't have promises you could make. didn't know how to fix the fundamental imbalance between you, the manipulation and hurt that had gotten you here.
but for now, in this quiet room with jake's warmth pressed against you, you could pretend tomorrow didn't exist. could pretend this was simple. just two people who wanted each other, tangled together in the dark, nothing more complicated than that.
you fell asleep still wearing your shoes, jake's arms tight around you, his heartbeat steady against your chest.
you woke to pale morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains and the warm weight of jake still wrapped around you. for a disorienting moment you couldn't place where you were. then it came back in pieces. the party. the confrontation. jake's drunken confessions. falling asleep tangled together.
jake stirred against you, his breath catching as he woke. you felt the exact moment awareness returned, the way his body went tense. slowly, carefully, he pulled back just enough to look at you. his hair was a disaster, sticking up in every direction. his glasses sat crooked on the nightstand. his eyes were cautious but clear.
"hi," he said quietly.
"hi."
he didn't let go of you. didn't immediately scramble away or apologise or retreat into panic like last time. he just looked at you, searching your face for something.
"i said a lot of things last night," he finally said.
"yeah."
"i meant them." his voice was serious, steady despite the embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "i know i was drunk, and i probably shouldn't have said half of it, but. i meant it. all of it."
your heart kicked up. "jake—"
"i like you," he said, cutting you off gently. "i've liked you since that first night in the lab when you were stressed about your code and i got to actually help you with something. and it's been killing me trying to stay away from you because every time i see you i just. want you. so much that it scares me."
"why does it scare you?"
"because i don't know how to want someone this much and still protect myself." he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see you better. "last time i didn't protect myself at all. i just. gave in. and then i panicked because it felt too big, too fast, and i didn't know how to handle it."
"and now?"
"now i'm still terrified," he admitted. "but i'm more scared of not trying. of walking away and spending the rest of college wondering what could have happened if i'd just. been brave enough to give you a real chance."
you felt something tight in your chest start to loosen. "i want that. a real chance. i want to do this right."
"yeah?"
"yeah." you reached up, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. "i'm sorry. for all of it. the manipulation, the games, not being honest about what i wanted. you deserved better than that."
"i know," jake said simply. then, softer: "but i also know you were scared too. just in a different way."
he leaned down, kissing you with a gentleness that made your chest ache. different from last night's desperate intensity. this was slow, careful, almost questioning. you kissed him back, trying to pour everything you couldn't quite say into it. apology and promise and want all tangled together.
when he pulled back his eyes were dark, pupils blown. "i want to try again," he said. "properly this time. but i need you to be honest with me. about what you want. about what this is."
"i want you," you said. "not as a project or a conquest or whatever i convinced myself it was before. just you jake."
something in his expression softened. "okay," he said. "okay. we can work with that."
he kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt his weight settle more fully over you. "i want to make it up to you," he murmured against your lips. "for running away before. for making you feel like you did something wrong when i was just scared."
"you don't have to—"
"i want to." he was already kissing down your neck, hands sliding under your shirt. "let me. please."
there was something in his voice, almost pleading, that made you nod. he smiled against your skin, helping you out of your clothes with more confidence than he'd had before. when you were bare beneath him he just. looked. taking his time, hands mapping your body like he was memorising every detail.
"you're so pretty," he said, almost reverent. "i thought about this. about you. so many times."
then he was moving lower, pressing kisses down your stomach, your hip bones, the inside of your thighs. when his breath ghosted over where you needed him most you couldn't help the small sound that escaped.
"tell me if anything's too much," he said, glancing up at you. then he lowered his mouth to you and your brain short-circuited.
he started slowly, almost tentatively, like he was learning you. his tongue moved in careful strokes, testing what made you gasp, what made your hips shift toward him. when he found the rhythm that had your fingers tightening in his hair, he made a low, satisfied sound against you that you felt everywhere.
"jake," you breathed, and he looked up at you through his lashes, pupils blown wide, lips glistening with your arousal.
"tell me," he said, voice rough. "tell me what feels good."
"that—" your words cut off as he did it again, tongue flicking over your clit with that same perfect pressure. "right there. just like that."
he was a quick learner. always had been. he catalogued every reaction, every sound you made, adjusting and refining. except this wasn't detached or analytical. this was hungry. desperate. he sucked your clit into his mouth and you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your thighs trembling on either side of his head.
"fuck, jake—"
"god, you taste so good," he mumbled against your pussy, barely pulling back enough to speak. his chin was wet, his glasses fogged slightly. "been thinking about this. wanted to do this right last time."
he was getting lost in it now, the careful control slipping into something messier, greedier. he alternated between focused attention on your clit and broad, indulgent strokes through your folds, like he couldn't decide between making you fall apart and simply savouring you. his tongue pushed inside you and you keened, your back arching off the bed.
"oh my god," you gasped. "jake, your mouth—"
he moaned against you, the vibration making your thighs clench around his head. he didn't seem to mind, just gripped your hips harder, pulled you closer, like he wanted to suffocate in your pussy. when his fingers joined his mouth, sliding through your wetness before pressing inside, you nearly sobbed.
"so wet," he murmured, almost to himself.
he crooked his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made you cry out, and worked it mercilessly while his tongue circled your clit. the dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building so fast you couldn't catch your breath. your fingers tightened in his hair, probably painful, but he just groaned and doubled his efforts.
"jake, i'm—fuck, i'm gonna—"
"i know," he said against you, his voice wrecked. "i can feel it. let go for me."
his fingers thrust deeper, faster, his mouth sucking hard on your clit, and you shattered. your orgasm hit like a shockwave, your whole body going taut as pleasure whited out your vision. you were dimly aware of the sounds you were making—high, desperate whimpers and moans—but you couldn't stop them.
jake moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and he didn't let up. he worked you through it with devastating patience, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him like he was starving for it.
"jake," you gasped, trying to push at his head. "too much—"
but he just whined—actually whined—and gripped your thighs tighter, keeping them spread. "please," he mumbled against your pussy, his words muffled and desperate. "please, just one more. need to feel you come again. please."
"i can't—" but your protest died as he sealed his lips around your clit again, sucking gently, his fingers still working inside you. the overstimulation was almost painful but it was already shifting into something else, something that had you gasping and arching into his mouth instead of away from it.
he was making sounds now—desperate, needy whimpers and moans that vibrated against you. he was rutting against the mattress, you realised dimly, seeking friction while he lost himself in eating you out. his hair was a mess from your fingers, and he looked absolutely wrecked.
"so good," he whined between licks. "taste so good. could do this forever. please let me—need to make you come again—"
he was babbling now, drunk on you, his movements getting messier and more desperate. his tongue worked your clit in frantic circles while his fingers curled inside you, and the pleasure was building again impossibly fast. you were so sensitive that every touch felt electric, overwhelming.
"that's it," he gasped, feeling you start to tighten around his fingers. "yeah, give it to me. please, please—"
your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out his name, your thighs clamping around his head. jake moaned like he was the one coming, his hips jerking against the mattress as he worked you through it, tongue lapping up everything, fingers gentling but not stopping until you were actually sobbing from oversensitivity.
only then did he pull back, and when he finally lifted his head he looked completely gone. his face was flushed and wet, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his lips swollen and red. he looked drunk on you, his eyes unfocused and dark.
"fuck," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "you're so hot when you come. the sounds you make—"
you pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he groaned into your mouth. his cock was rock hard against your thigh, leaking and desperate.
"your turn," you said, reaching down to wrap your hand around him.
he hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward. "you don't have to—"
"i want to." you stroked him slowly, base to tip, feeling how hot and heavy he was in your palm. precum leaked from the slit and you used it to ease the glide. "you're so hard, jake. does eating my pussy turn you on that much?"
"fuck—" his voice broke. "yes. god, yes. you have no idea."
"tell me." you tightened your grip slightly and he whimpered. actually whimpered. "tell me what you were thinking about."
"i was thinking—" he gasped when your thumb swept over the sensitive head. "thinking about how good you taste. how you were shaking. how i could feel you clenching and i wanted—wanted to be inside you—"
"yeah?" you stroked him faster, loving the way his abs tensed, the way his thighs trembled. "you want to fuck me, jake?"
"so bad," he choked out.
you guided him between your legs, not quite inside yet, just letting the head of his cock slide through your wetness. he made a strangled sound, his whole body shuddering.
"we should—do you have—" he was trying to think through the haze of arousal, being responsible even now. "condom?"
"pill," you said. "i'm on the pill. and i'm clean. tested recently."
"me too. clean, i mean." his cock twitched against you, smearing precum through your folds. "can i—fuck, can i feel you bare?"
"yes," you breathed. "want to feel all of you."
he positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head pressing against you, and even that felt like too much. he pushed in slowly, so slowly, and the stretch was intense. you were wet enough that he slid in smoothly at first, but the sheer size of him was overwhelming.
"oh fuck," you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders. "jake, you're so—you're so big—"
"i know, i'm sorry—" he froze, only halfway in. "am i hurting you?"
"no, don't stop," you urged, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper. "just—go slow. need to adjust."
he sank in another inch and you both moaned. he was splitting you open, stretching you so full you could barely breathe. when he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside you, he dropped his forehead to yours.
"oh my god," he choked out. "you're so tight. so fucking tight and wet and—i can't—"
"don't move yet," you managed, clenching around him involuntarily. he was so deep you could feel him everywhere, pressing against spots that made your toes curl. "just let me—fuck—"
"you feel incredible," he said, his voice shaking. "i've never—nothing compares to this."
you tightened around him experimentally and he swore, his hips jerking forward. "sorry, sorry," he gasped. "i'm trying to hold still but when you do that i want to—"
"want to what?" you rolled your hips slightly and he groaned, deep and guttural.
"want to move," he admitted, his control clearly fraying. "want to fuck you."
"then do it," you said.
something in him snapped. he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in hard, the force of it punching a cry from your lips. he did it again, and again, finding a rhythm that was deep and relentless. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust.
"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "just like that—don't stop—"
"god," he panted, his voice wrecked. "you feel so good."
you looked down between your bodies and moaned at the sight—his thick cock disappearing into you, glistening with your wetness, stretching you obscenely. "jake, oh my god—"
"feel how deep i am?" he thrust particularly hard and you keened.
"yes—fuck yes—"
he wasn't being careful anymore, wasn't being gentle. he fucked into you with abandon, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that made sparks shoot up your spine. the sounds were obscene—skin slapping against skin, the wet slide of his cock, his grunts mixing with your moans.
"wanted this," he said against your neck, his breath hot. "wanted you. for so long."
"tell me more," you demanded, loving this unfiltered version of him.
"thought about this constantly," he admitted, his thrusts getting harder. "thought about having you like this. making you feel good. hearing you say my name."
"jake—" you were getting close again, that familiar tension building low in your belly.
"touch yourself," he said. "want to feel you come on my cock. need it. please."
you slid your hand between your bodies, finding your clit, already swollen and sensitive. the added stimulation made you clench around him and he swore, his rhythm faltering.
"that's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixed on where your fingers worked. "fuck, that's so hot. you're so hot. make yourself cum. let me feel it."
you worked your clit in tight circles, the pressure building faster with each thrust of his cock. he was so deep, hitting all the right spots, the slide of him inside you absolutely perfect. you were making sounds you'd never made before—high, desperate whines and gasps.
"close," you managed. "so close—"
"come for me," he urged, his voice strained. "squeeze my cock. want to feel your pussy milk me. come on, baby, let me feel it—"
the orgasm hit you like lightning, sudden and intense. you cried out his name, your whole body convulsing, your pussy clamping down on him rhythmically. waves of pleasure crashed over you, so intense you forgot how to breathe.
"oh fuck," jake choked out, his hips stuttering. "you're—i can feel you—i'm gonna—"
he tried to last, you could see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his arms were shaking. but your pussy was still fluttering around him, still clenching in aftershocks, and it was too much. he buried himself deep with a broken moan, his cock pulsing inside you as he came. you felt the warmth of it, felt him fill you up, and the intimacy of it made something in your chest crack open.
"fuck," he gasped, collapsing on top of you. "oh my god. that was—i've never—"
you wrapped your arms around him, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. he was still inside you, softening slowly, and you could feel his release leaking out around his cock.
"that was amazing," you said when you could finally speak. "you were amazing."
he lifted his head to look at you, his expression soft and vulnerable. "i think i might be falling for you," he said quietly. "is that okay? am i allowed to say that?"
your throat felt tight with emotion. "yeah. that's okay."
"good." he kissed you gently, sweetly. "because i don't think i could stop even if you told me to."
he pulled out carefully and you both hissed at the sensitivity. immediately he was gathering you into his arms, pulling you against his chest like he couldn't stand not touching you. you fit there perfectly, your head tucked under his chin.
"we should probably talk about this," you said after a while. "about us."
"we will," jake promised, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine. "but can we just stay like this for a bit first?"
"yeah." you pressed closer, breathing in the scent of him. "we can stay like this."
and you did. stayed tangled together as the morning light grew stronger, as the sounds of people leaving the party filtered up through the floor. his cum was still leaking out of you, making a mess on your thighs, but neither of you moved to clean up. you just held each other in this new, tentative peace.
jake changed almost overnight once you started dating. it was like giving him permission to want you openly had flipped some switch in his brain. suddenly he was everywhere.
he'd show up at your door before your 9 am lecture with coffee, your exact order memorised, his hair still messy from sleep because he'd woken up early just to see you. he'd kiss you goodbye and then text you five minutes later with some random thought he forgot to mention. did you know that octopuses have three hearts? just learnt that. thought you should know.
in class he'd sit next to you instead of in his usual back corner spot, his knee always pressed against yours under the desk. sometimes his hand would find its way to your thigh, just resting there, his thumb tracing absent patterns while he tried to focus on the lecture. you'd catch him staring at you instead of his laptop, and when you'd raise an eyebrow he'd just smile, unashamed.
"you're distracting," he'd whisper.
"i'm literally just sitting here."
"i know. it's very distracting."
study sessions became impossible. you'd be explaining a concept and he'd lean over to kiss your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth. "jake, i'm trying to help you."
"i know, keep going," he'd say, already doing it again.
"you're not even listening."
"i am. you were talking about. um." he'd grin sheepishly. "okay i wasn't listening. but you're just so pretty when you're focused."
your friends noticed immediately. yunjin had taken one look at jake's arm slung around your shoulders at lunch, the way he was playing with your hair while talking to beomgyu, and pulled you aside.
"okay so he's like. obsessed with you," she said. "it's actually kind of cute. in a golden retriever kind of way."
"he's not obsessed."
"babe, he just offered to carry your bag even though your apartment is literally three minutes away. and he's been smiling at you for the past ten minutes like you hung the moon. it's obsessed behaviour."
but she said it fondly, and later you caught her telling beomgyu that she'd never seen you this relaxed before. "she's not performing," yunjin had said. "she's just. being."
and she was right. with jake you didn't have to strategise or calculate or perform anything. he wanted you. obviously, openly, without games or subtext. when you showed up to his place in sweats and no makeup, he'd light up like you'd dressed up specifically for him. when you stole his hoodies, he'd just buy more so you could steal those too.
"i like seeing you in my clothes," he'd admitted once, pulling you close. "makes me feel like. i don't know. like you're mine."
"possessive," you'd teased.
"is that bad?"
"no," you'd said, kissing him. "i like it."
jake's friends had their own reactions. you'd been nervous meeting them properly, remembering that disastrous first encounter at the party. but they'd welcomed you easily, even if they did give jake endless shit.
"dude, you're so whipped," his roommate said, watching jake immediately get up to refill your drink without being asked.
"and?" jake had said, completely unbothered.
"and nothing, it's just funny. remember when you said you'd never be that guy who drops everything for someone? and now you're literally—"
"finish that sentence and i'm not helping you with discrete math anymore."
but he was smiling when he said it, and later his roommate told you that jake talked about you constantly. "it's honestly annoying how happy he is."
the thing was, you were happy too. unexpectedly, overwhelmingly happy. jake made you sharper somehow, more focused. when you studied together you actually retained information because he made learning feel collaborative instead of competitive. he celebrated your successes like they were his own, staying up with you before big presentations, bringing you stress-relief snacks, sending you encouraging texts.
and you did the same for him. learnt his patterns, his tells when he was overwhelmed. you'd show up at the lab with dinner when you knew he'd been working for hours. you'd run your fingers through his hair when he was stressed, and he'd melt into your touch, all that tension draining away.
"you make everything easier," he'd told you once, late at night when you were both too tired to filter. "like the world's less heavy when you're around."
"that's the cheesiest thing you've ever said."
"i know. i mean it though."
weeks blurred together in the best way. stolen kisses between classes. jake's hand always finding yours. the way he'd kiss you goodbye at your door and then text you goodnight five minutes later even though he lived one floor up. movie nights that turned into makeout sessions on your couch, jake's glasses getting in the way until you carefully removed them, setting them aside so you could kiss him properly.
he got clingy when he was tired, wrapping around you like a koala, mumbling into your neck. "don't leave."
"i'm just going to get water."
"too far. stay."
"jake, i'll be gone thirty seconds."
"thirty seconds too long."
you'd laugh, running your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and feel something warm and settled in your chest. this was what it was supposed to feel like.
the beach had been jake's idea. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," he'd said, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "and i know this spot that's perfect for stargazing. barely any light pollution. we could bring blankets, make a whole thing of it?"
so here you were, sitting on a blanket in the sand while the ocean crashed softly in the background. the sky was impossibly clear, stars scattered across it like someone had spilt diamonds. jake lay with his head in your lap, one of your hands playing with his hair while he pointed up at the sky.
"okay, so see those seven stars there?" he traced a pattern with his finger. "that's the big dipper, which is part of ursa major. but if you follow those two stars at the edge, they point directly to polaris. the north star."
you hummed, only half listening to the actual words. you were too busy watching him. the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, how animated his expressions were when he talked about something he loved. the moonlight caught on his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips.
"and that one—" he was still going, completely absorbed. "that's cassiopeia. she was a queen in greek mythology who bragged about being more beautiful than the sea nymphs, so poseidon punished her by placing her in the sky upside down. you can see how the constellation kind of looks like a W? that's her throne."
"jake," you said softly.
"oh, and if you look over there, that really bright one? that's actually venus, not a star. common misconception. planets don't twinkle like stars do because—"
you leaned down and kissed him, cutting off his rambling mid-sentence. he made a surprised sound but responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. when you pulled back he followed your lips automatically, trying to chase another kiss.
"you were saying?" you teased.
"i—" he blinked up at you, slightly dazed. "what was i saying?"
"something about venus."
"right. venus. because of the. um." he lost his train of thought as you leaned down again, kissing him slower this time. "you're distracting me from the meteor shower."
"am i?"
"yeah. very effectively." but he was smiling, pulling you down for another kiss.
you shifted, moving to straddle his lap properly. jake's hands immediately found your waist, sliding under your shirt to rest against bare skin.
the kissing turned heated quickly. jake made these small, needy sounds that drove you crazy, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, anywhere he could reach. when you rolled your hips experimentally he gasped into your mouth, his grip tightening.
"fuck," he whispered. "you're gonna kill me."
you kissed down his jaw, his neck, feeling his pulse racing under your lips. his hands had moved to your hips now, guiding your movements, and you could feel how affected he was. "still thinking about the stars?" you teased.
"what stars?" he pulled you down for another bruising kiss, one hand tangling in your hair. "can't think about anything except you."
you ground down harder and jake made a sound that was almost a whine, his head falling back against the blanket. "please," he gasped. "please, i need—"
suddenly, the loud, insistent beeping of his watch interrupted the moment.
you both froze.
jake's face went bright red as he fumbled with his wrist. "oh my god. oh my god. it's my fitness watch. it thinks i'm exercising because my heart rate—" another beep. "make it stop."
you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, burying your face in his shoulder while his watch continued its concerned beeping about his elevated heart rate. "it's not funny," jake groaned, still trying to silence the watch. "this is so embarrassing."
"it's a little funny."
"my watch just cockblocked me. there's nothing funny about that."
you kissed his jaw, still giggling. "i think it's cute. your heart rate got that high just from kissing me?"
"you were not just kissing me, you were—" he made a frustrated noise. "yes. okay. yes. you have that effect on me. are you happy?"
"very." you settled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing under your ear. the watch had finally stopped beeping. "for what it's worth, my heart's doing the same thing."
"yeah?" he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.
"yeah."
you lay there together, the ocean providing a steady soundtrack, the stars scattered above you. jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "i love you," he said softly. "in case that wasn't obvious from the way my watch literally staged an intervention."
you lifted your head to look at him. his eyes were soft, open, vulnerable in the moonlight. "i love you too," you said, meaning it completely.
he smiled, that full, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. then he kissed you again, sweet and unhurried, his hands gentle on your face.
"we should probably head back soon," you murmured eventually. "it's getting late."
"five more minutes," jake said, pulling you closer. "just. let me hold you for five more minutes."
you settled back against him, his arms wrapped securely around you, both of you looking up at the vast sky. you'd come here to watch a meteor shower but you'd been too distracted by each other to notice if any had passed.
somehow, you didn't mind at all.
"hey," jake said softly. "thank you."
"for what?"
"for giving me another chance. for being patient with me while i figured my shit out. for. this. all of it." his arms tightened around you. "i know i was difficult at first."
"you weren't difficult. you were protecting yourself. i get it now."
"still. you could have given up on me. but you didn't."
"of course i didn't," you said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "you're worth it. you've always been worth it."
jake made a soft, overwhelmed sound, burying his face in your hair. "i'm gonna marry you someday," he mumbled. "just so you know."
"jake—"
"not now. obviously not now. but someday. when we've graduated and figured our lives out and i can actually afford a ring. i'm gonna marry you."
you felt your chest go tight with emotion. "okay," you whispered. "someday."
"yeah. someday."
you stayed like that until the cold started seeping in, until you were both shivering despite being pressed together. finally, reluctantly, you packed up the blanket and headed back to campus. jake held your hand the entire walk, occasionally pulling you close to kiss you at random intervals.
"what was that for?" you asked after the third surprise kiss.
"just because," he said, smiling. "because i can. because i love you. do i need more reasons?"
"no," you said, kissing him back. "no more reasons needed."
if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3
☆ spiderman! jungwon x fem! reader
☆ summary: spider-man was the city's strongest hero: a crime-fighter, a man of the people, and... a loverboy? it's been months since jungwon, the identity behind the powerful spider-man persona, broke up with you. somehow, even with the entire city's fate resting on his shoulders, his biggest concern still remains whether or not he will ever get to see you again.
☆ genre: spider-man! au, exes to lovers, JUNGWON YEARNINGGG, slooooow burn, college! au, jealousy, angst, pining, SEXUAL TENSION & YEARNING
☆ word count: 24.4k words
☆ my long awaited... im sorry guys i was genuinely going through hell and back when i was writing this but its okay papa vanya pulled through, for my dearest @ashtxrie
Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, bated breaths tearing from his lips.
Not again, he thought to himself, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He could feel his loose t-shirt sticking to his skin, the heat from under his blanket too sweltering to endure that he had to throw it off of him. His cat-like eyes flickered to the window beside his bed. The moon gleamed so charmingly, streaming bright slivers of light through his window. And yet, all Jungwon could do is shiver into his hot skin.
It’s been almost 6 months since Jungwon broke up with you. 6 months since he’s been genuinely happy.
And for the past 6 months, Jungwon has been having the same nightmare every night. The nightmare that ended the same way no matter what Jungwon’s brain wired itself to conjure up: with you dying in his arms.
Jungwon shuddered. It was the middle of summer. Even when it was late in the depths of night, beads of cold sweat managed to find their way back onto Jungwon’s neck. Sitting up on his bed, his knees pressed against his chest, Jungwon’s heart pounded in his ribcage, so loud that he could hear it in his ears, yet his fear was so quiet in his heart.
His eyes flickered around his dark bedroom. He needed to call you, he thought. Images of your dying face, choked sobs, and teary voice flooded his memory. It made Jungwon’s eyes line with hot tears, as they always did whenever this nightmare returned to him. He needed to call you, to make sure that you were okay, that his greatest fears hadn’t come true.
Jungwon's hand, still trembling, reached out for his bedside table. If he ignored the empty coffee cups cluttered on it, or the way he had hundreds of ignored messages and call notifications, he would have slowed down. And just as he searched up your name in his contacts, his shaking fingers about to call you, he stopped.
Oh right. He’s not with you anymore.
6 months is a long time. Apparently not long enough for Jungwon to forget his feelings for you.
If his chest wasn’t already aching, it was now. It was him that broke up with you. It was him that chose to break your heart. It was him that chose to leave you crumbling to your knees, tears spilling from your eyes as you silently begged him to stay.
And maybe that was his biggest regret.
Jungwon stared at his hands. He gazed each callous on his palm, every single scar and scratch still evident on his skin. His eyes glazed over the black spider-like veins on his wrists.
No, there was no time to mull over you. Not when there was an imminent threat in this city. Slapping his cheeks awake, Jungwon huffed before climbing out of bed. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep anyway. He might as well distract himself with something productive. Start early.
His eyes fluttered back to his moonlit window. Ah, fuck it.
Jungwon had a secret.
A secret that he kept guarded day in and day out, like his life depended on it. And the truth was, his life did depend on it.
Ignoring the way the red and blue spandex felt particularly uncomfortable as it stuck to his still-sweaty skin, Jungwon shot a sticky white web at a building. He gazed at the web that had ejected from his wrist, before peering over the ledge. In this busy city, it seemed like no road was ever going to be completely empty, not even in the depths of night. There were still people roaming the streets, noisy cars honking at one another with their tires screeching.
You hated heights, was the resounding thought that clouded his head as he looked down to the city below him. Once again, Jungwon's heart tightened in his chest, and he shook his head.
He needed to stop thinking about you. You probably already stopped caring about him anyway. You're a pretty girl, even before you and him broke up there was already a line of guys waiting for you to be single. Jungwon wouldn't be surprised if a girl like you already found someone else.
Someone better. Someone that wasn't a damn coward like Jungwon was.
Jungwon let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the way that the cool summer night air brushed against him. It's hard. To let you go, to accept that what once was his could be someone else's.
He looked back down to his gloved hands, the same hands that have been fighting crime for the past 6 months, the same hands that were responsible for the safety of this city, the same hands that touched your pretty face, the same hands that have brought criminals to justice.
It was all blurring together. Jungwon dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He needed to let you go, before his mind devoured him. He needed to let you go, before his identity as Spider-Man, the number one crime-fighter in this city, gets inevitably revealed, and he has to witness you die for the hundredth time. But for real this time.
"Damn, you look like shit."
Jungwon rolled his eyes at his friend's comment, sighing loudly as he flipped through the pages of his textbook. "Didn't get much sleep last night."
Look, Jungwon is a college student. Although his Spider-Man gig was pretty good at paying him, he wanted to contribute to his community in another way. Like through tutoring the local kids.
"Why are you even studying basic elementary algebra?— you're a film major!" Jungwon's good friend Sunghoon Park was a great guy. A little rambunctious, but still a good friend. But not right now.
Jungwon had agreed to have a quote un-quote "study date" with Sunghoon at the coffee shop below Jungwon's apartment complex. Jungwon was a little proud that his friend suddenly wanted to study with him (such intellectual vitality!), but seeing as all Sunghoon has been doing for the past 30 minutes is scrolling on his phone and looking around conspicuously tells Jungwon otherwise. Sunghoon didn't even order a coffee or soak in the scent of warm coffee beans in the coffee shop. He just sat there.
Jungwon shot a look at Sunghoon. "This kid that I'm tutoring, apparently he's not very good at math."
Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as his thick brows quivered.
"Okay..." he said slowly, his vowels drawing out. "But why do you need to study for it? Don't you like—" the man made a face— "Already know how to do basic math?"
Jungwon opened his mouth to explain that he's not necessarily trying to review elementary math, but moreso trying to figure how to teach it, but he was cut off by Sunghoon's continued rambling.
"—Like shouldn't you know how to add apples? Like if Sally has 2 apples and she gets 3 more, how many does she..." Sunghoon trailed off when he saw Jungwon's completely vacant, unamused expression. Jungwon clicked his tongue, going back to his very informative reading. However, he could practically feel Sunghoon staring at him, to the point that it felt like he was burning holes into Jungwon's person.
Jungwon let out another annoyed sigh. When he looked up to Sunghoon very obviously staring at him, his friend comically looked away. As if Sunghoon was fooling anyone.
"Do I have three heads?" Jungwon asked bluntly.
"What?"
Jungwon huffed, leaning back in his seat. "You keep looking at me. What is it?"
Sunghoon blinked. Jungwon watched as his older friend's Adam's apple bobbed. The once relaxed, though awkward, expression on Sunghoon's face wiped almost immediately, being replaced with a deeply uncomfortable and uneasy one. He squirmed in his seat, his dark eyes darting around the coffee shop in silence.
"Are you okay?"
But instead of answering, Sunghoon just shoved his face into his hands, muttering something under his breath that Jungwon couldn't make out.
Finally, Sunghoon finished his mini-mental breakdown and looked at Jungwon. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes Sunghoon went from looking perfectly fine to looking like he just went through hell.
"Jungwon." Sunghoon finally said, his voice solemn. Which was weird, because when is Sunghoon ever serious? To add to Jungwon's bewilderment, Sunghoon reached across the table, taking hold of Jungwon's hands. His expression was so comically somber that Jungwon thought he was joking. "I have something to tell you."
Jungwon rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting. "Yeah, yeah, get on with your little bit—"
"I"m serious." Sunghoon looked around again, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in closer to Jungwon, his voice dropping to as low as a whisper. "It's serious."
Jungwon's brows knitted together, his expression pinching in pure confusion. "What are you talking abou—"
Sunghoon squeezed Jungwon's hand from across the table. His friend took a deep breath, before earnestly facing Jungwon. "What I'm about to tell you, you didn't hear it from me."
"Just—" Jungwon's scowl deepened. "Just tell me already, dude!"
Usually Sunghoon would react, but he just shook his head solemnly. Sunghoon took another deep breath, before he opened his mouth and let words tumble out: "She has a blind date. This weekend."
Jungwon blinked slowly. "Um. Who?"
Sunghoon looked like he was going to shit himself. "You know...."
Jungwon didn't know. Jungwon literally does not talk to anyone except a select few of his friends. And none of them are girls. "I don't, though...?"
Sunghoon sucked in another sharp breath, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "Your... Your girl."
Oh. Jungwon's heart sank to his stomach. That's not... what he expected. Not in the slightest. And the way that Sunghoon physically flinched as he revealed such information didn't make Jungwon feel any better.
"Who... told you that?"
Sunghoon pressed his lips together, forming a line as thin as paper. "You know my coworker? Wonyoung? She's [Name]'s good friend and she's been boasting how she hooked her up to this guy."
But Jungwon tuned Sunghoon out after that. Maybe if Jungwon had a better grip he would have calmly explained that you were not his anymore. It’s not like your breakup was a secret, and if there was anyone who had to bear witness to Jungwon's abject gloominess, it would be Sunghoon. Jungwon couldn't understand why his friends still referred to you as his, even when they were well-aware of the fact that you two were separated.
"C'mon, man, we all know you still want her," was a sentiment echoed by all of his friends.
And they were right. As if they could see through Jungwon's quiet exterior, his robotic composure so keen on hiding his true feelings.
Sunghoon's words fell upon deaf ears. If he did listen, he would hear Sunghoon pleading Jungwon to let go of this act, to stop putting up walls, to finally admit that he was wrecking himself from the inside out by continuing to act like he no longer cared for you.
Jungwon stared blankly at the coffee shop table. The pain in his chest no longer felt new. It felt more like a constant.
In his pencil case he still had the expensive mechanical pencil that you gifted him. Its silver ridges were practically molded to the curves of his fingers. The capsule of lead that came with the pencil only had a few pieces left. When he studied he still listened to the same songs that you introduced to him, the same songs that you and him kissed to as the two of you laid in his bed, and—
Jungwon thought he was okay. And for the first few weeks, he really was just fine. After all, he'd convinced himself that it was all for the better. But Jungwon knew that he'd break sooner or later. And it would be now.
It seemed like in every waking moment, you still managed to consume his thoughts.
All roads led back to you.
As Jungwon swung from building to building, he tried his best to clear his mind. As he always did.
After his little coffee chat (disaster?) with Sunghoon, Jungwon had excused himself to go to some "work." When really, he was just reporting for duty as Spider-Man. Feeling the wind against him as he swung around the city, the thrill of nearly flying through the air, was always useful whenever Jungwon had a lot on his mind. Like always, Jungwon checked his usual stops: banks, daycares, financial and business centers, just to make sure that no one was rumpling with civilians' safety.
Lately, it hasn't really been working. But what did he expect?
The bright summer sun, blaring its orange-yellow light, was now dipping into the horizon. The air smelled like gasoline and peaches, and yet, Jungwon couldn't even relish in the tranquility. Jungwon didn't know why he kept thinking about you. The thought of you going on a date at all with someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. His gut twisted as images of you laughing and smiling flashed through his mind. It hurt so bad, so damn bad.
A few more times of helping kids cross the road, or giving an elderly person some directions, and Jungwon felt like his legs were going to give out. Which was strange.
As Spider-Man, Jungwon was cursed with enhanced senses and incredible regeneration abilities. Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Jungwon never had to experience feeling physically worn out.
Not until right now. Jungwon slumped against the wall in the back alley, the cool stone pressing against his cheek. He looked down at his hands— was he sick? Losing his abilities? Seriously, what was wrong with him? His body was feeling uncharacteristically warm, like he was burning up from the inside. His eyelids felt heavy, while his legs felt like jelly.
And maybe Jungwon would have passed out in that alleyway if it weren't for the god-awful sound of his cellphone ringing.
Kriiiing! Kriiiing! Mindlessly, he picked up the call. "Hello?" Jungwon breathed, pushing nearly all of his body weight against the cold wall for support. He laid his head back, exhausted in ways that he couldn't explain.
A familiar voice greeted his ears. "Hey, it's Sunghoon."
Jungwon gritted his teeth. Not again. "I'm not interested—"
"Listen." Sunghoon said, his voice earnest. "I'm sorry about what I said today, but—"
Jungwon's lips pressed together. How shameful. It must be so shameful, the fact that everyone knew that Jungwon was suffering so much, that it was so obvious.
"—Me and the guys are going out this weekend," Sunghoon's gravelly voice said over the phone. "And we thought that you should really come with us."
Without even realizing it, Jungwon's breath got caught in his throat. He swallowed the lump, his voice coming out so much weaker than he wanted it to, "Like I said, I'm not interested—"
"Jungwon," Sunghoon pleaded. "You... You haven't been yourself lately. We know that you're struggling right now—we're worried about you. Please, just let us be there for you."
Jungwon felt so humiliated. Ashamed even, at the way Sunghoon's voice was filled with so much sympathy. So much pity.
Jungwon wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at Sunghoon and all of his friends for not minding their damn business, for treating him like he was some charity case.
But as Jungwon's eyes traced his shadow on the road, his phone to his ear, Jungwon wanted to shout at himself, for being so weak, for being a coward, for pushing people away, for having an ego so fragile that he felt threatened by his own friend caring about him.
How pathetic. And Jungwon has the gall to call himself a hero?
Jungwon clicked his tongue. "Okay, I'll be. there."
Jungwon wasn't stupid.
He knew exactly why his friends called him out tonight. It was to distract him from the fact that on this same night, you'd be going on your date.
The plan was to all meet up at Jake's apartment, and then go to the club from there. The moment that he arrived at Jake's apartment, he scurried to the bathroom.
Jungwon stared into Jake's bathroom mirror. The entire cramped bathroom smelled like strong fumes of manly cologne and hair spray. From inside, he could hear the muffled bantering of his friends, probably arguing about who would be driving.
His eyes glazed over the tight black compression shirt that clung to his chest, the dark-washed ripped jeans hanging from his hips. It's been a while since Jungwon utilized his pierced ears, and he figured that he'd put in some simple flat black studs before the piercings inevitably closed up. On his wrist, Jungwon had mindlessly slipped on the braided tassel bracelet that you made him; it was still hanging around his room, and he had forgotten that it was from you. Despite that, he didn't have the heart to take it off and shove into his pocket.
Jungwon couldn't recognize himself. It wasn't just the breakup that ruined him.
Sure, losing you was probably one of the greatest losses in his entire life, he was sure of that. But since then, Jungwon has also purposely distanced himself from his friends. He stopped responding to their messages and going to big group outings.
He could hear Jay's howling laughter and Jake's shouting, all sounds that should be completely familiar to him. And yet, there he was, feeling awkward.
He felt like staying in this bathroom until someone noticed that he was absent.
Click! But that wasn't what Spider-Man's do.
Jungwon cracked the bathroom door open, and the moment that he stepped into the hallway, revealing his blank expression, all of his friends whipped their heads. Jungwon could feel their eyes on him, staring at him like he was some anomaly, and for a second, he regretted even agreeing to hang out with them.
He hadn't seen these guys all together in so long. In fact, Jungwon hadn't been in a personal group setting for months now. He wasn't going to lie and say that showing his face to the friends that he strayed away from made him feel uneasy.
But almost immediately, his friends' faces cracked with large grins, whooping his name.
"Jungwon!" Jake delighted as Heeseung threw an arm around Jungwon's shoulder, pulling him snugly to the side of him.
Jay's sharp features morphed into a big, boyish smile, his lips forming a curve. Jay brought up a hand to dap Jungwon up, and Jungwon received it. "Hey, man."
Sunghoon followed behind him, his sharp canine teeth revealing as he chuckled. "Glad you could make it, Jungwon."
Jungwon felt unnatural. Out of place, like a fish out of water. When was the last time he was around people that enjoyed his presence? Other than the group of middle schoolers that cheered him on when he dashed through the air, or the middle aged women at the local library club that doted on him, Jungwon couldn't remember clearly.
For all the months that Jungwon tore himself away from his friends, he didn't know what was more surprising, that his friends still wanted something to do with him, or that nothing had changed while he was gone.
Sunoo's eyes still pressed into thin crescents as he threw his head back, laughing at something stupid Riki said. Heeseung still pulled Jungwon into a headlock, aggressively scruffling his head and ruining his hair despite Jungwon's complaints. Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon still liked to argue loudly, their voices reaching volumes so high that Jungwon was sure they'd get a noise complaint before even leaving.
And as Jay and Sunghoon wrestled, falling onto Jake's couch, the room erupted with the same familiar howling laughter and quips that Jungwon had forgotten how much he loved.
As Riki jumped in to join in the pseudo-wrestling match, Sunoo chanting "fight, fight, fight!," and Heeseung and Jake acting as refs, Jungwon gaped at the scene.
The boys that he's grown up with, the boys that had seen him grow from a wimpy little middle schooler into a strong adult, the boys that never failed to make him laugh— have stayed the exact same.
And for the first time in a while, Jungwon felt his lips lift up, soft giggles erupting from his chest as his eyes squeezed shut. It was such a foreign feeling, and an even more foreign sound.
His friends seemed to think the same. In an instant, the room fell silent. Once again, Jungwon felt all eyes on him.
But before Jungwon's mind could play tricks on him, Riki dashed over to him, throwing the older boy over his shoulder and throwing him on the couch.
"You son of bitch, Jungwon!" Riki laughed affectionately, beginning a tickling assault on him.
Once again, Jake's apartment was engulfed in chaos and laughter.
Well, after being tickled so hard that he almost started crying, as well as a well-deserved noise complaint from Jake's neighbors, Jungwon and his friends finally decided to go to the club. Which was their plan all along, but it wasn't any of their faults that messing around in Jake's home was more fun. And plus, Jungwon accidentally used too much of his spider abilities and body slammed Riki so hard that they all needed a momentary time-out to get Riki an ice pack for his head ("How the hell did you get so strong?!" was what Riki was more concerned about than the giant red mark on his forehead).
Bright strobing lights, the smell of sweaty bodies and alcohol, and the sound of techno music filled all of Jungwon's senses.
And with the encouragement of his rowdy, unruly friends, Jungwon sucked in sharp breath.
Fuck it.
Whatever worries he had now, or whoever was breaking his heart, he was going to forget it. He was going to pretend that it never existed, that it never hurt him, that he was okay.
Just for tonight, just for his friends.
"C'mon!" Jake pulled Jungwon by his arm to the bar. The older boy ordered the two of them a few shots. As they waited for the bartender to prepare their drinks, Jake and Jungwon sat on the barstools. In the corner of Jungwon's eyes, he could see his other friends fucking around like they always did.
"Would it hurt them to have some class?" Jungwon muttered playfully, unable to hide his amusement when Heeseung slipped and fell on the dance floor.
"Nah, class is a foreign concept to them." Jake let a bashful smile spread on his face, his gelled hair falling over his eyes. The older man tapped his fingers on the bar counter to the electric music loudly blasting.
Jungwon grinned, and the two sat in a comfortable silence, before Jake opened his mouth again.
"We missed having you around, you know."
Jungwon whipped his head over to his friend. He quirked a brow. "Really?"
Jake put a hand on the back of his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Yup." Jungwon followed his eyes, back to their friends that were now teasing Jay for his wild dance moves. "I think you're the smartest out of all of us."
"That's not true."
Jake shook his head. "Nah, you should have seen us. Me and Sunoo were trying to figure out how to do taxes. Never again."
As the bartender served up their drinks, Jungwon turned back to Jake, who continued, "I know you're having a hard time, but just know that we're here for you."
Jake raised the shot glass filled with a golden brown liquid— "Cheers."
Jungwon smiled.
Clink! Their shot glasses collided.
"Cheers." And with that, Jungwon threw the shot back, the bitter taste on his tastebuds burning so hard that it reached his nose. Almost immediately, Jungwon's expression turned sour, his nose scrunching at the taste. "Blegh— How do you drink this?!"
Jake shrugged. "You'll get used to it if you drink enough."
Jungwon hunched over the bar counter, his elbows on the counter as he held his hands in his head. He shook his head. "Never again. That's nasty."
A few moments of silence pass. Jungwon slid his empty shot glass over. "Give me another shot."
Despite being an adult, Jungwon had forgotten what it felt like to party.
The thrumming of the techno music that filled the club felt like it was stringing directly through Jungwon, droning through his head. After a few shots and buzzed laughs with Jake, Jungwon was tipsy enough that his body felt weightless. Weightless enough to find himself on the dance floor.
As his strong body moved to the music, Jungwon felt the rhythm of the music. His mind was hazy, nebulous as the alcohol in his system began to take over. Jungwon's head felt warm, and his vision despite his spider senses was more blurry than usual. But that didn't matter.
Blood was rushing all over Jungwon's body. His cheeks felt warm, and he couldn't tell if it was his enhanced spidey-senses or if the music was just that loud that he could physically feel the hum in his chest.
Then, the music switched from an upbeat electronic sound, to a slower, more melodic one. Jungwon swore he recognized the song, but he couldn't name it. Jungwon felt the multiple bodies of the room brush against him, before he felt one directly press up against him.
It was clearly a woman. Jungwon let his eyes shut as he let his body take reign.
Swaying to the gradual beat, Jungwon found his hands on this new woman's body. As his chest pulsed to the song, he took in her scent, he could smell sweet, floral nodes. He could barely feel his feet below him, and for a few moments, he felt like he was going to float off of the ground. And just as Jungwon thought he was going to ascend, he felt two manicured hands on his chest. His hands slid down to her hips, squeezing them, which earned him a sultry giggle.
If Jungwon weren't drunk, he may have jumped away the moment he realized that a woman was practically grinding on him. But the alcohol was too deep in his system, and he was too far gone. Even with his eyes closed, Jungwon could feel everything so intensely. He felt fingers reach for his belt loops, pulling him along.
As the music slowed to a stop, momentarily invading the usually bumping club in a hushed silence, Jungwon felt the woman lean into his ear.
"So handsome," she rasped, her warm breath brushing against his skin.
And as the chills trickled down his spine, the music finally came back on. And strangely enough, even though they were, in fact, inside a partying club, the music that blasted from the speakers was the complete opposite.
A slow piano, rich and deep vocals, and a romantic cadence.
Even in his drunken state, Jungwon immediately recognized this song at the first lyrics. Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Preseley. Without a doubt, it was this song.
How did Jungwon know? Because this was the song that you and him loved to slow dance to on your kitchen floor. And just like that, Jungwon's mind drifted into the deepest pits of his mind, the parts that he'd locked away.
In his mind, he saw you and him swaying to this song. You and him both wearing matching aprons, giggling as you attempted to slow dance. He saw the way you'd look at him, with those beautiful eyes that he could never refuse. He saw the way you said his name with a smile that he could never forget, not even in a million lifetimes.
Then, he saw flickering images of you and him: you and him holding each other in the winter to keep each other warm, you and him crying into each other's arms, you and him arguing over something so silly that you just ended up bursting out laughing.
And for a moment, it felt like you were there. Another body up against his, dancing so rhythmically that for a split second, Jungwon could pretend that it was you.
And in the depths of his heart, he prayed that it was you.
He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this nightmare would end, and he would get to see you. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would see you, staring up at him with those same beautiful, glossy eyes. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this song would end, and he could scoop you up and bring you home, to show you all the love that he desperately wanted to give you.
But as Elvis Preseley's resonant voice sang earnestly, Jungwon's eyes slowly peeled open to not see you, but another woman.
A woman that was not you.
"N-Not her," Jungwon's lips quivered, his body instantly pulling away. His feet stumbled, in an attempt to tear away from her grasp. Jungwon ignored the way the woman attempted to pull him back, calling out to him.
In his intoxicated state, Jungwon felt hot tears line his eyes as he staggered away.
Not you. She wasn't you. It didn't matter, in fact. No one was you.
It didn't matter what Jungwon tried to do, his heart kept going back to you.
His head was spinning. Jungwon could barely control his body as he bursted out of the doors of the club, and even less, he couldn't control the tears that were now staining his cheeks. The expensive bottle of water that the club had at the entrance was completely chugged down in a single swish, minus Jungwon's struggles to manage his soft sobbing.
Even with water in his system, Jungwon's head was still spinning. His vision was swirling. Finally, after faltering for a few moments, Jungwon found himself sitting on the stairs at the entrance of the club.
As his vision cleared up, the alcohol in his system slowly washing away, Jungwon brought his hand to his mouth, to muffle the sounds of his crying.
Maybe he was just drunk, but the tears were just not stopping. Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, labored and stammering breaths rising from his chest. His hot tears were beginning to burn his eyes.
Even from outside, he could still hear Elvis Preseley's vocalization.
Damn it, did he have to ruin tonight? Jungwon pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees. His jeans were getting wet with his tears, and the late-night breeze was getting chilly.
In fact, everything was hurting.
Why couldn't he just forget you? Why couldn't he just let you go? Why did he still yearn for you?
Jungwon lifted his head. He could see his hunched figure in his shadow on the ground. How pathetic of him. He hasn't cried in a long time. It felt weird. It didn't feel like him.
Jungwon looked at the spider-like black veins on his wrist. Why was he cursed? Why did it have to be him? He wasn't worthy, he would never be worthy of being Spider-Man. Jungwon didn't ask to be bitten. He didn't ask for that stupidly rich and ignorant scientist to come to him and urge him to use his powers for good. He didn't ask for this responsibility. He didn't ask for anything, except you.
"With great power comes great responsibility," was what he was told the moment the scientists found him. And Jungwon really believed in it. He used his strength to help the weak, he gave others the power that they couldn't have, he protected the love that others cherished.
But couldn't keep any for himself.
After Jungwon's initial honeymoon phase with his newfound spider abilities, he realized something that changed his entire life forever. That he was no longer safe, and even more, everyone that he loved was no longer safe. And Jungwon thought he was strong enough; he thought that he could let you and all of his friends go slowly to protect you all. But he simply wasn't.
And Jungwon felt so damn selfish. He felt like a greedy bastard, someone who couldn't sacrifice himself for the good of others. Why was he even crying? There were people in danger right now, and here he was crying because he missed the girl of his dreams? How pathetic.
But he wanted you so bad.
Jungwon never wanted anything in life. All his life, he was obedient like a dog. He did everything that others asked of him. He always tried his best, always valued his righteousness, always did what was right.
But now, all he wanted was you.
He's never wanted anything, but the moment that he wants you, he couldn't have you.
Here he was, crying like some idiot all alone while you were probably still on that date. God, he wished Sunghoon never told him. He tried his best for the past few days to just not think about it, but now Jungwon had to truly face the fact that you've already moved on. His chest felt like it was going to burst.
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his fist to muffle his sobs even more. Maybe he should just go home. It's cold, it's uncomfortable, it's unsanitary, and most of all, Jungwon felt like shit.
As Jungwon stumbled to his feet, he sucked in one more breath. It still smelled like alcohol, with a scent of cigarettes. Then, he looked at the bustling road across the street. Somewhere out there, you were laughing with another man. Probably kissing him, calling him the same names that you'd call Jungwon.
God, it made him physically ill. Jungwon brought the back of his hand to wipe his nose one more time. He was going to go home. He'll leave a call for Heeseung or something later.
But before he could even take another step—
Boom!
Jungwon looked up at the sky. Even when it was dark, he could see a large cloud of black smoke. And now, he heard police sirens in the distance and the screaming of civilians.
Shit.
You fiddled with your fingers, bouncing your knee in anticipation to the beat of the 2010's pop song that your taxi driver chose.
Damn it, Wonyoung, you thought. You glanced down at the dress that your best friend chose for you. In the reflection of the backseat car window you caught your made up face. The blush on your cheeks, your curled lashes, the lip gloss. You thought you looked pretty.
Your eyes fluttered to your phone resting in your lap. The latest notification was from Wonyoung, telling you good luck and that you looked pretty. You couldn't help but smile.
It's been 6 months since your boyfriend Jungwon broke up with you. And frankly, it's probably been the worst 6 months of your life.
Words could not describe the types of pain and downright suffering that you went through. You cried for weeks straight, and up until recently, you hadn't had the motivation to really do anything.
The breakup was so unexpected, too. One day you and Jungwon were laughing, the next he left you. You couldn't understand why, and it wasn't like Jungwon gave you a succinct reason either. All he had said was that he was sorry, and that he had no other choice.
And the worst part was, you still weren't over your ex.
All that pain for nothing, you thought as your eyes followed the cars that passed your taxi. Your best friend, Wonyoung, on the other hand, had had enough.
"I don't like seeing you like this," Wonyoung had told you one night, as you cried into her shoulder. Despite what she showed others with her bubbly personality, her voice was stern. "It's not fair to you."
And you knew she was right. Which was why you let her set you up on a date with one of her colleagues. You figured that it was time that you stopped mulling over a man that couldn't stay anyway.
It's been so long in general since you even considered looking at someone else that wasn't Jungwon. And for a reason that you couldn't explain, it didn't feel right. And yet, you pushed it to the back of your head as you stepped out of the taxi.
The restaurant that your date, a guy named Haruto Watanabe, chose was a semi-formal one, called Bisco's Palace. You thought that name was a little bit corny, but you brushed it off. Thick stone walls, yellow-orange moody lighting, and an elegant grassy hedge at the entrance. It looked like a fairytale, and because of the beautiful dress that Wonyoung made you wear, you felt like you were in a fairytale.
When you arrived, you were met with a tall man with sharp features.
"Haruto?" you asked. He turned to look at you. You watched as his eyes widened, before he gave you a once-over.
"[N-Name]?" he spluttered. You recognized the look on his face. It was the look on a man's face whenever he found a woman attractive, and unfortunately, you were no stranger to it. "You look— You look beautiful."
If you were someone else, maybe you'd feel flattered. It's not every day that a good-looking man calls you beautiful. But all you felt was a sense of unease. Not that it was his fault; there was nothing intrinsically wrong with him. You just didn't know why you felt so uncomfortable.
You fought back the urge to make a face, and you instead forced a tight-lipped smile.
"Thank you." Now it was your turn to look him over. He was wearing a crisp button-up with slacks. He looked well put-together. "You look great too."
Haruto visibly turned pink, and he muttered something under his breath as he averted his gaze. Finally, he cleared his throat, extending his hand out to you. "Shall we go in?"
You narrowed your eyes at him, before you took his hand curtly. "Of course."
The two of you were quickly seated, and after being greeted by a cheery waitress that was clearly still in high school, your food was ordered and served in a timely manner. If you were to be honest, you weren't exactly too invested in tonight's date. Even if you agreed to it to get over Jungwon, you knew that your heart wasn't there yet.
Not to say that Haruto wasn't a sweetheart. He was polite, had very good manners, and was very respectful toward you. He tried his best to keep a flowing conversation with you, and in recognizing his efforts, you simply just went along with him. He was handsome and a well-natured guy. And, the food was great. Everything was to your taste, from the appetizers to the drinks to the dessert. The wait staff were also on top of it. As a whole, the restaurant was just perfect. The lights, the music, even how cushioned the chairs were.
Like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect. Perfect man, perfect food, perfect night. But it just wasn't good enough.
You felt nothing for Haruto, not even an ounce of interest. And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you knew why you were like this: Because he wasn't Jungwon.
There was nothing "Jungwon" about this date. Haruto certainly wasn't Jungwon, but everything about this date was nothing like how you liked to be treated. You liked to laugh and to get into dynamic discussions about silly topics, ones that didn't even matter. Haruto was so sweet, but he couldn't match your level of wit. While the food was tasty, you didn't want something so stringent and formal. You'd rather do something together with your date, to get to know each other better rather than sitting at a candle-lit restaurant.
Who would have known all of this? Who would have allowed you to do all of these things regardless of the environment? Who did your heart still stubbornly belong to?
Jungwon.
You let out a forced laugh at one of Haruto's jokes before excusing yourself to the washroom.
Shhhhh! As the sink water ran, you stared at your reflection. Even your makeup was done in a way that you knew Jungwon liked. The lipgloss in your purse was the same one that he bought you all those months ago. You didn't even know if you had the heart to use it up.
You thought that you were doing better. But it seemed like time and space only made your heart grow fonder.
It was getting later into the night now. And against your better judgment, you wondered what Jungwon was doing. Maybe he's playing video games. Or reading all of the superhero comics that he loved to collect.
Then, your mind wandered. What if he was with another girl? Your chest overwhelmed itself with unimaginable hurt. He never gave you a real explanation as to why he wanted to end things, and seemingly, his closest friends couldn't either. You'd be lying if you said that your mind didn't betray you, wandering to all of the darkest places.
Your eyes traced your own face in the mirror. Would Jungwon do that to you? Was he really the type to be unfaithful?
You knew the answer: no. Never. Jungwon was many things, and a cold-hearted unscrupulous cheater was not one of them. But then again, you thought you knew him to be the type to never spring a breakup on you. But he did. Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought he did.
You took a deep breath. Not right now, you thought. You were on a date with another guy. It would be disrespectful to think about your ex, wouldn't it? Even if Haruto was most definitely not the one for you, you should have some courtesy.
You quickly rinsed your hands, dried them, and reapplied your lipgloss. And as you were ready to step back out, prepared to brave your tight-lipped smile and kind words, a large crashing sound pierced your ears.
Boom!
In the blink of an eye, the tiled bathroom floor below you rumbled, low growls rolling from under your feet. You froze. Your hand jerked out to grab the counter, the wall, the bathroom door handle— anything— to keep you stable.
"W-What the—"
Another deafening roar thundered through the air, enough to make your ears ring. At that instance, the floor below you ripped open.
What the hell was going on? Was it an earthquake? That would explain why the ground tore open. And yet, in the distance, you could hear booming thumping sounds.
Almost like the footsteps of a humongous being. Almost like the footsteps of a supervillain. Shit.
You're well aware of the state of your city. In the past few years, there has been a strange phenomenon of evildoers and mutants alike, appearing throughout your city to wreak havoc and torment civilians. And with that came the rise of even more bold crimes. Bank robberies, arson, kidnappings, pretty much everything.
Luckily, in the past 6 months, a new hero has appeared. The red and blue masked hero; the friendly neighborhood superhero himself; Spider-Man.
Your apartment, located near the center of the city, was awfully close to all of the commotion, nearly all the time. Which was why you couldn't help but admit that Spider-Man was quite the gem, for taking out all of these ne'er-do-wells and eccentric supervillains. And yet, here you were, probably in the middle of a supervillain attack.
All of the past villains have been eccentric but petty. But as the tiles below your feet literally cracked with each booming thrum, you were sure that this new villain, whoever it was, was worse.
Much worse. Probably worse than you could ever imagine.
And before you could react to the way that you tumbled to the ground, the cold floor hitting your knees so achingly, you heard a shriek from outside the bathroom.
"It's Baron von Fizzlebang!"
.... Who?
Baron von Fizzlebang?
What kind of shitty villain name is that—
Boom!
The smell of smoke filled your nostrils. You didn't know where it came from, but from the way that civilians screeched and screamed outside, you figured that it couldn't be far from you.
Boom!
Okay, this is urgent, you needed to get out!
Your heart rate picking up, you breathed slowly to keep yourself calm. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the way your soon-to-be bruised knees ached. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, the lights flickered, followed by the sound of explosions. Even though you were definitively inside the bathroom, with all sides of the room still intact, the dust seeped through the cracks, filling your lungs. With a strained gasp for air, you clamped a hand over your nose, squinting.
You pressed your ear against the bathroom door. Now the entire restaurant blared with fire alarms and smoke detectors. Police sirens also sounded. The large footstep-like thudding in the distance came closer and closer. You had no choice but get out of this damn bathroom and book it.
Your heart was now pounding so quickly that it felt like it would fall out. Your legs felt so weak, your head feeling too heavy. Who the hell is Baron von Fizzlebang? And more importantly, why did it have to be tonight? Without even realizing it, your palms had become sweaty, and with all the blood rushing to your head, you were mere seconds away from sweating.
You shook your head. Focus! You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand wrapped tightly on that bathroom door handle. On a count of three, you were going to open that door and run for your life.
One. Why did some good-for-nothing supervillain have to ruin your already-mediocre night?
Two. You needed to relax. There's no time to sit around and think and languish. Just do it!
Three. You pushed the heavy bathroom door open, and you bursted through the doorway.
And much to your relief, the dark hallway that led to the restaurant's bathroom was hidden away in a little nook; at the end of the hallway was the entrance to the main room of the restaurant.
Slowly creeping down the hallway, you could see the destruction that was wreaked on Bisco's poor, fancy restaurant. Chairs and tables were knocked over, with broken glass and porcelain scattering the red-carpeted floor. From the looks of it, it seemed like all of the restaurant's patrons were either huddled up in another section of the restaurant, or they had escaped.
Great. Now, all you had to do was get out. Thankfully, at the other end of this hallway, there was a backdoor exit. So all you had to do was turn around and—
There standing at the end of the hallway, in front of your exit, was a tall and slender man.
He wore a fitted tailored suit, yet it was bright purple, with a giant bow tie. He had a monocle over his eye.
Like some type of costumed noble. Like a baron.
"That's right," he said, a devious grin spreading across his face, in a way that almost made him look like a carnival clown. Your pulse froze, mid-beat. Theatrically, he gave you a bow, before he reached a hand out to you. " 'Tis I, Baron von Fizzlebang."
Your gut twisted. And when you stared at him with shaky eyes, your entire body frozen in time, the supervillain let out a cackle.
"Oh dear," Baron von Fizzlebang put his hand to his chest, feigning offense. He slyly eyed you, and at once, you could see a lightbulb seemingly pop from his head. "You don't mind being a hostage, right?"
Before you could even open your mouth, Baron von Fizzlebang shot you with finger-guns. And before you knew it, you fell to your knees, your vision became hazy. The last thing that you heard as you lost consciousness was the supervillain's laughter, police sirens, and shouting for a particular red and blue masked superhero.
Jungwon swore that he had a special sense for you.
Jungwon arrived at the scene barely even 5 minutes after he heard the initial explosion. The big fancy restaurant at the end of Mainstreet was the scene.
Really? Jungwon thought. Bisco's Palace? That pretentious place?
The thing was, Jungwon wasn't really nervous. One time, he had to fight an entire group of 20 thugs with guns barely 5 minutes after he was rudely awoken. Jungwon could probably fight people in his sleep. His body and physicality, although he resented it half the time, was perfectly attuned to everything that he needed.
Even now, as he was barely sober and emotionally wrecked, he could see clearly. When he arrived at the scene, half of Bisco's Palace was completely destroyed. Mini fires spotted the scene, with pods of smoke bursting in the night air. Terrified civilians cried that they heard earsplitting thumping in the distance, like footsteps. Others claimed that an eccentric villain called "Baron von something-something" was the cause of this all.
Jungwon huffed. Another crazy supervillain? Seemingly there was another crazy supervillain appearing everyday! What, was there some kind of factory pumping them out? From the looks of it, it seemed like most of the civilians had escaped relatively unscathed.
Good. Jungwon readied himself to launch into that burning restaurant. He had a simple action plan: Rescue the remaining civilians, beat that Baron von something-something's ass, and go home.
The moment that Jungwon's striking red and blue figure launched across the sky, Jungwon could hear the gasps of civilians, police officers, and on-site journalists alike. Jungwon landed easily into what was left of that restaurant building.
And when he entered, it was quiet. Eerily quiet.
Jungwon had to be careful.
Jungwon creeped slowly, closer to the main dining room. He kept his breathing as quiet as a whisper. And when he peeked his head through the grand, arched door-frame that led into the dining room, there, he saw a group of civilians, huddled among the flickering fires Men, women, children— there they were, shaking in fear, and coughing as the. Fire smoke filled their lungs. With his enhanced senses, he could hear mothers hushing their wailing babies and children asking their fathers if they were going to die tonight.
Not on my watch, Jungwon mentally answered their questions.
Jungwon shot a web at the ceiling, and in one fell swoop, he gathered enough momentum to swing across the restaurant, landing where the civilians were.
"Spider-Man!" they cried.
Jungwon crouched down toward them, putting his hands on his knees.
"Listen," he began, his voice stern. "I am going to help you guys escape." Jungwon grimaced at their amazed gazes. "But I need you guys to listen to me carefully."
Jungwon's eyes glazed over the group of civilians. There were up to 15 of them. He didn't have time to carry each and every one of them out. The entrance was burning, and there weren't any other ways to get out. Jungwon wanted to conserve his time as much as possible. To prevent that bastard of a villain Baron von something-something from doing any more damage.
And now that he took a better look at these civilians, they looked tired and worn out. Their cheeks were covered in soot, sweaty faces from the fire that was surrounding them.
Jungwon's eyes darted around the restaurant. There had to be another exit. Then, his eyes fell upon the tall window that stretched from the ceiling down to the floor.
Bingo.
"Mama, it's too hot," Jungwon could hear a toddler babble. Other people seemed to join in on agreement, and yet, they could barely speak coherently. With sweat-stained shirts and cheeks, Jungwon cursed under his breath.
Damn it, the fire was physically weakening these people. Jungwon's plan was nothing short of easy: he was going to break the hell out that window and get these people to escape that way. Yet, the problem was, the windows were bound to shatter and create dangerous shards. Jungwon was going to instruct them to be careful, but judging from the way that these civilians flinched at even the slightest flutter of fire while barely even having the strength to stand up, there was no way that they could have the alertness and mental precision to actually avoid the shards.
Think, think! Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut. What should he do? In the palace that was his mind, Jungwon ran through every possibility. These fires were big. They looked much smaller outside, but now that he was in the restaurant itself, these tongues of fires were massive. Not only were these fires scalding, but the smoke was painful for these civilians.
Come to think of it, shouldn't every building in this city have a robust mechanism for when fire breaks out? And yet, the walls, floor, and remaining civilians in this restaurant were dry. Which means that the sprinklers haven't gone off yet.
This was why public establishments needed health inspections... Jungwon shook his head. He didn't have time to criticize the efficacy of his government.
At once, Jungwon shot webs at whatever hard object he could find— fallen plates, bundles of metal utensils, even pieces of debris— before slinging them into the ceiling, directly toward all of the sprinkler bulbs that dotted the tall ceiling.
I'm sorry about your ceiling, but you'll thank me later, Jungwon thought, before slinging thick wads of webs toward every vent.
As each sprinkler bulb shattered, flared streams of water bursted from the ceiling. And as each vent of this flaming restaurant were webbed over, Jungwon prayed to whichever god he could think of that his physics professor was right about buoyancy. Hopefully, if he was right, by webbing over the vents, new smoke would not be able to enter the room, and thus reduce the amount of smoke that the civilians were breathing in.
As cold water droplets pittered and pattered over Jungwon's suit, he watched as the remaining civilians cheered and cooled off under the sprinkler. And with his physics-accurate ventilation blockage, they'd now be much more compliant.
Jungwon latched onto a larger piece of debris and slung it at the closest and safest window.
"Okay," he began instructing, creating a temporary web to shield the civilians from the fractured pieces of the window. "
You—" he pointed at a man—"Take that kid. And you two—" he pointed at two teenagers—"Stick together."
Jungwon organized the people. "Be careful, and step around the shards!"
The civilians were already on it. Jungwon watched as they carried their young and old, fleeing as fast as they came, all of them murmuring a "thank you, Spider-Man," as they pushed out through the window.
And with that, Jungwon was left all alone. The fire had died down just a little bit, by virtue of the sprinklers. For safe measure, Jungwon configured a few webs to create a few fire barriers to slow those damned flames down.
Now where was that Baron von something-something?
Jungwon scanned the restaurant. He looked everywhere. In the foyer, at the entrance, in the kitchen, even under the tables.
But he couldn't find anyone.
Except, there was one place that he didn't check: the dark hallway in the corner of the restaurant.
Jungwon inched toward it, slowly. He took small, spider-like steps.
"Oh, would you just hurry it up already?!" a loud voice boomed through the air.
Emerging from the hallway was a tall man.
Baron von something-something.
"Look at you, Spider-Man!" he cried, mockingly batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands together. "So brave! So strong! You helped those poor, poor civilians escape!"
Jungwon narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this maniac? Jungwon's fingers twitched.
"But it looks like you forgot one." A sinister smile spread across his face. "Oh come out, dear!"
There was nothing that could have possibly prepared Jungwon for what he saw next. His heart plummeted to his stomach, because from the dark hallway emerged you.
Your face was dazed, your eyes cloudy, and your movements so sluggish. As if you were unconscious, and your mind was being controlled.
"Dontcha think she's pretty?" the villain continued, eccentrically throwing his arms around you. He laughed. "They don't call me Baron von Fizzlebang for no reason! With a single gunshot from my fingers, I can take anyone under my control!"
Jungwon tuned everything out.
He felt a flood of emotions.
Fear.
You, the person that's been haunting him. You, who has been consuming his thoughts and life. There you were, in front of him, after all of this time. Even when you weren't really there, Jungwon couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.
And yet, it meant nothing. His fear meant absolutely nothing. Not when there was another emotion taking hold: anger.
So much anger, that his blood felt hot. Jungwon dug his fingernails into his gloved palms, enough that his knuckles were beginning to ache. How dare this villain take advantage of you? Your safety was in jeopardy. It made Jungwon's stomach boil with a rage that he couldn't comprehend, the way that you were quite literally not in control of your body. That in the time that Jungwon wasn't there, unspeakable things could have been done to you. To think that your own autonomy was torn from your hands, to think that your own dignity was desecrated in the name of some supervillain's sick power game— that conjured a feeling that Jungwon couldn't even describe. Disgust, horror, wrath; he felt it all.
Jungwon now looked upon the villain with eyes full of wrath.
Baron von Fizzlebang continued to rave on and on about how great he was, and how this was just all part of his master plan to subjugate this city. But it didn't mean anything.
To the entire world, Spider-Man was a hero. And in most ways, he was one. Jungwon saved people daily, he prevented the city around him from crumbling to the ground like it was easy. He was a man of the people, the beacon of hope for all city residents.
The symbol of law and order, the righteous hero of the city, Spider-Man.
And yet, as Jungwon's eyes couldn't bear to tear away from your dazed face, he felt his resolve slip away.
The obligation to protect others, defend freedom, and uphold justice, like a vessel from a dock, sailed away into the horizon, into the unknown. Right now, Jungwon was not Spider-Man protecting a civilian. He was not the Spider-Man that had no other duty than to ensure the safety of his fellow citizens. He was not the Spider-Man whose every action reflected his moral purity.
No, Jungwon was a man that was so ashamed of his own fears, that he never even dared to speak of them. He was the man that pushed everyone away, frightened by what would happen if he continued to associate with them. And worst of all, Jungwon was the man that still continued to yearn you, longing for your touch one last time before he would consign his love to oblivion.
Which was why all Jungwon saw was red.
Maybe if he was actually listening to Baron von Fizzlebang's monologue he would have heard how his abilities worked, but Jungwon didn't care. He'll probably figure it out later when this lunatic gets thrown into jail.
Jungwon couldn't control his body, or his mind at that matter. All Jungwon could remember doing was shooting a web at the ceiling to gain a higher vantage point, before (with all of the maximum, inhuman speed that his body was capable of) swinging down to land a kick flat onto Baron von Fizzlebang's cheek, effectively knocking the man down to the floor.
Before the villain could even react, Jungwon couldn't stop himself; he pinned the villain down to the floor using all of his body weight, before he let nothing but his sheer anger reign. All of his pent up emotions— anger, fear, shame, guilt— spilled out. No longer was Jungwon the pure hero.
With his bare hands, he landed punches to Baron von Fizzlebang's abdomen. Over and over and over.
Spider-Man used spider webs and crafty tricks to defeat his enemies. But Jungwon? He used his bare hands. With gritted teeth, and blood boiling hotter than lava, Jungwon punched, and punched, and punched. Even when he could feel his knuckles beginning to bruise, he punched. He ignored every cry and groan of pain coming from the villain, for there was only one thing on his mind: your dignity.
Jungwon wouldn't have stopped, not even if his arm gave out (because he would just switch to his other arm), not even if this maniacal supervillain was out for good.
The only thing that pulled Jungwon into his blind rage was the sound of you collapsing to the ground, with a thump!
Instantly, Jungwon snapped out of his fury, his head whipping over to you. Seemingly, with Baron von Fizzlebang knocked out, you were released from his control.
Immediately, Jungwon rushed over to you, leaving Baron von Fizzlebang's unconscious body.
"[Name]!" he cried, scooping your limp body up into his arms. You no longer looked dazed, so at least Baron von Fizzlebang's control of you wore off for good. And yet, your expression looked exhausted. Your eyes were half-lidded, labored breaths and soft whimpering pushing from your lips. "[Name], can you hear me? Are you okay?—"
Overhead, Jungwon could hear helicopters and the shouting of police officers and firemen from outside. They must have figured that Jungwon defeated Baron von Fizzlebang, and now they were sending re-enforcements. But all of Jungwon's focus was still on you.
"Spider-Man...?" you mumbled weakly, your voice hoarse and quivering. Now that he got a better look, your eyes were bloodshot, and your cheeks were tear-stained. Jungwon's heart clenched in his chest. He couldn't understand why he felt such an overwhelming urge to pull you into his embrace, to hold you close as if you would disappear. "Spider-Man, I—"
"Don't speak," Jungwon's voice came out as a whisper. And maybe it was now that Jungwon realized that his eyes were welled up with tears. It's been so long since he's been able to see you, and yet ironically, the only reason that he could was because your life was in danger. Jungwon let out a choked sob. "Don't say anything, [Name]."
"But I—I wanted to thank you—"
"Shhhh."
You looked so tired. He couldn't imagine how you felt, being under the control of a supervillain that has malicious intentions. But here you were, still taking it upon yourself to thank him. He couldn't even fathom what type of pain (emotional? physical? mental? you definitely weren't going to be okay after this, he knew you that well) you were going through.
Hug her, was the resounding thought that filled Jungwon's head. He almost cursed himself for thinking such a thing. After all, he wasn't yours anymore. But as he watched your worn face, he thought again. When you were still his, you always felt soothed when you were under intense stress if he hugged you tightly, the way that you always liked it.
Holding his breath, Jungwon gently lifted your head and chest, before pulling you into his arms. Almost instantly, you relaxed into his body, pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Like how you used to. You murmured something under your breath, but Jungwon was too distracted by the tears that were now definitely streaming down his face. He hadn't felt your touch in so long. He's been dreaming of getting to hold you one last time for months now.
Your eyelids began to fall, your head yielding to his shoulder, which was a tell-tale sign that you've fallen unconscious.
In the restaurant of ruin and rubble, Jungwon sat there on the debris-ridden floor, with you in his arms. Before he finally decided to get back up and take the two of you out of this place, he gave you one more tight squeeze.
"I love you," he whispered into your ear. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped that somewhere in dreamland, you heard him.
Jungwon stared out of his apartment window. It's been a few days since the Baron von Fizzlebang-Bisco's Palace incident. Baron von Fizzlebang was taken into police custody and his trial awaited him. Meanwhile, the city was still cleaning up the aftermath, with an entire block of the city being taped off.
But the city wasn't the only thing that had to be repaired.
Namely, Jungwon hadn't recovered yet. His fists still had red-purple marks on them. Even with his superhuman regenerative abilities, he had pushed himself to the extreme when he was beating up Baron von Fizzlebang the other day. But that wasn't the issue.
Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't stopped thinking about you. Well, to be sure, he never stopped thinking about you, but he was thinking about you extra now.
He wondered how you were doing. You were a strong girl. You could withstand pretty much everything, because it was in your nature. But after an incident like this one, he was sure that you were going through a lot.
Jungwon felt selfish. He wanted to check up on you. He wanted to ask one of his friends to ask your friends how you were doing, or maybe go to your apartment as Spider-Man to check up on you himself.
But that's a purely selfish desire.
Jungwon couldn't do that to you. He broke up with you for a reason: to protect you. He'd never want to do anything to put you in danger, and by even opening an avenue of communication between him (in both his hero and civilian form) and you was dangerous in and of itself.
It scared him so deeply, the thought of losing you. But still, Jungwon wanted to be selfish. He wanted to love you greedily, to have you all to himself.
He looked out his window again, then he looked down at his wrists: the black spider-like veins looked darker today. Maybe in another lifetime, because in this lifetime, he had a duty as Spider-Man.
Speaking of which, there were few actual benefits of being Spider-Man. One of them was that Jungwon got to directly impact other people's lives. Which was why every week, the municipal government would send him all of the fan-mail that civilians had for him.
Jungwon shook the thought of you away, pushing it to the back of his mind as he. grabbed his keys, slipped on some slippers, and ventured down to his apartment complex's mailroom.
As always, his mailbox was filled to the brim with mail. From letters to postcards to care packages, Jungwon looked like a madman as he struggled to carry all of his fan=mail back up to his apartment. It sucked that he couldn't use his spider abilities to help him in broad daylight.
In fact, there was so much mail that as Jungwon traversed the hallway back to his apartment, stumbling over himself, one stray letter fell from the stack of letters that he had atop all of the packages.
He cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. He watched as that one stray letter seemingly flew off of the stack, gracefully floating in the air for a few seconds before landing before his feet.
Jungwon huffed again. He quickly made his way back to his apartment, set down all of his fan-mail, before running back out into the hallway to pick up that pesky envelope that decided to fly away.
But as Jungwon marched down that hallway, crouching down to pick up the letter that had fallen out of his grasp, his eyes fell upon that name on that envelope.
It was your name. Jungwon snatched it up.
You wrote him fan-mail. Jungwon couldn't help but smile.
It has been about two weeks since the incident, and frankly, you're only halfway over it. You could tell that you were getting better compared to how you were in the immediate aftermath. But you still couldn't sleep at night, and you needed lots of mental preparation to go anywhere outside.
But today, you decided that you were going to put on a brave face, and stand up against your fears.
Pushing what fears you had to the back of your mind, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. It was late into the morning, and yet, you were wearing makeup.
Wonyoung (that smart girl, always with tricks up her sleeve), feeling apologetic about what had happened at that disaster of a date last week, begged to take you out on a girl's date today. After being cooped up in your room everyday for the past few days, you couldn't say no to her offer.
You felt a little nervous, though. The last time you went out, you got taken control of by that supervillain. But Wonyoung had been there for you the entire way, talking you through it every night. You trusted her, and you appreciated how she didn't treat you like a victim; Wonyoung wasn't babying your every step, but instead just treating you like a normal person.
And plus, it was summer. You wanted to have fun and to live your young adult life. Your eyes fluttered over to your window. Streams of yellow sunlight peeked through. Today was too beautiful. You could remember Wonyoung's excited voice over the phone a few nights ago.
"We should go take pictures!" she has squealed over the phone. "You just look toooooo pretty and we need to post something on your Instagram— to show all the guys what they're missing out on!"
You giggled. You still couldn't get used to being treated like you were single. There were indeed a few cool freedoms that came with being single. But in your mind, you still belonged to someone.
You looked at your phone. Wonyoung talked about posting pictures to make guys feel like bums for not getting on their knees and worshipping you (her words, not yours!). But when you thought about posting pictures, all you thought about was whether or not Jungwon would see them.
You squeezed your eyes shut. You needed to stop thinking about him. It wasn't healthy. But you still wondered if he thought about you, the same way you thought about him. You sat up from your bed, before you glanced into the mirror near the foot of your bed.
You hoped that he thought about you, too.
Ding dong! Oh! A ring from the front door! It must be Wonyoung! You happily promenaded to your apartment door, excited to greet your best friend with a big hug, and—
"J-Jungwon?!"
Instead of seeing your pink-wearing scheming best friend, you're greeted with your ex-boyfriend. However, for some reason, he looked more surprised than you!
"[N-Name]?!" he spluttered, his cat-like eyes as wide as saucers with his jaw falling open.
The two of you stare at each other like that for what felt like an eternity.
Your eyes fell over his features. His hair had grown a little bit longer since the last time you saw him (granted, that was half a year ago). His face looked slimmer, like he had lost weight. As you glazed over his figure, he had a backpack on his shoulders as always, but you eyed the way his biceps looked. He looked like he had put on more muscle, and before you could start ogling at him, you stopped yourself.
This was the guy that broke your heart. This was the guy that left you with no words. And now he was at your door?
"What the fuck do you want?" you spat at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Your brows crashed together, your expression turning sour. When he didn't respond, because you could tell by his expression that he was too busy checking you out, you began to close the door in his face.
"W-Wait!" he put his hands in front of him, flailing them panicked. You shot him a questioning look. "I think— I think I'm at the wrong apartment..."
You scoffed. "Oh, bullshit. What do you actually want?"
"I-I promise that I'm serious," Jungwon breathed out, and for a second you felt the walls you built for yourself threatening to crash down. He looked like a sad cat. Frantically, he shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone that was squashed somewhere in them. When he finally found his phone, he fumbled with it, before showing you his screen. "I'm tutoring... a kid on your floor, I think."
You took a good look at his phone screen, and he was telling the truth.
You sighed, pinching your nose-bridge.
"Do you..." he began, his eyes refusing to look at yours. "Do you know how to get to room 1214?"
You let out another sigh, this time louder. Jungwon stumbled, stammering to explain himself again, but you put a hand up, effectively silencing him.
"Keep going down the hallway, make a left turn, and you'll find room 1214 on your right," you said simply.
"Thank you," Jungwon said, as he nodded slowly, and you hummed.
Another long moment of silence engulfed the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick that you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You watched the way Jungwon's fingers fidgeted, a habit that he's never lost. He did this whenever he felt nervous or shy. It was a habit that you had grown to be fond of. You thought it was sweet that he was so fidgety. You tore your eyes away from him.
Was this the guy that wordlessly broke your heart?
"I'm gonna—" Jungwon started, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna go now."
He locked eyes with you, but just as he tried to break eye contact, you sent him a warning look. He didn't look away.
"Okay," you said simply. "Me too."
"Yeah."
And yet, the two of you still stood there, staring at each other. You've spent so many nights crying over him. You've never felt so much pain in your life before. There was so much anger and resentment that you had built up for him. There were a million words that you wanted to say to him, to tell him how much he hurt you.
But right now, you couldn't think of anything.
"Take care," you said.
"You too."
And with that, you slowly closed your door on him, while he slowly walked away from your door. But you swore that he kept looking back at you.
The moment that your front door clicked shut, you pressed your back up against it, before sliding down and holding your knees to your chest. You couldn't get over him when he clearly still wasn't over you. Why was he playing with you like this? Why did it have to be you, and more importantly, why did it have to be him?
Surely in time, Wonyoung showed up, and the two of you went on your little girl's day.
You huffed as you stumbled through your apartment doorway, struggling to take off your shoes amidst all of the shopping bags hanging on your arm. That Wonyoung, so eager to treat you to a nice day out. She bought you everything that you remotely showed interest in.
The moment that you arrived home, you shed all of your outdoor clothes, retreating to the comfort that was your bedroom. By now, it was dark out, and despite having a long and fun day with Wonyoung, you didn't feel tired. Unlike most days like this one that would follow a logical sequence, you still felt restless, as if your day had not been complete.
You were plagued with a weird gnawing feeling inside you. This happened a lot lately, probably just your anxiety from the past few weeks' incident.
And when you finally realized that laying in bed for hours scrolling on your phone was barely productive for an adult like you, you sighed, before sitting up from your bed.
Maybe you should write to him.
Ever since the incident at Bisco's Palace, you've found yourself especially restless. It's hard to tell if you're just paranoid, but on nights like this, you found yourself doing the same thing: writing to Spider-Man.
You used to be indifferent to the buzz around the masked hero, but now you understood it. You didn't know the reason why, but you found yourself finding comfort in simply writing to Spider-Man. It's simple things like thanking him for his service, and telling him about your day.
You glanced at the disorderly pile on your desk, of folded letters and envelopes. You never sent your letters. You've only ever sent him one letter.
The rest of your letters, which were structured more like long streams of consciousness vomited on a piece of paper, were left unsent.
You sighed. It wasn't like Spider-Man was really going to read your letters. You were just writing your thoughts out. You sat at your desk, scrolling through your Spotify Playlists to first choose the perfect moody music to get you writing. Your finger scrolled around your screen, glazing over the icons for each of your playlists.
You stopped when you saw a familiar, yet long-forgotten one.
It was a playlist that was created an entire year ago, with a simple title: love. Its icon was none other than a picture of you and Jungwon, with your cheeks smooshed up against each other. Smiling. In love.
Your finger hovered over its icon for a few moments. You haven't listened to this playlist in months. It's practically been collecting cobwebs in your Spotify account. If you listened to it now, you'd probably lose your mind. And yet you felt drawn to it.
You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples. In times in stress, we as humans seek familiarity. It's not crazy for you, who just experienced something traumatizing, to seek the solace of an old playlist reminiscent of a happier time. Right?
Play, you clicked.
Immediately, songs that you haven't heard in a long time filled your ears, the familiar tunes and melodies that you've grown to love hanging in the air.
You grabbed a pen, and began jotting down your thoughts.
'Dear Spider-Man,' you started off your letter. Below your desk, your knees bounced to the rhythm of each song— each song chosen by Jungwon, reminding you of all of his laughs and soft kisses as you and him shared earbuds on the city's underground subway.
As the black ink of your pen smudged against the side of your palm, you hummed along to the music that emitted from your phone. For a second, you could pretend that it was last summer, when you still had a boy to call yours.
You bit your lip, staring at the words scribbled on the paper.
It wasn't like Spider-Man would ever read these letters. He was a hypothetical addressee in your letters, so to speak. You took a deep breath.
'I miss him,' you wrote next, wincing as you gazed at your handwriting. How embarrassing, that you're confiding in the hypothetical version of a superhero in your head about your boy troubles. Whatever. You continued, 'I don't think I'll be able to move on from him, not any time soon.'
You stared at your words again. Oh, isn't this just pathetic?
You groaned, exasperated. You seriously just needed to get a life, or something. Just as you were about to throw yourself into your bed and scream into your pillows, leaving an unfinished letter open on your desk—
Crash!
You whipped your head toward the source of the sound: your bedroom balcony.
For a moment, your shoulders tensed. The last time a loud sound filled your ears, you got your mind controlled. And plus, it wasn't safe being a woman that lived alone, especially in a city notorious for its crime.
With trembling eyes, you stared out your glass balcony doors. It was completely dark out, save for the streams of light staining your balcony from your room. There's loud sounds all the time, but this time, you were 100% certain that the sound was on your balcony.
Should you go check it out? Or should you just turn off all your lights and jump into bed?
But before you could scare yourself even more, a strong figure slowly rose from the darkness. Hunched over, as if he was in pain, emerged a familiar red and blue hero.
"S-Spider-Man?!" you gaped to yourself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
And despite the darkness, you and him seem to lock eyes. Spider-Man, although it was him that was intruding on your property, seemed even more surprised by your presence, physically jolting away as if he was really that taken aback by you. And unfortunately for him, just as he was about to scurry away, you bursted through your balcony doors.
"Spider-Man!" you called out, as the cool night air kissed your face. You could feel goosebumps rise on your skin, as your thin pajamas did you no justice against the night coolness.
Although he was masked, you swore that Spider-Man was looking at you like you were some kind of freak of nature. But you ignored his gaze, noticing the way his clothed thigh had a massive dark-red splotch on it.
"I-Is that blood?" you peeped, pointing to his thigh. That would explain why Spider-Man had such an unceremonious crash landing into your apartment balcony; he was injured. You looked back up at the hero's masked face. "Spider-Man, are you okay—"
"I-I'm fine!" Spider-Man blurted, his voice shaky and almost uncertain. The hero staggered, stumbling to his feet. You could tell that he was in pain, but was trying to hide it. "I'm okay."
You watched as Spider-Man limped, quietly wincing in pain to the railing of your balcony, gripping it tightly to support himself.
He looked over his shoulder. Even when his face wasn't visible, it was like he was sheepish. Timid, even.
"I'm...." Spider-Man began. You could see his toned back tense. "I'm sorry."
You blinked. "For what?"
The hero hesitated. Why was Spider-Man being so... shy? And unassuming? Wasn't he this grand and powerful hero?
"For...." he drew out his syllables, as if he was grasping for thoughts in his head. "For abruptly— um— crashing. Into... your apartment."
A curve formed on your lips. "No, no. no!" you waved your hands in front of yourself. "Don't worry at all!"
You glanced at the wound on his thigh. Blood ran down his thigh, seeping through his costume. "Are you sure you're—"
Spider-Man interrupted you with a loud groan of pain, as he attempted to take a step forward. He crumbled to his knees, choked cries of pain falling from his lips.
The hero cursed under his breath, muttering about some "bastard" stabbing him.
You rushed to his side, your arms wrapping around his torso to pull him back to his feet. Despite being in pain from his injury, he seemed even more baffled by your touch, flinching away.
"S-Sorry," he apologized again.
"It's okay," you shot him a small smile. "Why don't you come inside?"
Jungwon wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
After his tutoring session with one of your neighbors, Jungwon went home and decided to take a long nap. After all, running into you, his ex, was definitely not something that he intended to do. He needed a nap to clear his mind.
Except, that was not what Jungwon got. Instead, he got another dream of you dying. Combined with seeing you getting controlled by that supervillain, Jungwon was not in the right headspace when he awoke.
Once again, with goosebumps littering his arms, cold sweat rolling down his temples, Jungwon's first instinct, as always, was to jump out of that damn window and take a lap around the city. By the time he finished a lap, it was already dark, and yet neither his mind nor body had the sharp precision that he needed to fight criminals.
Which was why when fighting a group of bandits, Jungwon dishonorably got stabbed in the thigh (though, of course, he kicked their asses to the moon).
And after he tried to swing away via his webs, his painful wound in the thigh made him miscalculate and web, and he tumbled down from the sky.
And that's how Jungwon found himself sitting on your bed.
This time, instead of breaking up with you, he was clad in his spandex suit, waiting for you as you rummaged through your bathroom cabinet.
Jungwon looked around your room. Everything was the same.
You had the same plushies on your bed, with the scent of your perfume still strong in the air. Your desk is still cluttered with the same papers and pens.
Everything, and really everything, was the same. Like one of those unfortunate true-crime cases, where someone dies under mysterious circumstances, and yet their home is completely untouched, with no signs of disturbance. As if nothing had changed at all, save for the absence of life.
It was a strange stillness, and yet, Jungwon shook his head. He was in no position to judge. Though, Jungwon's eyes did catch something interesting.On your desk lay a messy stack of envelopes and papers, some crumpled up and others pristinely folded. Like letters.
And maybe Jungwon was paranoid, or heartbroken, but his mind wandered to the worst places. Were you seeing another guy? Maybe the guy that you went on that date with. Was that why you were probably writing love notes?
Have you moved on that quickly? Was it that easy to forget him? Jungwon's heart ached, and against his better judgement, he rose to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh. He creeped up to your desk, limping with each step. With each inch closer, he could feel the world shattering around him.
And when he realized that there was an unfinished letter already in the works, freely laying on your desk, his heart dropped.
Jungwon gazed at the stack of letters, then back at the half-written letter played on your desk. But his eyes caught the heading of the letter: 'Dear Spider-Man.'
And it was now that Jungwon realized another crucial detail: your phone, also laying on your desk, was playing music. Playing music from the playlist that you and him made together.
"Spider-Man?"
Jungwon whipped his head around as your voice pulled him out of thought. And before he could even question why you would be writing to him of all people, you were already throwing all of your bandages onto your bed, rushing profusely to him as you cried, "Don't look at those!"
You tugged on Jungwon's arm, pulling him and gently pushing him onto your bed. Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, your face painted with an embarrassed expression.
"You were not supposed to see that," you murmured with your brows knitted together, standing in front of the now sitting hero. When Jungwon didn't respond, you continued, your voice breathy. "Just— Just forget you saw anything."
Jungwon nodded slowly. Under the mask, he glanced back to your desk. Were all of those letters addressed to him? As in, Spider-Man? And why were you still listening to that playlist?
"It's okay," he said reassuringly, even though he was extremely uncertain himself. "I didn't see anything."
You visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh. "I-It's just embarrassing."
Your eyes fluttered up to Jungwon's masked face. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jungwon could tell by the way your lips trembled ever-so-slightly and your brows crashed together that you felt uncomfortable.
You made that face when you felt like you needed to talk. Jungwon swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his arms opening up and his palms opening. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"But—"
Jungwon hoped that you could see his earnest smile from behind his mask. "I mean it. Don't worry about it."
Your eyes narrowed, as if you were studying his face. You sighed again. "Okay, sorry."
A silence engulfed the two of you, as you reached for the bandages and first-aid supplies that you had so abruptly thrown onto your bed earlier, completely unaware of the way Jungwon watched you so intently. He hadn't been so close to you in so long. With every flicker of your eyes and twitch of your face, Jungwon admired you closely.
What he would do to reach out and cup your cheek again, to feel your living and breathing self against his hands. To verify that you hadn't died. To confirm that you were safe and sound, alive and well.
"Can I—" you started, breaking the silence— "Can I help with your wound?"
Jungwon blinked. He had high levels of regeneration, so in a few hours, the wound on his thigh would be completely gone. It would be better to not waste both of your time.
But how you looked at him with wide, innocuous eyes, filled with worry and your characteristic kindness, Jungwon's greed clouded his mind.
"I would love that," Jungwon replied, his voice a near whisper.
How shameful of him, to sit here and selfishly bask in your presence as if he hadn't broken your heart.
You smiled, taking your rubbing alcohol and coming to Jungwon's side. Quickly, you started at your ministrations. Jungwon hissed at the burning sensation of the rubbing alcohol on his open wound (he had forgotten what it felt like), whispering apologies with each squeak of pain that fell from his lips. You hummed to yourself, your delicate face so focused.
"You know, Spider-Man," you began as you continued treating his wound, your voice soft, "I always wonder if you remember me."
Jungwon scoffed, his lips moving faster than his brain. Breathy, but eager, words came out, in a tone that Jungwon had always reserved for you. "How could I ever forget you, [Name]?"
You let out a peep, your face slowly morphing into a flustered expression. "W-What are you talking about?"
Shit. "I-I mean—"
Jungwon's ears burned, the apples of his cheeks prickling with warmth. This is not what he meant to do! Jungwon cleared his throat, sucking in a sharp breath to recompose himself.
"W-What I meant was that I—" Jungwon narrowed his eyes, thinking of an explanation— "I could never forget what happened at Bisco's."
You blinked at him a few times, your face breaking out into a frown. "Oh."
Jungwon sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. Did that make you upset?
"I always remember the people that I save," he continued, observing your facial expressions carefully. "I could never forget the impact I made on others, and that includes you, [Name]."
You shook your head understanding, but Jungwon could still see the frown on your face. "You're right," you said. Your eyes met with his. "You really have made an impact on me, Spider-Man."
You reached for the bandages, beginning to slowly wrap them around his wounded thigh.
"You know..." you started slowly. A bashful curve formed on your lips, nearly forming one of those cute grins that you always did whenever you felt particularly happy or appreciative. "I think about you quite a bit."
Jungwon cocked a brow.
"The truth is," you continued, the bashful expression on your face growing, "I write letters to you whenever I feel like shit."
"Why?" Jungwon blurted. He knew he probably shouldn't ask. It would make him spiral even harder, but his curiosity got the better of him.
You let out a chuckle, closing your eyes and shaking your head in embarrassment. "Because you saved me. And because you're a pretty universal symbol of strength and reliability."
You looked up at him again, flexing your arms with a goofy grin. "You're this city's number one defender. I write to you because I feel like even if I can't send you anything, I could rely on you, y'know?"
"Yeah," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't seen you smile like that in a while, and your reasoning was un-surprisingly sweet. Because you were that type of person. He couldn't help the way his lips pulled up into a small smile. "That makes sense."
"How about you, Spider-Man?" you asked.
"What about me?"
"What do you do when you feel like shit?" you cocked your head, blinking owlishly. "You must go through a lot as a hero. What makes you feel like you should keep going?"
You, he thought. You were what made him want to keep being a good person. All his deep fears of failure and imperfection were intrinsically rooted in his desires to make himself worthy for you. It was all you.
"You," Jungwon said. But he couldn't have you. "... And other people that I've saved. Knowing that I have helped others is enough to keep me going."
You nodded your head, understanding, your lips forming an 'oh' shape. You continued wrapping his thigh with bandages. "Do you ever check up on the people that you save?"
"I wish I could," Jungwon responded. "I would love to check up on everyone."
"So why don't you?"
You were always so curious. Jungwon pursed his lips. "Because there's too many people that I've saved. I don't know all of them by name. I don't know how to find them."
You hummed. You finished wrapping Jungwon's leg with bandages, using scissors to cut the cloth bandages and securing them. You patted your hands off, sending the hero another smile. "Aaaand you're all done."
"Thank you," Jungwon held a fixed gaze on you again. It took all of his self-control to not throw his arms around you and embrace you. "I don't know how I can repay you—"
You waved your hands in front of you profusely. "No, no! I'm repaying you for saving me—"
Jungwon shook his head. "If it wasn't for your balcony, I would have probably died."
You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating, before a lightbulb seemingly popped above your head. You swiftly took Jungwon's hands, squeezing them tightly.
"Come visit me."
Jungwon spluttered. "W-What?"
"You said that you didn't know how to repay me, and that you didn't check up on people you saved because you didn't know how to find them," you gushed eagerly. "You found me. You can repay me by visiting me ever so often."
"But— But why?"
You shrugged. "It gets lonely sometimes," was all you said, but your wide and glassy eyes staring up at him so pleadingly made it hard to say no. "Please?"
"I'll try."
You didn't catch it at first. "What?"
"I'll try," Jungwon murmured. "To come back. If I can."
You chuckled. "Good enough for me."
Jungwon wasn't sure if he made a promise that he could keep.
"Good morning! Welcome to Maeum's Coffee Shop, what can I get you— Damn it, [Name], did you have a rough night again?"
You winced at Wonyoung's words. Wonyoung worked at a local coffee shop, and as a good friend, you always came in to support her.
It's been a few days since you found Spider-Man on your balcony, and you would be lying if you said that you weren't excited. You stayed up a few nights waiting for Spider-Man to crash-land on you again. It wasn't anything romantic for sure, you were just interested in talking to him. The truth was, you stayed up most nights anyway. You stayed up most nights thinking about everything, unable to truly rest. If you were going to be restless, you might as well think about your new friend Spider-Man.
"The usual," you murmured to your friend, who hummed understandingly, despite you completely ignoring her question. You rubbed your eyes. "I'm so tired, Wonyoung."
Wonyoung's bright eyes ran over your figure: you were wearing sweats with a hoodie draped over your shoulders, as if you just woke up. She chuckled at you, before ringing you up. "We could go to the beach after my shift, if you want."
You groaned as you swiped your card. You didn't feel like doing anything, but when it was Wonyoung, it was hard to say no. "Fine."
You grinned lazily as she cheered, before you took a seat in the coffee shop, slumping over yourself as you waited for your coffee. You could hear some light jazz playing, but especially the laughter of Wonyoung as she charmed customers, and most importantly, the flagrant whispers of her coworkers.
There was always one downside of visiting Wonyoung while she worked: her coworkers, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, who just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend's best friends. And now as you tried to fight your tiredness, all you could hear now was their whispers. Their frantic whispers.
If you weren't literally about to fall asleep, pulling your hood over your head, you would have shot them a glare, maybe even text Wonyoung to tell them to shut up.
"....that's definitely his..." you could hear Jake whisper-yell.
"...ngwon's gonna blow his shit..... Hurry, call him!"
"—Shit, he's on his way already!"
Ding! The doorbell of the coffee shop rang, making everyone in the shop (including yourself) turn their heads. And lo and behold, standing at the doorway was none other than your ex-boyfriend.
You couldn't even bring yourself to care. You could hear his friends practically shouting in the back while your phone pinged a billion messages from Wonyoung, but you just continued to push your face into your arms, taking comfort in the hoodie that you had thrown on this morning.
You hoped that Jungwon didn't notice that you were here. Maybe that would be better for your mental stability.
"[N-Name]?" Sunoo's shaky voice called out from the counter, where Sunoo, Sunghoon, and Jake liked to hang around. Your drink was ready. Finally.
Lifting yourself off of the cafe table, you trudged over to the counter, only a few feet away from the cash register. Where Jungwon was standing, getting ready to order. Which meant that he 100% saw you, and now he 100% knows that you're here.
Damn it. You really couldn't take seeing his face today. You fiddled with your hood, pulling it closer to you to hide your face.
"Here's your.... drink," Sunoo said, slowly and awkwardly, as if you were some alien. You rolled your eyes, fighting the horrible feeling of Jungwon's eyes boring into the back of your head, as you took your coffee from the counter.
As you read over the labeling and Sharpie'd name on your cup, you verified that this drink was indeed yours. And just as you were about to turn on your heel and get the fuck out of there (away from Jungwon, who was now 100000% staring at you), Jake just had to open his mouth.
"I-Isn't that Jungwon's hoodie?" Jake blurted, throwing an accusatory finger at the hoodie draped over your shoulders.
You didn't know what came first: Wonyoung's gasp from the cash register, you choking on your spit, or Jungwon spluttering from where he was. Sunoo and Sunghoon whacked Jake in the head, but the damage was already done.
Once again, for no apparent reason, you and Jungwon found each other. You couldn't fight the urge to turn over your shoulder and spot Jungwon, who was staring at you with big, shivering eyes, his ears red and his lips agape. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Your emotions were so erratic. Sometimes when you saw pictures of Jungwon you felt nothing, but now that he was in front of you, face to face, you wanted to scream and cry.
You looked down at the hoodie that enveloped you. Now that Jake mentioned it, yes, this hoodie was Jungwon's. In fact, you could remember how you acquired such a thing. One time, it was raining so Jungwon let you wear his hoodie, and you never gave it back. What once belonged to Jungwon was now yours, and you've made it such a normal part of your life that you forgot that it had ever been his.
This hoodie, having lived in your closet for months and months, smelled like your own laundry detergent. And as you brusquely walked past Jungwon, blinking back the tears that you hadn't even noticed were collecting in your eyes, you wished for something abnormal: you wished that this hoodie still smelled like Jungwon, even after all this time.
So that you could have something to remember him by.
Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath. Temptation was a work of sin, and unfortunately, it was not his fault that the devil was stronger than a man.
There were many reasons that Jungwon was so committed to keeping a distance from you. He wanted to respect your space, and he was dedicated to protecting you. But even more, there was an intimacy that was never speaking to you again. In his last act of love for you, Jungwon would grant you the peace that his presence could never give you. He hoped that his absence spoke of the words that he could never have said. And yet, as Jungwon sat on the ledge of some building, he watched the cars pass wistfully a few hundred meters below his feet.
In the daytime, he felt like he could deal with the guilt and loneliness. But at night, it was nearly impossible. It's been another week since Jungwon had uneventfully landed on your balcony, and you had requested that he, as Spider-Man, visit you.
And frankly, Jungwon wasn't going to visit you. Even if he promised you, he was so sure that he couldn't keep it. After all, he had a commitment. But when the summer air is so warm yet so unforgiving, sending hot beads of sweat running down Jungwon's face, the frustration and guilt festered, devouring Jungwon from the inside out. That was how Jungwon found himself only a few buildings away from your apartment. He teetered on the ledge. Half of him wanted so desperately to just swing onto your balcony again, to just see you again. But the other half of him couldn't stand putting you in harm's way any longer.
So imagine Jungwon's shame as he picked up his feet and swung by your apartment. All he wanted to do was check on you. He had good eyes, so hopefully he'd be able to catch a glimpse of you through your windows as he briefly came by. And yet, instead of finding you safe and sound through your bedroom window, what Jungwon saw from a distance was you, on your balcony, looking sad. Wistful, even. You had your arms over the railings, and even when he was afar, Jungwon could recognize any of your expressions, and this one, he could tell that you were crying.
His body moved faster than his mind, with zero hesitation, zooming right onto your balcony. Jungwon's mind was still racing, questions blurring through his mind, hesitating about what he should do. Why were you crying? Was it someone that made you feel this way? But his body knew his intentions better. His body knew the sorts of yearning that he had no chance of resisting. And just as swift as he came, Jungwon found himself breathing heavily as he landed back on the railing of your balcony.
"S-Spider-man?!" you sniffled. Under the dark sky, he could see the way your eyes lined with tears, your tearful eyes puffy and bloodshot. You quickly hid your face in your sleeve, turning your face away from him. "Wh—What are you doing here?"
"I..." Jungwon's mouth ran dry. He didn't have an answer for you. Seeing you like this made him feel on-edge, nervous even. He didn't know why he was here with you. He didn't know why his body forced him to keep crawling back to you. He didn't want to be here, it went against all instinct. He stared at the back of your head. "I'm— Um—"
You let out a loud, high-pitched sob, before you threw your arms around Jungwon's shoulders, burying yourself into his chest. Jungwon stiffened under your touch. It felt weird. He hadn't been close to really anyone at all, at least not physically. If it wasn't you that he was physically intimate with, he'd rather not have it at all. But even when it was you, intimacy felt so foreign, so lost. But as your choked sobs rung through the air, your arms holding onto him like he'd save you, Jungwon relaxed. Mixed in with the smell of the night air, you smelled like your usual peachy perfume. Your touch, just like he had remembered it, was soft. Kind.
Jungwon brought a hesitant hand up to the small of your back, in an attempt to quell your distress. Yet, he felt such a weird warmth as you clung onto him.
"I h—hate him, Spider-Man!" you cried, your hand gripping his forearm. "I hate him— so much."
And maybe if Jungwon was stronger than he was now, he would have just listened to you silently without any questions, patting your back and lending you a shoulder to cry on. But he wasn't.
"Who?" he breathed into your ear, his brows knitted together. That horrible gnawing feeling filled his stomach once again. He didn't want to know what your answer was, but that sickening curiosity was burning from the inside out. "Who do you hate?—Did you— Did you get hurt?"
You shook your head, looking up at the hero. The moonlight reflected off your eyes. You looked so pretty, even when you were crying. Jungwon's heart ached at the sight of your pained face. My baby, he thought. After all this time, you could commit all the grievances in the world, and if you just looked at him with your big, teary eyes, he would acquit you of all your crimes.
You tugged on his arm, your glossy eyes staring at him like he was some god, pulling him back into your room. And against all resolutions that Jungwon tried to make to himself, he followed you in anyway.
As your balcony door clicked shut, Jungwon watched as you pulled him onto your bed with you, pulling him as close as you could as you continued to cry, murmuring about how much you hated "him."
This time, Jungwon just let his eyes fall shut. He hadn't laid down in your bed in a while, and frankly, he thought your bed was more comfortable than his. With you so close to him, and his arms wrapped around you, for a split second, it felt like he was back together with you. It felt like another one of those nights where you'd cry into his arms about how stressed you were, and all he could offer up was his presence to console you.
"I know, I know," he gently whispered into your ears. You always loved it when he reassured you like that. He rubbed slow circles on your back, continuing to whisper soft reassurances into your ear, even if he knew that you couldn't hear him. "I know, love."
"I c-cant get over him," you lamented. At this point, Jungwon's chest was wet. "I don't know why I c-can't. I h-hate him so much."
Jungwon gulped as his gut twisted.
"Tell me," he rasped. He knew what your words meant. He knew better than anyone that you were talking about him, that it was him that you hated. But he needed to hear it from your lips first, to get real confirmation. Despite the weak feeling in his knees and the pang in his chest, he wanted to listen to you.
After all, he'd do anything to make you feel better, even if you didn't know it was him. And he knew how to do that exactly.
You lifted your head to look at him in the eyes, shaking your head profusely. "But i-it's pa—pathetic," you stammered, but when you could feel Jungwon's unwavering gaze on you, you gave in. Resting your cheek on the hero's shoulder, you spoke in a low, shaky voice. You told him everything— every thought and emotion that's been swirling your mind. You told him of how you still constantly thought about Jungwon, how you felt like in every crevice of your life he was there, how you've done everything you could to get over him with fruitless results. You cried and cried and cried. You detailed to him what types of restless nights you had, what kinds of thoughts swirled through your head whenever you thought about your ex.
"I miss him," you ended your tear-filled rant with. "I mi-miss him s-so much and I feel so—so d-dumb."
And if you weren't so caught up in your feelings, you would have noticed how the hero's body tensed with each word that fell from your lips.
A silence fell over you and Spider-Man, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, letting your bated breaths calm down with each hiccup. You let your heart rate slow down, as your eyes— sore from crying— rested. Against you, the hero was so... still. He was definitely breathing, but it was slow and tranquil. If you listened hard enough, you could hear his heart beat; weirdly enough, it was erratic and loud.
That's what Jungwon's heartbeat sounds like when he's excited, you thought, before shaking your head and pushing that thought into the back of your mind. The mere thought of Jungwon made your stomach churn. You didn't want to even entertain that thought.
"Spider-Man...." you began in a soft voice, your finger coming up to poke his masked face. No response. "Spider-Man, are you asleep—"
Suddenly, Jungwon jolted up from the bed, his voice ripping through the air: "Boo!"
You let out a loud shriek, jumping away from him, surprised. You stared at him for a few moments, before Jungwon bursted out into giggles. On your bed, you watched as the red-and-blue masked hero who had just tried to startle you attempted to conceal his giggles, clamping a hand over his mouth.
"S-Sorry—" his voice was shaky, trying so goddamn hard not to laugh. Airy laughs escaped his lips, filling the air with something that felt all too familiar.
Despite having just cried for what seemed like forever, you slapped his chest, your lips pulling up into a wobbly smile. Spider-Man's laughter was contagious, and even as you continued to lightly punch him, you couldn't help but let giggles fall from your own mouth.
"Sh-Shut up!" you said between laughs. Having enough, you reached for a stray pillow and threw it at him. "You're so annoying!"
You couldn't remember the last time you laughed like this with someone. In fact, perhaps if you weren't so busy beating Spider-Man up like your life depended on it, you would have noticed the way your beloved hero was watching you closely. Jungwon knew exactly how to get you to loosen up; and in this case, it was to do something so stupid and dorky that you had no choice but to laugh.
"Ow! Ow!" Jungwon squirmed like a spider that had just gotten hit by bug spray. He let you win, as now he was pinned down on the bed, with you smothering him with your pillows. "White flag—Ack!"
Your laughter rang through the room. You weren't even that strong, but Jungwon did not dare to use his own strength on you. That wouldn't be fair.
That's right, he thought. Forget about me. Forget about the pain, forget about everything that I've done to you. Your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched and your lips parted when you threw your head back and laughed. If he could preserve that laughter for the rest of his life, he would. Forget about me, baby.
"Jesus Christ, Spider-Man!" you snickered, as you held him down with a hand on his hard chest. "I thought you were stronger than this."
Jungwon's strong hand slid to wrap around your wrist. "You really wanna see strength?"
A weak yet sly grin spread across your face. You leaned down to him, so close that your noses touched. Almost purring,"Try me— Eek!"
That was all the confirmation he needed. In an instant, Jungwon flipped the two of you over, crashing into the soft plushness of your bed. This time, he was the one pinning you down. And while airy laughter fell from your lips, the surprise of Jungwon's outburst reducing you to giggles, Jungwon was distracted. You're just so pretty, so strikingly beautiful that he had no choice but to admire you.
And if Jungwon wasn't so distracted, he would have noticed the way that you stared at him owlishly, with a type of hunger and curiosity that was all too familiar. As if a lightbulb had switched on, your arms slithered up from under him to wrap around his neck. With glassy eyes and a girlish giggle, you gently pulled him toward your face.
Jungwon's body froze up as you plant a soft, tender kiss on his masked cheek, a spluttering sound coming from his mouth.
"Relax, silly," you rasped into his ear with a chuckle. Even with the mask, your fingers found their way to the crook between Jungwon's ear and jaw, delicately running your fingers over that spot and mindlessly caressing it— something that always made shivers roll down Jungwon's back. "You can save lives but you can't handle a girl kissing you?"
Jungwon's face felt hot. "Shut— Shut up!" That night, you eventually laughed yourself to sleep, and after tucking you in, Jungwon left with a bittersweet feeling in his chest. He hoped that he'd given you any type of emotional refuge, so that you would eventually forget the hurt and pain that he had caused you.
To be a girl, after a long week of stress, unloading your worries and the like in a nice steamy bath— Oh, that is the best thing any person could experience.
You relished in the warm solitude of your bathtub. You hummed along to the quiet music you liked to play when you bathed, the peachy bubbles and scent of your soap filling your senses. You relaxed with an "ahh" into the water. Tonight was going to be perfect. After this bath, you were going to do your skincare routine and lather yourself with your new yummy lotion. Then you'd go make yourself a late night snack. Then maybe you'd spend the night reading some manga, or watching some shows, or anything you wanted frankly.
You had worries: finding an internship, employment, boy troubles. But this was no time to care about them. You let your eyelids gently fall shut... and maybe if you weren't careful, you might... just... drift... off...
"Eep!" You're startled back into reality by the sound of a distant crash! You glance around your bathroom, clutching yourself. It didn't sound nearby, so you had nothing to worry about. You sunk into the water again, letting your tense muscles relax into the warmth. Your tired eyes fell closed again. And maybe this time.... you'd be permitted the peace... to just... drift... off...
Crash! You jolted up, your eyes shooting open. This time, this crashing sound was much louder, and appeared to be much closer. Following that outburst was the sound of rustling and scrambling, which (in your already paranoid state) confirmed your fears that whatever the cause was, it was too close to you.
Emboldened, you stepped out of your bathtub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body tightly, before slipping your shower slippers on.
And maybe you're dumb. Really dumb. But you peaked your head out your bathroom door, eyes glazing over the hallway between your bathroom and kitchen. Everything seemed fine. You crept out of the bathroom. Your entire apartment was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Slowly, you made your way into your bedroom. It looked normal, not a single hair out of place. Nothing was wrong then.
Since you were already out of the bathroom, you should probably start dressing anyway. You loosened your grip around the towel, and just as the fabric fell from your chest—
"[N-Name]?!"
There had to be something psychological about the way bright red and blue were incredible at camouflaging, because you had not noticed the red and blue superhero perched at your window. And it seemed like he didn't notice you either, until now.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried. But it was too late. There you were, naked in all your glory and exposed entirely to the spider hero himself. You didn't know what was worse. The feeling of the cool air hitting your skin, sending goosebumps on your arms, or the feeling of Spider-Man practically ogling at you. It didn't seem to matter because the two of you stood like that: in silence, in complete and utter horror.
"I-I'm..." You've never seen Spider-Man more flustered, but if you weren't too busy trying to cover yourself up, scrambling for your fallen towel, you would have noticed the way the hero's hand shot up to clutch his face in embarrassment. A habit that you loved to see in your ex-boyfriend. "S... Sorr—"
"Get out!" you cried, clutching your towel so tightly as you began reaching for all of the pillows and plushes on your bed, hurling at the hero at full-force. Your face burned with embarrassment as you heaved. "Out! N-Now!"
Spider-Man simply stood there, stunned, which was weird considering that he should have a fast enough reaction time to stop you. Frustrated, you threw yourself on your bed, throwing the blanket over your naked body and pushing your face into the mattress, humiliated and flustered beyond belief.
"Get out!" you cried again, your eyes almost welling up with tears with how embarrassed you were. You felt so hot all over that you could probably melt. You hadn't felt this way— this flustered and embarrassed— in so long. You murmured, "What are you even doing here?!"
Finally breaking from his stupor, Spider-Man spluttered, "I-I just wanted to check up... on you."
You groaned from under the blanket, muffled, and that seemed to egg the hero on with a squeak. Words tumbling from his mouth like water, he squeals, "It seems like you're doing well! Youlookgoodasever—I mean— In all the years I've known you, you always look amazing— Like— Uhm— I— You're always—" he sucked in a deep breath, and you could hear how red his face was under the mask— "Beautiful."
There's a long silence, before Spider-Man nearly shouts, "Okay bye!"
And with that, he climbed out your balcony, and swung away. You stay where you are under the blanket all huddled up for a few moments, before you let out a giddy little chuckle. You flipped over to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, before it hit you.
"Years?" you said aloud. Spider-Man said that you've been beautiful in all the "years" that he's known you.
You sat up. But you swore you only knew him for a few months.
Hm. Interesting.
Jungwon cursed under his breath. Fuck. He was in a pickle. After a few weeks in hiding, archvillain Baron von Fizzlebang was back for more, this time with more to show. It seemed like every time, he was getting progressively worse and worse. New gadgets, new costumes, new methods of entrancing people. First, Baron von Fizzlebang entranced a mob to rob a bank. Then, he controlled some elementary schoolers and tried to get them to walk into oncoming traffic (really evil of him). Most recently, the supervillain tried to possess the entire fire department and make them commit arson in an ironic turn of events. If it weren't for Jungwon's restless fighting, the entire city might have gone up in flames already.
Simultaneously, against his own better judgement, yet in alignment with his heart, Jungwon found himself intentionally coming to see you more. It's shameful that despite cutting you out of his life he still tried to keep you at an arm's reach. But oh, Jungwon was so greedy. Each time your face lit up when he appeared on your balcony left him eager for more. Every smile and little touch had him hungry. Hungry for more of you, hungry to keep you for himself, hungry to hide you from the world and selfishly have you all to himself. And the worst part was, your grief and sadness over civilian-Jungwon was slowly dissipating with time: you were reverting back to the you that he knew, not the sad, crestfallen version of you.
But, he had no time to think of that. Right now, Jungwon was beaten up pretty badly, resting atop the roof of a building and leaning against some structure there.
It's not easy to fight one Baron von Fizzlebang, when he's able to manipulate up to a hundred people to do his own bidding. Jungwon doesn't want to hurt the civilians under Baron von Fizzlebang's control, but how is he supposed to win at all if these civilians are being used to attack him?
One eye was incapacitated, with blood dripping down Jungwon's forehead and his lip bleeding. Even in the darkening night sky, Jungwon could tell that there were a few tears here and there on his hero costume, but the worst part was that Jungwon's right shoulder was most definitely out of commission.
Luckily, Jungwon got the victimized civilians to safety. Unluckily, Baron von Fizzlebang was still on the loose, pretty much unscathed. Jungwon could work under severe pressure, with great injuries too. But for some reason, he absolutely couldn't think straight as he stumbled to his feet, clutching his injured shoulder. He blinked his one working eye slowly, trying to see clearly, but there was too much blood coming from his head after getting slammed against a brick wall for him to get a clear view.
At the very least, Jungwon needed to locate where the villain went—
"Yoo-hoo!" a sing-songy voice boomed, and Jungwon whipped his pounding head around. "Spidey-Spidey!~"
Lo and behold, Baron von Fizzlebang was (for some reason) suspended in the air, completely uninjured, a stark difference from Jungwon's hunched-over, painful form. With his extravagant costume, he waved mockingly at Jungwon, a cackle spilling from him. "I'm back for more, Spidey. Are you?"
Jungwon's eyes narrowed, a pained grunt escaping his lips before he limped toward the villain. He sucked in a sharp breath. The blood from his bleeding lip tasted metallic on his tongue, but his physical pain mattered not— not when the livelihood and safety of the city was on the line because of this maniac.
"Yeah," Jungwon responded breathily, stumbling. "Come get me."
Much to Jungwon's chagrin, from Baron von Fizzlebang came some strange metal contraption. With big and long metal tentacle arms with grabby hands at the ends, Baron von Fizzlebang laughed maniacally as his new gargantuan device conjured a physical reaction out of Jungwon. Faster than Jungwon could move, the villain's metal arms snatched him up.
"Let me go—Ack!" Jungwon squirmed in the contraption's grasp.
"No," Baron von Fizzlebang said simply. "All you do is ruin my plans to take over this city!"
Jungwon cried in pain as the metal hands squeezed him tighter. The villain laughed again. "Have you ever had to experience someone try to ruin something you care about, Spider-Man?" Jungwon opened his mouth to choke a retort, but the Baron continued. "Or in your case, someone that you care about?"
Jungwon continued to squirm in the metal hands' grasp, the villain taking it as a sign to continue his villainous monologue.
"You don't think that I don't know you have a secret little girlfriend, right? She's the same one I claimed that one night at Bisco's." At the sound of that, Jungwon tensed up even more. No.... Don't tell me.."Maybe I should let this little spider go. To make you really feel my pain, why don't I go pay your little girlfriend a visit again."
"No!—" tore from Jungwon's throat, but it was too late. With panic filling his body, Baron von Fizzlebang's metal tentacles hurled him through the sky before the villain took off. Presumably to find you. And even though Jungwon was falling through the sky with an incapacitated eye and shoulder, all he could think about was you.
Every single fear and made-up scenario of you getting hurt or even worse, dying, as a result of Jungwon ran through his head in the milliseconds that he was in the air.
Just as Jungwon was about to slam against a sky-scraper, he shot a web to catch himself. His hands shook as he stabilized himself against another wall.
Dammit, dammit, dammit— I'm so fucking stupid— She's in danger now— Everything that he had feared was coming true, and it was all a result of Jungwon's selfishness and negligence and— Jungwon took a deep breath, not noticing that he had neglected to breathe as he spiraled. He shoved his face in his hands. Think, think, think. He had to do something.
He looked at his hands. He had to go find you, and warn you. Move you to safety, make sure you're somewhere safe where that maniac couldn't find you.
Even with all his injuries, nothing stopped Jungwon as he shot webs across the sky. With all the remaining strength in his body, and with all the power he could muster up, Jungwon flew across the sky to where he knew you'd be: in your apartment.
And just as he expected, you were in your room, peacefully listening to music and painting your nails. Usually, he'd be courteous and wait for you to welcome him in. But Jungwon had no time to waste: he crashed onto your balcony, practically busting into your room through the doors.
"Spider-Man?!" you cried, startled by his sudden entrance.
"You have to leave," Jungwon breathed with labored huffs. He clamored toward you, grabbing you by your shoulders. "I-I don't have time to explain—"
"What— What are you talking about?—"
Jungwon gripped your shoulders, the vehemence in his voice resounding as he desperately repeated, "You have to leave. It-It's not safe for you— I need you to leave and go somewhere sa—"
"Spider-Man," you said firmly. Jungwon breathed shakily, swallowing down hard. He shook his head. It felt like the world had fallen into his shoulders.
"Please, [Name]," he pleaded. Even with a mask, you can hear his sheer desperation. "Please listen to me this time."
You stared at him, with a curious yet concerned look, like you were studying him. “Please,” Jungwon said again, his voice high-pitched and cracking. His grip on you loosened, but his head hung low.“Please.”
You kept your eyes stuck on him, but Jungwon couldn’t focus. All he could think about was how you could die. Everything hurt, and yet nothing did at the same time. The mere thought of something even worse happening to you made Jungwon’s gut twist, the oncoming fear so great that it effectively numbed everything in him.
“I can’t— I can’t lose you—“
There was something unsettling about you that Jungwon never figured out. You’re sensitive and soft, but strong-willed and stern. But you’re also a level of smart that Jungwon couldn’t understand.
Which was why he couldn’t possibly understand why you grabbed him by his shoulders, pulled him into you, and slammed your lips against his. You let your lips stay on his for a little bit, but before you could pull away, all the hunger and fear consumed Jungwon whole. His large hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. Greedily, like a starved man, Jungwon hungrily kissed you back, holding you tightly as his breathing picked up.
Maybe it was all the adrenaline, or the pain and delirium, or just Jungwon’s fear, but he didn’t even think about what he was doing. Your lips against his, your body pressed against him, and your scent overtaking his mind— it all made it impossible for him to stop.
He muttered your name against your lips, grasping you like you’d disappear any minute. Your soft body on him felt heavenly, as he drank you in. Everything felt hot and everything ached, but even with his mask on, it felt so delicious. He heaved as your lips moved against his. A choked breath and whimper escaped his lips as you slid tongue into his mouth, your hands slithering up his chest and wrapping around his neck, the way that he always liked it. Almost like you knew how to make him feel good.
The kiss halted to a slow stop, with the two of you gently pulling away. And Jungwon, too dazed, didn’t know what to expect next— and he definitely didn’t expect the next words that came out of your mouth.
"Jungwon," you hummed against his lips, looking at him with an expression that he couldn't read. Jungwon's heart plummeted to his stomach, shaky eyes widening.
"Wh-What—" he began, but you brought a finger up to his lip, hushing him. No way. There's no way that you knew it was him all along—
"You need to calm down, Jungwon," you said as you pulled away from him, eyes glued to his masked face. You took his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his hand slowly, the way that always helped calm him down. "I know you. You're spiraling. We can't do anything if you're panicking. Deep breaths."
"I don't— I don't understand," Jungwon whispered, his strong body still. Had you known it was him all along? And if you did, why didn't you say or do anything? Did you find him pathetic? "How did you know?"
You blinked at him slowly, before a bashful grin pulled onto your face. You reached your hand out to him, your palm finding itself on his cheek. In a moment of instinct, Jungwon leaned into your touch.
"That's how I knew," you breathed. Your lithe fingertips then prodded at the crook between his jaw and his ear, the sensitive spot, and just as you expected, Jungwon shuddered. Your fingers traced down his jaw to his neck, pressing on the tender spot in the middle of his neck. Much to Jungwon's personal mortification, he let out a gasp, and when you leaned closer to his neck— so close that he could feel your breath on him— Jungwon let out a soft sound and shivered. Your lip grazed against the covered skin of his neck, watching him intently as you earn a sensitive whimper from him.
"What— What are you doing—" Jungwon was cut off again by your lip pressing against his jugular, at the spot that never failed to make him cry out in pleasure. Jungwon's ears burned, but the blood rushing through his body made him feel hot all over. He leaned his head back, eyes falling shut.
"I know you, Jungwon." Your voice was low, almost like a purr. Your hands continued to run over his jaw and neck, hooking onto the edge of his mask and uncovering the honey tan skin of his neck. You pressed your lips against his exposed skin, another gasp falling from his lips. "You're not good at hiding anything. And you're not a convincing liar."
You pulled his mask up, exposing his lower jaw and lips. When he muttered your name startled, you pulled the entire mask off.
Lo and behold, just as you had expected, it was Jungwon Yang. You had your suspicions, and when you made them known to him you were certain that you were right. And yet, you're still taken aback when it's really Jungwon behind the mask. His overgrown blonde hair falling over his eyes, his cat-like eyes staring at you with a mix of fear, shame, and desire, his jaw that had gotten stronger— you drank in every last bit of it.
"Son of a bitch," you murmured under your breath.
Jungwon hadn't noticed the way his chest pounded and how his breathing became erratic, nor did he notice that he was now blinking back tears, his chest heaving. "I—I'm sorry—" he struggled to get out, his voice getting caught in his throat. "Oh— I'm so— I"m sorry—"
He couldn't tell if you were angry, or disgusted, or both... because despite the unreadable look on your face, you still grabbed his face, slamming your lips against his once more.
Your fingers brusquely grab at his hair, tangling themselves in his grown-out blonde locks. This time, you're the hungry one. Your hands slid down his chest again, grasping onto his strong, toned arms, and running your hands all over him. Your lips moved surly against his, as if you hadn't been fed in days.
"You're a jackass," you rasped against him, and yet you kept kissing him like he'd disappear. "Fucking jackass." Jungwon tried to murmur apologies, but you kept kissing him, shutting him up. You pushed him against your bed slowly as your lips moved, so that he had no choice but to fall back onto it.
With Jungwon's back now pressed up against your bed, you were on top of him. Your hands roamed his body, and Jungwon couldn't help but let his eyes fall shut.
"I-I'm sorry," he rumbled, but with you on top of him, lips all over him, he couldn't do much but gasp and squirm under your touch. "I-I didn't mean to—"
Boom! In the distance, a massive explosion sound careened through the air. You and Jungwon, both alarmed, froze in your position. Even with you filling his senses, Jungwon's immediate thought is simple: he is Spider-Man.
Jungwon felt your body tense against his, with fear painted on your face. His body felt hot all over, the excitement still pulsing through his veins and desperate need for you still clouding his mind. But a trembling, paralyzed you was enough to pull him away from himself, and force him to focus.
In one fell swoop, Jungwon pulls the two of you to your feet, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly, yet gently. Ignoring your questions, he felt around for his discarded mask, before shooting a web from his fingers and pulling it to him.
"You have to go," he said to you, his hands tightening around your waist. Jungwon watched as your brows crashed together, your expression morphing from bewilderment to hurt, and then anger.
"What are you— Jungwon—" Jungwon ignored you, quickly searching around your room. He took a jacket from your closet (which was definitely his), before draping it around your shoulders.
"I'm serious," he said, his voice cracking with earnestness. "I mean it, [Name]. You have to go."
It was your turn to splutter, scoffing in disbelief. "Where would I even go? I don't know why you're saying this—"
Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments, before he huffed. "Go to Jake's."
You're about to scoff again, but Jungwon— the most tender person you've ever met— sent you a stern look that shuts you up.
"Tell him that I sent you," Jungwon instructed. "Tell him to keep you safe. And text me when you're there...." the boy trails off, awkwardly scratching his head, "If I'm not blocked, y'know.... Or just have Jake text me."
You stared at him in silence, blinking slowly, in an attempt to assess his face. Finally, you sigh, your face looking sad. "Okay."
Jungwon helped you collect your things, the two of you engulfed in a silence, with nothing filling your apartment but the ambient sound of your footsteps and breaths. That is, until it was time for you to go.
"I-I think I should go now," you said shakily, your back turned to Jungwon as you reached for your front door. Jungwon solemnly nodded, wistfully staring at you as he fiddled with his mask; his face was still uncovered, making it difficult to hide his concern, yet he didn't have the courage to put his mask back on. Not when you were here. And Jungwon would have let you go like that, alone into the night, if it weren't for the sound of your sniffles.
"Hey, hey," he called out to you, reaching out to you and taking hold of your shoulder. His brows furrowed. "[Name], what is it?"
You sniffled, your breath getting caught in your throat, and it was clear now that you were crying. However, you just shook your head, your back still turned to him.
"Baby," Jungwon said again. "Baby, please tell me. What is it? Why are you crying?"
The sound of Jungwon's voice made you tense up again. You let out a choked sob, before you sucked in a sharp breath. "Th-That."
Jungwon reached for your face, tilting your chin so that you would face him, but you wouldn't budge. "Talk to me. Please."
"That!" you cried. You sucked in another sharp breath as you threw your face into your palms. "You— You l-left me the first time... and— and now you're leaving a-again."
Jungwon's chest ached, and in a moment of remorse and desire, he slid his hands around your waist, pulling you into an embrace with you pressed against his chest. The way you always liked it. He pressed his cheek against your head, his own tears welling up in his eyes as you sniffled and cried.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. He knew he hurt you, it was nothing new to him. But just knowing that never made the regret feel any better. He kissed your head. "I'm so sorry."
There's another explosion in the distance, and Jungwon's hold on you tightened. "Please. I'll make it up to you. Please just go this time."
You shook your head. "I—I don't get it. J-Jungwon, I don't g-get it—"
In your state, there was no way you'd make it to safety in time. And Jungwon was a fool for thinking that you could, not after opening up the wounds you were trying to heal from. Jungwon pressed one more kiss on your head. He hauled you into his arms, ignoring your protests, only saying, "Wrap your arms around me."
Jungwon wished he had more time. He wished he could sit you down and explain everything. But there was no time, and he had to make sure you were safe first: he'd like to do it himself. All the injuries from earlier had been healed for the most part, just enough that he had strength.
"Hold on tight, baby," he said in your ear before putting his mask on, and shooting a web out your window. Jungwon figured it was your first time soaring with Spider-Man, because you let out a squeal, hiding your face in his neck.
"Jungwon!" you cried, your eyes still lined with tears. "P-Please, I'm scared—"
Jungwon chuckled, but complied with your request, taking less risky swings. And when he arrived at Jake's apartment, he simply forced his friend's window open. Much to his luck, Jake was already there.
"S-Spider-Man?!" Jake gawked. It wasn't every day that the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man showed up at your window. Then, his eyes fell on you. "[N-Name]?!"
Gently, Jungwon set you down. "Jungwon's request: Keep her safe."
Jake, utterly baffled, opened his mouth to speak. But like a little boy (quite literally) seeing his favorite super-hero for the first time, Jake nodded dutifully, his eyes comically filling with stars. "Yes sir!"
Jungwon nodded satisfied. He knew he could count on Jake. As Jungwon readied himself to jump out the window, he's stopped by your soft voice.
"G-Good luck..." you murmured, fiddling with your fingers. "Don't die... please."
Jungwon couldn't help but grin. "Of course."
And with that, he swung away, ready to kick ass.
You're already asleep when Jungwon finds you back at Jake's house. He felt a little bad about placing the burden of you on Jake, but Jungwon couldn't care more about that when your life was on the line. Jungwon, in his hero form of course, left a note for Jake on the kitchen counter, as he slowly wrapped his arms around your sleeping figure.
You're left sleeping on Jake's couch, with a throw blanket awkwardly draped over you. He appreciated Jake's efforts, grinning softly as the way you stirred in your sleep. It's near dawn, and Jungwon couldn't ignore the ache in his body. But even so, the way your eyes were puffy, your cheeks stained lightly with tears made his chest ache more than his body did.
As quietly as he could, Jungwon took you in his arms, and took you back to his apartment (he didn't have the keys to your apartment, and he didn't want to make you angrier by breaking in). Helicopters were still flying overhead, the sound of police sirens below filling the air. Jungwon's eyes twitched with tiredness, his straining muscles nearly giving out. The city was asleep, and yet it was still functionally cleaning up the mess from earlier.
Speaking of, that son of a bitch Baron von Fizzle-dick or whatever was now in police custody. Jungwon was too exhausted to remember the details, but it was a long and tiring fight. One that was painful.
As he swung through the sky, Jungwon couldn't forget the fight. He was hit pretty badly, almost nearly stabbed in the chest. His entire body was in pain, and if it weren't for the precious you in his arms, Jungwon thought he would collapse mid-air. The feeling of the insurmountable physical agony that that villain inflicted on him was definitely one for the books. Jungwon could still feel the blood dripping down his back. But what was even worse were the things Baron von Fizzlebang had said. The threats he made, the words he said: the villain, and apparently, all the villains in the city, via their underground network, seemed to know you by name. They knew you because you were a soft spot for Spider-Man. It terrified him that now you had a target on your back. He cursed himself for letting himself get comfortable, for endangering you in the process. Even if he won the fight now, Jungwon couldn't forget the fear.
As he landed on his window, Jungwon slowly cracked it open, supporting both you and himself as he brought the two of you into his apartment. He placed you down on his bed, pulling his comforter over you. He watched as you snuggled into his bed, a satisfied murmur falling from your lips. You looked so peaceful, and for a moment, Jungwon could forget all the pain he felt.
Jungwon looked down at his hands. Ripped gloves, blood-stained palms... will it ever go away?
He pulled away from you, about to make his way to his bathroom. He ought to wash the blood off his hands. The night was at its peak, the dreariest that it had ever been. He didn't know what time it was— he lost track of that a long time ago— but all he knew was that it was dark outside. He better get some sleep too. But as he pulled away from you, he felt a few fingers weakly grip his arm. He froze.
"Jung... won..." you murmured. Your eyes were shut, and your voice sounded dreamy.
"I'm here," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't realized it, but his voice broke. Really, all he felt like doing was crying.
"Don't leave," you mumbled. Your fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll do.... do anything..." you drew on. "Just... don't go."
"Oh, baby—" And with that Jungwon broke, the hot tears he hadn't even realized he were holding in spilling. He pulled on his mask. He dropped to his knees, resting his head on the bed beside you. "I... I never meant to. I never wanted to leave you—"
You hummed, murmuring something incoherent. "Stay."
Jungwon let out a shaky breath. "I will— I really want to— Please, let me—"
"Jungwon," you said, rather firmly. You still had your eyes shut.
"I'm here, baby." Jungwon sniffled, swiping the back of his ragged hand to wipe his nose. "I'm not gonna go— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so—"
"In the... morning," you whispered. Before Jungwon could ask, you continued. "Talk in the morning."
Jungwon's voice broke again. "W-What?"
Your hand reached out for him again, this time falling onto his disheveled head. Jungwon nearly flinched at the feeling of your hand running through his hair, but instinctively he leaned into your touch. For a few moments, your fingers ran through his blonde locks, such a foreign feeling and yet a welcome one. Jungwon let his eyes shut, and they burned as his lids fell shut.
Your voice is quiet, and Jungwon is almost certain you're awake now. "Jake told me some things. I put two and two together."
"Really?" Jungwon, too tired to be mad. "Was it bad?"
You only hummed, giving him a classic nonresponse. Your fingers continued through his hair. "Go to sleep now."
"But—"
You hushed him, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "I love you."
Jungwon was stunned, but it felt so natural as, "I love you, too," tumbled from his lips.
There's a warmth that spreads across his chest, reassuring and comforting. But yet, so deeply harrowing, and so deeply frightening. He's a man of a thousand words and complex ideas, and you knew it, so you hushed Jungwon before he could continue, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "We'll talk in the morning."
Jungwon opened his mouth to protest. But as your fingers ran through his hair, he couldn't help the satisfying chills that ran down his spine. And everything hurt, and it hurt so bad that it was unbearable and Jungwon felt like he couldn't take it.
But your touch was so soft and familiar, Jungwon felt like.... for a second... he could maybe... fall into your touch... and just... take... it... easy...
You chuckled softly. "You're not alone. I'll carry your burden with you."
It's his turn to hum, nearly satisfied. As he drifted off into a deep slumber, his troubles melting away into the palms of your hands, there's only one last thought in Jungwon's head.
Maybe there will be a new day tomorrow, and hopefully, he won't be alone when the day breaks.
– synopsis: injuries are always easy to come by when your job is flying through the air, so you're not surprised when you're set in front of a bunch of out-of-work trapezists looking to take your partner's spot for eight weeks. what isn't easy to come by is certainly the biggest con-artist in the world of trapeze: wen junhui.
— genre: coworkers/strangers to ??? ; angst, fluff, eventual smut.
– pairing: murderer!trapezist!wen junhui x fem!trapezist!reader ; twiceteen because it's not haologram if there isn't a tzugyu side ship!
— word count: 22.8k/??
– rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
— warnings: swearing, smoking, food/eating. mentions of injuries, mentions of medical checkups & surgeries; reader is an orphan. junhui is a man scorned by the circus. lots of darker themes peering in. mentions of death and murders that will come into play later. junhui is also unfortunately a flirt, some suggestive themes. nothing explicitly nsfw for this part.
– what to listen to: middle of the night - elley duhé ; i'm yours - isabel larosa ; like a prayer - madonna ; iris - the googoo dolls ; hold it against me - britney spears ; psycho - jun ; moth to a flame - swedish house mafia ft. the weeknd.
— author's note: hello & happy halloween! before you read, please note that this fic is meant to be vague. things are meant to be confusing, they get cleared up as the fic goes on. as for when the next part will be posted, it will not be for at least another two weeks (as the start of november is typically very busy for me!) thank you to bennie @miniseokminnies & izzy @jakedustry for dealing with me starting and restarting this fic at least three separate times (yikes!!) star & space dividers by @/saradikas-graphics here on tumblr! as always, thank you to @camandemstudios for yet another fun collab. here's to a spooky weekend!
THE SMELL OF LONELINESS IS PRACTICALLY SEEPING OFF YOU AS YOU CLICK YOUR TONGUE.
You stand with a clipboard in your hand; the pen gripped tightly between your fingers as you glance around the gaggle of people in front of him and you. You’re scanning all of them, and he already knows what you’re thinking – hips too tight, shoulders too rigid, jaw too clenched. One by one, you glance at the bright white numbers pasted onto their leotards, drawing your pen across the paper on your clipboard to rule them out.
“16, 19, 23. You can go.” You say callously, not bothering to offer an explanation as you keep pacing in front of the group. They mostly avoid your eyes, a few of them gazing up at you as you nibble on your lip; but he likes looking at the way your brows move across your face, judging them.
They could very well be the best of the best (which, in the New York metropolitan area, was physically impossible: because you were the best.)
You didn’t seem too keen on sharing a stage with any of them, your eyes raking over nimble fingers and carefully shaped nails, bulging biceps and deliciously thick thighs almost bursting through bedazzled tights. You seemingly didn’t feel anything for the people you dismissed with a wave of your pen, leaving behind a trio of men – a trio that includes him.
And he kind of likes the way indifference floats off you. It’s like you’re just like him.
One in blue (27), one in white (82) and one in black, him.
Number 1. The first to arrive, early that Tuesday morning.
“We won’t get an understudy if you’re this picky, sweetheart.”
He can hear the injured trapezist soft laughter from behind you, something rich in it settling into his bones – he thinks his name is Infinite, he’d seen him on a poster on Canal and Mercer. You let a smirk tug at the corner of your lips as a woman next to him clears her throat, before walking backwards towards them; the tassels of your leotard swinging with your every move. You set your clipboard down on the chair you’d been sitting on when all the auditionees had filed in, before folding your hands behind your back and giving them an award-winning smile; all teeth and ruby red lipstick.
“Welcome to the Skyline Soirée.” You speak confidently, your eyes darting to the man in blue rolling his. Your smile drops to a much gentler one, a hint of cynicism in the back of your eyes, “you can go, 27.”
“Are you serious?”
“Out.”
“She’s ruthless.” He hears another man speak, joining the pair behind you; the loud, unmistakable crunch of an apple sounding in the ring. You roll your eyes, setting your shoulders back before looking at him and the other man in front of you. You tilt your head at them, and it would’ve been cute if there wasn’t that emptiness filling the back of your eyes.
It makes him a little giddy.
“As I was saying, welcome to the Skyline Soirée. Our circus has been the longest standing trapeze-centered circus in Manhattan since 1902, and been passed down through four generations. Much like there is history to trapeze, there is history to our circus. Our first ringmaster was Park Hyoseop, who built this empire centered around trapeze. He was succeeded by Park Minhyuk, and Park Hyunjin. Finally, we’ve been handed over to our very first female ringmaster, Park Jihyo.”
Jihyo raises her coffee cup with a small smile on her lips, and he gives her a curt nod back before returning his attention to you. You’re pacing in front of them, your hair cascading down your back before you sharply turn to a stop.
“I will preface this audition with the fact that you will not be the star of the show. You are merely an accessory, a background character...”
You point at a poster on one of the circus pillars, your smiling face plastered on it with a sparkly leotard in candy apple red. His eyes scan the poster, taking in the way the color really brought out your eyes – before you point to another across the room. Still you, posed perfectly in your seemingly trusty gold hoop, in a white leotard with angel wings: the face of the Skyline Soirée.
The star of the Skyline Soirée.
Being in your presence made his skin prickle.
“Should you pass this audition, you will become a temporary trapeze artist with the Skyline Soirée for the next eight weeks. After eight weeks, we will revisit your contract with us, as we expect Minghao to be performance ready by then.” You set your shoulders back again, your dark green leotard twinkling in the low light as you point at the injured trapezist. “Should we like you, you could become one of eight trapeze artists and continue within our circus as a permanent member of the team. If you get that opportunity, I recommend you stay in my good graces.”
He feels his teeth ache at your demand for respect.
He hears the wheels that hold the sandbags start turning, and he glances over your shoulder to see the apple-eating man starting to move things around. You smile inwardly, before turning back to the men as he stares at you with wide eyes. There’s a tick in your brow as you make eye contact with him, trailing your gaze down his frame before turning on your heel.
His cheeks feel hot as you walk away.
“I will be performing a basic routine once, so pay attention. You’ll have to recreate this, and it’s really quite simple. Couple spins, couple suspensions...if you know what you’re doing, you’ll get it done.” You shrug, seemingly disinterested in any excuses as you walk backwards. He and No.82 clear the ring out; the sound of the spotlights being clunked on making you visibly excited. You grab the thick rope in one hand, giving it a hard yank as Middle of The Night by Elley Duhé starts to play throughout the arena. You seemingly can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips; likely habit from over a decade of performances as you’re pulled up by the rope.
Of course, he knows you’ve been with the Skyline Soirée for twenty-one years. He knows all about you and your gold hoop. He does his research, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t?
He watches calmly as your body contorts around the rope, wrapping your ankle in the tied noose as you’re swung around the arena. The momentum blows your hair back as you spin in tight circles, your eyes trained for what he assumes is the familiar gleam of your gold hoop as it is swung your way by the quick-footed man tossing it to you. You grab it, twisting your body into the curve of the swing, flipping in and out of it with a grace only mastered by years of dedication. He’s sure you can feel the eyes on you all around the arena, he’s sure you feel at home as you grab yet another rope being swung at you – wrapping it around your thighs with ease and fully flipping yourself upside down. You narrowly miss him, your fingertips just barely grazing the sequins of his leotard as you swing past him.
You seem to feel free, as you grab another hoop being thrown at you, and he can practically feel the sting of the rope burning into your bare thigh as you flip yourself onto the cool metal. You fold your legs around the hoop; the metal tucked behind your knees and the curve of your ribcage almost identical to that of the hoop as you spin in tight circles to the middle of the ring. The song comes to an end as you’re suspended a few feet above the ground, your smile dropping as you position yourself to be pulled off the hoop by the same man; strong hands gingerly pulling you off the hoop.
He’d overheard a few of the other auditionees talk about that. That you were a princess to this circus, that Jihyo once said you were too valuable to jump down from any distance. One wrong move meant metatarsal fractures, sprained ankles, even dislocated knees.
It wasn’t worth the risk.
You thank him softly, the gleam in his eyes making your shoulders soften as his fingers squeeze you gently before he slips away.
He feels his stomach tighten, his body moving before his mind as he brings his hands together in a soft clap; your brows raising as you look over at him, his head nodding curtly. More clapping fills the room from your teammates, and you look flustered as you clear your throat, hearing snickering from Minghao’s general direction before he stops and tucks his hands behind his back.
You turn to face him and the other auditionee.
“Easy, right? Who wants to go first?” You smile brightly, resting your hands on your hips as the man in white winces.
“I think I’ll have to forfeit. I was told this would be flying trapeze, not static. I apologize for wasting your time.” He speaks carefully, and your eyes widen slightly as he picks up his bag and gives a quick bow. You don’t even get a chance to speak before he’s out the double flaps, where a few children peer in to get a glimpse of the auditions. You wave, and they squeal lightly before sprinting away.
“They must really like you around these parts,” he says gently, moving to fold his hands in front of him. You tilt your head, hearing the spin of metal on metal as the rope is thrown to you from behind.
“Let’s see if we like you, huh?” You hold it out to him, and he only smiles softly; taking the rope gingerly before stepping carefully into the ring. He steps to where you started, give or take an inch – and he hears the man who helped you get down rustle around before the music starts again. With a quick thwip of his wrist, he’s in the air – and you move back to watch him glide expertly through the air.
He catches the man’s throws with a finesse that would make anyone’s skin litter with goosebumps, curling through your trusty hoop with poise. He can feel the bated breath surrounded him as he nails each of your twists, your figure moving backwards to follow him around the arena before your thigh bumps Minghao’s arm. His hand grabs it, squeezing the plush flesh as you furrow your brows in concentration.
He swings past you smoothly, his hand gracing your cheek ever so slightly; your eyes averting as he shoots you a wink. He notes the quick scowl in your face, the tick in your jaw as you shift your weight as he splays himself across the second hoop. He feels the heat of your gaze trail the curve of his hip, tonguing your cheek as the scattered sequins of his leotard catch the low light.
He’s suspended above the ground just as you were, but he flips out of the hoop and faces Jihyo, Minghao, an openly impressed unnamed man, and you.
“Thank you for the opportunity.” He speaks softly, demurely, even; bending at the waist carefully as his chest heaves up and down in steady breaths. He catches the way a smile tugs at the corner of Jihyo’s lips, Minghao’s hidden by his hand yielding a lit cigarette. You circle him like a dog does before lunging in for a bite, raking your eyes over him as you observe the elegance in his posture.
“Good shoulders,” you murmur, clicking your tongue three times as you stand in front of him. You splay your hands on your hips, before glimpsing over your shoulder; his eyes following the soft slope of your neck. Minghao gives you a smirk, a shrug of one shoulder as you look back, your eyes catching the sliver of the thin gold chain beneath his leotard. You push his shoulder suddenly, watching his sturdy form as he hardly wobbles.
Your lips curl into an oddly impressed frown, and you circle him again – pushing the center of his back with the tips of your fingers, humming as he doesn’t budge. You gently nudge the back of his knee with your foot, smirking inwardly as he glimpses over his shoulder at you with an amused look playing in his eyes. You shrug, folding your hands behind your back with a sly smile as you carefully slide over to Minghao.
“You like him?” You ask, loud enough for him to hear as you lean against the chair. Minghao takes a quick drag of his cigarette, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist as he blows the smoke away from your face. He watches Minghao’s fingers dig into your hip gently, annoyance settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Good posture, firm shoulders. Sturdy...sexy.” Minghao shrugs, making you nod as you slither over to Jihyo. The ringmaster rolls her eyes with a smile as you wrap your arms around her neck and smush your cheek to hers as he folds his hands in front of himself. The unnamed man from before bumps his hip to yours, planting a quick kiss to your hairline.
“I second the decision.” Jihyo shrugs, “he seems...able. Great physique, we’ll do a physical to make sure he’s in good health.”
“It’s up to you, though, babe. It’s your domain, after all.” Minghao clears his throat. You tilt your head as you meet his eyes across the ring, patting Jihyo’s shoulder as you run your tongue over your teeth.
“You got a name, hotshot?” You ask, leaning your forearms on the back of what was originally your chair – one that now the unnamed man occupies. Your fingers brush his bare shoulders, pinching the skin playfully as he tugs his sleeves over them with a pout.
“Junhui. Wen Junhui.”
“Where are you from, Wen Junhui?”
“Boston, Mass.” He states clearly, and he remains stoic as he notices the way you all stiffen, a chill running through your bodies simultaneously.
The Boston Extravaganza had been dismantled from the roots just three weeks prior – the ringleader, Kang Minseok, murdered after his first Sunday in the spot. The investigation is pending, but he’s sure it’ll close.
Just like all the others.
Performers had fled into the depths of Manhattan, seeking refuge from their now broken home. To his knowledge, Jihyo had been gracious enough to take in a few performers, but nothing too major. She’d made calls all over, sending people all around the Northeast with the promise of work – should they arrive safely.
If he was anyone else, he would agree that it is painful – to see fellow performers lose their touch as they navigated the streets of your city in search of work. Performers retired the sparkling leotards for brown aprons, espresso machines and thumbing through tip jars for their share of the feed.
He knew that Jihyo hadn’t intended to take in another trapeze artist, he’d been floating around the circus long enough to know exactly what the weaknesses were – though it seemed Jihyo ran quite a strong ship. Minghao, as if right on Junhui’s schedule, broke his foot last weekend – falling from the hoop at four feet of suspension, and you’d been left to swing through your carefully practiced routine alone. Junhui had watched every performance from the stands, hidden behind cheering families and bored teenagers; chewing on salted caramel taffy and taking notes in his phone.
Jihyo had enough with what she called her Lucky 7...which was pioneered by you.
The brightest star of them all: the final performance to seal the night. The one who led the ending bow and wore hand-bedazzled leotards made by Jihyo. You stood in the middle of the performers; your shoulders set back in confidence as you thanked the city of New York for joining you for yet another glorious performance.
He’d heard Jihyo joke that her ownership of the Skyline Soirée was just for show.
Of course, it wasn’t. He’d heard a lot about her in particular – she was kind, smart, confident. A creative businesswoman who did not let anything get between the success of her and her circus. She saw potential in everything and everyone, never once giving up in the face of adversity – even when one by one, circuses across the country were destroyed from their sturdy foundations.
“I was part of the–”
“We know.”
Jihyo nods carefully, and his eyes catch your hand running through your hair as you trill your lips. You nudge the unnamed man, “Mingyu, where’s my clipboard?”
Mingyu.
“Well, welcome to the team. Eight weeks, Wen. Then we’ll see if we keep you on board. Sounds good?” Mingyu raises a brow, pulling the clipboard from under his meaty thigh and flipping the page to the contract that would bound Junhui to the Skyline Soirée for two months.
“We have three days of practice, and four performance nights. No breaks aside from the nine hours of sleep we’ve allotted in the schedule. It’s important that we are well rested.” You say pointedly, before grabbing the clipboard and clicking the sparkly pink pen. You wave him over with a flair of disinterest, your eyes bored as he makes his way over and takes the pen from your fingers. Jihyo stands, taking the clipboard and gesturing around.
“Sign here, and here. Initial here, here, here and here. You’ll have to consent to a physical examination over on Canal and Mercer with Dr. Hong and Dr. Yoon, they're our primary care providers for the Skyline Soirée. They’ll take good care of you.” She nods as Junhui takes the clipboard gingerly, scribbling his life away. “You will also have to meet all the other members of our team, but you report to Y/N and Mingyu every morning. They’re your team directors. Think of it like we’re corporate and they’re your managers.”
Mingyu disappears into the shadows of the arena, and Jihyo talks shop for what feels like an hour – but Junhui’s eyes drift to you and Minghao. You seem relatively close; Minghao’s hand nestled on your upper thigh, fingers kneading the flesh gently as you whisper amongst yourselves. You talk with your hands a lot, gesticulating at the open air and tracing shapes that Minghao understands seamlessly; your brows furrowing as you repeatedly hit the side of your hand to your palm, pointing at something Junhui can’t see at the top of the circus arena.
“...And Y/N will introduce you to everyone. We’ll get you a handbook and a physical appointment before Wednesday.” Jihyo nods, Mingyu walking forward with a thin book; the circus name plastered across the front with a picture of the main cast on the cover. He holds it out to Junhui, and only then does he notice the pink bookmark already sticking out from the middle of it.
“You’ll have to go over this before Wednesday, because you have more documents to sign. Y/N will introduce you to everyone and show you to your trailer. Welcome to the Skyline Soirée, Junhui.” Jihyo holds her hand out, and Junhui smiles brightly, taking her hand gingerly and giving it a firm shake. She smiles in return, bowing slightly before dropping her hand, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to get back to. Make yourself at home.”
“I will, thank you.”
Mingyu watches Jihyo walk away with his arms crossed, and you and Minghao do the same. There’s a blanket of silence that falls over the four of you, before Minghao taps the ash off his cigarette, taking a final drag before putting it out on the ashtray on his thigh.
“So,” he blows the smoke out, making you scrunch your nose as you wave it away from your face. “You’re from Boston?”
“Not technically, but that’s where I came from.” Junhui shrugs, mindlessly rifling the pages of the handbook. “I was part of that circus the longest, so I guess I just got used to saying that.”
“Where are you from originally?” Mingyu asks next to him, making Junhui’s lip tug up into a lopsided smile that screams pity.
“Washington.”
You stiffen visibly but clear your throat as Minghao glances up at you with a look of concern on his features. You give him a pained smile, before clasping your hands in front of you.
“I think it’s time we introduce Junhui to the rest of our cast, hm? Mingyu, Minghao?” Your eyes and voice are pointed in a way that you don’t want Junhui to understand, but he rolls his eyes as he folds his hands behind his back. “Come, you’ll want to meet everyone before we take you to your trailer.”
“Ah, ah! Jihyo said you have to introduce and take him home. There was no we in that.” Minghao retorts next to you, before flashing a mischievous smile at Junhui, “enjoy your stay, Junhui. I’m glad to see someone as skilled as you taking my place for the time being.”
“I hope you feel better soon, Minghao.” He nods gently, before Mingyu makes his way over and helps the man up, the crutches leaning against one of the pillars being picked up in one hand as he practically throws Minghao over his back. Both men give him a quick wave and a smile, before snickering to themselves as you huff, your hands curling into fists at your side as Junhui takes long, silent strides to settle at your side.
You seem startled as you glance over and see him next to you, your eyes flashing with a veil of disinterest before you tongue your cheek.
“Hi.” He says softly, before holding his hand out. You glance down at it, “I don’t shake hands. You already know who I am.”
“Do I?” He tilts his head, dropping his hand to his side before you press your red lips into a thin line. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure.” You cross your arms on your chest, “first things first, we are not friends.”
“I didn’t assume we would be,” Junhui smiles, “but I get you. Strictly business.”
You let your eyes scan him shamelessly, before turning your nose up and clicking your tongue.
“Minghao is my long-term partner, but I’ve done trapeze with everyone on the Lucky 7. You’ll have to show that you can work well with them before we can even consider you to be a part of the team permanently.” Your voice is level, but you sound bored as you raise a brow at him, “but if you don’t get along with me, it won’t happen for you, anyway. What I say goes.”
You don’t give him a chance to respond, opting to walk away. He follows silently, watching you carefully step over the edge of the ring and duck behind the curtains. He’s met with a mess of people prepping – some people are stretching, others are being laced up into costumes, Jihyo is carefully holding three pins in her lip as she holds a tape measure to a girl’s waist. No one cares to look up as you make your way through – their eyes glued to their own projects as you stop in front of a frosted glass door, your knuckles rapping on the frame in a memorized pattern.
The door opens, a bright-eyed man smiling almost instantly as he sees you.
“Y/N!” His plump cheeks almost hide his eyes entirely as he throws his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. You’re slightly stiff before your arms wrap around his waist, the man not noticing Junhui standing behind you until you clear your throat.
“Hosh, we’ve got company.” Your voice is muffled against his shirt, and the man’s smile drops before his eyes find Junhui. He waves lightly, the man straightening and letting you go as he tilts his head.
“Minghao’s replacement?”
“He has a name, Hoshi.”
You roll your eyes, pushing past the man. Junhui holds his hand out instinctively, the man taking it firmly as a whistle is heard in the room.
“Junhui. From Boston.”
“...Hoshi. Jersey City.”
“Nice to meet you, Hoshi. Is that a stage name?” Junhui asks as Hoshi drops his hand gingerly, earning a shrug.
“No one goes by names here, really. It’s all stage presence unless you’re Y/N. She’s who she is in and out of the ring.” He flips a sign next to the door to say In Session before moving to the side to let Junhui into the room. He ducks inside, Hoshi following and closing the door as what seems like a barre dance studio comes into view. The walls are lined with mirrors, with a trio of men scattered across the room. You’re standing at the far-right corner, aggressively moving through a rack of sparkling leotards and skirts. There is a desk covered in first aid supplies, a half-filled kit sprawled open, and a roll of dressing strewn everywhere.
Minghao sits in the desk chair, with Mingyu carefully wrapping his foot as the smell of Tiger Balm fills the room.
Your shoulders are tense as you thumb at the sleeve of an orange leotard, your fingers visible through a torn hole as you scowl. You turn on your heel, clearing your throat and gathering the attention of everyone. The men seemingly scramble to stand in a line; their shoulders taught and backs straight as you step in front of them; Hoshi and Mingyu joining the lineup without a second thought. Junhui watches as you settle against the bar, crossing your arms on your chest.
“Gentlemen, we’ve got a new addition to our team.” You speak clearly, but their eyes don’t avert to Junhui as you click your tongue. “Wen Junhui from Boston. He will be taking Minghao’s place for the next eight weeks, should he pass his physical exam. You are all to remain attentive in your routines, and I will be taking someone on as an understudy should Junhui or I get injured or fail to perform up to the Skyline standards. I expect you all to be on your best behavior, and I know you won’t disappoint me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The men sound off almost robotically, before your shoulders relax slightly.
“You will all have time to introduce yourselves later, but this is just something quick to get it out of the way. I’m going to show Junhui to his trailer, and I expect you all to have picked out lunch by the time I get back.” You run a hand over your face lightly, before pointing directly at Hoshi, “no more disco fries. You’ll get sick like you did last time and then I can’t have you understudy because Jihyo will make you sit out.”
“You’re such a party pooper.” Hoshi pouts, making you snicker inwardly before you call a break with a clap of your hands. The men huddle together; several phones being pulled out as Junhui watches you push off the barre. You don’t bother looking at him, making your way to the door with a wave of your hand for him to follow you. He does just that, opening the door for you and earning a purse of your lips as you slip out.
“You sure run this team like the Navy.” He comments gently; that gets him a sliver of a smile as you shake your head.
“No, I don’t. They just know what they need to do.” You reply, “they’ll introduce themselves to you during lunch. Or after, or whatever. It’s up to them; they don’t owe you anything.”
Junhui doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on the sway of your leotard tassels. Your body is fluid, no tension carried anywhere but you’ve seemed to have trained yourself to keep it together. Like you’ve got your own demons, several skeletons in your own closet – but none strong enough or big enough to show the effects of them on your face. You carry yourself with your shoulders set back, your chin tilted up; poised, confident, brave.
Strong.
You stop in front of a door, the blaring red sign above it reads EXIT.
“You’ll get a keycard that lets you in and out of the building. Hansol should get it to you before sundown, but since Jihyo stuck you with me for the time being, we’ll use mine. You only get one before Hansol makes you fork over ten bucks, so most of us just leave it hanging here.” You gesture at the wall, keycards hanging from a hook on different colored lanyards. You grab the first one off the hook, flipping it over to see the name Dahyun in blue permanent marker, “if you have any technical problems, you go to Hansol. If you have any wardrobe problems, you go to Hansol.”
“I assume I’ll meet Hansol soon, right?” He watches you nod as you push the door open, and dozens of trailers come into view. They are sectioned off behind chain fences, seemingly in teams – Lucky 7, Clown Alley, Arson Avenue, Staffing Street.
“Arson Avenue?”
“It’s for the fire artists. They’re further back because they practice outside, and we can’t let anything catch on fire.”
You push the gate open on the Lucky 7 set, the trailers lining the fence with four on each side, with a bigger one lining the back of the lot. You beeline for it, typing the code into the door before glancing over your shoulder.
“Wait here. I have to get your keys.”
“Is this—”
“This is my trailer.”
You say nothing else, slipping inside the pink door and disappearing inside. Junhui rocks on his heels, trilling his lips as he looks around. Everyone’s names are plastered on their trailers and decorated accordingly, it seemed; Hoshi, DK, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Infinite, Dino. There is one empty trailer next to yours, stark white and plain as opposed to the plethora of colors around the sector.
“Okay, found them.” You slink back out of your trailer, holding a set of keys in your hand. “You’ll have keys for the next eight weeks, and we’ll get someone out here to give you a keypad if you end up signing on permanently. In the meantime, don’t lose these; Jihyo hates the locksmith, he’s difficult.”
You roll your eyes but make your way over to the empty trailer. His eyes catch the gold foil stars on the sides of your white trapeze boots in the high noon sun, your leotard twinkling in the light as you yank the door to the trailer open. You feel around the side for the light switch, flicking it on before beckoning him forward.
“I know that the Boston Extravaganza had you set up in dorms, but Jihyo really wanted us to be more like a community rather that roommates. Roommates can have tension, which can cause issues in the ring and then we’re all messed up. So, this will be yours for the time being.” You nod curtly, “you’ve got a kitchenette, closet, bathroom, shower. The couch is a futon, but if you’re here longer, you can get a bigger trailer, and we’ll switch it out with a bed. Of course, no one stays all that long, so...good luck.”
You lack a bit of empathy as he steps inside, “we’ll arrange Seungcheol or Jaebeom to give you a lift back to your hotel room so you can get your belongings. We run a strict schedule around here, so lights out by ten. You don’t have to sleep, that’s your prerogative. We’re up by six in the morning, breakfast at seven and arena by seven-thirty. Lunch is at one, dinner is at six-thirty, and we have cast-wide dinners once a week. Any questions?”
You’re apathetic as you blink at him, eyes tired as your arms cross against your chest. He tilts his head at you, before holding his hand out. Your brows furrow, “I don’t shake hands.”
“My keys, sweetheart.”
If you’re embarrassed, you’re good at masking it – shrugging your shoulders before holding his keys out to him by the ring. He takes them gently, spinning them on his fingertip before clasping his hand around them.
“How long have you been with the circus?”
“Since I was six.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s everything to me.” You say plainly, “it’s all I know. Do you have any questions about this? Because I’d like to get back for lunch.”
“You’re not very welcoming, are you?” He raises a brow, and you stiffen slightly; tonguing your lower lip before sighing.
“I don’t warm up to newcomers. I know better, and so should you. Now, if you don’t have questions, I’d like to get a move on.” You give him a pointed look, making a show of exiting the trailer as he sets the handbook down on his counter. He watches as you inch away from the trailer, flipping the page to the pink bookmark.
Across the top of the page, in bold Times New Roman is exactly what he thought would be there.
ANTI-FRATERNIZATION POLICY.
“Bingo.” He mutters to himself, running his eyes over the page quickly before tossing the entire book across the trailer onto the futon. He’d look over it later; tucking his keys into his palm before slipping back out. You’re halfway across the lot, and he moves like molasses before smirking at himself when you look over your shoulder with an annoyed expression.
“Junhui! Move it!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Lunch moved fast. The team practically inhales their food, and you perched on the edge of the desk and shared chips with Minghao; shy smiles and his fingers tracing shapes into your bare thighs. He gets introduced to everyone and quickly learns that yes, while stage names were mostly used – he could quickly get used to calling everyone by their real names. DK was Seokmin, Dino was Chan and Hoshi was in fact, Soonyoung.
He also quickly learns that not everyone on the trapeze team is from New York and New Jersey aside from Soonyoung, Minghao from Syracuse and Seungkwan, who is from Hoboken – Seokmin is from Chicago, Mingyu is from Kapolei, and Chan is from Atlanta.
You’re from Manhattan, born and raised. You grew up here with Jihyo, Minghao and Hansol, lost everyone and won everything back almost immediately. He learns just that, no context – in hushed whispers, from Hoshi.
“She’s sweet,” he had said, shoveling the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “She just doesn’t trust new people. Let her warm up to you, it’ll happen eventually.”
You made no effort to do so for the remainder of the day.
Junhui was introduced to both Jaebeom and Seungcheol right after lunch, because Jihyo had called them during lunch to inform them that Junhui had been signed on. The pair drove him to his hotel to help him gather his things before letting him know he had an appointment the next day with Dr. Yoon – before driving him back and helping him get settled in the trailer.
“How’d you get on with Y/N? Was she nice?” Seungcheol asked gently, and Jaebeom had a seemingly knowing look in his eyes as he smirked inwardly. When Junhui answered unsurely, they shared a pointed glance before Jaebeom spoke up.
“She’s a bit cold right off the bat, but she’ll get better. She just doesn’t know you yet.”
It seemed as though everyone tried vouching for you to comfort him – like it wasn’t his fault that you were standoffish, but he’d certainly be subjected to your behavior because he had no choice. You were the star, and you were going to stay the star; your behavior was to be tolerated, you were to be respected and you were held in high regard no matter his opinions about your rightfully earned position, his opinions about the cast that enabled your behavior, or his opinions about you.
He would have to tolerate it, to tolerate you – whether he liked it or not.
Junhui can’t imagine a mystery more enticing.
He spent the rest of the night in his trailer. He showered, the water pressure shittier than it had been in Boston but he was no one to complain. He draped himself across the futon, legs covered in black sweatpants and donning his dark green zip-up – and he cracked open the Skyline Soirée Cast Member Handbook right back to the pink bookmark.
“Anti-fraternization policy,” he reads, rolling his eyes with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What, can’t bang the star of the show?”
Apparently, it’s just that: he literally can’t – it’s right there in black and white.
The Skyline Soirée prohibits the ideation, intention or execution of any romantic advances or relationships between employees. This includes staff members, ringmasters and performers; should employees engage each other in romantic or flirtatious advances, it is heavily recommended that both (if not multiple) parties keep their relationship at work strictly professional. This policy has been implemented since November 19th of 1989, during the second generation of the Skyline Soirée legacy.
Beneath the paragraph is your name.
LUCKY STAR CLAUSE – ANTI-FRATERNIZATION POLICY, SUBSECTION B-2.
An edit has been made to the original 1989 anti-fraternization policy following the Midnight Menagerie murders. Whoever is considered the star of the show (‘Lucky Star’) is not to be romantically linked with anyone involved in the cast, staff or outsourced providers. If said relationships are established, Lucky Star contracts with the Skyline Soirée are to be ceased immediately. This clause has been implemented since May 26th, 2015, in order to protect the Lucky Stars of the Skyline Soirée – of whom since have only been Sidney Kim (1997-2013, b. 1982) and Y/N Lee (2013-present, b. 1997.) This clause to be updated every time a ‘Lucky Star’ is voted into rotation.
“Midnight Menagerie murders...” he murmurs to himself, running a hand through his damp hair. “What does a romantic relationship have to do with any of that?”
He scoffs, turning the page with a tick in his jaw – only to see an introductory journal-like page. There is a smiling portrait of you in the top right corner that looks recent; your eyes bright and your red-lipped smile wide as you looked into the camera like you were absolutely enamored. There are more photos – you in 2002, holding onto a little girl that looks a lot like Jihyo. You in 2009, sat in front of a birthday cake. You, in 2015 – your high school senior photos taken inside the circus arena, wearing your graduation cap and gown while perched on your hoop and dressed in a pink mock neck leotard with matching aerial boots that had gold glitter stars on either side.
You in 2019, holding three silver trophies and a lopsided crown atop your mussed hair – captioned Jules Léotard Trapeze ‘19 Champion, Y/N Lee.
LUCKY STAR – Y/N LEE.
"If you’re reading this, you’ve joined the Skyline Soiree. I hope you’ve received a warm welcome,” Junhui reads aloud, before blowing air out of the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t say warm, but it was certainly something.”
He trills his lips lightly, resting his cheek on his knuckles as he reads across the page. You joined the circus at six years old, with Jihyo’s family taking you in after your parents were murdered on Christmas Day in 2001; your mother a reporter for the Garden City News, your father a detective for the NYPD. You’d long loved the circus, hence probably why you got the starring role – and something about it made Junhui’s chest hurt.
He felt a few tears sting his eyes as he kept reading your story; how you dedicated your entire life to the circus and skipped out on graduation because it was a Saturday evening, and you were set to perform with Minghao. You talked about how you learned to drive in a 1975 Vista Cruiser in Rochester one summer, and how Halloween being your favorite holiday. Summer is your favorite season, your favorite color is green, and you talk about how much Jihyo loved celebrating your birthday.
And you never mentioned Christmas again.
“I hope you love the Skyline Soirée as much as I do. Maybe we’ll perform together! This is from 2019 Y/N, so if you’re reading this again: maybe you’ll win another JLT! Skyline Stars, we're brighter together!”
Junhui sighs, clicking his tongue before turning the page once more. A page full of Jihyo, followed by pages full of the rest of the cast and crew: Hoshi, Tzuyu, Mingyu...
Minghao.
“Boyfriend. Against the Lucky Star Clause...that’s a Lucky Star boyfriend. Cute.” He mutters, sucking his teeth before reading across the page. Nothing catches his eye much – trapeze artist since the age of sixteen and joined Skyline a year before you became the star of the show. He spent his childhood split between Syracuse and Manhattan, spending the summers in upstate. He mentions you twice – how you helped him learn, and how honored he was to be your right hand.
The yearbook of sorts ends with Jihyo. She talks about the legacy of the Skyline Soirée and how much pressure it is to be the head of it all – but she mentions you, and how easy you make being the star look. How easily you soar through the air and how much hope it gives her – how much hope you give the entire cast.
Junhui wonders if Jihyo really is the Ringmaster she says she is.
He tosses the handbook to the side, his eyes catching the clock hanging above the kitchenette. 8:45 PM.
“Lights out by ten...I have time.” He pushes himself off the futon, grabbing his cap off the dinner table – trading it for his phone, which he powers off and slides onto the hardwood. He tucks his hair under the cap, taking his keys and flicking all the lights off with the switch by the door. He cracks it open, hearing a laugh ring through the air as he slips out and locks it behind him. He sees the twinkle of your leotard in the moonlight, your face lit by Minghao holding a lighter to the end of a cigarette between your lips. Your hair is tied up, the slope of your neck speckled with glitter from your outfit.
You’re sitting on the steps of Minghao’s trailer, and you’re both seemingly trying to ignore the ruckus coming from Mingyu’s trailer – until you glance up, your eyes bright even in the dark lot.
“Where’re you going, hotshot?” You don’t sound very interested, but there’s a look on your face that says you’re suspicious. Minghao is sat on a folding chair, his injured leg rested across your knees with your hand holding his shin.
“Out.” He replies, shrugging his shoulders as your brows furrow.
“It’s almost lights out.”
“Key word, almost. Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”
He gives you a quick smile, before shoving his hands into his pockets and making his way out of the lot. He skirts out of the back gate, spotting a neon bar sign a block away.
“Perfect.”
IT’S SIX IN THE MORNING WHEN YOU HEAR RUSTLING OUTSIDE.
You’re lying in Minghao’s bed, your eyes burning as you peel them open. Minghao’s face is buried in your neck, his hand tucked under your sleep shirt as you tilt your head back to peer out his window. The sun is bleeding in as your fingers fumble with the blinds, making Minghao stir before feeling him bury his face deeper into the slope of your neck.
You can barely make out who you assume to be Junhui – wearing a zip-up hoodie and the cap he wore last night was now backwards on his head. You squint slightly, as if it’d make it better – only to watch him flick the lights of his trailer on and slip inside.
You tongue your cheek, dropping your hand from the blinds and wrapping your arm around Minghao’s shoulders. He presses a chaste kiss to your skin, before his voice fills your ears.
“You worry too much.”
You roll your eyes, feeling his hand slide higher up your back as he drums his fingers against your skin.
“I do not worry.”
“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head. He’s new, he’s not a psycho killer.”
“You don’t know that.” You mutter, draping your leg over Minghao’s hip and feeling his lips curve into a smile. “He could be. We don’t know anything about him. He could be a Scorpio.”
“I’m a Scorpio.”
“Yeah, and you’re evil.”
“Not psycho killer evil. And don’t forget you asked to be edged, I didn’t do that on my own.”
“God forbid a girl try new things with her boyfriend. And shut up, we said we wouldn’t talk about that after we broke up. Keep the boundaries, man.” You roll your eyes, but your smirk gives you away as he snickers against you.
Your relationship with Minghao was...intriguing, to say the least.
Sure, you’d known better than to ever let anyone outside of Mingyu know that the two of you were more than friends – and he only knew because he caught the two of you at an ice cream parlor when you were eighteen. The two of you had been dating for a year at that point, and there was no point in denying it when you were very much holding hands under the table.
Forced proximity is bound to stir up some feelings.
You broke up after four years. Neither of you were too sure as to why, but something between you changed. You mutually ended things three months after the JLT Awards, but the two of you remained close – the best of friends, almost.
With some benefits sprinkled in.
Neither of you had to mourn the loss of the relationship all that much, and Minghao didn’t really extend his affections to anyone else. The casual touching, sharing a bed, comforting you when you were (rarely) feeling out of your element – it was all reserved for you, but Minghao certainly slept with other people, as did you.
Minghao and Jihyo were truly the only ones that saw you out of work-mode. Jihyo had known you your entire lives, and they were also the only two that truly knew what happened to your parents.
You weren’t there when it happened. You were much too young to know any of it, really – but you learned as you got older that your parents had made too many enemies and too quickly. Jihyo’s mother was your father’s partner on the force, and they both worked for the 9th Precinct. Your parents were close to the Parks, and you’d been put into her care for the night so your parents could make the trip up to your aunt’s house in Syracuse and bring her and your cousin down for the New Year.
They never made it – your father took a wrong turn in Washington Heights and subsequently sent the 34th Precinct into a frenzy. You found out through the nightly news that your parents were stopped at a red light on W. 170th Street after having missed their turn on W. 165th Street on their way to the NY-9A. Pitch black at 11pm on a Tuesday was perfect for an ambush – and you try not to think about the holidays all that much anymore.
Truth be told, you found solace in the Park family. You felt good knowing that Jihyo was your best friend, to know that her family legacy continued through her for being the first-born niece and that she considered you, at this point, her sister. You felt good finding a sense of belonging, and you ignored the sinking feeling in your chest every time Christmas fell on a Tuesday – 2007, 2012, 2018...
It would be a while before another in 2029.
It wasn’t like the holidays were all that easy for you, anyway. You hated the way that everyone walked on eggshells around you, as if you were going to snap at any moment. As if it wasn’t already twenty-two years ago, and you were fine. Everything was fine, and you were moving on. You had to move on.
“Do you think he’ll be good? Actually?” You murmur as Minghao rests his forehead against your clavicle. He hums, before leaning back slightly, “why? You don’t?”
You purse your lips, letting out a defeated sigh.
“I’m just worried about the entire ordeal of onboarding someone new. Jihyo wants a chemistry run before the end of the day, but he has to get his physical with Jeonghan this morning. I need to get Hansol to call Orbit Studio so they can get his headshots so we can print him onto the weekend posters, there’s just so much to do that I can’t worry about whether he’s good.” You bury your nose in his soft hair, “and then you’ve got that checkup today, right? To see if you need surgery?”
“Will you stop worrying? Everything will be okay. Jeonghan and Joshua have Junhui at nine, so we’ll run a routine with Soonyoung until he gets back at eleven. We’ll run the routine with him until lunch, then I’ll be out from two-thirty onward. I’ll keep you updated, and we both know that if I get surgery, I’m going to be just down at the clinic for rehabilitation. I’m not going to disappear, and you can’t let this situation get you out of sorts.”
Minghao’s voice is stern as he speaks, and you jut your lip out as he rolls his eyes.
“Don’t pout at me.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
He mimics you, his hand beneath your shirt squeezing your hip as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.
“What time is it?” He sighs, rolling onto his back with a pained groan that makes you scramble up. You fix the pillow that goes under his ankle, feeling his hand trailing your thigh soothingly before his fingers squeeze the back of your knee. “Babe.”
“Uh...six-fifteen. I’ve gotta get ready,” you mutter, swinging your leg over his hips and pressing a quick kiss to his nose. “I’ll see you out there, right? Mingyu should be barging in here soon.”
He peers up at you through tired eyes, his hands sliding up your thighs before his fingers dig into the soft flesh.
“I miss you.”
“I’m right here, Hao.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know that.”
You sigh, “I’ve just been busy. Things are so crazy right now, and you know I have to help plan the Horror Nights with Jihyo and Hansol. I’m still here.”
“It’s like I can still hear her...” Minghao feigns distress, snickering to himself as you scoff, shoving his shoulder lightly. He sticks his tongue out at you, his fingers toying with the hem of your underwear as you lean down slightly.
“What if the new guy—”
“We’re not playing this game. You won’t like it.”
His tone is warning, making your skin prickle under his hands as you smirk. You press a kiss to his lips, nipping at his lower lip before patting his shoulder.
“We’ll see. I’ll leave the door unlocked for Mingyu, and I’ll make your plate if I get there first.” You say softly, earning another kiss from your ex-boyfriend as you slide off his lap and slip your house shoes. You don’t bother grabbing the robe that you left on his couch last night, simply pulling his door open and sliding out with a mischievous grin.
You cross your arms on your chest, shivering slightly at the cool autumn air as you hop off the trailer steps. Mingyu is stretching in front of his trailer as you make your way to yours, only to hear a wolf whistle from the direction of Soonyoung’s trailer, the unsoiled hinges of his door making you scowl.
“Shut up!” You yell, hearing a giggle as you climb the steps to your trailer. You punch in your code, stretching an arm over your head as you pull the door open and step inside. Your rack of leotards comes into view, and you make your way over.
It doesn’t take you long to get ready – and you can hear the ruckus of the boys horsing around in the lot as you swipe on your second layer of lipstick. You chose your candy apple red leotard, the matching aerial boots laying unlaced across the foot of your bed – your stomach churning slightly as hunger begins to set in, mixed with an unsettling feeling.
You hated this feeling.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” You mutter to yourself, pushing yourself away from the vanity and grabbing your boots and keycard off your bed, beelining for the door. You push it open, sitting on the edge of the steps as Mingyu manages to pin Soonyoung to the concrete.
“I said I fucking yield!” Soonyoung’s voice is slightly choked as you smile inwardly, tucking your chin to your chest as Mingyu lets go of Soonyoung’s arm that he was holding against his back. “God, you’re such a fucking tool! It’s not like Tzuyu’s ever gonna look your way.”
“She did once, and she’ll do it again. Ye of little faith, my man.” Mingyu huffs, nudging Soonyoung’s rib with his foot and earning a scowl. “Plus, it’s not like she’d look at you instead of me. She loved me once.”
“Key word, loved. Past tense, dipshit.” Chan calls from the door of his trailer, stretching his arms over his head. You tongue your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, lacing the back of your boot up before Seokmin and Seungkwan duck out of their trailers with sweatpants low on their hips and mussed hair. They don’t bother greeting each other as they meet in the middle of the lot, linking pinkies and making their way out of the lot to the tent for breakfast.
Mingyu flashes you a quick smile as he makes his way to Minghao’s trailer, punching the code into the keypad as you give him one back. You stand up, instinctively wiping your backside of any dust or rubble before Chan and Soonyoung start making their way to the tent with their arms linked.
“You go ahead, superstar. I’ll get him there.” Mingyu calls over his shoulder, likely feeling the tension radiating off your muscles. “Don’t forget to check in with Jihyo.”
“Yes, Dad. I got it, Dad. Anything else, Dad?” You scoff, smiling as he sticks his tongue out at you. You clasp your hands behind your back, forcing a skip in your step as your bare toes touch the cool concrete. You make it halfway across the lot before hearing the creak of Junhui’s trailer door opening, making your body come to an abrupt halt as you spin on your heel.
He’s dressed in a black long sleeve, scrunched where the hem meets the waistband of his sweatpants. He’s wrapping his wrists in oxide tape, catching your eye as he tears the edge of the tape off with his teeth and smooths it over. He raises a brow, maintaining eye contact as he rolls out another piece.
“Good morning.”
His voice is gravelly, and you purse your lips as he stops next to you. You glance at his hands as he wraps his other wrist, before you clear your throat. He smiles softly as you tilt your head, clicking your tongue with feigned disinterest as you turn back to face the lot.
“Good morning, Junhui.”
He chuckles as you start moving forward again, following behind you in silence. Your shoulders grow rigid as you feel the heat of his gaze settle on them, and you clasp your hands behind your back to have an excuse to roll them back. You hear the sharp tear of the tape as he finishes the wrap, and you merely glance over your shoulder as you reach the gate.
“How was your first night?”
He smiles inwardly, tucking the tape into his pocket as he unlocks the gate and holds it open for you.
“You and I both know I got back an hour ago, don’t play coy.”
You feel a heat grow in your chest, the skin of your arms prickling as you raise a brow, “where were you?”
“Are you my keeper, Y/N?”
“In a sense.”
“Cute. I went out. Easy.”
You crinkle your nose at him, crossing your arms on your chest, “first of all, don’t call me cute.”
“I’m not calling you cute,” he says pointedly, shrugging. “I’m calling the fact that you think you can boss me around cute. You might run this show, but I’m just visiting. Act like it.”
Your eyes widen slightly, his eyes running over you as he gives another shrug of his shoulders. He slides past you, a scoff falling from your lips as he waits for you to step out of the lot. He shoves his hands into his pockets as you fall into lockstep with him, before turning to you just as you both reach the back door of the arena.
“I won’t be here from nine to eleven. I’ve got my physical, and Jihyo told me to let you know?” His voice holds curiosity as you roll your eyes, nodding as you hold your keycard in between your fingers.
“We’ll be running a chemistry read when you get back. Do you know if you’re getting blood drawn? We’ll have to run it tomorrow if you are, and that could set us back for the Thursday show.”
“I figured I was, so I was wondering if you’d run a routine with me now instead?” He asks gently, your shoulders stiff as you look up at him, “just before I leave. It’ll probably only get two runs, because I have to leave by eight-thirty.”
You trill your lips, “I think we’d have to get Hoshi in on it, he’s usually the one who choreographs our routines. Unless you have something prepared, you’ll have to wait until after breakfast. Is that cool?”
He nods, and you press your lips into a thin line as you nod; your hand holding the keycard to the door and hearing the buzz of it unlocking. He pulls it open, letting you walk inside first. The gaggle of cast members comes into view – and everyone is comfortably serving themselves breakfast off the table, their hair in all sorts of disarray and half of them still in their pajamas. You look across the fruit tray to see Nayeon chewing with her eyes closed as Dahyun limply gels her hair back, making you smile inwardly as you see Soonyoung and Chan sitting on one of the bigger beanbags with their backs pressed to one another.
“You guys really are like a family.” You hear Junhui murmur behind you, and you glance over your shoulder to see him trailing everyone around the room. His eyes stop at Tzuyu, watching the way she’s taping her ankles as Seungkwan holds a piece of melon to her lips. “You even feed each other.”
“If you consider that family,” you shrug, grabbing three plates to serve yourself, Mingyu and Minghao. You let Junhui look around, feeling the heat of the cast members’ gazes on your back. You quickly shovel food across plates and balance the three of them on your arms before beelining for the usual table you occupied with your ex-boyfriend and your second longest friend. Junhui gets waved over by Soonyoung, so you part ways without feeling any sort of guilt.
Breakfast goes by rather quickly. Mingyu and Minghao are the last ones to trail in after Jackson and Jinyoung, apologetic looks on their faces as they near your table. The three of you eat in mumbled whispers, with Minghao asking what Junhui stopped you about. You don’t bother responding, gesticulating to the air as you chewed around a piece of bread.
The show gets on the road soon after breakfast – you offer to help clean up, gathering plates and cups when Hansol gives you a deadpan look. He takes the items from your hands, pointing to the arena behind you as you huff.
“I was just trying to help.”
“I know, doll. But this isn’t your job. Go be our neighborhood friendly Spider-Man.”
Junhui is already talking shop with Soonyoung by the time you, Minghao and Mingyu make it to the ring. Everyone else has scattered to their respective practice areas, and Junhui is spinning one of Nayeon’s balls on his fingertip as he gestures at the air. He’s saying things you can’t quite make out, but his eyes are bright and cheery as you set out a chair for Minghao to sit in.
“Wipe that look off your face. Everyone is going to think you don’t want to be here, and you’re the one who sets the mood. Lighten up.” Minghao’s voice is warning as Mingyu helps him into the seat, making you scowl as you cross your arms on your chest. You lean against the side of Minghao’s chair, watching the way Soonyoung and Junhui get on.
“They’re friendly for having just met.” You mutter, only to hear Mingyu snort next to you before he talks over his shoulder as he makes his way up the steps.
“You’re the only one who doesn’t warm up to strangers. We’re running a business here; we have to be nice to each other.”
“Nice to each other doesn’t mean being buddy-buddy.” Your nose is scrunched as Minghao gently pinches your thigh, your hand moving back to swat at it. “Stop it.”
“You look nice.” He murmurs, “I like the red.”
“I know you like the red, Hao.”
“You’re a tease.”
“You know it, babe.”
“Y/N, can you get over here? I think we’ve figured something out!” Soonyoung calls, and you quickly plaster a smile on your face before turning to walk backwards. You point at Minghao, “don’t leave for your check-up without telling me, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go be a superstar without me.” He fakes a pout, making you shake your head as you step into the ring. Junhui tosses the ball towards the bleachers set up around the sides, stretching his arms over his head.
“I thought of this with Chan last night, so we’re going to have to work out the tweaks as we go. Mingyu already knows most of it, so don’t worry about hoop cues. Cool?” Soonyoung looks eager to get started as Chan fiddles around with the stereo, his fingers typing rapidly into his phone before calling over his shoulder.
“You want Iris or No Ordinary Love?”
Your eyes widen, and you turn to look at Soonyoung, “Hosh, those are love songs.”
“Hardly,” he brushes you off, but you see Junhui’s eyes as wide as yours as he opens his mouth to speak – only to get cut off by Soonyoung replying to Chan with Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. He calls out to Mingyu to toss one of the ropes, before looking at you and Junhui with a smile as wide as the Cheshire cat, “you ready? Let’s go.”
“Time check, seven-fifty!” Minghao announces from his seat, crossing his legs at the knee as he clicks his pen. Junhui nods, grabbing the rope as Mingyu throws it and holding it out to Soonyoung, who glances at the phone Minghao holds up.
"Okay, we have to move fast.”
“We can just learn it tomorrow,” you try, and Soonyoung gives you an odd look.
“No,” he shakes his head slowly, “if you learn it tomorrow, he won’t be in the Thursday show. We’ve already started advertising a new face, Y/N.”
“I’m worried about the time crunch.” You’re making excuses, and Soonyoung can tell as he scoffs, “Y/N, it’s one run. You’ll never get comfortable if you dig your heels in every time we have a new cast member.”
You feel your cheeks hot as Junhui gives you a pitying look, but he clears his throat and taps Soonyoung’s shoulder.
“If she wants to run it alone first, we can do that. I learn fast, it’s not a big deal.”
“No, Junhui. This is a duo routine, not a single. I’m going to run it with Chan once, and then you’ll get as far into it as you can before you have to leave.”
You feel a bit of annoyance settle in the back of your throat as Soonyoung shakes his head at you. He takes the rope from Junhui, tugging at it with a quick flick of his wrist as Chan runs into the arena, handing his phone to Minghao before stepping into the ring. He flashes you an understanding smile as a hoop is tossed down from Mingyu, and he grabs it gingerly.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s not super romantic or anything, but we’ll have to run it by Jihyo tomorrow so she can give her input. You have to focus on me, though, because I’m doing the part you would take over. Soonyoung is doing Junhui’s.” He nods, before perching into the metal of the hoop as Soonyoung yells a start cue.
You and Junhui share a quick glance before grimacing, and you cross your arms on your chest as you back out of the ring and sit on one of the bleachers. Junhui follows, albeit standing off to the side of you instead of sitting. Iris starts pouring through the arena, and you fix your eyes on Chan as he’s swung around the arena.
The men are fluid as they spin around in tune with one another, curling their bodies around the metal of the hoops Mingyu is expertly gliding into their hands. Soonyoung is holding onto Chan tightly with every twist of their bodies – Chan is flipping through hoops and Soonyoung is catching him by the hips, at one point, his ankle as Chan glides through the air. It’s almost like a dance of will they, won’t they; the routine ending with Chan’s back curved around the inside edge of the hoop, his legs crossed at the knee as he suspends Soonyoung with one hand. The older man lets go of Chan’s hand and falling to his knees into the sand-filled ring with a soft thud as the song ends.
“And we’d cut the lights all dramatic like the moment Junhui lets go of your hand!” Chan calls from the swinging hoop, making you press your lips into a thin line at his bright smile. He flips out of the hoop the way Jihyo always scolds you for, dusting his hands of sand as he helps Soonyoung up. “What do you think? Anything you want to tweak?”
“You want me to perform a love lost with a man I just met?” You raise a brow, a scoff bubbling past your lips as you shake your head. “Sure. Why not?”
“Don’t make me hurt your feelings.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, “be what you are. A star, but above all, professional. Knock it off.”
Something you’ve never liked about Soonyoung is how little wiggle room he gives you to be a brat. He’s stern and serious, hardworking even when the situation begets a bit of silliness – but you can’t say it hasn’t kept you in line. He’s been witness to many breakdowns, snot-faced sobbing, and his is the loving hand that swipes arnica on your bruises before making you run the routine again.
No star without the sky, they say.
“Tape your wrists, let’s get this show on the road.” Junhui gently tosses a roll of tape at you, and you barely catch it as he moves to talk to Soonyoung. Chan gives you a soft frown, resting his chin on your shoulder as you grit your teeth.
“You won’t always be able to work with people you know,” Chan’s voice is soft, and you feel a squeeze of his fingers on your shoulder as you turn slightly to look at him. You sigh as he bores his eyes into your face, “you look pretty, by the way.”
“Thanks.” You close your eyes, pressing a quick kiss to his sweaty forehead. “You’ll spot us, right? Mingyu didn’t put the net out this morning.”
“Junhui is good, he won’t drop you or anything. He was in here this morning, Jihyo told us.”
Your brow furrows – you were sure Junhui arrived at the lot right as the sun rose. Tonguing your cheek, you nod anyway; quickly wrapping your wrists and handing the tape to Chan gingerly.
“Well, let’s get it started.”
Chan had been right about Junhui.
He didn’t drop you, not once – much less did you have a moment where he wasn’t touching you. Professionally, of course, but something about the way his fingers were warm around your hips made your face hot. He moved you gracefully – catching you with every flip, every twist, maintaining a searing eye contact that makes your skin prickle. He glanced once at your lips – even leaning forward slightly in a way that made your stomach flutter, but you knew it was all for show. You caught glimpses of Minghao filming the routine before Jihyo came to collect Junhui after the third time you ran through it – and you didn’t bother thanking him before moving out of his way.
He didn’t seem peeved in the slightest.
And you don’t like how it bothers you.
Minghao left shortly after lunchtime, giving the back of your head a quick kiss when Jaebeom came to get him. You swallowed your worry, along with the lunch that was threatening to come back up – but you told yourself you were worrying over nothing. Minghao would be back in his trailer tonight and you’d be nestled into his side just like old times.
You don’t explain to Chan why your hands are shaking as you retape them for the second time, and you don’t say anything when Junhui makes his return from the clinic with his arm bandaged and a sucker in his mouth. You simply grab the rope as Mingyu throws it to you, chewing on your cheek before letting an annoyed breath out and tugging on the rope.
Soonyoung’s voice is like the buzz of a dying fly in your ear – and you actively ignore it by swinging around with Chan like he’s not even there. You feel Chan’s fingers dig into your waist, into your legs as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary happens until you miss a hoop cue – and you meet the ground faster than a New York Minute.
You don’t hear anything for a moment, your ears ringing – your body limp against the sand in the ring. You’re crowded almost immediately, your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you push yourself to your feet quickly. Your eyes meet Mingyu’s concerned ones, but you can’t hear what he’s saying as you wipe yourself of the sand sticking to your skin.
“Y/N.” Seungkwan's hands grab your shoulders, and you feel your nose burn as humiliated tears fill your eyes. His face immediately softens, “does anything hurt?”
“No.” Your voice is thick as you push his hands off your shoulders, holding them to his chest. You take a wobbly step back from the group of men huddled around you, Seokmin’s face full of misplaced guilt as you clear your throat. “I’m good. Really. Just...missed the hoop.”
“Y/N, are you –”
You cut Mingyu off with a wave of your hand, “let’s run it again. I’m just going to get a drink of water. Uh, break.”
You give them a thumbs up, pushing past them as the first tears trickle down your face. You hear them talking within themselves as you make your way out of the tent, grateful to be met with an empty room backstage as you run a hand over your face. Your shoulders hurt from the impact, but you’d know if something was wrong. You always know.
“So fucking embarrassing.” You mutter inwardly, running your hands over your bare arms in an attempt to self-soothe. Your hip hurts as you pace like a caged animal, before you force yourself to stand in front of the fountain and hold the push bars to let the water come out of the spout. You can hardly bring yourself to drink any more than to soothe the burn of humiliation in your throat, your fingers gripping the sides of the basin to ground yourself.
You’ve fallen before. It’s not a big deal.
“She’s just distracted. So many things are happening around her, I’d be distracted too. Give her a minute, she’ll get back on her feet. Y/N always gets back up; there’s a reason she’s the star.” You can hear Seokmin's voice from your spot in the backroom, your eyes squeezing shut at the sound of your name.
Y/N always gets back up; there’s a reason she’s the star.
You’ve always loved the spotlight. You worked hard for it; you’d rightfully earned it.
But it feels like a burden at times.
Shaking yourself off, you nibble on your lip as you pull the tape off and reach for a new roll off one of the carts. You wrap your wrists carefully, tearing the end of the tape off with your teeth before tossing the roll back onto the cart. You wipe at your eyes carefully, sniffling inwardly before rolling your shoulders back and making your way back into the tent. Soonyoung looks at you first, rushing out of the ring towards you but you just give him a pointed look as you move past him.
“Don’t baby me,” you call over your shoulder, stretching your arms over your head as the rest of the men disperse to the bleachers. Junhui gives you a soft glance that makes your brow furrow, but you keep walking as Mingyu makes his way back up the stairs and Chan timidly stands in the middle of the ring.
“Any updates from Minghao?” You say in Seungkwan’s direction, only to be met with a thumbs down as he picks up the hoops he’s polishing. You nod grimly, your eyes catching a bruise forming on the skin of your left arm where you’d landed. “Thanks.”
The rest of your allotted practice goes horribly – everyone is walking on eggshells as they correct your moves, as Chan makes it a point to hold you even tighter than necessary, so you don’t have another slip. It bothers you down to the bones, even if you know they’re doing the best they can with what you’d allow.
You don’t get hurt. You’re the star. It’s not allowed.
You run the routine so many times you’ve lost count and you’re almost certain you could do it in your sleep – but Soonyoung still looks dissatisfied as Chan helps you off the hoop. He opens his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Mingyu’s hand covering his face as the taller man smiles brightly.
“It’s dinner time, and I think we should call it a night. I’ll see you and Junhui here tomorrow morning, before breakfast. Think you can stomach that?” Mingyu uncaps his pen with his teeth, scribbling across Soonyoung’s clipboard as the lot of you huddle around them. You pat Chan’s back gently as he pants, sweat dripping off his face as he crouches. “Y/N, ice that shoulder, will you? I don’t want to hear any complaints.”
“My shoulder is fine, Gyu,” you roll your eyes, only to feel Soonyoung’s fingers tug at the sleeve of your leotard to show the bruise bloomed across your skin. You swat his hand away, sticking your tongue out as you reach for a water bottle off the cart Seokmin had wheeled in after your fall. “That’s a wrap, team. Eat up, we’ve got a busy weekend ahead of us.”
You excuse yourself without another word, beelining for your trailer. You avoid interactions with anyone else, grabbing a random keycard off the hook by the door and feeling your skin prickle at the cold air. You grimace, crossing your arms on your chest as you jog into the lot and punch your code into the trailer door.
You tug your clothes off without much thought, fiddling with the showerhead annoyedly. The water is scalding against your back but soothing to your muscles. Your hair feels heavy on your head as the water soaks it, and you wrap your arms around yourself to feel a warmth that not even the hottest of water could bring.
You feel your chest fill with worry as you think of Minghao. He would’ve called by now or come back if it was nothing. He would’ve at least sent a text, but you’d left your phone in the trailer so you wouldn’t be distracted by the incessant need to check on him.
You finish in the shower quickly; haphazardly drying your hair before grabbing your phone off the dresser while still in your towel. You scroll through the notifications before seeing three missed calls from Minghao — timestamped four hours ago each.
You immediately press the button to call him back. The line rings once, twice – before Jihyo picks up.
“Hey, Y/N.” She sighs on the other side, and your chest tightens as you sit up quickly.
“Hey, Jihyo. Is he –”
“He’s in surgery. They said they had to do it today or he’d risk permanent damage. Though, I don’t know how this isn’t medically permanent damage, too.”
“Fuck,” you squeeze your eyes shut, running your hand over your face as they prick with tears. “Is he almost out? Can I go see him? Have you eaten anything?”
“He just went under twenty minutes ago. He’ll be out soon, they said it only takes two hours. You can come see him tomorrow, because he’s gonna have to stay in the recovery ward for the next six weeks. And yes, I’ve eaten, so you can’t use that as an excuse to come up here. I’ll tell them not to let you in, so don’t try it.” Jihyo says sternly, your eyes rolling as tears spill out. You sniffle lightly, hearing her sigh on the other end.
“He’ll be alright. You know Hao, he’s a trooper.” She shifts, likely uncomfortable in the hard plastic chairs at the hospital. “How was practice? Junhui got blood drawn, so I hope you guys didn’t tag him in.”
“I fell,” you admit quietly, tears rolling down the side of your face as you lean your head back, “missed a hoop cue.”
“Level one to ten?” Jihyo is tired, and you let out a limp chuckle, “just a few bruises. My ego took the brunt of it; I was so embarrassed.”
“Y/N, people fall all the time.”
“Not me, Jihyo. I don’t fall, ever.”
“Bullshit, you fell three times last year.”
“You get what I mean,” you mutter. You pick at your nails, “Soonyoung’s been hard on me today. Says I need to be professional and not treat Junhui like a stranger.”
“He’s right, babe.” Jihyo laughs, clicking her tongue. “Junhui’s nice. He and I chatted a bit on the way to his physical, he’s very sweet. It’d do you well to get to know him.”
You scoff, “no way. Who’s to say that he even stays with Skyline? I know better than to get attached.”
Jihyo snorts on the other end of the line, “eat dinner, crazy girl. Get an ice cream cone, if you want. You need one for that bruised ego.”
“You’re supposed to comfort me! My best friend is in surgery, I fell during practice and you’re laughing at me!” You whine like a child, only to hear her laugh slightly harder.
“Babe, you’ll be alright. Go get some ice cream with the guys, take the card. It’s in your wallet. I’ve gotta go, I’m halfway through the episode where Ted gets dumped at the altar. Be good.”
Jihyo hangs up before you get a chance to say anything else, and you let out a frustrated sigh as you get a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror. The bruise spanning your shoulder isn’t very big but it’s painful to look at as you reach for your moisturizer. You run through your night routine, slathering cream down the slope of your neck and rubbing deodorant on before tugging on a sweatshirt and sleep shorts. You pull on a pair of thick socks, shoving your phone and wallet into the pocket of your sweatshirt before tugging on a pair of sneakers.
You don’t bother entertaining the prickle of your skin in the cold air as you step outside of your trailer – only to see Junhui ducking out of his with his cap pulled over his head.
You don’t say anything as he clambers down his steps, pulling the bill of his cap lower before he glances up and locks eyes with you. He stops, making you raise a brow as you trail your eyes over his attire. Sweatpants and the same sweatshirt he was wearing the night before.
“Going somewhere, hotshot?”
“Out.”
He shrugs casually, tucking his hands into his pockets as he tilts his head at you. You slowly take the steps down, “where?”
“What’s it to you, princess?”
“Maybe I wanna tag along.”
“Not an invitation.”
You tilt your head at him before shrugging your shoulders, “well, I’m looking for company, anyway. What says you ditch your plans and join me?”
He tongues his cheek, clearly fighting back a smile as he pulls his hand from his pocket, swinging his keys around his finger.
“Depends on what you’re doing.”
“Going out, hotshot.”
“You’re cute.”
“I know,” you roll your eyes, before turning on your heel. “Feel free to follow along or go about your own plans. Just know you’re missing out on a sick ice cream run if it’s the latter.”
You get a few feet ahead before hearing him chuckle lightly, almost in defeat as he moves forward. He falls into lockstep with you, reaching up to flip his cap backwards as he opens the lot gate for you to slide through. You shake your head as you do so, walking through the darker alley that leads to the trailers, sealed off by yet another gate. You push it open, holding it wider for him as he tucks his hands into his pockets.
“How’s Minghao?” He asks gently, and you sigh.
“He’s in surgery.” You nod slowly, pursing your lips as you feel him move you to the inner part of the sidewalk as he takes the street-facing side. Your hips bump with every step, “he’ll be out for the next six weeks. I’m going to go see him tomorrow during breakfast.”
He hums in response, “and ice cream makes you feel better?”
“I always get ice cream when I have a weird day.” You admit, and it feels like driving a knife into your chest as you do so. “Things just feel weird. I’ll get over it.”
“Being vulnerable isn’t supposed to be scary, you know. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I don’t know that.”
Your response is quick and quipped, earning a raise of his brow as he presses the button to cross the street. You stuff your hands in your pocket, the wind biting at your legs keeping you grounded.
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I get it.”
“Do you?”
“You’re not the only one who’s been hurt by the things they love.” His voice is gentle, and he instinctively takes your elbow in his hand as you both cross the street. “In this case, by those you’re supposed to trust. I don’t blame you, because we’re just coworkers. But if you knew me, even a little bit...you’d know I’m just as loyal as everyone else on your team. I just won’t let you treat me like an option, especially when I was onboarded specifically for you.”
You don’t respond, opting to glance at his hand on your elbow as you reach the other side of the street. He drops his hand, tucking it into the pocket of his sweatpants as you keep your gaze on the ground. You don’t say anything for the next two blocks, silently kicking gravel and giving strangers a curt nod – and Junhui keeps his hands tucked in his pockets unless he’s pressing the crosswalk buttons.
“You said you’re from Washington, right?” You mumble as you spot the ice cream parlor a block and a half away, the pink neon light that says Momo’s flickering in your line of vision. He hums, nodding before looking at you with a raised brow.
“What of it?”
“What made you move to Boston?”
He sighs, clicking his tongue as he shrugs, “just like you have your secrets, I have mine.”
“Oh, come on.”
He chuckles inwardly as you both stop in front of the parlor, and he reaches for the door handle with a one-shouldered shrug, “eye for an eye.”
You roll your eyes as you duck inside the warm shop, your eyes meeting the owner’s as she aggressively wipes at the counter with a damp rag. She smiles brightly, dropping the rag and wiping her hands on her pink apron before shoving open the ice cream case.
“Y/N! Chocolate almond, yes?” She grabs the scoop out of the warm water, her eyes sparkling as she glances over your shoulder at Junhui. Her smile turns into a smirk, and she expertly flips the scoop in her hand before glancing back at you, “you brought company. He’s cute.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t gas him up about it, it’ll get to his head.” You wave her off teasingly, before pointing your thumb at him, “Junhui, this is Momo. Momo, this is Junhui. He’s my partner while Hao’s out.”
“Nice to meet you,” Momo reaches her hand over the ice cream case, “Momo Hirai. I own this parlor and another in Newark, if you’re ever in the area.”
“Wen Junhui, it’s a pleasure. I’ve been to your place in Newark; I was part of a circus there before I moved to Boston. And then, well, here.” He shakes her hand politely, and her eyes flash with something you don’t quite recognize before she smiles again.
“Boston, you say? Were you part of the Extravaganza?” She asks, grabbing a cup from the stack to her left and dipping her scoop in the warm water again before she pushes the case open. Her hand dips into the chocolate almond tub as Junhui nods, “yeah. I can’t believe that things got so insane. I lost a few friends to the...incident.”
Junhui’s voice turns a bit bitter as he glances at his shoes, and Momo frowns as she drops the perfect scoop of ice cream into the cup for you. She slides it over the case and sticks a spoon into the cup, “I’m sorry to hear that. Have they got any updates?”
“Nothing that I’ve heard of, but the detectives made it a point to keep us out of the loop. They questioned us for a few weeks and now it seems like they’ve just dropped the case. It feels like a load of bullshit, pardon my French.” Junhui rolls his eyes, digging the toe of his sneakers into the brilliant white tile. Momo’s eyes soften, “I hope you hear something soon, Junhui. Can I interest you in a scoop? On the house.”
“Nah, I’m alright.” He shakes his head, and you clear your throat softly, digging in your pocket and pulling out your wallet. You take out a ticket that you keep for emergencies, holding it out to Momo.
“You should come see us tomorrow. It’ll be his first performance with Skyline; I’m sure some support would be great.” You smile softly as she takes the ticket between her fingers and pins it on the corkboard next to her register.
“I’ll do my best to get out there. Shop’s been slow anyway, what with the weather. You’re the only one crazy enough to get here and in those shorts, Y/N. God, what have I told you about wearing shorts when it’s cold!?” She scolds you, only for you to elbow Junhui lightly as you spin on your heel.
“I’ll listen about my shorts when you listen about your skirts. And your tops, and your shoes—”
“I’m a business owner, I have to match the aesthetic of my shop. Even if it means a pink miniskirt in October!”
“Love you, Momo.” There’s a lilt to your voice as you wink at her, pushing the door open with your body as she rolls her eyes and waves. Junhui mirrors her with an amused smile as you skip out, holding the spoon with a nibble of ice cream flat against your tongue. He chuckles as he falls into lockstep with you, fixing his cap before pressing the crosswalk button.
“It’s nice to see you relaxed.” He hints, “you’re so...professional.”
“Consider that Momo is my friend of many years.”
“Consider that maybe I need a friend, have mercy. I’ve lost mine along the way.”
You can tell the joke feels cynical to him as he scrunches his nose, and you look over your shoulder at him, “did you, actually?”
“Of course, I did. I was there for a year. You’re bound to make some friends.” He shrugs, leaning against the pole as he looks at you with a pointed look. “I’m not saying we have to be friends. We don’t. I’m just saying that you don’t have to warm up to me, because it’s unlikely I’ll warm up to you. I’m a man scorned, and too many times at that.”
“Then why are you so nice?”
“Why would I be mean to you, when the entire point of our relationship is to build trust? We can’t work together if you don’t trust me, it’ll affect the performance and the chemistry we have in the ring. It’d be a slap in the face to Skyline for me to be a douche to you after you’ve all given me a chance to start anew, even if my heart isn’t ready to be here.”
Your mouth opens to say something, but you’re cut off by the light changing. He gives you a quick smile before pushing off the pole and beckoning you forward as he starts to cross the street. You follow along, your hip bumping his before his hand on your shoulder moves you in front of him just as the light turns green again.
“Gotta move faster, princess. Can’t replace the star of the show that quickly.”
“You’re sick and twisted.”
He snickers as you gape, “if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry and then I’m really fucked. Perspective.”
You’re both silent for the next block, Junhui’s eyes roaming the buildings and shops lining the neighborhood around you.
“You grew up here?” He asks, and you nod as you spoon your ice cream into your mouth. “Your whole life?”
“Yep. Born in Kips Bay and moved to East Harlem when I was six. Been in the circus ever since.” You nod slowly, before glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “You read the handbook, right? You know why.”
“Knowing why versus wanting to get to know you outside of that are two different things. I’m sure you’re tired of people walking on eggshells around you because of that. You won’t get that with me.” He shrugs, clicking his tongue. “Not that I don’t care, I do. I just...don’t want to be babied about my loss, so I assume you don’t, either.”
“Agreed.” You mumble, running your teeth over your tongue before tossing the rest of the ice cream in a nearby trashcan.
You pull your hood over your head, shoving your hands in your pockets before sighing, “can I ask what your plans were for tonight?”
“Same thing they were yesterday.”
“Which was?”
He smiles inwardly, tonguing his cheek, “I mustn't say, it’s not appropriate to share my moonlight activities with a lady of your...stature.”
“Oh, come on! You act like you’re so mysterious, but I know, deep down, you wanna tell me.” You turn your nose up at him as he laughs inwardly, shaking his head as you huff. “Junhui!”
“I’m doing what any guy does when he’s single and coping,” he sucks his teeth, “I get a drink and take a cute girl back to her apartment, maybe freak it. Maybe not.”
“You get laid?” Your voice is incredulous, and it makes his brows raise in surprise, a laugh of disbelief falling from his lips as he looks at you.
“Why is that so surprising? You think you’re the only person I have chemistry with?”
“This is not about me.”
“Trust me, one of us gets laid enough and it’s certainly not you.”
“How presumptuous of you, Mr. Wen.” You scoff, your cheeks hot as he bumps your arm. “And how inappropriate! I am your coworker! One could even say I’m your boss!”
“Mmh, I love a woman in power.”
“Ew!”
He bites back his smile as you scrunch your nose, “don’t flirt with me.”
“You think that’s flirting?” He raises a brow, but you’ve both reached the alley gate as you put your hands on your hips. He punches the code into the pad, giving you a quick glance as he speaks, “you’ve never lived if you think that’s flirting.”
“Okay, virgin.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
You make a face of disgust, only earning another laugh from him as he opens the gate to let you in. He doesn’t follow, instead leaning against it and tilting his head at you. You raise a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest as he sighs.
“Earlier, when you fell,” he starts, your shoulders going rigid as he clicks his tongue, “you’re not hurt, are you? Genuinely?”
“No. I’m fine.” You mutter, “plus, I don’t get hurt. That doesn’t happen to me.”
“You’re not indestructible.”
“And you’re not my dad, so don’t act like you care.”
You swallow the immediate regret that lays flat on your tongue as he looks slightly taken aback. He brushes it off quickly with a nod, sucking his teeth as he pushes off the gate.
“Well,” his voice is level, “just thought I’d check. Forgive me for caring, princess.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“I will, when you stop acting like the world revolves around you.”
He smiles gently, drumming against the gate with his fingers, “now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
The gate shuts in your face before you can reply, and you can hear his shoes against the graveled pavement walking away. You scoff, tonguing your cheek as you turn on your heel and make your way back to the lot.
You ignore the twist in your stomach, focusing instead on the warm glow of the fire artists still practicing in their section. You follow it to your own lot, seeing the majority of your team filing into it for the night. A sigh falls from your lips as you tuck your hands into your pockets, calling out to them.
“Guys! Wait up!”
JUNHUI NOTICES THE ROCKING OF YOUR TRAILER AS HE STOPS AT THE LOT GATE.
It’s been two weeks since he arrived at the circus. Your practices together have been rigid, but the chemistry is still there and Jihyo commends it. Soonyoung has repeatedly told you to let loose, to relax, but you’re stiff in Junhui’s presence and you blame it on Minghao’s absence – but Junhui sees right through you.
And something about the way you act around him – distant but like you’re searching for something...it makes his chest warm. Not in a way he’d ever expected, either – and it’s distracting him from the whole reason he even joined Skyline.
Your first performance together, however, was a huge success. You hid your insecurities behind the bright smile you wore, the sparkle of your custom leotards, the bounce of your hair. You touched him enough to sell it, enough to make everyone believe there was something there – but only he felt the tremble of your fingers and the way your breath hitched with every movement against one another.
You were the star everyone talked about, and the star everyone loved. You spoke loud and clear, your voice never wavering even as your hands trembled behind you. You entertained families who wanted pictures, posing cutely and answering questions about Minghao’s absence vaguely. Your body was rigid at the mention of him, but you quickly played it off and invited the families to return next week for more performances and whatever special treat the concessions stand would have that weekend. You spent your time smiling until your cheeks hurt and Junhui saw the way Jihyo massaged the back of your neck after every performance despite you telling her you didn’t need it.
Junhui, on the other hand – spent his time studying you and the way you acted around everyone, sans Lucky Star Boyfriend (formerly known as Xu Minghao.) You were more reserved with the fire artists, but you got along swell with the clowns. Tzuyu, the tightrope walker, often enjoyed conversations with you – only for her eyes to travel to Mingyu, who would already be looking at her.
That was another person of interest for Junhui – Kim Mingyu. Tall, smart, sweet. Flirty.
Too close to you for his comfort. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, but not of coworkers – one of past lovers. One of people who have seen each other bare it all, one of people who have smelled the sweat off each other’s bodies and instead of turning away, licked it off.
One of people who have sealed wounds with their tongues, instead of leaving the other to die.
Despite that very visible chemistry, you had no interest in Mingyu, and he had none in you. You worked together well; you egged him on when you caught him watching Tzuyu practice her routine. He teased you back, he talked about her excitedly and you were just as excited to entertain his rants about her. The two of you were glued at the hip, and it was clearly something that happened once – perhaps to get it out of your systems, or just to get the curiosity of it out.
However, your chemistry with Soonyoung was palpable. The two of you bickered and bitched at each other like lovers in a quarrel only for Soonyoung to pull you into a hug at the end of practice and kiss your cheek. He’d ask if you’re alright, if you need anything; he’d sweep your hair off your sweaty face while holding you close to him with an arm around your waist. He’d squeeze your hip, your lips planting on his cheek before swatting him away.
Almost like the moment Minghao turns his back, you’ve got someone to take care of you.
None of the other men have this chemistry with you. Seokmin and Seungkwan are very respectful, but in the same way best friends are. They tease you and make fun of you, but they take their role in your life and on your team very seriously. They practice with you diligently and prove time and time again (over the last weeks, at least) that they are not replaceable.
Chan...has a bit of yearn to him. He watches you with puppy eyes that say he’s absolutely enamored with you, that say he’s waiting for his turn in your arms, in your mind...
In your bed.
Chan looks at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, like he’ll never know anything better. He does trapeze with you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to know he should be the next person that wins your heart. He holds you tenderly, and Junhui notices the way he blushes beet red every time a routine has his face close to yours and the way he can’t even hold eye contact when you smile.
Junhui notices the way that no one else has managed to spot this. The way that Chan immediately looks away if Junhui catches him staring at you, or how he rubs his neck awkwardly when you’re stretching in the barre room. Junhui notices the way Chan saves the blueberry yoghurt cups in case they’re running low because they’re your favorite and the way that Chan cannot stand his spot next to you at the trapeze table being taken by Soonyoung.
He’s a tortured soul, Lee Chan.
A part of Junhui hopes that the reason behind your trailer rocking is that you’ve finally given the poor guy a chance – but instead, the door slams open to you kicking Soonyoung, Seungkwan and Seokmin out with drenched hair and pajamas.
“Don’t you ever wake me up like that again! I was just starting to fall asleep!” You throw a grey bucket out with them, the plastic thunking against the back of Soonyoung’s head as he scowls. You’re fuming on the steps, looking at your soaked pajamas that are clinging to your body as Seungkwan and Seokmin bolt for the lot gate. Junhui barely manages to move out of the way before they skirt past him, and you’re still yelling at Soonyoung – who is yelling back that he wasn’t even there when they dumped the bucket on you.
“What’re they yelling about?” Mingyu’s voice makes Junhui jump, the younger man’s canines peeking through his bitten smile. Junhui scowls, holding a hand to his chest as Mingyu brings a cup to his lips, World’s Best Dad worn across the ceramic.
“Someone threw water on Y/N while she was asleep. She threw the bucket at Hoshi’s head.” Junhui’s voice is almost bored as he explains, crossing his arms on his chest as Mingyu snickers.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. We saw Minghao last night and he said he wants us to keep her on her toes, but I don’t think he meant like this. Especially when Y/N has trouble sleeping at night.” Mingyu shrugs, and Junhui peers over his shoulder at him. “What?”
“Since when?”
“Since when, what?”
“Since when does Y/N have issues sleeping?”
“Oh, pft. As long as I’ve known her.” He shrugs, “even longer, most likely. She’s always shared a bed with Jihyo or Minghao, so I just assume it was a difficult transition. We shared a bed once when we went up to Rochester two summers ago, she went to bed early and tossed and turned for ages until I turned in. Fell asleep the moment I got under the covers.”
“Huh,” Junhui clicks his tongue, and Mingyu only shrugs again as you and Soonyoung keep yelling at each other. You’re in his face now, and Soonyoung is eagerly feeding the fire when Junhui looks at Mingyu, “should we stop them?”
“We could, or we could let Y/N tire herself out.”
“...I’m kind of fearing for Hoshi’s safety.”
“If she beats his ass, it’s been long coming. You’ve only been here a week, but he pisses her off like no other. Not even I get on her nerves that bad.”
Junhui lets a snicker fall from his lips as you pull your wet shirt off your body and throw it in Soonyoung’s face, the cloth landing on his chest with a wet plop. Your own is covered by an equally soaked tank top, the peaks of your nipples prominent as Junhui shields his eyes.
“And you can re-choreograph today’s routine by yourself!” You screech, before the slam of the metal door to your trailer is heard. Mingyu sucks his teeth, and Junhui peeks through his fingers to see Soonyoung clutching your wet shirt in his hand as he runs the other over his face. He bends at the waist, grabbing the bucket and tossing the shirt into it.
“You walk in to ask if she wants to get ice cream and are met with a wet shirt to the face.” He grumbles as he walks past Junhui and Mingyu. Mingyu sighs before turning on his heel, following behind Soonyoung as Junhui stares at your trailer.
The lot is empty now, and the moonlight is bright against the tops of the trailers.
He can see you moving around the trailer through the windows, and he keeps his head down as he crosses the lot to gently knock on your door. Any rustling inside stops, a low muttering heard as you throw the door open. It hits his shoulder, your scowl immediately dropping as you put your hands up. You’ve already changed into another set of pajamas, but your hair is sectioned off and still damp.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought you were Hoshi, are you alright?” You wince like you’re the one in pain, but Junhui just brushes it off and glances at you with concern.
“Are you? You looked like you were about to pop a blood vessel when you were yelling at him.” Junhui crosses his arms, but your brows are furrowed.
“I’m fine. Go to bed.” You move to close the door, but still momentarily. “Why do you care?”
He only smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets as he shrugs.
“See you.”
“Junhui.”
“Be sure to stretch for me, princess. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
“Ugh!” You make a face as he clambers down the steps, “what is with all of you today?! Why do you all hate me?!”
You almost manage to slam the door, but Junhui’s faster – he grabs the door before it closes, gently pulling it open as he leans against the frame. Your eyes are riddled with fatigue, and you open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.
“You must be so tired, hm?”
“Yes, I am,” you mutter pointedly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to get to bed.”
“Why, so you can toss and turn for a few hours and give us hell when you get up tomorrow?” Junhui raises a brow, “why don’t you just admit you’re having trouble? Did no one ever teach you how to ask for help?”
For the first time, Junhui sees defeat cross your features. You nibble on your lip, sighing before your shoulders lose their tension and you turn into the trailer. Junhui takes the chance to poke his head into it – the walls powder blue and everything organized in an almost torturous way. Your leotards are set in rainbow order, all your boots clipped to the hangers. A black couch that looks almost cloud-like lines the back wall, facing a heavily stocked vanity with hot hair tools and makeup neatly slotted away aside from one fuchsia blow dryer sitting on the table.
You slump in the black vanity chair, crossing your arms on your chest before your head lolls to the side. You blink at him, gesturing at the blow dryer.
“Do you know how to work this? My shoulders hurt.” You admit quietly, and Junhui nods silently, toeing his shoes off and leaving them outside before stepping into the trailer. You move forward to plug it in, but he taps the back of your chair to stop you as he does it himself. “Lowest setting, please. Too much heat will make my head hurt.”
Junhui stands behind you, watching the way your eyelids grow heavy as he silently dries your hair. You make eye contact several times through the mirror, only for them to fall shut at the feeling of Junhui’s fingers against your scalp.
“How’s Minghao? You got a chance to check on him yesterday, right?”
“He was too tired to talk to me. I just sat with him until he fell asleep,” your voice is almost tender, but you click your tongue. “Mingyu and Hosh got him in the morning, and I got stuck rehearsing with you for Jihyo.”
“Hey, I said you could leave.”
“I didn’t want to. I don’t need to let anyone down. Work first, feel later.”
Your admission is whispered, barely audible over the sound of the dryer. Something in Junhui’s chest sinks as he peers at your tired face, the way your body is slumped against the cozy chair and he sighs.
“You’d never let me down.” He rakes his fingers through your hair, before turning off the dryer and unplugging it. He wraps the cable around it, sliding it into the empty slot on your vanity before looking over his shoulder at you.
“It’s not just about you.”
“I know, but I am part of the ‘everyone’ you speak of. At least, for now.”
“Are you going out tonight?” You ask, blinking up at him slowly as he lies on instinct – shaking his head before thinking. You tilt your head back, the slope of your neck visible to his eyes as you sigh, “can you keep me company until I fall asleep?”
He only nods, pushing down his subtle annoyance as he takes off his cap and hangs it on the hook by your door. He shrugs off his sweatshirt, “how long?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to, but I need to sleep too, you know.”
“Bullshit, you’re out until four in the morning.”
“I love that you keep tabs on me, princess. Makes me feel wanted.” He teases, watching you roll your eyes as you slide off the chair, stretching your arms over your head as you let out a soft groan. You roll your shoulders before gesturing at the light switch, “turn it off and come with me.”
He does as you ask, his eyes catching the tension in your calves as you make your way to the door that separates your bedroom from the living area. He follows behind quickly, watching the way you gather the sheets you’d taken off the bed and stuff them into the hamper at the end of your bed.
“They’re such jerks,” you mumble inwardly, “they know I can’t sleep well without Minghao.”
“Just Minghao?”
“I don’t remember the last time I slept in here alone.”
“Where do you want me?” He ignores the drop in his stomach as he watches you pull the duvet back, hearing you let out an exhausted laugh that makes your shoulders shake.
“Are we fucking or something? Just lie down, man.”
“We cou—”
“Shut up.”
Junhui bites back his laugh as he approaches the side of the bed, before you flop onto your back on the left side, “don’t worry about any water patches, it mostly soaked into the mattress topper. So just lay wherever.”
You look pained as you stretch your legs, and Junhui perches on the edge of your bed before reaching over gently and squeezing your calf, “do you not stretch before bed?”
“I’m too tired to stretch right now.” You sigh, your shoulders sinking into the mattress, “and Minghao usually helps me before I go to bed, anyway.”
“Minghao not being here is not a reason to neglect your muscles. You’ll get hurt and then we’re all screwed.” Junhui says pointedly, and you raise a brow, sitting up on your elbows.
“Minghao usually–”
“Minghao isn’t here, princess. So just let me help you.”
You huff, but Junhui’s gaze is pointed and you roll your eyes as you lay back down again. Stretching isn’t intimate, perse – but you can’t make eye contact as Junhui’s fingers dig into your thighs and calves as he moves your body around. You wince here and there, murmured apologies spilling from Junhui’s lips before he eventually stops, kneading the muscle of your calf before sighing.
“What’s your deal?” He asks, and you peel an eye open to look down at him. He squeezes your leg, making you lazily swat at him before resting your hand on your stomach. He lays on his beside you, holding himself up on his elbows as he peers at your face. You close your eye again, “elaborate.”
“Why are you so uptight?”
“That’s certainly one way to ask me why I’m so hardworking and dedicated.”
“Well, no.”
You snort, your lips curling into a soft smile as you shrug, “I have a lot of weight on my shoulders, but it’s nothing I don’t love. Ice cream with the team or alone is usually the only way I get out of here. I don’t have hobbies or vices because I don’t have time, but I love trapeze so much that sometimes, I think it doesn’t matter.”
You grimace as you turn on your side, tucking your arm under your pillow and bringing it lower against your chest. Your cheek smushes against the pillow, but you open your eyes to look at him, “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“You work too hard.”
“It’s all I have, don’t take it from me.”
Your voice is soft, almost pitiful as you look at him through your lashes.
“It’s not all you have. You’re someone outside of the circus, too.” Junhui tries, but you shake your head, letting your eyes fall closed. He takes the opportunity to take you in – soft lips, pouted from the way your cheek is squished by the pillow. Full lashes lining your eyes, your hair in disarray and your earrings twinkling in the low light of your bedroom. He sighs, clicking his tongue before reaching over your head and turning the lights off. You tense slightly at the proximity, your skin prickling as he rolls his eyes, opening his mouth but you mumble before he can say anything.
“Lie down.”
“Don’t rush me.”
He pulls the duvet over you, before letting his head hit the pillow as he turns onto his back. He stares at the ceiling – seeing an array of rock music posters, several Polaroids of you holding trophies and posing provocatively in Halloween costumes before shows, and glow-in-the-dark stars scattered about.
“You’ve lived a whole life with Skyline, haven’t you?” He murmurs, but you don’t reply – your lashes kissing your cheeks as you breathe softly, sound asleep. His chest warms oddly, but he allows it to seep into him as he rakes his eyes over your sleeping face. “Goodnight, princess.”
You’ve been awake for exactly seven minutes, just staring at the alarm clock on your windowsill. The red numbers mock you; the hard shell covered in faded stickers from years past. You don’t dare move, feeling Junhui’s steady breathing against the back of your neck – his arm wrapped warmly around your waist, pulling you into his chest and keeping you there against your better judgment.
You can feel your skin prickling at the proximity, but your cheeks are hot at the feeling of his hips pressing into yours unknowingly. Nothing is happening, he’s not sporting a boner or anything – you just feel...warm. Too warm, and worry sinks into your bones as you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.
Your voice is caught in your throat as you open and close your mouth, but the hitch in your breath is enough that you feel his arm tighten around you. He stirs behind you, and you quickly squeeze your eyes shut before feeling him lean over to look at you.
Your scowl is useless as he half-laughs, pressing you into the mattress as he reaches over and tilts the clock to look at it – three-fifty-six in the morning glares back at him. He grunts, shoving the clock away before falling back into place behind you. He doesn’t put his arm back around you, instead laying on his back with a groan.
“I should go back to my trailer.” He mumbles, “why is your bed so soft? That’s so unfair...”
He trails off with a puff of air from his lips, wiggling around behind you as you lamely clear your throat.
“If you want.”
“Do you?”
“Doesn’t matter what I want.”
He scoffs, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning over you. His chest is warm against your back, and you make the mistake of turning your head to look at him, the quirk in your brow faltering as you realize how close he is. His eyes purposely scan your face, stopping at your lips for what feels like forever before they flicker back up to your eyes.
“May I speak freely?” He cocks his head slightly, and you find the courage to roll your eyes as you move back to your original position, snuggling your face into your pillow, “no, Junhui. Go back to sleep.”
“Would it kill you to be nice to me?”
“I’d certainly kill you; I don’t know about being nice.”
“...Oh, I get it.”
You still, your hand gripping the hem of the duvet to pull it over your shoulder, “get what, Junhui? You’re gonna get your ass handed to you if you don’t shut your ass up.”
“You don’t want to get close to me or treat me decently because you’re worried that you’ll fall for my charm.”
You choke on your spit, your fist hitting your chest quickly as you sit up – only to see Junhui sporting a shit-eating grin as he looks up at you. You inhale deeply, coughing lightly before lying back down with a huff. He peers down at you smugly, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You’re annoying, is what you are.” You mutter, turning back on your side to face away from him. “It’d do you well to shut the fuck up sometimes.”
“You’re kind of catty, you know that?”
“It’s part of my charm, and unless you want me to get really catty...shut up.”
He doesn’t dignify you with a response – instead giving a soft snort before laying back down. He keeps a safe distance between you and him. The loss of warmth is palpable, but you only pull the duvet higher on your body as you close your eyes.
It feels like an hour passes by – your eyes burning with fatigue as you peel them back open to see only ten minutes have passed. You groan internally, moving to turn around when you’re met with the expanse of Junhui’s back in your face as he’s turned away from you. He's relaxed; the fit of his shirt stretched against the broad expanse of his shoulders but looser at his slim waist. You allow yourself to ogle him, a sigh falling from your lips as you close your eyes again.
“Can’t fall asleep?” His voice is low, but there’s a hint of teasing in it. You roll your eyes even though he can’t see them, making a noise of affirmation soft enough to be confused with another sigh – your pride not able to handle confirming your troubles to him. “How can I help?”
“Just...lay there.” You mutter back, and he lets out a defeated sound before turning around again to face you. You don’t bother opening your eyes, but you can feel his arms brush yours as he crosses them in front of him and adjusts into the mattress. A moment passes, the words slipping from your lips like an admission of sin – full of guilt and you regret them almost immediately.
“Minghao usually holds me.”
“Does he kiss your forehead goodnight, too, princess?”
You scoff, burying your chin into your chest, “you fucking asked.”
He says nothing, only extending his arm under your head and shuffling closer. You stiffen at the contact, before feeling him pull your leg over his hip. His hand is cool against your thigh, barely breaching your pajama shorts before he quickly pulls it away. He rests it around your waist, his fingertips tracing patterns into your back as his other hand brings the extra pillow behind you
“Just relax.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“You’re stiff as a board.”
You feel your cheeks hot as you attempt to loosen up, every hair on your body standing up at the proximity. You peel an eye open to look at him, his own closed as he speaks again, “you won’t fall asleep looking at me.”
“Do you really think I’m uptight?” You whisper, and he raises a brow before opening his eyes.
“You’re worried about that at...four-twelve in the morning?”
“I’m always worried about how I'm perceived.”
You nibble on your lip, earning a soft sigh from him as he pats your back gently. Almost awkwardly, before he gives you a pointed look.
“My first impression of you still stands, if that’s of any comfort.” He says carefully, and you must look confused because he shrugs as much as he can before clicking his tongue. “After everything happened in Boston, I came to Manhattan because I was hoping Jihyo would take a chance on me. Everywhere I walked in this neighborhood, I saw posters of you and followed them here. I thought, if a trapezist is the face of this circus, the routines must be out of this world. And I was right, because I watched everyone perform for an entire weekend two weeks before Minghao got hurt and I saw just how much chemistry the two of you had in the ring...but you were absolutely captivating. The leotards, the expressions, the movements. You really, truly are a star out there. You’re a great performer, and you’re beautiful...in and out of your element.”
You can’t look at him as he sighs, clicking his tongue.
“But you prove time and time again that you have no idea who you are if you’re not performing. You have no idea who you are without Minghao, or Jihyo, or the circus. That’s why you think this is all you have, that’s why you have certain types of chemistry with different people on the team that you don’t have with others. Just like you don’t shy away from anyone the way you do with me, and it’s not because you’re not used to new people, either.”
“I know who I am,” you whisper, staring at his chest. Your voice is small, but his hand squeezes your hip gently before he shakes his head, “no, you don’t. Your whole life is this place...you said it yourself.”
“What kind of chemistry do I have with the others?” You ask, wanting to change the subject quickly. You can tell he catches on as he drums his fingers against your hip, humming slightly.
“You and Minghao have an undeniable connection, but it’s definitely waned over the years and went from one type of connection to another. You and Soonyoung are like a constant lover’s quarrel, and you and Mingyu are like a divorced couple that mutually agreed it was time to end things.” He shrugs, “which is why I'm not surprised that all of you have history in some way or another. It’s not hard to realize when two people have slept together, you know. It just takes a little observation.”
“You’re presumptuous.”
“And I’m right.”
“What makes you think that I’ve slept with them?” You mutter, your tone almost bitter as he pats your hip.
“The fact that you’re not refuting it, but also that Minghao is so comfortable touching you and you allow it. I had to hold you for practice yesterday and you almost bit my head off.” He says plainly, “do you just not trust me?”
“I do.” You pick at your nails, holding your hands between your bodies as he lets out a weak laugh, “I do, Junhui. I swear. I just...I’m not used to you.”
“I’ve known you for fifteen days and I’m already in your bed. I’d say you’re pretty used to me.”
“Did you just call me easy?”
“You’re a lot of things, but easy isn’t one of them. Trust me, I know easy.”
“That makes you sound like you’re easy.” Your voice is annoyed, only for him to chuckle as he shrugs.
“Why would I play hard to get when I want it just as much? Seems like a waste.”
You suck your teeth, peering up at him through your lashes, “what else have you observed about me?”
He shifts, “not much.”
“Bullshit.”
“Yeah.”
He smiles cheekily as you roll your eyes, limply hitting your fist against his shoulder, “Junhui, come on.”
“Mmh, I don’t know. You get goosebumps when we’re too close to each other. You bumped into me the other day during the team meeting and didn’t apologize, but you didn’t look like you could speak, either.” He purses his lips, letting out a low whistle, “you don’t hold eye contact with me, so I avoid making it because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Do you really sleep with a new girl every time you go out?” You blurt, earning a lopsided smirk as he shakes his head.
“No. Sometimes I just want a drink, or I go out to clear my head.”
“Then why are you out until four in the morning?”
“Clearing my head of you takes time, princess.”
He closes his eyes, seemingly closing the floor for conversation – but you ask anyway.
“Me?”
“Yes. You. Go to sleep.”
“But I–”
He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline before resting his chin lightly on your head, “go to sleep, pretty girl. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
The room falls silent as he pulls you closer, and you hate how the heat of his body against yours makes you feel fuzzy. You hate how you can feel his lips against your skin and how you don’t mind it, how you wouldn’t mind him kissing you again – but with intent, and preferably, lower.
“Goodnight, princess.”
“...Goodnight, Junhui.”
There is a shift between you and Junhui the next morning, and he can tell.
You’re quiet – you hand him things off the breakfast table without asking, things he likes. The peach yoghurt, the string cheese, you move quickly and with purpose as you make your plate and Mingyu’s, who is actively trying to fight you for it. Your hands hover over Minghao’s favorites, only to pull them away and grab utensils before moving away. Mingyu manages to take both plates from you at the end of the breakfast table, and you follow him without a word.
You keep the wall up throughout the morning. Mingyu asks you on several occasions if you’re alright, even Soonyoung presses his hand to your forehead before you swat him away and insist that you’re fine. Chan’s eyes are focused as he watches the two of you run a routine he’d choreographed to Feel Something by Jaymes Young a few months back – admittedly, with you and Minghao in mind.
Junhui wonders if he’ll ever measure up.
He stops wondering just as fast – holding you close to him while you’re both suspended in the air, your fingernails digging into his shoulders in a way that feels sinful. Your breathing is ragged against him as you move through the routine, ending with your knees wrapped around the upper part of the hoop and him curved on the inside of the hoop – your faces millimeters away from each other, so close he can feel your breath on his lips.
Soonyoung taunts you both for a kiss – only for Junhui to feel an odd twist in his stomach when you seem to consider it as the song ends. Your eyes trail his face, but you roll them just as quickly; opting to stare at the ring below you.
You don’t look at him as you both reach the ground, only muttering a soft thank you when he pulls you off the hoop carefully. You rub at your knees vigorously, the tape peeling back from your hand as you do so.
“That’s lunch.” Mingyu calls over his shoulder, but Junhui watches as you ignore him and plop down on the bleachers. Your chest heaves with deep breaths as you peel the ripped tape off your hands, eyes watching everyone file out. Junhui lingers at the end of the line, letting the door close in front of him and leaning against the frame as you reach for the tape left behind by Seungkwan on the bleachers. You rip the end up, wrapping your wrists quickly and tearing the end off with your teeth – stretching your arms over your head with a pained grunt and rolling your shoulders back twice.
He’s not sure you can see him – the edges of the arena dim and he’s dressed in all black. He uses the shadows to his advantage as he leans into them, the frustration radiating off your body practically tangible as you grab one of the ropes and tug on it harshly. You let it pull you into the air, your hand grabbing a hoop and flipping through it – curling your knees around the metal and letting it glide you around the arena, your eyes closed as you swung upside down. The creak of the hoop hinges at the top of the arena are the only sound aside from the thwip of your movements – and Junhui finds himself biting back a smile as you flip back into the hoop, wrapping your arms and gripping the metal tightly as you spun like a top on your descend.
You let out a loud sigh as you slowed to a stop, almost a sound of relief to Junhui’s ears. You lolled your head back, crossing your ankles before carefully unwrapping yourself from the hoop and hopping down. You run a hand through your hair, dropping it to settle both on your hips as you walk back to the bleachers, a sway in your hips reeking of subtle satisfaction.
“Sidney Kim, right?”
You jump, your eyes wide as a hand flies to your chest – looking around when Junhui decides to step back into the light. Huffing, your hand drops and you sit on the bleachers with furrowed brows. You bring your hand to your mouth, tearing the tape with your teeth and peeling it off.
“Or is it Nina Jeanine? 1992 Cirque du Lune, right?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Wondering why you’re not eating lunch.”
“Stop worrying about me, it’d do you well.” You reply, tossing the scraps of tape into the garbage back at the end of the bleachers. You roll your wrists, and Junhui only steps closer, leaning against the opposite railing of the bleachers when you look up at him, “why aren’t you eating lunch?”
“Practice what you preach.”
“It’s my job to worry about you.”
He smiles, “no it isn’t.”
Silence settles in the arena as you stare at each other – almost like two cats sizing each other up. You falter first, opting to look away as you grab for the tape again, “Nina Jeanine.”
“Figured.”
“What are you really doing here?”
“What I said I was, princess. Wondering why you’re beating yourself up in here instead of eating lunch, of which we now have only forty minutes left of.” He points at the clock on the wall. Your shoulders stiffen, “I’m just blowing off some steam. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
“Blowing off steam...for what? We’re on track with everything. Ticket sales are at an all-time high. We could practically do the routine in our sleep...what is there to blow off steam for?” Junhui raises a brow as you seemingly bristle, your fingernail picking at the roll of tape before you set it down and stand up. You cross your arms on your chest as you plaster on a smile, “let’s go. Lunch awaits us.”
Junhui sucks his teeth as you walk past him, his hand darting out and grabbing your elbow gently. You don’t stiffen, limply allowing him to pull you back and sit you down on the bleachers. He moves to kneel in front of you, his hands settling on either side of you as he looks at your face. Stress is weaved between your brows, the pad of his thumb coming to rub between them.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a shit liar. Add that to my list of impressions about you.”
You tongue your cheek, swatting his hand away from your face. Your hands are clasped in your lap, but you pick at your fingernails as Junhui drums his fingers against your knees. He takes his time to look at you, gingerly placing his hands over yours to stop your fidgeting – and you meet his eyes, your own full of stress.
“Is it because Soonyo—”
“He’s so fucking annoying. I don’t have to kiss everyone I do a routine with. Then I’m just the Lucky Star with an emphasis on lucky.”
Junhui bites back his smile, the pout on your lips full of frustration as you huff, “he wants to act like he knows something, when he doesn’t. I don’t need the entire city of Manhattan to see me kiss someone, just for ratings and applause. It feels fake, and I’m no phony.”
“We could kiss now.”
You roll your eyes, “shut the fuck up.”
“We could, though.” Junhui shrugs, gesturing to the room around you both. “It’s just you and me. No lights, no audience...no pressure. And no one has to know, just us.”
Your lips are pressed into a thin line, raking your eyes over his face, “that’s not fair to Minghao.”
“You’re not dating Minghao.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know a lot of things, princess. You and Minghao broke up years ago.” Junhui speaks pointedly, his hands cupping your knees with a soft pat, “think about it, because it doesn’t sound like you’re all that against actually kissing me.”
He leans forward a bit, watching the way you furrow your brows deeper as his nose brushes yours, “I’d kiss you, if you wanted. Just like this.”
The air is thick around the two of you, his eyes scanning your face and the way you’re considering it. The way you’re thinking about it – before you shake your head.
“I can’t do that to Minghao.”
“Of course, princess. Just putting it out there.”
He smiles, patting your knees again, “lunch. Now.”
He stands up, dusting his knees as you do the same, folding your hands behind your back. You walk in front of him, your pace slow and deliberate as you glance over your shoulder – looking directly at the hoop hanging in the middle of the ring.
“It’s too intimate.” You say suddenly, facing him with a quick turn of your heel. “It’s too intimate, to kiss someone I work with and know that I have a hard time separating business and pleasure.”
“It doesn’t have to be more.”
“That’s the problem,” you click your tongue, shaking your head before turning back on your heel. “You’re right about a lot of things, Wen Junhui. I’ve never thought I’d admit to that.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know who I am when I’m not performing.” You reach the door, shaking your head as he stands behind you. Almost too close, it seems – and you confirm it when you turn around as you cross your arms on your chest. He can barely see your face in the dimness, but there’s a sparkle in your eye that wasn’t there earlier, and something about it makes him giddy.
“I can fix that.” He leans slightly closer, before feeling your hands ghost over his chest. He tilts his head at you, the warmth of your breath hitting his throat as he looks down. “What else?”
“I’m not here to feed your ego.”
“Mmh, but you wanna.”
“Shut up.”
He thinks you roll your eyes, turning around and moving to push the door when he snakes his arm around your waist. You easily give, letting him pull your back into his chest – the smell of your perfume, warm and citrusy, filling his nose as he pins you against the door. You lean your head back, the gloss of your eyes visible in the dim lighting.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for me, princess.” His voice is low in your ear, his fingers lightly digging into your hip as you huff out a humorless laugh. You splay your hand over his, “no, I don’t swoon easily. Took Minghao a year to even get in my good graces, and another to be my boyfriend.”
“So, you did date him.”
“Don’t give up hope, hotshot.”
“Just say you want me. It won’t kill you.” Junhui whispers as you twist out of his hold, your hands pushing against the door but not enough to open it as you peer up at him.
“I do.” You seemingly shrug, a stream of light bleeding in from the way you crack the door open, “but I love my job more than I’ll ever want you...so let’s stay out of each other’s way. Cool?”
You don’t give him a chance to respond – but it’s a challenge. You mean it as one; he can tell as you smile brightly at everyone, leaving Junhui in the shadows as the door closes in front of him.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, peering over his shoulder at the barely swinging hoop. “Cool.”
synopsis: things take a turn for the better when you finally find a roommate to escape your incredibly overpriced apartment, but you don't expect to ruin the only relationship that matters to you in the process.
genre: forced proximity au. coworkers/friends/roommates idiots to lovers. angst, fluff, suggestive themes.
pairing: bartender!xu minghao x fem!waitress!reader | side pairings: restaurant owners!jeongcheol ; bartender!seungkwan x waiter!hansol ; chef!mingyu x hostess!tzuyu (twice)
word count: 24k
rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
warnings: swearing, alcohol (obviously??) mentions of food/eating. reader has a strained relationship with her parents. jeongcheol/verkwan/tzugyu are all plot devices. unspoken pining, kissing.
what to listen to: am pm - jay b, wheein ; you and me - lifehouse ; runnin' - the pharcyde ; no one noticed - the marías ; have u found what ur looking for? - ashton irwin ; on the line - blood orange
author's note: the loml and the haologram namesake has officially debuted on this blog! while i am not entirely satisfied with this piece, that's okay and i still love the idea i put forth and the way i expressed what i could on the time crunch i gave myself. i will likely work on a spinoff for this, or just something to delve more into their backstory and developing them. special thank you to my lovely beta readers @diamonddaze01 @lovetaroandtaemin @tomodachiii <3 please enjoy!
A YEAR AGO…
"I need a Guinness."
That was the first thing you ever said to Xu Minghao. You'd been hired by Seungcheol, one of the restaurant owners, three weeks prior but hadn't worked a shift with Minghao yet.
Therefore, he didn't know your name or when you even got there. There hadn't been any murmur of a new girl, much less a pretty one – which was odd for the establishment. Full of meddling college students and a married couple who ran the place, there was bound to be some gossip. Something about your looks, your demeanor, anything – but no. Nothing had flown down the grapevine.
You didn't bother to introduce yourself, either. Your eyes were pointed until he quirked a brow, scoffing out a laugh and pouring the drink for you. He'd said nothing as you took it, skirting around several clients and even a busboy and delivered it with a smile on your face to the awaiting patron…
…Who slipped a tip into your apron with a greasy smile, and you kept yours on your lips until you were out of the patron's line of sight. Then, tucked into the serving staff's corner, he saw the way your shoulders sagged, a look of disgust on your face as you shivered. He clicked his tongue to himself, but filed the vision away to the back of his mind.
He spent the rest of the night silently giving you the drinks you asked for, or speaking to his regulars as he made your cocktails. You always waited patiently, your fingers spinning your pen expertly as you watched over the patrons of the restaurant. He watched the way you sped past everyone, wormed your way through gathered crowds, and even ducked under trays being carried by your fellow servers.
You got your job done, and you got it done fast – your patrons visibly happy with your service and your apron slightly overflowing with tips when you slid behind the bar and tucked them into your lockbox without a word to him.
It wasn't until you bid your last patron a good night that he saw your shoulders relax, your fingers yanking the elastic out of your hair and shaking it out. The relief on your forehead was noticeable as you walked back to the bar, opening the fridge behind him and grabbing a can of the orange juice he used for some of the cocktails on the menu.
"D'you mind? I know they're counted."
He shook his head as he skirted past you with his tray full of cups, the glasses clinking against each other while he made his way to the back. Your fellow servers were gathered around the heat of the kitchen, leaning against the wall or stretching their overworked limbs. He kept to himself, hearing them whisper about the new girl.
"She's so pretty."
"Yeah, but she doesn't talk. I tried to talk to her back here a couple times, and she just keeps it short."
"She's here to work."
"So am I, but at least I'm not rude."
He set his dishes into the washer, cursing to himself when he realized he forgot his shakers at the bar. He was about to start the cycle when he heard the soft clanking of metal against metal, seeing your closed can of orange juice tucked into your shirt pocket as you held out his tray of shakers.
"Thought you might need these, wouldn't want you to make unnecessary trips."
He thanked you with a smile, taking the black tray as you cracked open your can, shrugging as you turned on your heel and walked away. The servers looked appalled as you grabbed the sanitizer spray before walking out of the kitchen, a rag already hanging from your belt loop. They looked at Minghao, who quietly loaded the shakers into the machine – wondering how he got you to speak to him.
The answer was plain and simple – he was a crucial part of the services you provided as a waitress. You clearly didn't need help with your tables: he watched how easily you maneuvered through picky eaters and entitled elderly women, all in one night. He saw how you smiled and greeted people warmly and enthusiastically, something the other servers weren't very good at but hey — a buck is a buck.
He wormed back out of the kitchen amongst the whispers, rolling his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head. You were wearing headphones, nodding your head along to something as you wiped down every table and chair.
He slid back behind the bar and started his own closing duties, but he took a moment to take you in fully – the soft slope of your nose, the way your brows furrowed as you ran your rag over particularly sticky spots. The purse of your lips as you mouthed along to whatever it was that you were listening to.
"Do you need any help?"
You were in front of the bar now, holding one of your earbuds in your hand as you raised a brow at him. He shook his head before extending his hand out to you.
"I don't believe we've met. I'm Minghao."
You were wary as you shook his hand, but your grip was nice and firm as you did so.
"Y/N. Sorry if I was kind of emotionless during the shift, it helps me focus better if I'm not talking to people while I work."
He shook his head again, as if to say no worries, before reaching under the bar and pulling your lockbox for you. You thanked him softly as you took it in your hands, walking away towards Seungcheol and Jeonghan's office to do your tip-out for the night. He finished his duties quickly, even managing to rearrange the cups and shakers for the morning bartender as the servers came to him one by one and gave him his share of their tips.
Until you came back out with a soft smile on your lips, your hair now loosely tied up and your apron slung over your shoulder as you held a wad of cash out to him, far thicker than any of the other servers. He'd been counting the leftover mixers, crossing out your orange juice as a markout as you slipped the money into his hand.
"For your help. Thanks."
"It's my job, no need to thank me."
"Doesn't hurt. Have a good night, Minghao."
"You too, Y/N." He smiled back as you finished what was left in your can of juice, tossing it as you made your way out of the building. He followed shortly after, walking out a few of the other servers to their cars in the parking lot for good measure. He never really spoke to them either, despite having worked with them for a little over a year – but he was a gentleman if nothing else.
The next few shifts he worked with you were like that, too. You'd smile at him a bit and ask for things with a nicer tone of voice. He still delivered and watched you from afar, slightly amazed at your abilities to satisfy all your patrons – couples, families, even that one elderly woman who always sent her steak back because it was never done well enough…she hadn't sent it back the night you served her.
You always walked out first, handing Minghao thick stacks of cash and stealing cans of orange juice. It got to the point where he would set yours aside from the counted lot, marking it out in the system before they shut down for the night. The other servers watched your interactions – short and sweet, but still far more than you'd ever attempted to interact with them.
He soon learned that you did like to talk, you just had no one that you deemed worthy of your time. So when you arrived early on some shifts, you'd sit at the bar and ask Minghao things about himself. He'd gladly answer, mixing up non-alcoholic versions of his favorite cocktails for you as he talked in a soft voice. You both noticed the wandering eyes of your coworkers, but neither of you mentioned it to the other.
He noticed that you never answered any questions about yourself, opting to spin the question back on him. He let it slide, but he knew you understood that eventually, you'd have to open up, too. When you did decide to do so was completely up to the universe.
It wasn't until the compliments started that the two of you really started talking – it started as something subtle and quiet. Minghao commented on your earrings or choice of lipgloss, and you said you liked his hair and the way he styled his jewelry. You would both laugh over light coworker gossip or comments about how easily Jeonghan got under Seungcheol's skin.
You started greeting him when you'd swing by the bar for any alcoholic beverage, and he'd pause his flirting with his regulars to give you his undivided attention. This is how you learned that he had a way with body language – his eyes were always grazing over someone's face, his shoulders set back in confidence, brushing his fingers lightly over whoever was grabbing their drink.
This included you, but neither of you said anything about it. You'd let his fingers swipe over yours occasionally, choosing to smile and thank him as you went about your shift. The regulars noticed the way his attention was no longer fully on them, and some complained, but some spoke directly to Minghao about it – saying how cute it was for him to be crushing on the new girl.
He wasn't, but he didn't care to clear it up if it meant it got you more tips.
One night, things were as normal – it was a busy Friday evening, and you slid behind the bar to stuff your cash into your lockbox for the third time before closing. His fingers covered the edge of the bar so you wouldn't hit yourself, and you thanked him with a pat to his ribcage before slipping back out onto the restaurant floor with your pen flipping through your fingers like always. He watched you zip around, smiling widely as you took orders, casually flirting with patrons around your age, taking group photos with cell phones and cameras.
You stole your can of orange juice, helped Minghao with his dishes and did your closing duties. You got tipped out by Jeonghan and gave Minghao his share, bidding him a good night before waltzing out of the restaurant. You skipped to your car, expecting a smooth drive home and ending your good night on your comfy couch with a Pilsner and a bag of chips…
When your car simply wouldn't start.
No big deal, you'd told yourself. You tried turning your headlights on, but nothing happened. This could mean one of two things: your battery had crapped out and just needed a jump, or tonight was just the night you'd be walking the twenty blocks home. You clicked your tongue before sighing and resting your forehead on the fuzzy steering wheel cover.
Minghao had watched this entire ordeal from the door of the restaurant, finishing a conversation with Seungcheol before stepping out and calling out your name. Your ears perked up, your eyes tired as you looked up and saw him walking over. He smiled as you pouted, opening your car door and explaining the situation.
"Not a problem, I can give you a lift."
"I couldn't ask you to do that, Minghao."
"You're not. I'm offering."
It went back and forth like that for about ten minutes before Minghao reached out and plucked your keys out of the ignition. You huffed as he jingled them, throwing your apron over your shoulder and manually locking all your doors before slipping out.
“I live a bit out of the way.”
“I do, too. Don’t worry about it.”
Turns out that a bit out of the way for you, meant two blocks from Minghao’s apartment.
It also turns out that the two of you had much more in common than just working at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s restaurant.
You both loved art, fashion…the idea of flirting and making people think something was going to happen. You were both studying but at two different universities, and worked at the restaurant to save money for graduate school. He finds out that you're almost too big of a Bloody Mary fan, and nothing stops you from yucking a Piña Colada enjoyer's yum. He doesn't drink, and the revelation makes you snort, until you realize he's serious and roll your eyes subtly.
And all of this is something you find out as you sit in his car outside of your apartment complex, the heat cranked up and his radio playing AM PM by Jay B and Wheein on the lowest volume. He speaks softly, just like he does at the restaurant – and you notice his eyes almost glued to your face as you reciprocate. A few shy laughs are shared until he says something about Mingyu and his habit of stealing cheese curds off the customer trays, making you snort and hit your head on his window. He apologizes profusely but the sentiment is waned by his own rickety giggle, making you flush embarrassedly and shove him lightly.
The night ends when he offers to walk you up to your apartment, but you decline, holding your purse tightly. He still gets out of his car, perches on the hood and watches you duck into the heavy greenery that ornaments the entryway, hearing your work shoes click against the cold cement steps. He waits at least ten minutes before leaning back on his car, taking a deep breath in the chilly November air and pushing off. He slides back into the driver's seat, not noticing the way you look down at him from your second floor apartment. You peeked at him through the wooden blinds of your bedroom, the soft thundering in your chest something you couldn't figure out.
All you knew is that he was Xu Minghao, and if he was meant to break your heart – so be it.
EIGHT MONTHS AGO…
"Need a ride?"
You scoffed to yourself, hearing Minghao's voice across the parking lot. Your shoulders were slumped, your head resting defeatedly against the steering wheel of your 2002 Nissan that once more, refused to start. Why? You have no idea.
"No. It'll start. It has to start." You muttered back, seeing him approach the side of your vehicle. He dons a sympathetic smile as he leans in the window, his fingers grazing the fuzzy leopard print wheel cover. You ignored the manicure you'd been admiring your entire shift, the blotted maroon a perfect tone against his skin – and cranked your ignition.
Chchchch.
"Try again."
Chchchch.
He glanced up at you before unlocking your door from the inside and yanking it open. He reached under your dash, popping your hood gingerly and snaking out from under the steering wheel. You only eyed him tiredly as he slid in front of your car, setting your hood up on the prop rod and tinkering around.
You couldn't help but let your eyes close slightly, the soreness in your muscles taking over just as he popped back into your window. You jolted out of the light slumber, the crease between your brows deepening in the stark spring moonlight.
"Two things, gorgeous. Either your alternator is fucked and not charging your battery, or your starter engine has crapped out." He shrugged, and you couldn't bring yourself to react further than a groan. Your hands ran through your hair, and Minghao cooed lightly.
"C'mon, I'll give you a lift home. We'll get Cheol to pay for a tow." He wiggled his brows, making you let out a noise of amusement. You sighed, nodding silently as he once more took your keys out of the ignition. You grabbed your items, swinging your apron over your shoulder and locking your doors manually before slinking out and letting Minghao shut your door.
You shook your head in disbelief, absently resting your forehead against his bicep with a sigh.
"I'm so tired."
Apparently, tired meant that you were almost about to fall asleep standing up. Neither of you worked tomorrow, so Minghao simply wrapped his arm around your shoulders (an act that neither of you would ever speak on, but made the both of you incredibly giddy) and led you to his car. He opened the door and helped you climb in, even going as far as buckling your seatbelt for you despite your whining protests that you could do it yourself.
"I know you can. Just let me help you, yeah?"
You gave in without a second thought, your eyes fluttering shut as he slid into the driver's side and started his car. You had turned your head towards him and muttered some words quietly.
Something that sounded like thank you, followed by a slightly more intelligible string of words.
"If I fall asleep, I give you full permission to leave me on my doorstep like a package."
He only snorted, knowing he would not ever do that to you. Rolling his eyes, he fiddled with the radio, hearing You and Me by Lifehouse playing on his favorite station. He kept it on as he pulled out of the parking lot, seeing Seungcheol staring in his direction with wide eyes as he walked Jeonghan to their shared car. Minghao only shrugged, waving quickly before turning out into the street and driving down the road.
It was peaceful, watching you sleep. The way your lashes kissed the fat of your cheeks, the way your lips were pouty and he resisted the urge to wipe your chin of a bit of drool that had begun to spill out. He bit down on his lip to hold in his laughter as you stirred, your thumb instinctively coming to your face to wipe at it. You peeled your eyes open, the whites slightly bloodshot and your face contorting in the soreness you felt.
"Long day, huh?" He whistled as he flicked on his turn signal, and you only managed to hum in response. You blinked at him, his eyes catching yours as you stared into him. He raised his brows in confusion, and you shrugged your shoulders as much as your fatigue allowed.
"Why are you so nice to me, Hao?"
He only smiled, clicking his tongue as he took the turn down the creepy backroad neither of you liked and often discussed when you had some down time at work.
"I thought we were friends, Y/N?"
He saw the way you leaned your head back on his headrest, nose scrunched as you began to settle deep in thought. Were you friends?
He thinks so. He thinks setting aside your daily orange juice can means that he's your friend. He thinks giving you lifts home, means that you trust him. That's a crucial part of friendship, isn't it? Trust?
Maybe the subtle flirting he'd been dishing out wasn't so friendly, but he certainly desired to be your friend. He liked your eager conversation, a drastic change in comparison to how stoic you had been upon first meeting him – and how uninterested you were in everyone else you worked with. Aside from Mingyu in the kitchen and Tzuyu the hostess, you had absolutely no interest in talking to anyone but Minghao.
You also didn't allow anyone else but Minghao into your life so closely. Only he knew where you lived, what troubled you, how your mother made you feel about yourself. Only he knew about your bad habits – your affinity for gossip, your extensive situationship issues with your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, and how you thought your apartment was entirely too expensive for a college student that was buying her dinner with coins.
"I guess you're right. We should hang out one day, instead of just you giving me pitiful looks when my car craps out on me."
Your tone had been light, but he knew you weren't joking. No matter how often this happened, you insisted what Minghao was dishing out was pity. It wasn't – it was a break. A chance to worry about things later, or tomorrow, because he also understood what it was like to be stressed. He also understood what it was like to have a car let him down time after time, but he had had no one to take that mercy upon him. He'd walked home in pouring rain, risked getting sick, slipped one too many times.
A favor, was what he was offering, if anything.
You just didn't know how to accept help. It was one of your flaws that made itself known without a single word from you.
"I'm free tomorrow. I don't work; I took the day off."
"I'm free, too. I'll text you when I wake up. Maybe we can get brunch?"
You would not end up texting Minghao, because you were knocked out – too knocked out to be woken up – by the time that the two of you reached your apartment. He knew your keys were in your purse, but after three attempts at waking you up, he gave up. He drove the two blocks to his complex, snagging the perfect spot in front of his entrance.
He hadn't been too sure of what to do, so he left you in his car with the engine running to duck into his apartment – returning within a few minutes with a pair of blankets for you and him. He opened your door and leaned your seat back slowly, before throwing the blanket over you and moving your belongings to his backseat. He climbed back into the driver's side, scrolling on his phone for a bit before peering over at you.
Still sound asleep, as the clock struck midnight.
He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment.
A moment turned into three hours, when he heard your phone start ringing in the cupholder. It jolted him awake, his eyes narrowed as he read the blurry name out – Jaehyun.
He declined the call. Once. Twice.
Six times, he declined Jaehyun's call. He turned your phone off after that, but you had stirred enough from the sheer sound of him fumbling around. Your eyes were bloodshot as you blinked before realizing you were still in his car.
"Shit, I'm sorry. Have we been here long?"
He only smiled, gesturing at the blanket on your body. Your eyes widened as much as they could in their sleep-swollen state, before he flashed his phone screen at you.
3:13am.
"Hao! Why didn't you wake me up!?"
"I certainly tried. I drove around your complex twice before deciding it was futile. We're outside my apartment, if you want to crash here. I'm in no position to drive now."
You had scoffed tiredly (read: with embarrassment), before the urge to stretch took over – the blanket slipping down your legs as you twisted your torso and popped your back. Minghao only giggled tiredly, letting you pout at him.
"I don't have a toothbrush here."
"I have spares for guests. And I have a guest room, so it's not like you'd be taking over my couch or anything. There is always going to be a special space for you, you're my friend."
And you wanted to be his friend so badly.
"Fine. But I'm buying breakfast."
"Sure, whatever makes you feel better."
You did not end up buying breakfast.
In fact, after you allowed Minghao to help you get situated in his guest room, you didn't even wake up until well in the afternoon. The soft sheets, the absolute dream of a mattress…
The gentle scent of his detergent on the clothes he made you wear to bed while he stayed up an extra two hours – washing and ironing your work uniform. He even took your socks.
Granted, he also did not wake up until late that day. The two of you jerked the doors of the respective rooms open within five minutes of each other, Minghao sluggishly standing in his kitchen with his forehead against the cool steel of his fridge. He held a carton of eggs in his hand, your mouth occupied by the toothbrush he'd given you the night before.
"Eggs?"
"I don't even want to cook, I just want to order in."
"My treat. Consider it a thank you for letting me crash here."
He had looked up then, a quirk in his brow as his lips twitched into a small smirk.
"Don't thank me for being a good friend. That's what you're supposed to do, Y/N."
He didn't allow you to pay for delivery. He didn't even allow you to bicker with him when he shoved you into the bathroom, insisting you shower while waiting for the food to arrive. He was a bit like a parent in that sense – forcing you to take his help and hospitality – and even offering to blow-dry your hair when you exited the bathroom in yet another set of his loungewear, the sweatpants low on your hips as you sat down in front of him and allowed him to do as he pleased.
Something about the domesticity of Minghao brought you comfort. He was gentle and kind, and entirely way too nice for your own good. You had this idea that you had to earn niceties, and Minghao was actively challenging that perspective with the way he wormed himself into your heart. Unlike the parasite, though, you were sure that loving him in whatever matter presented itself would not kill you.
He attempted to drive you home around midnight, the two of you far too excited to let the night end – when your phone began ringing again, this time as he pulled into a gas station. He sighed, "Take care of that. I'll be back."
Your ex-boyfriend told you he was at your apartment and asked why you weren't answering the door. You admitted that you weren't home and insisted that he went home – that you weren't interested in seeing him. He took it pretty hard, trying to convince you that he wanted nothing more than to see you, but Minghao arrived just as you snapped on him and told him that this odd situation was not working in anyone's favor.
Jaehyun insisted that he still loved you – but you said you wouldn't be seeing him again and hung up. You blocked his number before the bombardment of texts could flood in, resting your head against the seat and sighing. You gave Minghao a worried look, earning a soft laugh from him as he reached over and ran his fingers through your hair.
"Everything is going to be okay in due time. We'd be nothing in life if we didn't struggle a bit."
He didn't take you home. Instead, he drove around the city, his hand slotted in yours. It was nothing more than an attempt at a comforting gesture on his behalf, but you couldn't help the way your stomach fluttered slightly. You stared out the window as he spoke softly, telling you stories about his life and listening intently to yours. Eventually, the two of you wound up at a park you frequented as a child, one with a wishing well.
The two of you got down and headed straight for that well, Minghao holding a few coins he was willing to part ways with in his hand. He gave you half of them, telling you to make your wishes as he thought of his. He watched you intently, your eyes closed and thick lashes fluttering against your cheeks, lips pouty as you murmured to yourself. He was barely able to hear you, leaning a bit closer.
"I wish to be happy."
He closed his eyes after hearing that.
He knew in his heart that he couldn't be solely responsible for your happiness, but he could certainly aid in it. He was your friend, and he was determined to see that wish come true, even if it meant sacrificing his own time and energy to see it happen for you. Be it what may, he was hell-bent about it, within seconds of hearing you say it.
So much so, that when he dropped his 500 won coin, he too wished for you to be happy.
It was the least he could do at that moment.
He actually drove you home after that, and you invited him in. He stayed for all of two hours, just talking to you and keeping you company as you settled things around your apartment. Once more, the topic of rent being way too much came up – and he asked if you wanted a roommate.
You had snorted, insisting that you could handle rent on your own.
Minghao went home that night with another plan in mind.
SIX MONTHS AGO…
"Graduation is coming up. I know we've only just started getting close, but I got you a ticket to mine in case you'd like to be there."
The casual comment had made you choke on your strawberry lemonade. He offered a napkin, smiling mischievously at you as you scoffed, wiping your lips carefully. He'd invited you out to lunch on yet another day off, but this time, the two of you were nicely dressed up.
So much so, that your waitress thought you were a couple on a date.
Neither of you made the move to correct her.
"Minghao, you can't just say that so casually." You muttered, but there was a twitch in your lip that gave you away. He caught it almost instantly, reaching into his bag and pulling out your ticket – watching you reach into your purse and pull his ticket out. Both graduations were on the same day, yours in the morning and his in the afternoon – just barely two hours apart.
Enough that you'd be able to have a luncheon with your family and still make it to his right on time.
"You'll be celebrating with your family afterward, right?"
"We're having a small party. A few of my friends will be there, and I'd like you to attend if it's possible. I know you probably have your own things to do."
You didn't, just the lunch. Something about your accomplishments was never enough for your family to celebrate, and they were of the breed that believed graduation was simply a part of life – nothing worth celebrating. Minghao didn't need to know that, though.
"Sure. I'll be there."
And it didn't take long for the day to spin around. You were dressed in your favorite white dress, covered slightly by your forest green graduation gown. Minghao met your family – your mother giving him a quick smile before tugging your father into the stadium. You offered an apology and said that one of your lifelong friends, Junhui, would be arriving soon, and Minghao could sit with him. You stuck around until he did, introducing the two and scurrying away to get set up with your classmates.
Funnily enough, Minghao and Junhui hit it off really well – so much so that when your name was called and you crossed the stage, they cheered so loudly that your parents looked away in embarrassment. You beamed up at your friends, waving excitedly and hopping down to your seat. The ceremony was over quickly, and your parents were nowhere to be found for photos.
It bummed you out, and your friends both noticed. You called their phones relentlessly, to no avail – making Minghao and Junhui take you to lunch on their own. You still enjoyed it, but they could tell that you were not happy. Neither of them made a statement, but Minghao managed to find a last minute ticket for Junhui to attend his graduation with you and invited him to the party as well.
You and Junhui sat in the stands an hour later, holding a huge bouquet you'd ordered a few days in advance – and sat with his parents, who eagerly admitted their glee in Minghao finding friends so easily. You enjoyed the pride his parents had in their son, feeling the same love that Minghao so eagerly poured over you with no remorse. You could tell how loved he had been growing up, how every single part of him was a part of them and then some.
How Minghao was truly someone made of love, by love, for love.
You cheered loudly with his family as he crossed the stage, finding his eyes as he looked up. The maroon of his gown did wonders for his skin, and you hated the way your cheeks warmed as he winked at you. Junhui elbowed you lightly, a knowing look in his eyes that made you scoff and shove him softly.
"We've been friends since we were kids, Y/N. You don't fool me."
However, it didn't stop you from trying. To you, Minghao was just your friend – you had no intent to ever take things further than that. Much like he slowly picked up on your flaws and bad habits, you did his – his subtle flirting with regulars, the way he had no shame in giving free drinks away if he thought someone was cute. It made you overthink everything about his way of acting with you – how easy it was to distinguish that he would never have a romantic feeling towards you if this was how he acted towards patrons.
So you figured your odd little crush was sorely misplaced – and added that you hadn't spoken to Jaehyun since the first time you slept over at Minghao's apartment was cause for the strange feeling of neediness in your stomach. Minghao was worth more than a rebound, and he was far more than you would ever deserve.
You spent the rest of the day enjoying delicious food prepared by his parents and spending hours dancing with Junhui and Minghao in turns. You blushed severely when Minghao's parents asked if you were interested in Minghao, quickly refusing the idea and insisting you were his friend and nothing more. You later saw Minghao blush all the same, his mother looking over his shoulder at you and making him do the same – before you saw his plush lips form around the negative response of No, she's just my friend.
You ignored the sinking feeling and focused on the party – with Mingyu swinging by for an hour before going back out to hang with his girlfriend, Tzuyu, and his best friend, Wonwoo (and they were all coworkers of yours that you allowed yourself to grow closer to after realizing they were no threat.) You took dozens of photos with everyone, had plenty to eat and reluctantly bid goodnight to a tired Junhui that drove back to his girlfriend's apartment after checking that Minghao would take you home.
The two of you stayed for a little longer, watching all the guests leave. You walked around his parents' home and helped them clean up silently, hearing his mother praise you quietly to her son. Your refusal to acknowledge it made everything easier, grabbing an apron from the kitchen and tasking yourself with washing dishes alongside Minghao's father. He made soft conversation, and you understood where Minghao got his doting personality.
It made you think way too hard about the man you called your friend to everyone's face, including his.
At the end of the night, you cried when Minghao presented you with a graduation gift in the privacy of his car – a pair of earrings and a lease.
A lease to a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bathroom apartment he found all on his own, after more complaints about your rent being too high came about. He admitted that he'd initially started looking for places solely for you, but later came to the idea that maybe you would like some company. He fully admitted that he would have no problem if you denied his request to be your roommate, but seeing as the two of you had also planned on going to graduate school…he thought that maybe splitting costs would be easier.
"You can say no. I know it's a bit presumptuous of me to jump the gun like this. I've already signed it, but the leasing office told me it was okay if I wound up taking the place alone. I just thought I'd run it by you."
You had only blinked up at him through teary eyes, your lips pouty as you whined.
"Why are you always so nice to me, Xu Minghao? I would've never thought to do this."
"You're not me, pretty. And you're my friend, I'd go as far as even saying you're one of my best friends. I love you and I care about what stresses you out, and I'd give my left arm to make life easier for you."
Anyone else would've seen this as an admittance of romantic feelings.
Anyone else.
"Minghao, I can't accept this."
"Yes, you can. You don't have to be strong all the time. I'm here. I care. Just let me help you, okay?"
You don't know how, but just the soft lilt of his voice made you fold. You signed your name in blue ink that very same night and rode with him back to your apartment. You invited him in, the two of you tired from forced socialization and flopping on your couch. Neither of you said much as you scrolled through Hulu, your television lighting up your living room along with the few candles on your coffee table.
"You never tried your earrings on." He muttered next to you, his eyes closed as you settled on Coyote Ugly. Your lips formed an O-shape, and you nodded as you dug them out of your purse. You popped the velvety box open, the diamond studs twinkling back at you.
"Allow me." He leaned forward, plucking the box from your fingers and gingerly removing them from the backing. He watched silently as you took your signature gold hoops out, turning to face him with a tired smile on your lips. "Ready?"
"Be gentle, I'm sensitive."
He scooted slightly closer, nimble fingers softly tilting your jaw toward him. You ignored the way the hair on the back of your neck stood on end as he tucked a stray curl behind your ear, thumbing at your earlobe gently before slipping the earring through.
You heard him mumble to himself but didn't get a chance to ask questions as he carefully slid the backing on and quickly put on the other one for you. He nodded in approval, both hands brushing your face as he pushed your hair back.
"You look pretty in diamonds."
You scoffed, rolling your eyes as his hands left your face. You dug a compact mirror out of your purse, using the low light of the room to see. Long lashes fluttered in the reflection as you shifted the mirror around, your manicured fingers lightly tracing the shell of your ear as you took in the subtle sparkle of the gemstones.
"You didn't have to, you know. I didn't get you anything."
You slumped on the couch, resting the side of your head on one of the thick cushions while looking up at him. He propped his arm up on the back of the couch, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned his head on the palm of his hand.
"Having you is enough. Did I tell you that I like your dress? I don't think I told you."
Your eyes only widened before you felt your cheeks heat and cleared your throat. You glanced down at your dress, the scattered sequins across the white dress glinting in the low light. An odd feeling settled in your stomach as you ran your hands down the fabric before looking back up at him to see his eyes boring into you.
Like he could see what you were thinking.
"You're beautiful, but I don't have to tell you that. You already know." He said pointedly, and you scoffed. You look away, turning your head to face the ceiling. You follow the slow spin of the fan, before you glance back at him through the corner of your eye. He's still looking at you, but with a soft smile and a raise of his brows as if he's waiting for you to tell him what's on your mind.
"You don't, you're right. Sorry." You muttered, crossing your legs at the knee. You could feel the soreness in your calves from being on your feet all day, the straps from your shoes so tight that they'd imprinted on your skin. Minghao shifted next to you, and you could feel the heat of his gaze raking across your face.
"Y/N?"
You turned to face him, "Hm?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "Nothing."
You scowled, sitting up quickly and tucking your legs under you. "I hate when people do that, Hao. Tell me what you were going to say."
He only chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on your couch, tucking his hands under his head. "I wasn't going to say anything, sweetheart. Just…yeah."
"Xu Minghao."
"Ooh, full name. Don't hurt me, I might like it."
You gaped, smacking his arm lightly. He grabbed your wrist loosely, making you fail at biting back your laughter when his other hand tickled your ribs. "M-Minghao! I don't need to know that!"
"Don't you, though? I know that you like your hair pulled, you told me like three days ago when we were tipsy during movie night. Call it an even exchange of information." He nodded, and you only attempted to swat his hands away from digging into your ribcage as a scream of laughter escaped your throat. He grinned, pinning you against the cushion as you squirmed under him.
"N-Not fair! You're s-stronger than m–AH!" You choked on your own laughter, thrashing as he stopped, squeezing your sides gently with a mischievous smile painted on his face. The glint in his eyes made your stomach swirl slightly as he looked down at you, and it took a few moments for you to realize just how close his face was to yours. You didn't dare look at his lips, forcing your eyes to be glued to his as you swallowed quietly. He shifted back to sit down, allowing you to sit up slightly and clear your throat – when your eyes flickered to his lips.
Soft and slightly glossy from his strawberry lip balm. Lush. So pink and pretty and perfect.
"Y/N?"
"Uh huh?"
Your eyes darted back up to his, noting the soft blush on his cheeks in the low light of the television. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut – when your body took over your mind, your hand softly tilting his jaw back to look at you. Your thumb ran across his lower lip, pulling it down slightly to watch it spring back, your eyes meeting his once more as you pressed the pad of your thumb onto his lips.
Something about his gaze made you feel insane.
And feeling him kiss your thumb while looking into your eyes made you break.
You leaned forward, holding his jaw gently as you pressed your lips against his chastely. He melted in slightly, his hand ghosting over your hip for balance when realization sank into your skin and you pulled away.
"Shit. I'm…Minghao, I'm so–"
He didn't let you finish, rolling his eyes as he pulled you towards him by your wrist, kissing you with purpose. You only let out a noise of surprise as he practically manhandled you onto his lap, his hands moving to cradle your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours and making you feel like your very being was about to combust into flames. You couldn't help but tighten your legs around his, feeling him smile against your lips with a soft laugh.
Your hands fisted his shirt as he pulled away from your lips, his hand moving to the nape of your neck and tilting your head back while the other splayed across your thigh. His lips trailed down your jaw, a soft mewl escaping your throat as he nipped at your earlobe.
"Sound so pretty for me, sweetheart."
The light scrape of his teeth against your neck doesn't allow for many words to slip from your lips, only a choked whimper as you carded your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly as he littered gentle nips across the expanse of your neck and chest. His hand in your hand moved to your back, resting just above the zipper of your dress when he looked up at you through his lashes.
"Can I–"
"Yes."
His fingers carefully pulled the zipper down, the tight flutter sleeves of your dress loosening around your shoulders and falling slightly. Your hand tugged at the knot of his tie as he reconnected your lips, his hands sliding around your waist as you pulled it off and tossed it to the side. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt as his tongue slips into your mouth, his hands moving down slightly and palming your thighs before moving back from your face.
“We should stop, shouldn’t we?” He mumbled against your lips, making you shake your head as your hands fisted his shirt, your thumbs tracing the pearly buttons. Your fingers pulled at the rest of the buttons, tugging the hem of the shirt out from under his slacks as he grabbed your wrists gently.
“Want you to touch me, Hao. Please?” Your voice had a hint of something a little desperate, that same hint shown as a glint in Minghao's eyes as he breathed heavily against your lips. You kissed him chastely, feeling him groan beneath you and let go of your wrists to run his hands up your thighs, his fingertips barely breaching the hem of your dress.
“Wanna feel you. Wanna taste you…fill you up…can I, pretty girl? Will you let me?”
You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but you squeaked out an excited yes anyway. The rest is a blur – him pulling your dress over your head and tossing it to the side, running his hands up and down your body as he meshed your lips with his with a hunger that you couldn't describe. His fingers were cool against your back as he undid the clasp of your bra, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as you whined against him.
"Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop right now." He mumbled, holding your bra together as he looked up at you. Uncertainty flashed in your eyes, and he gave you a soft smile. "Y/N, it's okay. Are you okay?"
He clasps your bra back, his hands moving to tug his shirt off his shoulders and drape it over you. You're silent as you shove your arms through it, and Minghao quietly buttons it for you, before tucking your hair behind your ear gently.
"Hey. Talk to me, I'm here." He murmured, and you just tongued your cheek, running a hand through your hair.
"I'm sorry. I thought I'd be ready–"
"Don't. Do not apologize for not being ready, or changing your mind, or anything like that. Not now, not ever, and especially not to me. Okay?"
Your face burned in embarrassment, but it quickly slipped away as Minghao enveloped you in a warm embrace, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he held you close.
"You deserve to be more than some rebound, Hao. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry when there is nothing to be sorry for. We can forget all about this, you know? Just a little kiss. I'm sure lots of friends have kissed and moved on."
You weren’t sure you could move on, not when Minghao held you until early morning, his breathing soft against your neck. Not when the two of you inevitably moved into your bedroom and slid under your bed sheets together, Minghao's arms wrapped around your shoulders and suffocating you with his soft cologne that you can't get enough of.
You spent hours awake while he ran his fingers through your hair, just thinking about the way his lips felt against yours. You found yourself glancing up at him often, his face illuminated by the soft moonlight peeking through your blinds – only to see him staring at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you can feel the way his mind just empties as he glances down at you with the softest smile known to man.
"Sleepy?"
Your nod was false, but you didn't care – not when he sighed softly and pulled you into his chest with a mumbled good night.
"Goodnight, Hao."
As for moving on, Minghao wasn't sure he could, either. Not when he woke up in your bed the next morning, surrounded by your scent and your limbs and your skin stuck to his in a way that made him ache confusedly. Not when he was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas he never got back after that first time you stayed over at his apartment. Not when you were already awake, your eyes glued to the soft scar on his eyebrow before you noticed he was awake.
"Hey."
"Hey, sweetheart."
Not when he watched you cook something light for lunch for the both of you, in his shirt that you have not returned since that night at his place. Not when you smiled at him with a glint of embarrassment in your eyes, but just barely hidden by comfort, trust, love.
Not when he felt his heart start racing in his chest as he said he'd see you later before he left, swinging his keys in his hand as you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
"See you, Hao."
Yeah. Minghao doesn't think he can move on.
FOUR MONTHS AGO…
You and Minghao moved in as the summer grew hotter, the July air sticky as you bickered over whose couch was going to be shoved into the living room. Minghao lost the game of rock-paper-scissors, and his lip curled into a frown as Mingyu came with Tzuyu to haul his couch back to their apartment.
"And you haven't fucked on this, right?" Mingyu asked as he and Minghao took the cushions and tied them together, you and Tzuyu snorting over the jar of lemonade you were preparing.
You and Tzuyu had become quick friends after you graduated. She helped Mingyu and Wonwoo plan the grand idea of throwing both you and Minghao a small celebration at Seungcheol and Jeonghan's house, inviting the entire staff and other straggling friends. The couple hadn't been too happy about how trashed everyone got and how you accidentally broke one of their lamps, but they congratulated you and Minghao on your graduations and gifted you both an expensive bottle of wine.
Wine that you both shared when you got the keys to your shared apartment, tucked away in a cooler full of ice while you both tackled the deep cleaning of the new space. He took the front, and you took the bedrooms and bathrooms. You both emerged sweaty and sticky, grimacing at each other as you settled into Minghao's car on the way to buy paint for the bedrooms and wallpaper.
Neither of you have spoken about that night on your couch.
Not that you had to – nothing more came of it. The two of you continued to work together in harmony, you hung out regularly, you flirted with customers – and you ignored the churn of subtle jealousy in your stomach when a customer got any sort of extra attention from him.
You ignored the skip in your heartbeat when his fingers grazed yours in handing you a drink, you ignored the way your stomach flipped during the many times he offered to tie your hair up when it got in the way. You especially ignored the whispers of your coworkers, ones that had only heightened since the party at your Seungcheol and Jeonghan's house – where Minghao was constantly checking in on you, bringing you drinks and adjusting your dress or hair.
So much so that when the party was over and it was just Seungcheol, Jeonghan, you and Minghao – Jeonghan asked. He asked if the two of you were a thing, and Minghao promptly peered over his highball at you. You just shrugged, the words stuck in your throat as Seungcheol shared a glance with Jeonghan.
They then did the diabolical, classic meddling-manager thing: they scheduled ALL of your shifts together.
It then seemed like the entire universe was forcing the proximity – because your car finally kicked the bucket. It would not turn on, not even after you begged Chan at the mechanic shop to give it a good knock on the hood. Because of this, you were now rendered carless – not that it mattered, because your new roommate had a car. Your new roommate, that was also your friend, coworker, and suspected partner by the married couple that owned the restaurant the two of you worked at.
Minghao drove the two of you to work every day, his car once parked in front of your old apartment now sitting pretty in front of your shared one. It was domestic, how he slid in front of your apartment and still got out and knocked on your door to let you know he'd arrived – instead of just the regular I'm here text or, your least favorite, the honk. He opened your door, he let you choose the music, he rolled the windows down because you loved the free feeling of the breeze in your hair before you were ultimately forced to go into work-mode in order to withstand the berating of customers and the soreness in your feet.
Upon moving into the apartment, the two of you furnished it by splitting your belongings. Your walnut bookcases, his mahogany dining table. His Persian rugs, his television, his plants, his plates and cups. Your wall decorations, your handmade vases, your choice of wallpaper in the bathroom, your silverware.
His pots. Your pans. His blankets on the couch. Your couch.
"No, Mingyu. I have not had sex on this couch." Minghao scoffed, before peering over his shoulder at you and Tzuyu with a look on his face that reads: Can you believe this guy?
You only shrug, biting back a smile as you slip ice cubes into the pitcher, facing Tzuyu. She's already looking at you, and she waits until you tilt your head in curiosity before she whispers.
"How long have you two been a thing?"
You almost choked on your spit. Her eyes were wide as she patted your back, giving a thumbs up to the worried men looking over their shoulders, pausing their unscrewing of the legs off the couch.
"What? Minghao and I are not a thing, Tzu."
"Could've fooled me. I've known Minghao for years, and he's never even introduced us to a girlfriend of his. He's so private that way." She murmured, adding a few sprigs of mint into the glass pitcher.
You glanced over at Minghao, who was listening to Mingyu talk about how Wonwoo got into a scuffle with Seungcheol over the missed truck order at work – when he shivered, his gaze flicking up to you. He gave you a quizzical look, before turning back to Mingyu and acting as if he was paying attention.
"I don't think Hao and I will ever be anything more than good friends. And, well, roommates now. This is genuinely one of the more refreshing friendships I've ever been in. There's zero expectations to be perfect or act like I care about the smalltalk that usually precedes friendships." You shrugged, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the lemonade.
You weren't lying, per say. You definitely did not think things would advance between you and Minghao – he was far too…well he was…you know. Ugh!
Minghao was literally fucking perfect. That was the issue. He was perfect, from the careful styling of his hair to the way you'd walk into his bedroom to see him slathering lotion on his arms after a warm shower. And he wasn't just perfect physically, he would not have that mercy upon you – he was perfect on the INSIDE, too.
You'd only been living together for a few weeks at this point – but he'd kept the space clean, far cleaner than you had gotten yourself used to. Your bedroom was already a mess, clothes strewn everywhere, and you'd tripped over an unpacked box several times before kicking it to the side.
But Minghao's? Pristine. Everything in its designated spot, his vanity clear of debris and a special spot for his skincare items. He kept a pitcher of water on his nightstand at most, the cup always half filled. His bed was always made neatly, his clothes tucked into his dresser and closet with the utmost care. At most, he'd have his closet door open or have a random jacket thrown over his desk chair – but he was your stark opposite.
"I don't know about that one, Y/N. I think this could be something good, but what do I know?" Tzuyu shrugged, grabbing the tray of glasses and tilting her head for you to grab the pitcher. You wanted to ask her what she meant, what she knew, but you didn't get a chance as Mingyu and Minghao carried the corpse of his stripped couch outside. You held the doorway open more, giving Minghao a quick nod as he wormed past you.
You tried not to look at the flexing of his shoulders beneath the black tank top he donned, squeezing your eyes shut and looking away when you heard Tzuyu snort. You peeled an eye open to see her smirking at you, shaking her head as she set the glasses down on your coffee table. You scowled, setting the pitcher down on the doily and laying on the floor next to the table, grabbing the remote for the television.
The coffee table was the only thing you and Minghao couldn't agree on, and decided to buy it at a thrift store. The one hint of togetherness thus far – as if the mixed aesthetics and belongings weren't enough. It made you laugh a bit, because you knew if and when you moved out, what would be taken with you.
It's like the coffee table is the dog that a couple gets before they split up. Who gets it?
"Y/N, can I see you in the kitchen?"
Minghao's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you gave Tzuyu a pained look as you slipped the remote in her hand. Minghao had slipped into the kitchen already as you stood, quickly trekking the living room and sliding in on your socks. He grabbed his keys off the counter, having left them there earlier when he arrived with groceries, before Tzuyu and Mingyu came over for his couch.
"I'm going to help Mingyu get the couch set up at his place, we should be back before dinner. Do you want to order something in and we can pick it up on the way back? My treat." Minghao spoke with his back turned to you as he rummaged through the fruit bowl, before you heard the unmistakable crunch of an apple being bitten into. He looked over his shoulder, and you saw him holding said apple between his teeth, a jump of his brows prompting you to speak.
"You'll be a while though, won't you?"
"I'd never make you wait, Y/N. So? Think about what you want, and text me."
He shrugged, ruffling your hair as you swatted his hand away, grabbing his wrist.
"Aren't they staying for dinner? Shouldn't this be a group decision?"
He only used your leverage on his wrist to pull you closer, leaning against the counter and wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes widened at the sudden proximity, and you felt your cheeks heat as he peered down at you through his lashes. He smiled at you, eyes searching your face before he clicked his tongue.
"Just tell me what you want, honey. I'll get it done."
He pressed a kiss to your hairline, smoothing your hair down before slipping out of the kitchen. You heard his gentle goodbye to Tzuyu, who hummed in response before the click of the door made his departure evident. Peeking out of the kitchen, you saw Tzuyu smirking to herself, shaking her head as she took a sip of her lemonade.
"C'mon, Y/N. You know you wanna tell me."
Her voice was sing-song, and you groaned inwardly as you walked out of the kitchen and flopped over the back of the couch. You flipped onto the cushions, landing on your back with a grunt from your lips as you draped your arm over your eyes.
"Tzu, nothing is happening between him and I. He is genuinely just my friend. Roommate. Coworker."
She didn't buy it. You could tell by the quirk in her brows and the pointed look in her eyes. She tapped the coffee table with the edge of her glass, swirling the ice before speaking.
"And soon he'll be your boyfriend, fiancé, husband. I have a hunch about these things, Y/N. I know love when I see it."
You only rolled your eyes, snatching the remote back off the coffee table. "Yeah, sure. What do you want to watch? And what do you want for dinner? Hao said they'd bring something back."
Tzuyu didn’t push it as the two of you ended up settling on a random episode of Gilmore Girls. You mumbled at each other as you began to pass your phone between the two of you, looking at local restaurants when you heard a ding – a ding specifically applied to Minghao's contact.
"Nothing happening, huh?" Tzuyu wiggled your phone between her fingers, a notification from Minghao up top.
Msg From: Xu Minghao
[5:43PM] sweetheart, did you figure out what you want for dinner?
[5:43PM] we're almost done over here
You scowled, snatching your phone back as she giggled.
"Sweetheart? I don't call my friends that." She teased, and you sighed.
"Tzu, can we please drop it?" Your voice is unrecognizable to yourself, ridden with an oddly placed insecurity and Tzuyu's eyes widen slightly before she clears her throat. She nods, tapping the edge of her glass against the table again and looking down at your phone.
Msg From: Xu Minghao
[5:45PM] quickly, please.
[5:45PM] y/n i can see you reading these!
"I'll drop it for now, but please think about my words. I know it may be hard to believe, but I do think there is more to this than meets the eye. And…I support you, on whatever route you end up taking, in whatever way you end or begin this relationship."
You couldn't lie to yourself, her words stuck with you for the rest of the evening. They rang in your head when the pair of men arrived with stacked plates of takeout, and they rang in your head as Minghao served your plate and forbade you from getting up for anything. They rang in your head as you and Mingyu washed the dishes, noting how Mingyu only referred to you by your name in your hushed conversation about you inviting them to stay for a movie.
Not like Minghao, who had even greeted you with a pet name.
They rang in your head as Tzuyu and Mingyu cuddled in the corner seat of your couch during the movie, your chest slightly pained as you noticed the cushion-sized distance between your thigh and Minghao's. They rang in your head every time you noticed Mingyu's lips on his girlfriend's hairline, on her cheek, on her lips…
They rang in your head as you thought back to the night of your graduation, how Minghao's lips kissed you just as gently, but in a way that made you think about it every waking moment of every day. In a way that made you glance at him from across the restaurant when Jeonghan was trying to get your attention to finish your tip-out; in a way that made you remain silent during the rides to and from work by his side.
In a way that made you touch yourself at night, thinking about him, about his hands on your body. So warm, so confident, so caring.
So loving.
"Good night, you two. Drive safe." You stood with your hands in your pockets, your shorts allowing the cool evening breeze to graze your legs. Tzuyu gave you a warm hug as Mingyu opened the door of his old pickup, her lips barely touching the shell of your ear as she whispered.
"Think about it."
They drove off within the next five minutes, with you and Minghao standing next to each other in front of your apartment door, waving them off. You glanced up at him, a faint heat coating your cheeks as his hand ghosted over the small of your back, hearing the jingle of his keys being hooked onto your belt loop. You jolted at the weight, swatting him away as he snickered.
"Want to take a walk? The weather feels great."
You hated the way you agreed so quickly, tugging slightly at the neck of your t-shirt, too tight around your throat as your arms brushed. He stood on the side closest to the street, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants as he hummed.
"I got a letter back from the graduate program I applied to. I was waitlisted, so I think I'm going to withdraw and reapply next year. Gives me a chance to save some money, take out less loans." He grimaced, looking up at the darkened sky. You frowned, crossing your arms across your chest.
"I didn't get into mine, if it makes you feel better. I think I'm going to be taking a gap year, so much for being a therapist and letting my parents down yet again. Did I tell you that they told me I wouldn't even be a real doctor? Unbelievable." You sneered, and he shook his head.
"No, that doesn't make me feel better. You deserved to get in. I read your application essay, remember? You're brilliant. I could never imagine being on a board of admissions and not allowing someone with such a passion into my program." He scoffed, and you only snorted.
"Passion, huh? Shit load of good it does me." You shook your head, kicking a bit of gravel as you made it to the corner of your block. You sucked your teeth as Minghao's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his side slightly.
"You'll have to admit that you're a good person with goals and dreams like everyone else at some point, you know? You've got a big heart, and you want to help the world. It takes a passionate person, a dedicated person, to work in therapy. Do you know how hard it is to sit and listen to people's problems all day and not bring them home with you?"
"Bartenders are the therapists of the food and beverage industry, aren't they?" You teased, snickering as he lightly smacked his fingers against your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry."
"But you're right, in a way. I do commend you, though, an incredible amount. And your parents…they don't realize what kind of person their daughter is. You're bright. You're kind. You're beautiful in ways I can't even begin to describe, and that doesn't even begin to cover your looks. So let's just…not think about their opinions. You're independent and strong, and I'm always rooting for you."
His voice was soothing as he traced circles into your skin, the moonlight illuminating your path as you walked in lockstep with him. You sighed, "So what happens now? We just work our butts off at the restaurant and save our pennies?"
"What better to do? We can even set up a little fund to take the odd weekend trip, if you'd like. Roommates do that, right?" He sounded quizzical, and you glanced up to see him already looking at you. Those eyes…
"Well, friends do that, don't they? We're friends before we're roommates." You tried, and he let out a scuff of a laugh, nodding.
"Yeah, sweetheart. Friends."
You didn't understand why it pained you to hear him confirm what you already knew, but the stupid pet name sprinkled in definitely made the pang in your chest deeper than you'd expected. His hand was on your shoulder, ringed fingers now dangling over the edge and your eyes glued to the ground. You kicked gravel and dirt as the two of you walked, your tennis shoes scuffed from weeks of moving and roughhousing with furniture.
You were almost in front of your apartment when Minghao made a noise of eureka, his fingers squeezing your shoulder lightly as he spoke.
"Oh, I forgot to mention this earlier, but Jeonghan is asking me to take a few doubles these coming weeks because Seungkwan is going on vacation. They know that we carpool, so I should be able to swing by and bring you to work anyway, but I figured I'd let you know I'll be out of the house for most of the morning."
You groaned, running your hand through your hair as you nodded.
"Yeah, Cheol talked to me about taking a bunch of morning shifts because Hansol is also going on vacation. I'm not bothered but…" You gave Minghao a wiggle of your brows, making him snort.
"You think they're going together? Romantic getaway…" He swayed you gently, and you snickered to yourself.
"Kiss, kiss, fall in love…sharing appetizers…" You chided as the two of you reached your door. Minghao unhooked his keys from your belt loop, unlocking the door as he shook his head.
"They do that eye-flirting thing, you know? Lots of shared looks, soft whispers and stuff. It's cute, they're a cute pair." He nodded, pushing the door open and allowing you in before he stepped in behind you. You hummed in response, beelining for the empty bags of movie snacks on the coffee table, crumpling them in your hands as you moved around. Minghao joined you, folding the blankets that had been thrown over Mingyu and Tzuyu's laps as well as your shoulders.
Neither of you spoke as you cleaned up the living room, the ending credits of the movie still playing as you stretched your arms over your head, holding the trash in your fists as you walked to the kitchen. You could hear Minghao continue to rustle around, the television turning off and the soft creak of the floorboards grabbing your attention as he skirted into the kitchen.
"I'm going to be up early tomorrow, so I'm going to shower first. Is that okay with you?" He moved you away from the trash can, letting you lean on the counter as he took the lid off and grabbed the drawstrings of the bag. You nodded before realizing he couldn't see you and cleared your throat.
"Yeah, sure. That's fine; I have to fix up my bed and stuff in my bedroom. Take your time." You shrugged, watching the muscles in his arms flex as he pulled the trash bag out, tying the plastic drawstrings into a knot before fishing another one out of the box on top of the fridge.
"Are you settling in well? I haven't checked in about it. I know it's quite the drastic change to go from living alone to someone in your space all the time." He sounded sympathetic, but you only shrugged again.
"It's like freshman year of college again. Except this time, I actually like my roommate because you're not kicking me out at odd hours of the night to bang your boyfriend." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. He nodded, biting back a smile when you elbowed him lightly, making him snort.
"I'd never do that. No need to worry about it, pretty." He placed the lid back on the trash can, lifting up the bag and skirting around you. "I'll be back in a second."
Said second turned into ten minutes. Ten full minutes where you rubbed your face in an attempt to bring back a touch of reality, something that would take the attention your mind loved to devote to pet names and affections from your roommate, your friend, your coworker, away.
They say your living space is a reflection of your state of mind. As you wormed your way through stacks of unpacked boxes, clothes strewn on the floor, old textbooks gathering dust in the corners of your room – you kind of agreed.. You grimaced, opting to kick everything out of the way and grabbing a box cutter off your desk and slicing through one of the boxes stacked by your closet. You reached to your desk, flicking the lamp on to see the contents of the heavily packed box.
It opened to photo albums and framed pictures, and you closed your eyes as your hands touched the familiar red leather of your family album. Photos gathered in the tens of you and your parents – at your favorite park in your hometown, at dozens of restaurants where you celebrated birthdays, your parents' anniversary…
A celebration of a perfect report card, time and time again before the 180 spin came, and your parents realized you were leaving your hometown for something bigger. A huge, fancy school in the middle of a metropolitan city, studying Psychology when your mother had pushed for Law or Accounting. Acting like you'd betrayed her trust – and as Mother says, Father does. He too, pushed you aside and acted like you'd scorned him.
Neither of your parents were lawyers or accountants. They were both high school mathematics teachers, your father in statistics and your mother in economics. Neither of them had a passion for law or accounting – and they both knew of your interest in the medical field, in psychology and the brain.
You found it odd that the success that follows the title of 'Doctor' was not enough for them. That, paired with the rejection letter from your Masters' program, you felt like there wasn't any lower you could get.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Minghao's voice was soft, but it still made you jolt and drop the album. You held a hand to your chest, before shaking your head.
"Nah. I'm good. Sorry, uh, about the mess." You gestured to the room, and he only shook his head, his fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked around a bit. He leaned on your doorway, the hallway light only making your eyes trial his gentle frame.
"Your space, sweetheart. You do what you want with it. I'm going to shower now. Anything you need before I start turning in?"
You shook your head, tapping the leatherbound photo album before smiling pitifully.
"I'm good. Good night, Hao."
You expected him to slink away, focusing your thoughts back on the album. You flipped through it, thumbing at photos of you in frilly dresses and Halloween costumes your mother would stitch by hand.
"You can talk to me. You know that, right?"
Minghao's voice was right next to your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His hand was wrapped around the edge of your desk to keep himself steady, and your face was a bit too close to his as you turned to face him. He was illuminated slightly by the yellow light of your desk lamp, his eyes scanning your features.
"I know. I just…I know." You pursed your lips, casting your eyes back to the album in your hands. "I'll let you know if I ever need to…I don't know. Let off steam, I guess."
Your laugh was soft and pathetic, and he hummed, before you felt his hand tuck a stray curl behind your ear. You glanced up at him, only to see him looking at you fondly.
"Let off steam, huh?"
"Shut up."
"As you wish. Good night." He grinned, pushing off your desk and making his way out of your bedroom.
You spent the next few hours listening to Minghao tinker around in the bathroom before the sounds move to his bedroom, your focus on unpacking the albums onto the bookcase tucked into the corner of your room. You picked clothing up off the floor, tossing the articles into the hamper and you forced yourself to organize your every thought when you heard it. You heard the soft sigh through the wall, and the groan from his throat as his back hit the mattress.
You screwed your eyes shut and grabbed your headphones from the nightstand, plugging them into your phone as quickly as you could before you could hear anything else. You took a deep breath, out through your mouth as the beginning notes of Runnin' by The Pharcyde filled your ears.
So much for good night.
TWO MONTHS AGO…
"I'm so fucking tired, I could keel over right now."
Your forehead rested on the back of your hand, which held the ratty broom you used to beat Seungcheol out of a chair only moments earlier. Said man was now sulking behind the bar with Minghao, being comforted by the bartender with a fruity cocktail.
"Don't sulk, she's just doing her job." Minghao patted him on the back as the older man frowned, wrapping his pouty lips around the swirly straw stuck in the mango daiquiri. You glanced over your shoulder at Jeonghan, who was only shaking his head as he clicked away on the calculator with your tips surrounding him in neat piles.
"Honey, unless you want to sweep for Y/N–" Jeonghan started, flipping a pen through his fingers as Seungcheol shook his head, taking his drink off the bar and making his way across the restaurant.
"Nope! I'll be in the office."
You snickered to yourself as you saw Jeonghan watch him walk away, eyes low and full of nothing but love. He rolled his eyes, drawing his attention back to the money on the table as Tzuyu slid into a barstool with her cheek in her hand. Minghao leaned over, waving his fingers in her face.
"Why so glum, Tzu?"
He stopped wiping the counter down to listen to her as you skirted your way over to Jeonghan, pulling the chair beside him out and slumping down into it. Jeonghan doesn't look up from the calculator, his fingers gingerly thumbing through the dollar bills when you make a noise of curiosity.
"Yes, Y/N? How can I help you?"
"How long have you and Mr. Choi been together?" You asked gently, watching Jeonghan bite back a smirk. He shakes his head, tilting it to the side before meeting your eyes.
"You don't have to call him Mr. Choi, Y/N. You can just call him Cheol."
"Fine. How long have you been with Cheol, Mr. Yoon?" You smiled cheekily, earning a scoff as Jeonghan flicked your forehead softly. "Jeonghan, answer the question!"
"We dated for three years before we got engaged. Then we were engaged for two years before we got married, and we got married two years ago. Seven years together and counting, unless you also involve how long he made me court him." Jeonghan's blush doesn't go unnoticed as he runs a hand through his hair, and you cooed.
"How did you guys meet?"
Jeonghan snorts, tonguing his cheek before sighing and thumbing through another stack of bills.
"Any particular reason as to why you've got so many queries tonight, Y/N? You've been working here for almost a year and you've never cared before." His brow is quirked as you hear the heavy office door open across the restaurant, a flushed Seungcheol ducking into the kitchen with his empty cup. Jeonghan sends him a wink, making the older man shake his head in disbelief.
"I just think you guys are cute. You don't see many couples around here, the dating pool has gotten so icky." You scoffed, twirling the broom handle in your hand as Jeonghan hums in agreement.
"I've known Seungcheol since we were kids. We drifted after middle school because I wound up moving across the city, and we lost contact. We met up again here, in this restaurant, right before we were set to graduate college. Funny, really." Jeonghan smiled inwardly, watching as you leaned in slightly.
"You guys worked here together?"
"Yup. He was a bartender, I was a waiter." Jeonghan gave you a pointed look, before his eyes flickered to Minghao. The man was talking to frowning Tzuyu, his brows furrowed as he whispered what you assume to be his opinion on her dilemmas. "Cheol was actually really shy, believe it or not. He's not the big Rottweiler type, despite his physique. More like…a feisty barn cat."
"So…you chased him? For how long?" You watched as Mingyu and Seungcheol walked out of the kitchen with their arms crossed, seemingly discussing something serious. Seungcheol's jaw was tight, and Mingyu's shoulders were full of stress as he draped his apron over one of them. Seungcheol glanced over at Jeonghan, a sympathetic look in his eye as he tilted his head in the direction of the office.
"For all three years that we worked here. And I continue to do it, he likes it." Jeonghan nodded, gathering your tips for you and snapping them together in a blue rubber band. He held them out to you, gathering his belongings in his other hand as you took it. "Of course, not every couple that gets together here, stays together. These walls have seen many of my fights with Cheol, and vice versa. There's no limit. Exhibit A."
Jeonghan gestured to Tzuyu, who was angrily typing on her phone while Mingyu held back tears as he muttered back and forth with Seungcheol. Sighing, Jeonghan ruffled your hair before skirting away and meeting Seungcheol and Mingyu in the office. You stood, leaning your weight on the broom before feeling eyes on you.
Minghao was staring right at you, before his eyes flickered to Tzuyu. You grimaced, stuffing your tips in your back pocket before sliding up to the bar.
"So…what's got you so upset?"
"Mingyu."
As it turns out, maybe the restaurant owner knew far more than he let on.
Mingyu and Tzuyu had gotten into an argument while she helped him with dishes – about work. The two of them were stressed, knowing that they usually made rent with their hefty amount of hours at the restaurant – however, it left little time in the week for each other. Mingyu being the best cook of the three that worked at the restaurant made things even harder, seeing as he was constantly being called in if Seungcheol or Jeonghan weren't able to fill in.
It left Tzuyu feeling pushed aside, but Mingyu could argue the same. The last three hostesses that had been hired had to be let go due to their attendance inconsistencies, leaving Tzuyu to rush to work at the last minute. It created a small rift in their relationship, and Tzuyu finally gave the ultimatum: work or her. Mingyu hadn't replied.
No choice is a choice, a silent one.
And usually, the wrong one.
"I'm sorry." You murmured, smoothing her long hair with your hand as she slumped against the bar.
"Why? If anything, I feel like we should be able to work through this. We should be able to find time for each other even with our busy schedules. You and Minghao can do it, why can't we?" She groaned, resting her forehead against the cold bar. You sighed, running your fingers through her hair when the office door opened again – Mingyu was sitting at the desk and frustratedly wiping his face as Jeonghan called for Tzuyu softly.
"Go. We'll wait here." Minghao assured her, crossing his arms on the bar as you nodded in agreement. She took a deep breath, trekking the restaurant quickly and ducking into the office as Jeonghan shut the door.
"What does she mean, you and I can do it?" You questioned, reaching into your back pocket and separating the bundle of bills that would go into Minghao's wallet. He shrugged and smiled softly, wiggling his fingers as you held the wad of cash out to him.
"It means we work well together. Don't you think we make a good pair?" Minghao raised his eyebrows at you, making you roll your eyes as you continued to sweep aimlessly around the bar.
"I guess so. Hey, your birthday is coming up soon, right?" You crouched to get the swept trash onto the handheld dustpan, watching as Minghao shrugged again and turned to the cooler. He opened it, taking out your can of orange juice before speaking again.
"Hardly. It's barely September, my birthday isn't for another two months." He shook his head, and you scoffed as you made your way to the trash can. You dump the contents of the dustpan before glancing up at him with a suspicious look in your eye.
"Don't tell me you're one of those people that works on their birthdays, are you?"
The way he tongues his cheek is enough of an answer for you, making you shake your head as you replace the broom and dustpan behind the bar. You skirt around him to the sink, washing your hands as you click your tongue. "That's not happening this year. We have to celebrate."
"Like hell it's not. I make the most tips on my birthday, Y/N." He grabbed his jacket from the hook behind him, shrugging it over his shoulders as you dried your hands. "Plus, Jeonghan knows I won't take no for an answer when it comes to working on my birthday. I'll be here from five to closing."
You rolled your eyes again, before feeling his arm snake around your waist. It'd been almost a year of this – soft, casual touching, hushed praises, kisses to the forehead…
It was all so intimate. Nothing he did felt like friendship anymore, but you weren't complaining.
"Why do you care so much, anyway? You want to celebrate with me?"
"Obviously, jackass. You're my best friend." You swatted him away, only to be pulled closer into his chest. You groaned, your hands splayed across his chest as he smiled down at you.
"What an upgrade, should I be honored?"
You scoffed, pushing him a bit but he didn't budge.
For a second, you think he glances at your lips.
"Tell you what, pretty. I'll work my shift, and we can celebrate after. Just you and me." His hand squeezed your side gently, his eyes expectant of something – but you know you could say nothing and he'd still understand. He once told you that he thinks humans misunderstand almost everything…
And sometimes it is better to observe, and listen – than speak.
"Get away from me before I twist your nipple off." You spoke through gritted teeth, only making him get slightly closer to your face. His lips nearly brushed your nose, and you narrowed your eyes as you pushed his jacket out of the way. He jerked away, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning a shocked look as you grinned.
"I cannot believe you'd hurt me! Wow, some best friend you are!"
"Are you always this dramatic?" You teased, sticking your tongue out at him as you skirted back out from behind the bar. He turned his nose up at you, waving you off with his hand. Your eyes darted to the maroon gel manicure you'd given him earlier that day, and you bite back your grin before taking your can of orange juice off the bar.
"Let's go, yeah? I'm tired." You pouted, shaking the can gently before tilting your head towards the front door. He huffed, tightening his jacket around his body as he sauntered out from behind the bar – nearly tripping when the sound of the office door being slammed against the brick of the walls startled you.
Tzuyu stormed out, her red coat held in her hand as she ducked her head down. Presumably to hide a face full of tears, covered by the swing of her caramel hair.
You looked back at Minghao, his eyes worried as he watched her slip out the front door. Mingyu appeared as the door nearly shut, with Jeonghan and Seungcheol holding guilt in their eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mingyu. If we had known–"
"You couldn't have. It's fine. I'll figure it out."
Mingyu looked defeated, and you elbowed Minghao lightly as he sidled up next to you.
"Drive Tzuyu home." You muttered, tucking your orange juice in your shirt pocket as Minghao swung his keys.
"Divide and conquer, huh? I'll see you at home, pretty." Minghao ruffled your hair, before quickly pressing a light kiss to your hairline. "Be safe, okay?"
He was gone before you could say anything.
You sighed to yourself, seeing the three men in the office watching Minghao slink out without you. Jeonghan looked around Mingyu's frame, his brow raised as you winked, cracking open your orange juice and walking towards them.
"Gentlemen. It appears my chauffeur has taken his leave without letting me know." You shrugged, and Mingyu sighed as you held your hand out. The friendship between the two of you had grown exponentially during the last few months, and you found yourself gossiping with him in the kitchen if Minghao was busy or Tzuyu wasn't at her podium.
He handed his keys over without a word, Seungcheol's eyes full of guilt as he patted the younger man's shoulder. "We'll see you next week, Gyu."
You didn't bother with goodbyes, the married couple giving you curt nods as they followed behind you. Minghao's car was no longer in the parking lot, and you beelined for Mingyu's without a second thought. Seungcheol locked the front door of the restaurant, and you felt Jeonghan's eyes on your back as you climbed into the lifted pickup truck.
Mingyu was silent as you fiddled with his radio, cranking the ignition before sucking in a breath.
"You wanna–"
"How do you and Minghao do it?"
You blinked, absently turning out of the parking lot and pulling off into the main road.
"How do we…do what?"
Mingyu was frustrated, tossing his baseball cap onto the dash with a huff. He slumped in the passenger seat, crossing his arms over his chest before peering up at you through teary eyes.
"Work together and go home together without bringing any of the work problems with you. It's like we're constantly being pushed and pulled. If I'm not being called in, she is. I'm not saying it's a bad business decision by Jeonghan or Seungcheol, but she gets tired, too. I know she's great at her job, but she won't be here forever. Her potential is far greater than just greeting people who don't even deserve to be graced with her presence."
You hummed, fiddling with the turn signal.
"I wish I could help, Mingyu! However, Minghao and I–"
"Oh, come on. You're going to tell me you're just friends? That you haven't, even for a moment in time, though what it would be like to be together? You're saying that neither of you have ever gotten just entirely too close and almost kissed?"
You felt your face grow hot as Mingyu sat up in his seat, leaning slightly over the center console as you slowed to a halt at a red light. You made the mistake of glancing over, seeing an expectant gaze on your friend's face. He watched intently as you rubbed your face in frustration, running your hands through your hair as you scoffed.
"Okay, fine. Minghao and I…there is truly nothing there, I can promise you that." You began, clearing your throat as you stared out the windshield to the fiery red light. Mingyu tilted his head, sort of like a puppy, as you squeezed your eyes shut momentarily. "Sometimes, I think we could be more. I don't like him, and he doesn't like me…but he certainly goes above and beyond for our friendship. I can say that for all of his friendships, though, because Minghao is just that kind of guy, you know? Kind, observant, sweet."
"It confuses you."
"This is supposed to be a therapy session for you, not me."
Mingyu snorted, shaking his head. "Okay, fine. How do you and Minghao not fight?"
"Because we're not together. We're friends, and we're roommates. We don't have that expectation of having to spend time together, because sometimes just brushing past one another when we're at work is enough. Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to pee but having to wait because he's in the restroom is enough. Sometimes walking to the laundromat together is enough." You shrugged, before sighing.
"When Hansol and Seungkwan were on vacation and we were pulling all those double shifts, he showed me that I could depend on him. He'd make breakfast before he left for work, and then come to pick me up for my shift. We did that for two weeks, and by the end of it, we were both exhausted. He never made me feel like I owed him anything, much less my time."
You turned to face him, "You and Tzuyu have been together for three years. If you keep having the same fight, over the same thing. If the issue is that you don't spend enough time together, I think you should tackle that. Take a vacation, the restaurant won't burn down without you. Save your relationship."
Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair before slumping once more. "I miss spending time with her. You know the last time we actually spent time together as a couple was when we went to pick up Minghao's couch? I don't think we've been able to even have a date night since."
You gaped, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. "Mingyu!"
"I know, I know. God, and we were supposed to have a date night tomorrow, too, but Wonwoo is sick and Jihoon already asked for the night off." He rubbed his face in frustration, and the words slipped from your lips as you pulled into your apartment complex.
"Call out. Minghao and I have the day off tomorrow, we can fill in." You blurted, and Mingyu scoffed.
"Y/N, I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You're not, I'm offering."
You didn't let him continue to speak, instead turning his engine off and sliding out of his truck. Minghao and Tzuyu were sitting on your front steps, his jacket draped over her shoulders as she wiped her eyes. You felt the heat of Mingyu's body behind you, and Tzuyu didn't look up as you cleared your throat. Minghao glanced at you, his eyes heavy with expectation as you twitched your head in the direction of the apartment.
"I lost my key."
You snorted, digging yours out of your pocket and shoving them into his hand. "Come in, we'll have a nightcap. Then you guys can go home and have a good night together, yeah?"
Minghao seemed to understand as he opened the door and let the couple in. Tzuyu sat on the far end of your couch, and Mingyu didn't even bother sitting down – he beelined straight for your kitchen. You grabbed Minghao's arm lightly, pulling at his sleeve carefully and tilting your head towards his room. He nods, following behind you as you skirt into the pristine bedroom.
"I may have…fucked up." You start, making Minghao shake his head with a gentle smile.
"Nah. I'm sure you said the same things I did. Spend time together, stop working so much, you and I are not together." He rolled his eyes as he tugged his jacket off, draping it over the back of his desk chair. His eyes scan your face, before his smile drops and his brows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong, honey?"
"I did…say all of that…" You grimaced, rubbing your neck sheepishly. "But I also…may have volunteered you and I to take their shifts tomorrow."
"Y/N." He groaned, and you winced slightly, your hands coming to hold his. He allowed it, his eyes boring into yours as you tried to apologize.
"I know it was our only day off this week, Hao. I'm sorry, but I–"
"You could've asked me first."
He didn't sound mad, but disappointed. You felt like you were going to get scolded by your father. You shrank back a bit, and you could feel guilt spreading in your body as he sighed. You grimaced at the sting of tears filling your eyes, but bit them back.
"Are we doing rock-paper-scissors to see who takes what? Did you even call Jeonghan?" He moved his hands from yours, running one through his hair before crossing his arms. You shook your head in silence, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before nodding. He held his hand out, yet another despondent sigh slipping from his lips. "Loser takes Mingyu's shift. Best out of three."
"Minghao, I can just find someone else to do it. I'm sorry."
"Best. Out. Of. Three."
You tongued your cheek, losing quickly to the tall man in front of you. Scissors, scissors, paper to his rock, rock, scissors.
"You're driving tomorrow." He muttered, rubbing his face with his hands before you nodded, looking anywhere but him and moving to slip out of his bedroom. He shook his head, standing in front of the door. "I'm not upset."
"Okay."
"Y/N."
"What?"
His hands reach for your shoulders, and you kept your eyes casted elsewhere. His fingers are warm as they tilt your chin to look up at him, forcing you to try and blink back the tears when he rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheek.
"I'm sorry for snapping. It wasn't my intention but I can tell I've hurt your feelings, and I never want to hurt your feelings." His voice was soft, and you felt your throat tighten slightly. You weren't too sure why you were even crying, maybe it was reminiscent of being scolded for trying to do the right thing.
"I'm sorry, honey." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his chest. He smells like pink pepper and the essence of pomegranates, mixed with a hint of the maple butter rum one of the regulars likes to knock back. It's oddly comforting. "Forgive me."
"It's fine. I should've asked."
"Yes, you should have. However, that's not the point here."
Minghao pulled back slightly, pointing his finger in your face. You huffed, but he raised his brows at you – as if to say, listen. Be quiet.
"You need to call Jeonghan and let him know. If we're going to work tomorrow, I need to spend time with you tonight."
You must've looked taken aback, because he only smiled. He pinched your cheek lightly, before humming and opening his door. "Go on, call him. We'll be in the living room."
Either you'd been too out of it to fully process, or Jeonghan had truly had you on the phone explaining all your qualifications to run a kitchen as a head chef. You didn't have many, just the few nights you flipped burgers at a diner back in high school – but it seemed enough to settle Jeonghan. He let you know there was going to be a trainee chef with you named Joshua, as well as the kitchen manager named Seokmin.
Jeonghan also let you know that Tzuyu's shift started earlier than Mingyu's, so someone would have to go get you. He volunteered Seungcheol, and you could hear the man begin to protest in the background but he hung up before anything could be truly said.
You ducked out of Minghao's room to see him folding blankets in the living room, soft music playing on the television as he glanced up. He smiled, and you noticed the two cups on the coffee table. One tainted with lipstick from Tzuyu, and what seemed to be one filled with water? Soju? Rum? Something.
"Tzuyu is driving. She had some of your juice, I hope that's alright." He nodded, and you waved it off. You turned to the television, No One Noticed by The Marías playing softly as he hummed along. "Did Jeonghan say it was okay? I was trained to be a host and a waiter before I was a bartender, but you just jumped into waitressing, right?"
"I had a part-time gig in high school at a diner. I have some, but not a lot." You shrugged, and he made an o-shape with his lips as he smoothed the folded blanket over the back of the couch. You nodded, before checking your watch. "It's only fifteen to eleven, do you wanna sit with me? Decompress a bit before we go to bed?"
"Your version of decompressing is watching Bob's Burgers and sipping a beer."
"We can sip something else, if that's the case."
He rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as he nodded. "I have to change."
You both ended up returning to your respective rooms, and you hastily wiped your makeup off. Pajama shorts, your favorite baggy t-shirt that boasted of Bigfoot's existence…not the first thing you would wear to hang out but it's Minghao. You stared at yourself in the vanity mirror on your dresser, but heard your roommate knock on your door before your mind could wander too far about where all he could kiss you, in said stupid Bigfoot shirt.
"Are you taking a shower first tonight? Or are we going to fight for it again?" Minghao asked gently, and you shrugged.
"Go for it. I go in later than you do tomorrow, Tzuyu's shift starts at four." You wiggled your brows, and he scoffed, turning on his heel and beelining for the living room. You snickered to yourself, scampering after him as he flopped onto the couch. He draped an arm over his eyes, letting out a groan as you leaned over the back of it. "Want a beer, Mr. I don't drink?"
He lifted his arm slightly, his eyes peering out at you from beneath it. "You drink like a fish, you know that?"
"Is that a no?"
"...Fine, I'll have a beer. Just one!"
You cheered sarcastically, scurrying into the kitchen and grabbing two from the fridge. You peered at the bottle of Soju, mocking you from the shelf.
"Did you get lost in the fridge?" You heard Minghao call from the living room, making you scoff as you grabbed the bottle of Soju and tucked it under your arm. The piercing cold of the glass bottle made you shiver as you walked back into the living room. He was now skipping through movie recommendations on Netflix, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen.
"I said we could sip something else, I never said we'd be changing our entertainment of the night." You scoffed, sliding the drinks onto the coffee table as he smirked lazily.
"You're right, honey." He flipped the remote in his hand, holding it out to you as you shook your head. You cracked open the beers, handing him one before perching on the edge of the couch in front of him. His stomach is warm against your lower back, and you try to ignore the way the blue light of the television makes his arms glow.
Your eyes trailed up to his face, watching the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips before bringing the beer bottle to them. He continued to flip through suggestions, before you snapped out of your daze to hear him reading the summary to Ali Wong's Always Be My Maybe.
"...Feel the old sparks of attraction but struggle to adapt to each other's worlds. Interesting." He set his beer back on the coffee table. You snorted, "This is two hours long, Hao."
"You have somewhere to be?" He scoffed, pressing Play. You shook your head, feeling his hand tug at the back of your shirt, signaling for you to lean back. You did, resting your elbow on the back of the couch before reaching for the bottle of soju. "Can I have a sip?"
You nodded silently, watching the two children on the television grow up to the sound of Young Americans by David Bowie. You held the uncapped bottle over to him, feeling his hand take it as Marcus' father let the now-teenagers know that tragedy had struck the Kim family.
You felt your heart sink as the scene changed to something more somber, hearing Minghao hum to himself and mumble slightly. "This is sad as hell, it just started."
You couldn't help but snort, taking the bottle back from him and taking a sip. You glanced over to see his ears slightly perked at the sound of D'Angelo's How Does It Feel, before his eyes met yours. "I'll bet you ten bucks they're going to kiss."
"It's not a bet when you already know what the outcome is going to be." You scoffed, making him laugh softly. "See? They're already struggling to get in the backseat, I would've been out ten bucks if I took you up on that."
"Call it gas money." He lightly pinched your side, making you jerk away from him. You swatted his hand away, sliding the bottle onto the coffee table with a scowl.
"First of all, I tried to give you gas money a few weeks ago and you cussed me out."
"I did not cuss you out! I merely asked what in the most significant fuck you thought you were doing."
"Oh, what a colorful way–"
"Shut up before I tickle you."
You huffed, feeling his fingertips dig into your side. He smiled up at you, gently squeezing the softness of your skin before patting it. "The point is, I'd never ask you for gas money. Let's be realistic."
You nodded, struggling not to roll your eyes as he fully stopped paying attention to the movie, his head rested on his palm as Sasha cried in the walk-in fridge. "What happened with Mingyu? Tzuyu was a mess."
"It's just odd to me that everyone thinks we're a thing? Mingyu asked me how you and I didn't bring home our work problems–"
"And you told him that we don't have that expectation of having to spend time together because we're not together. We're just friends." Minghao interrupted, his eyes serious as he spoke. You cleared your throat, nodding. "I don't agree with that."
"Oh? You don't?" You felt your brows high on your forehead as you looked down at him, feeling his hand pat your back before he used it to run his fingers through his hair. "And why not?"
"Because I like spending time with you. Why do you think I was upset earlier when you told me you volunteered us for the shifts?"
"You said you weren't upset."
"Sometimes people lie."
"Oh, so you're a liar?" You leaned slightly closer, and he smirks.
"While normally I'd apologize, I think I was right to do that. I was upset because now I don't get to spend the day with you tomorrow, and I lied because I didn't want you to cry. I don't like seeing you sad, it makes me sad." He shrugged, and you tongued your cheek.
"Romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes, "My feelings are your feelings and your feelings are mine. All that jazz."
"You don't have to brush off my affections as something romantic, you know. I can care about you openly and not have feelings for you in that way."
"So you're saying you don't have romantic feelings for me?"
"Never said that. I said I can." He lilted, reaching for his beer. You felt your cheeks grow hot as he sipped it, his eyes wide as he looked back over at you. "Woah, you would've thought I said I eat babies for a living. Are you okay?"
"W-What did you and Tzuyu talk about?" You stuttered, making his brow quirk in confusion as he set his beer back down.
"She asked me if you and I ever fight about work. I said no, because the beginning of our…friendship has always been this way. Too close for other people's comfort, very…advanced, in a way. We don't have spats over things that don't really matter, because work…it doesn't affect our dynamic."
"Why did you hesitate before 'friendship?'"
"What?"
"Before you said friendship. You paused. Why?"
Minghao's eyes narrowed slightly, before he shrugged. "I paused when I said it with Tzuyu, as well. I guess…I don't know. I think back to what happened in your apartment, I take into consideration the way we speak to each other and kind of dance around the flame that could be something. I'm not saying it ever has to become a fire, the flame. But, it's definitely there."
You felt your stomach flip slightly as you cleared your throat, reaching for your beer. You brought it to your lips, but didn't manage to take a sip before you sighed, putting it back down and tilting to face him. "We never talk about that night. Did you tell Tzuyu about it?"
"No. That's not her business." He answered quickly, his eyes glancing at the television. Sasha and Marcus were now laying in bed together, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't think you'd be very fond of me telling her, either. I figured that if you didn't mention it while I helped Mingyu take the couch, it wasn't something you'd want shared."
You shifted slightly, tucking your foot under your leg as you looked at him. “Do you think that is something we should share?”
“It’s not about my reputation though, is it? I don’t care what people think of me.” He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair once more. “But I care about what people say when it comes to you. I don’t like hearing others speak ill of you.”
“Would people knowing we almost slept together cause them to speak about me in a negative light?” You questioned, your hands fumbling for the bottle of soju. You offered it to him, and he took a small sip as he hummed.
“Maybe. Considering the fact that we are now roommates, and you constantly deny that there is anything between us.”
“As if you don't do the same.”
“I don’t.”
“What?” Your eyes went wide as he held the bottle back out to you. You took it, bringing it to your lips as he shrugged.
“The customers like you, they think you’re sweet. The customers like me, and a few of them have asked if we’re a thing. I usually deflect…but I don’t think it’d be the worst thing in the world.”
“What? Us?”
“Is there an us?”
You glanced at the television, the actors staring fondly at each other. They inch in for a kiss...two…
“Y/N.”
“Sorry.”
Minghao was looking at you intently, his eyes searching your face as he moved your hair off your shoulder. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. It’s getting late.”
“Did you like it? The…uh, in my apartment?” You blurted, but Minghao showed no sign of surprise. In fact, he seemed to welcome the question, his eyes soft as he nodded.
"The kiss? Of course I did. I'm just not…used to it, I guess. I'm not a casual kind of guy. I was nervous, actually." He nodded, his thumb toying with the ring on his forefinger. You nodded carefully, fiddling with the spout of the soju bottle as you cleared your throat.
"Nervous?"
"Obviously. At that point, we were just starting to solidify our friendship. You had just gotten done with Jaehyun only a few months prior, and you literally signed the lease for this place that day. I was scared if we kept going, things would change. I enjoy your company, I enjoy your friendship…" He trailed off, clearing his throat as he seemingly shook off a feeling of something. "I didn't want things to go further if nothing was going to come from it, but more importantly, if it made you uncomfortable."
"I wasn't uncomfortable. I just wasn't ready. I didn't want you to be a rebound. You deserved more."
"You don't think I know what I deserve?"
"I would hope that you do, and that you know it's not me. At least, not at that point in time." You muttered, hearing him scoff as he took the bottle of soju from your hand. "Hey!"
"Is for horses. Are you hearing yourself right now?" He straightened up, carefully sitting up and adjusting himself to sit next to you. He folded his legs, and you did the same to face him fully. Your knees brushed his sweatpants, and you leaned back on your hands, toying with the seam of your couch cushion. "Are you?"
"Minghao–"
"You're amazing, Y/N. Stop trying to put yourself down, or act like you're not someone who deserves everything. You're soft and sweet and one of the kindest people I've ever come across. You offered to work someone's shift on your day off, not because you want the money, no; because you want them to spend time together and help their relationship continue to flourish. You think anyone just does that?" He scoffed, and you cleared your throat, shrugging.
"It's not that serious."
"Stop that! It is that serious, Y/N! You're so gentle and loving, and you are such a warm person to have around. The room practically lights up when you walk in, haven't you seen how excited the regulars at work get when they find out you're serving them? Haven't you seen how easily you make Seungcheol and Jeonghan laugh? Don't you understand how appreciated you are, even just within our friends and our coworkers? Are you that blind?"
He leaned forward, his hands settled on either side of your thighs as he spoke. "You have got to start recognizing that you're more than what you see. Other people don't matter, for the love of God, I promise they don't. You are so, so beautiful. I don't know how else to make you understand that."
"You don't need to make me understand anything. You're my friend."
"What if I want more?" He murmured, and you felt your cheeks grow hot as you cleared your throat, your eyes darting around his face. His own were full of sincerity, dark with determination to understand you.
You couldn't help the way you leaned closer, your heart thundering in your ears as he tilted his head. "Do you?"
He inched closer, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. "Are you drunk?"
"No."
"Tipsy?"
"No."
He hummed, "We work tomorrow."
"Minghao."
"That's my name, pretty."
You scoffed, jutting your lip in a pout as he smiled. His hand was gentle as he brushed the hair away from your face, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. His thumb stopped at the lobe, tugging lightly at the diamond earrings he got you for graduation. "Nice earrings."
"You would know, you got them for me." You mumbled, making him stifle a laugh as he nodded.
"I know. You always look so pretty when you wear them." He murmured back, and you scrunched your nose. "So you don't think I look pretty all the time?"
He smiled, his thumb lightly stroking your jaw as he moved away from you. "You said you'd shower first, I'll clean up here."
For whatever reason, you listened. You nodded in silence, your hand fumbling for the remote and turning the television off as he slid off the couch. He took the half-empty beer cans in his hands, offering holding the now-empty bottle of soju under his arm.
"Goodnight, Y/N. Rest well."
PRESENT – 3:15AM…
Minghao can't sleep.
His room is a mess, the door locked behind him as he shuffles through the piles of clothes on the floor. They say your room is a reflection of your state of mind, and it's true – he can't think, he can't sleep, hell…
He can't breathe without thinking of you.
The two of you worked that shift for Mingyu and Tzuyu two months ago, and it was the worst shift of his life. He spent the entire time thinking about you, about the conversation you'd had the night before. Hoping you'd give him that longing glance you'd nailed perfectly in the time he'd known you, hoping he'd get to kiss you breathless and hoping you'd yearn for him the way he did you.
Instead, he shook it off. He stood at the host stand, greeting customers softly and seating them. He did his closing duties without even seeing a glimpse of you, until you walked out of the kitchen with a grin on your lips as you bid the trainee chef, Joshua, a goodnight.
He remembers the way your smile became something softer as he opened the passenger side door, how you let him buckle your seatbelt in for you and thanked him gently. He remembers how you offered to let him shower first as he peeled out of the parking lot, and how he scoffed and said you should go first.
He remembers how you asked, again, what you would do for his birthday. He replied the same thing he had before – just you, and him. After his shift.
A shift he did not end up working, because you put in for him to have the day off and argued with Jeonghan until you were blue in the face. Minghao didn't know until the schedule was stapled onto the bulletin board the following week, his eyes almost instantly finding you across the kitchen. You had been eagerly talking to Seungcheol, making him laugh as you overanimated whatever story you'd told him.
He didn't say anything as the days went on, only quietly waited in his bedroom until you came in the morning of his birthday with breakfast on a TV tray. The two of you spent the entire day together and you initiated all contact – your arms wrapped around his waist from behind as he made lunch, resting your cheek on his bare back. You squeezed his sides, you cuddled him into the couch cushions as you watched Josee, the Tiger and the Fish. You made him dinner, you presented him with a few gifts and a new tea set he'd been eyeing for ages.
You kissed his hairline, wishing him a happy birthday over a bottle of soju that he took two sips of. Two sips too much, as his lips ghosted over yours as you spoke to each other about nothing – too close, but he saw the way you held yourself back. He saw the way you wanted to kiss him, the way your hands clenched at your sides as you forced yourself to move away.
He wishes you would've kissed him.
His birthday had passed, you were nearing the end of November. This time last year, you'd asked him for a Guinness, with the most solemn look on your face.
This time last year, he drove you home for the first time and understood you'd be in his life, hopefully forever.
He hadn't worked today, but dropped you off and picked you up – and you had a rough day. You talked about it – one of your regulars had a bad day and took it out on you, sending her food back three times and your tips had been nothing like what you usually made. You'd been snippy, and he prepped your shower for you, tossing a lavender steamer into it. You thanked him, and holed yourself away in your bedroom ten minutes to midnight.
He laid awake, thinking about you.
You'd long gone to bed, your soft breathing the only sound when he slid past your slightly opened door. You looked serene – your cheek squished against your pillow, soft lips gently puckered as you snuggled deeper into your sage green blanket. Your hair splayed all around, the moonlight seeping in through the drawn blinds and casting lines across your face.
He misses you, and you're no more than a ten-foot walk away. He wants to talk about his feelings, he wants to hold you close and he wants to stop losing his mind over how badly he wants you.
How badly he needs you.
He sighed as he looked around his room, the mess only digging into his very bones. He should've just spoken to you about his feelings all those weeks ago. He should've said yes, he did want more. He thinks about you romantically. He thinks about that night on your couch more times than he could count, tugging at his hair in frustration as he tries to bury the memories deep in the past.
He can't. He can't think about anything but you in that pretty white dress at his graduation party, talking to his parents with such ease. The relaxed state of your shoulders as you spoke to everyone with a gentle smile on your lips, the warmth in your laughter never leaving as you danced with him and Junhui.
The way your eyes filled with something else as his parents asked you if there was something more between you and him, and his chest feeling tight when you insisted it wasn't the case. The way he could see the subtle disappointment in your face when he did the same…
He wants to understand you. He wants you to understand him, to observe him, to see him.
See him as more than just a friend, and he knows you do.
Whether it was a crush, or limerence…he doesn't care. He wants one chance at living life with you – coming home from work to sleep in the same bed and hold you close all night. To come home from a grueling shift and stand under the burning hot shower with you, feeling his muscles lose their tension with the heat and your gentle touch. To come home and make you a nice cocktail and a filling dinner. To come home and study with you, eventually. To come home and see you asleep on the couch, and getting to carry you to bed.
To come home, to you. Over and over again.
"Fuck." He groans, slumping against his headboard and jolting at the cold of the wood against his shoulders. A sigh left his lips as he slid down slightly, tugging the duvet higher over his hips as he reached for his phone. He unlocked it, opening his gallery with a pout on his lips.
You, in your white dress at his graduation party. His mother took this photo – your hand had been on his chest, his high on your waist as you both smiled into the camera. Your lips had been reglossed, so pretty and glittery…
And your smile had been so bright, like the events earlier that day hadn't transpired. Like you hadn't pursed your lips together when calling your parents and getting sent straight to voicemail. Like you hadn't blinked back tears three times during lunch with him and Junhui, like he hadn't seen Junhui angrily calling your parents while you ducked into the ladies room after Minghao offered to foot the bill.
You had been truly at ease during that photo, much different than you had felt that entire day.
And he wants every single day to be like that for you – easy. Easy, with your independence but still letting him gently aid when he could see you needed it. Needed him. He wants to take you home and introduce you as his life partner, he wants to see you succeed in your dreams and have you by his side as he did the same.
He wants you to be happy.
"Minghao? Are you awake?"
Your voice was heard before the soft raps of your fist against the door. He jumped, knocking his head on the wooden bedframe. His hand covers his mouth as he rubs the crown of his head, a hiss falling from his lips as he hears you mumble from the other side of the door. He locks his phone, tossing it onto the dresser as he slid out from under his duvet. He grabs a pair of sweatpants off the floor, grimacing to himself as he tugs them on before opening his door.
You look half awake, your hands clutching at the hem of your shirt. Your face is imprinted with the wrinkles from your pillowcase, often the way it looked when he would wake you up before work. The drawstring of your shorts was undone, but it had been tied when you went to bed. Maybe it got uncomfortable.
"Sorry, did I wake you?" You asked softly, and he shook his head.
"Can't sleep. You okay? It's a mess in here, I'm sorry." He says sheepishly, rubbing his neck as you closed your eyes, shaking your head as you slipped past him. You settled on the edge of his bed, your eyelids heavy with sleep as you hummed.
"You didn't make me feel bad about my mess. Something about it being my space, I remember. You said something about that when I said mine was messy. Don't worry about it." You sigh, peeling your eyes open to peer up at him. "I can't sleep."
Minghao looked at the clock on his wall. 3:29AM.
"Would you like something warm? Or would you–"
"Can you hold me?"
You whispered it, almost too low for him to hear you.
Over the course of your friendship, skinskip had been nothing new to either of you. He often pressed chaste kisses to your hairline, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, his arms wrapped around your shoulders when you'd slump against him after the end of a shift in the parking lot.
You were looking at him patiently, and he cleared his throat, nodding as he motioned for you to move back. You did so, scooting under his duvet with a frown on your face. He closed his door, perching on the side of his bed as you rested your head on one of his pillows.
He glances over his shoulder, seeing you peering up at him quietly before you speak. "Hit your head when I knocked, didn't you? I heard the bump."
"Yeah. Your fault if I get amnesia, you know." He snorts, lying down next to you. His heart is racing a mile a minute as you held the duvet up for him to slide under, but he did so anyway. He turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as you turned to face him.
"Don't forget me." You murmur, your lip jutted out in a pout as he feels his cheeks grow warm. As if he could ever.
"Hold me, Hao. I'm cold."
"Should've worn pants, pretty." He teases, making you scoff. You are so close to him, he can feel your breath on his chest as he scoots slightly closer. His fingers rake through your hair, your cheek warm to the touch as he pinches it. You scowl, shooing his hand away as you press your face into his neck. Your lips are feathering over his skin, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels your arm settle around his waist.
You tilted your head back, his eyes peeling open to look down at you.
"Something wrong, honey?" He spoke under his breath, and you blink up at him. Your eyes flitted around his face, and he felt a bit of worry settle in his stomach. He cradles your jaw in his hand gently, "Talk to me."
"If I wanted there to be an 'us'...would you be okay with that?"
Minghao feels the world stop.
Your eyes are glued to his face with the softest glint of apprehension, your body still under the duvet as his thumb traced circles into your cheek.
"You're tired. We can talk in the morning." He assures you, for whatever reason hoping that you'd let it go. Hoping that you were just speaking through your teeth, not truly enticing him to a conversation about his feelings.
Feelings that could ruin everything, even when he's sure you feel the same.
You have to, right? Eyes don't lie.
Your eyes stayed on his face, unmoving as he peered down into them. Your lip is stuck in a pout, your own hand moving to push his hair out of his face. He fought the urge to sink into your touch, your voice giving him something to focus on.
"Not tired, Hao." You murmur, and he feels a bubble of laughter get caught in his throat as you hold back a yawn. He pressed his lips to your hairline, hearing you hum inwardly. Your brow furrows as you seemingly glare up at him, looking nothing short of an angry kitten.
"You confuse me, you know that?"
"Mmh, do I? I'm sorry, honey." He smiles, watching you tuck your arms into your chest and snuggling into his. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, letting your head rest on his bicep as you frown.
"You kiss me like it means nothing, and I want it to mean something." Your mumble was clear, and he glanced down at you to see you already staring up at him. "You call me pet names, and you get me earrings. You tell me I'm beautiful in ways you can't describe. You cared enough to find this place we call home. You say you want to make my life easier, you said you'd give your left arm for it."
Your fingers pat the arm under your head, and he felt his lip twitch as he bit back a nervous smile. "I did say that."
"So answer my question. Make things easier for me, Minghao."
He sighs, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. "Ask me again."
"If I wanted there to be an 'us'...would you be okay with that?" Your voice is far softer, and he breathes in steadily as he nods.
"I would be more than okay with that. I think you know that already, though, don't you?" He spoke gently, feeling you nod gently against his arm. "Everything I do for you means something to me. The earrings, the kisses, finding this place we call home. I appreciate that, the fact that it's we and not just me, not just you. When you think about it, there has always been an us."
"I want to stop lying in my bed and thinking about how empty it is. I haven't been able to sleep through the night since we shared mine the night of our graduations." You utter, your breathing shaky as you look up at him. Your eyes are glazed with unshed tears as he coos, thumbing at your cheek. "I think about you every single night, Minghao. I think about you when I think about my parents, and how they don't speak to me unless I reach out first. I think about you when I get ready for work, I think about you while I'm waiting for you to give me those god awful Budweiser Select 55s that Mrs. Choi loves."
He felt a tear slide onto his skin, hearing you sniffle slightly before you kept talking.
"I think about you when I have a bad day. I think about you when I'm off work and you're not, and how I wish you were with me. I think about you when I feel alone, because you're the only person aside from Junhui that has ever made me feel seen and understood. I think about you when the essence of Jaehyun crosses my mind, because I know that you'd never make me overthink my place in your life, but now you've got me wondering where we stand. I think about you, Minghao, every single second of my day. It's all so vague, in my mind. Knowing that you're only a few feet away, but you feel so far. Like someone I could never deserve, but I know that you are also just a man. There's no way I couldn't."
He hums, his thumb wiping softly under your eye as you let them flutter shut.
"I think you're magnificent." He breathes, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to yours. "I think you are the most thought-provoking person I've ever met. I know that…I know that you've only slowly allowed me into your life, quietly revealing parts of yourself and showing me that you trust me. From allowing me to meet Junhui, to letting me give you rides home, to living with me. You let me take care of you even though you are more stubborn than any mule in the countryside."
He pulls back slightly, seeing your eyes closed and letting tears trickle out as you listen in silence. He feels his heart in his throat, "You've got the softest lips I've ever had the pleasure of kissing. You…the way you exist, knowing that there are certain odds against you and yet, you do it anyway. Your passion precedes any negativity anyone could ever cast upon you and I've never admired someone more to know that you are just a living, breathing, embodiment of passion and truth and hope."
Your eyes open slightly, bloodshot as his nose brushes yours lightly, his lips ghosting over yours as he speaks.
"You are a tumultuous flame and if I get burned, so be it. If I let the heat of your fire singe me to death, it wouldn't be a death in pain. I'd let it happen, over and over."
You nod, your sniffles are the only sound in the room for a moment.
"I will always be okay with there being an us. Even if you muddle my heart into the bottom of a glass and drink it."
You snort at this, an airy laugh escaping your lips as you reach to wipe your eyes. "Quite the image."
"Ah, nah. Just a fool, a court jester for the lady." He rolls his eyes, making you scoff as you brush your lips to his.
"I thought you were going to kiss me that night. When I told you I picked up Mingyu and Tzuyu's shifts." You whisper, and he hums in response, feeling his heart thundering in his ears as your lips touch his briefly. "Would you have? Kissed me, I mean?"
"If I had moved any closer to you, I probably would have. You have no idea how often I think about it." He confesses, before feeling you nod, your leg draping over his hip as you pull him closer. His hand instinctively finds home high on your thigh, before sliding up to rest on the small of your back. "Did you want to kiss me the night of my birthday?"
"God, so badly." You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his as you let out a sigh. "I felt like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice after he helped Elizabeth into that carriage."
"Quite the image." He mocks you, feeling his cheeks warm as your eyes meet his. "Would you let me kiss you now?"
You don't respond, opting to press your lips to his gently. Your fingers gingerly cradled his cheek as he kissed you back, his eyes fluttering shut. His hand on your back clutches the fabric of your shirt, his chest warm at the shyness of your lips moving against his. He pulls back slightly, his eyes trailing across your face. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"More than I've ever been of anything in my entire life." You nodded against his arm, and he silently pushed you onto your back, his fingers barely breaching the hem of your shirt. Your skin is hot against his fingertips as he settles between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as you blink up at him. "Are you?"
"I don't want this to be the first time I say it, so can we sidebar this? Off the record?" He murmurs, and you raise a brow as you open your mouth to speak but he interrupts you "I love you, Y/N."
Your lips twitch slightly, your hands floating to cover your cheeks. You separate your fingers slightly, peeking up at him with a mumbled whisper.
"You promise?"
"Oh, darling." He pulls your hands off your face, your eyes slightly glazed as he interlaces your fingers together and pins them to either side of your head. His lips pepper kisses across your face, paying special attention to the scrunch in your nose before he stops over your lips. Your eyes blink owlishly up at him as he speaks. "I promise."
Your smile spreads against his lips as he kisses you gently, before you kiss him back. You let him lead, one of his hands moving to hold your jaw as yours slides to his hip, squeezing gently.
"Sidebar?"
"Yes?"
"I love you, too."
TWO WEEKS LATER…
"Babe, I need a Guinness."
You slid around the bar with a grin on your face, Minghao's cheek ruddy as he tongued his cheek. Kwon Soonyoung – a regular, one that often downed six or seven whiskey sours before calling his situationship for a late night hookup – eyed you as you crouched to slip a wad of bills into your lockbox. He watched the way Minghao's hand instinctively covered the edge of the bar as he poured with one hand, the way your hand lingered on Minghao's hip as Jeonghan made his way over with his clipboard in his hand.
"Minghao."
"Mr. Yoon." You smirked, squeezing Minghao's hip gently before leaning over the bar as Jeonghan rolled his eyes. Minghao clicked his tongue, sliding the Guinness over to you before shooing you away. You stuck your tongue out at him, before zipping away.
"Do you think you could cover Seungkwan's prep shift tomorrow? I'll pay you for time and a half, and it's only three hours before closing." Jeonghan's eyes were pleading, and Minghao opened his mouth to speak before he caught you talking to a customer with a soft smile on your face.
He thinks about how you laid in his bedroom two weeks ago, snuggling with him and letting your lips take over your mind as you kissed him over and over. He thinks about how you admitted to reapplying to another graduate program across town, one that would severely impact your hours at work. He remembers saying he hopes you get in, to not worry about work. He remembers how he said he's got it, he can take care of everything, of you.
He remembers how you straddled him then, his hands sliding on your hips as you kissed him eagerly.
He remembers how you paced back and forth like a caged animal when you found out acceptance letters would be mailed soon. He remembers how you laid on the couch with your head hanging over the edge of the cushions, groaning in anticipation as he made lunch.
He remembers how you bolted for the mailbox after lunch, returning with a stack of mail but holding your letter between your teeth. He remembers how you anxiously ripped the envelope open, your hand fumbling for his when he pulled you into his chest and held the letter away. He remembers telling you to take a deep breath, kissing your forehead gently and sitting you down on the couch.
He remembers how you threw your arms around him as you read your acceptance out loud.
"Minghao. Are you listening?"
"Huh? Sorry." He winces, clearing his throat before shaking his head. "I can't, actually. I'm…"
He trails off as you tap the tip of your pen to your notepad, before he makes out your lips telling the customers you'd be back for their food orders. Your eyes met his as you scampered back over, your hip nudging Jeonghan's as you slid in next to him.
"Minghao, I need you to focus." Jeonghan waved his hand in Minghao's face, "Can you work it or not? It's fine if you can't."
"Work what?" You ask with a wiggle of your brows, reaching over the bar and stealing a maraschino cherry from the open jar. Minghao frowns, waving your hand away as you pull the fruit off the stem, winking his way.
"I'm asking him if he can work the prep shift tomorrow, but he's not answering." Jeonghan rolled his eyes, flipping the blue pen between his fingers as you hum, nodding your head.
"He can't." You shrug, and Minghao opens his mouth but you beat him to it. "We have a date tomorrow night. Good luck finding a cover, though."
You tilt your head as you shrug again, this time, unapologetically. Facing Minghao again, you smile softly. "I need a cosmopolitan. Susie is back and she's getting divorced!"
Minghao can't hear anything but you, and Jeonghan simply shakes his head and slips away. Soonyoung watches as you slide away again, hearing you tell Minghao you'll be back after getting the fountain drinks for Susie's table.
"I thought you didn't have a crush on the new girl, Xu." Soonyoung wiggles his brows, making Minghao scoff as he grabs a shaker off the drying rack. He flips it, scooping ice into it as he sighs.
"I don't have a crush on her. I'm in love with her."
He can't focus on anything but the way you zip around the restaurant, his eyes trained on the smiles you give out, the way you hand out crayons and kids menus. He watches the way you gleefully serve people, how you gladly grab phones and cameras for photos.
How you peer at him over your shoulder when you walk by.
How you smile shyly when his fingers brush yours when he hands you a drink.
How you sneakily kiss his shoulder when the restaurant is closed, your hands wrapped around his waist as he holds your can of orange juice in his hand. How you ignore Jeonghan's incessant teasing, how Tzuyu recites long-winded rants of how she told you so.
"Friend, roommate, coworker?" Minghao repeats as you tuck his portion of your tips into his back pocket, and Tzuyu grins as Minghao slides her to-go strawberry lemonade across the bar.
"Boyfriend, fiancé, husband." She says cheekily, and Minghao looks over his shoulder to see you biting back a smile as you brush trash onto the dustpan. "I told her so. I told her you guys would be something more."
"So did I." Jeonghan calls from across the restaurant, slotted behind the cashier's station as he thumbs through the register. Mingyu pokes his head out of the kitchen as he fumbles with the lights, a mumble of so did I from his lips as he finally turns them off.
"So much for muddling your heart at the bottom of a glass, huh?" You murmur, as the two of you leave the restaurant hand-in-hand. The two of you ignore the hooting and hollering of your coworkers as Minghao opens your door, leaning over your frame to buckle in your seatbelt. He glances at your lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to them with a smile.
"All I know is that if you're meant to break my heart – so be it."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
— synopsis: after years in the spotlight, you've learned one thing: how to get used to new environments, good and bad. despite the time and the friends you've made along the way, things never really change — and that includes the mentality that winning is the only option.
– genre: estranged everything to ??? ; angst, fluff, eventual smut.
— pairing: race engineer!xu minghao x fem!formula one driver!reader ; mentions of past choi san x reader, jeon wonwoo x reader.
– word count: 43.1K / ??? i don't wanna talk about it.
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: (lock in, guys because i lose the plot several times.) undefined relationship but minghao is down atrociously. kissing, swearing, estranged relationships, reader has insane emotional trauma. mentions of stalking, exposés, blackmailing, brief mention of minor character death, give or take the illegal street racing. no one calls reader by her name except a handful of people which is important!!! mentions of anxiety and mental breakdowns, lots of emotions all around. smut warnings: unprotected sex, public (?) sex, semi-clothed; fingering, oral (f.rec), nipple play because i fuckin said so; breathplay? choking..esque? lots of petnames because they're gross. begging, biting/marking, not missionary which is so unlike me but DOGGY of all things...creampie.
— what to listen to: hold it against me - britney spears ; dontcha - the pussycat dolls ; 24 hours - sunmi ; everything is embarrassing - sky ferreira ; twenty-three - iu ; lonesome love - mitski ; heavy - the marías ; lacy - olivia rodrigo ; all i ask - adele ; i loved you - day6 ; understand - keshi ; letting go - day6 ; into the new world - girls' generation.
– author's note: hello! i know this is long and only part one of i don't know how many, but i hope you all enjoy it. thank you to @camandemstudios for yet another collab, and special thank yous are as follows: to ro @shinysobi for letting me use her name; emita @hannieoftheyear, bennie @miniseokminnies and aeris @aeristudios for encouraging me to keep going when i truly was losing the plot and wanting to give up. and, the most special thanks to @joshujin - for being my yapperitis comrade in caratblr. as usual, star dividers are by @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr! as for the links, those are 100% to click if you want to get memed lmao. here's to part one, and hopefully part two will come soon! 🥂
— LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA | 12:54 PM.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to 105.7 Radio DELTA!"
Your skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat as you adjust in your seat, clearing your throat softly as you tug the hem of your dress down your thighs slightly. You blame it on the humidity. You blame it on the pre-season jitters, you want to blame it on anything but the guilt in the back of your throat.
"I am your host, Wen Junhui. Today, we are joined by a few special guests! We have our beloved Ferrari team present…"
You zone out as Junhui introduces the people surrounding you – your teammate, Lee 'Flame' Jihoon and his race engineer, Kwon 'Hoshi' Soonyoung. Both men are sitting across the table, introducing themselves into the microphones as Junhui directs his attention to you, and your race engineer. The sound of his name rolls off Junhui's tongue smoothly, practiced. Like he's said it his whole life and it's never gotten stuck in your throat, heavy on your tongue like the man next to you isn't the absolute light of your life —
"...And we are ecstatic to present my best friend in this entire world. The one and only flash-flash, hundred-yard dash, and Ferrari's finest: Song Y/N! How are you doing today?!"
You want to match his excitement. You do.
"I told you not to call me that, it's like I'm showing off." You snort into the microphone, your cheeks warm as your life-long best friend grins at you over his own microphone from across the table. You twiddle your thumbs beneath the table, before feeling a soft palm cover them gently. Not bothering to look down, you carefully interlace your fingers; your shoulders relaxing as Junhui wiggles his brows and the camera pans back to Jihoon and Soonyoung smiling across the table.
"You are a showoff, and I'm allowed to call you whatever I want, I'm your best friend." He argues playfully, and you scrunch your nose as you shake your head with laughter. "Anyway! First and foremost, how are you, Y/N? It's been a long time since we've had you on the show. I'd say what, a good two years? Did the off-season treat you well?"
You shrug, "The off-season is…well, it's exactly that, the off-season. I feel weird, and I feel odd having to find things to fill my time with. I went back home to Shenzhen three separate times within two weeks just to feel something, only to return with too many leftovers and missing my father's rice wine. He says hello, by the way."
Your exaggerated pout makes him laugh almost maniacally.
"Any vacations that don't involve going back home? Or, baecations, that we should know about?"
"No, and you treat your radio show like it's one of our monthly dinners. Our other friends here, stop that!"
"I will, if you can tell me when the last time you showed up to one of our monthly dinners was. I'll bet you a crisp twenty that you can't!"
Laughter fills the station, but nothing makes your stomach flutter like the bitten giggle next to you. Your hand squeezes softly, only to feel the pad of a thumb start tracing circles into your skin. Your thighs are brushing from the closeness of your chairs, but he inches away slightly as the camera pans to you – almost making it seem like an innocent swivel of his chair.
"That's not fair, Junhui. You know I'm busy."
"As am I, but I still send my Google Calendar invitation every month! But speaking of being busy, my dear friend, the fans have been busy flooding our DMs and ask boxes with questions for you since we announced you'd be on this week! Are you up for a few?"
You nod at his eager smile, clearing your throat before matching his expression. "Absolutely, hit me."
The questions are easy, and they're repetitive from years past: Janelle from Nashville asking if you're posing for PETA again, Lourdes from Sicily asking if you'd ever do a press tour like you did at the beginning of your career six years ago…and unnamed 9-year-old girl from Houston with no questions – just wanting to tell you that you're her hero.
It warms your chest and your neck and suddenly, the room is too hot when you realize that you've been perceived as more than just Y/N. You're not Y/N to thousands of people across the globe; and once the season starts again, eventually, you'll get lost in being nothing more than the Ferrari Flash again, accompanied only by your counterpart, Ferrari Flame: Lee Jihoon. And you wonder how he doesn't lose sight of who he is when you've both been bound to a brand and you feel like you'll never be more than the haunting bright red.
Jihoon went home and enjoyed his off-seasons. He went home to a lovely wife and a cute tabby cat named Calico, and he went home to those who missed him. He went home, and he was home to those he returned to.
Where was that for you?
"...Yinghua from Tianjin wants to know if you'll be debuting a new beau any time soon."
Junhui's smile is too wide; it almost reminds you of the Cheshire Cat as you narrow your eyes at him. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips anyway, and you let a dramatic sigh slip from your mouth before rolling your eyes at him.
"Are you sure Yinghua from Tianjin isn't Junhui from Shenzhen?" Your voice is teasing, and Junhui laughs into the microphone with a tinge of mirth. "Anyway, to answer your invasive question…"
You feel the hand squeeze yours, burning hot.
"No. No beaus. No ifs, ands, or buts, either."
"You're hilarious."
"You're not even laughing, Jun."
"It doesn't negate that you're the funniest person in my life." Junhui scoffs, and you wonder if the bickering that reminds you of your childhood together isn't too much for the mid-afternoon radio show. You keep firing back despite your concerns; the only thing keeping you grounded is the hand on yours, that smooths over your thigh every once in a while, squeezing your knee and kneading the flesh of your leg before slipping back into your palm for safekeeping.
You're grateful that the cameraman keeps the lens at eye-level.
"Now, I know you've been cleared to talk about your upcoming partnerships for the next season and all the fans want to know. We know you signed a pretty big deal with Love&Letter for this upcoming season, and you've renewed your sponsorship with ORBIT Tech, but we're all awaiting the big answer here. Y/N, our beloved Flash…are you staying with Ferrari this season?"
The truth?
You hadn't been sure if you wanted to, but the chance to slither out of your ten-year contract had gone out the window exactly twelve days ago. The benefits of staying with Ferrari heavily outweighed the cons, but the importance to your heart was quality; not quantity.
A part of you yearned to leave racing altogether; but with the fatal, crushing flaw of your one-track mind being rooted in the dig of your tires in the tarmac…it just wasn't something you knew you could do. You weren't confident enough, strong enough, any of it. Your nightmares were full of the tracks you'd memorized over the years – and you begged whatever God was out there to see more than the burning wheels, the crashed carts, the medical team hauling you off before you fought your way back onto the track like your life depended on the win more than anything else.
Because the win was what mattered.
The applause, the cheers, the relief of darting into an empty bathroom and splashing cool water on your face; letting it drip through your lashes before braving the gaggle of journalists, stoic competitors, sponsors, your teammate…
Him, with the knowing smile. Him, with the soft eyes and soothing touch that you'd never admit to yourself you find comfort in – not unless you were six margaritas and a drunk cigarette in. Him, who you found yourself gravitating to at the end of every press conference, every dinner, every event; him, that you called even if you were halfway across the world during the off-season and he wasn't with you, and he always picked up. No matter the time…
He always picked up.
"Oh, absolutely! Ferrari and I have been going strong for six years now, I'd be a fool to leave such a promising team. I will admit this one time, only, though: I don't think I could go a single day without bothering my beloved Ferrari Flame, Lee Jihoon. Pissing him off right before a race always puts me in a good mood, and it's even better when the drinks are on him because he barely scraped second to me across that finish line."
A laugh is shared around the studio, your hand moving to squeeze his knee twice. He doesn't flinch, but if you glanced to the right just an inch – you would see a soft blush creeping up his neck, coating his ears and cheeks as he slid his palm over the back of your hand before crossing his legs at the knee, keeping your hand wedged in.
And you don't mind the weight of it, either.
"It's not that you piss me off, per se…" Jihoon clears his throat, and you give him a knowing smile as you lean back slightly in your seat. "You just get under my skin sometimes."
"Is that not the same thing? I get all in your head, and you miss my rear wing by an inch–"
"Okay, now you're starting to piss me off."
Another resounding chortle is heard, before Junhui pulls everyone back.
"So, would you say that Jihoon is one of the most important people on your team, or even in your life? Someone who dodges your punches like no other?"
Your eyes flicker to the knee covering your hand, the chipped black polish that you chose on his dangling fingers. A few thick, silver rings and yet – one gold on his thumb, matching the one ring nestled on your hand. You lean forward, tongue darting out to wet your lips before feeling the same warmth squeeze your hand.
Almost as if to say…you don't have to.
"I'd say Jihoon is an important part of my day, yeah. He shares his sandwiches with me and he's always listening to what people say about me, and he defends me if something is out of line…stop smiling like that, you little freak!" You laugh into the microphone at Jihoon's boyish grin, pride exuding from the glimmer in his eyes, "but, despite how near and dear to my heart he may be, there is only one person I'd say is the absolute highlight of my day, and someone I genuinely could not do any of this without."
Junhui beams, "Aw, Y/N–"
"And that's Infinite."
A snicker is heard beside you, the camera panning to your scowling best friend. His knew slides off your hand to interlace your fingers on your lap again, making Junhui put and turn his nose up at you before he scoffs.
"I'm your best friend!"
"He's my engineer and, simultaneously, the pebble in my shoe. I could not do anything without Infinite. I love you, Jun, but–"
"If there's a but, you don't love me!"
The studio fills with giggles once more, with Junhui's pout pulling at your heart strings as he sulks into the microphone. You smile softly, reaching over the table and ruffling his hair under the headset as he swats your hand away.
"I do love you, Junhui! Remember when I honored you at the banquet last year? I might have to attribute MVP to Infinite, but you were the start of it all. You got me into racing, you helped me build connections, you were my eye in the sky. There would be no Ferrari Flash without you, you know that."
You snicker at the little smile creeping onto his lips, before shaking your head and letting the chattered questions in the room fill your mind. You're not entirely there, mechanically analyzing questions and finding answers in the grooves of your mind to appease listeners, sponsors, managers. Junhui sees right through you, you know he does — he's been your best friend since the two of you met in elementary school, always helping you with extracurriculars and teaching you how to do long division…
And helping you make friends.
The squeeze around your hand reminds you of the first friend Junhui helped you make as your eyes drift to his face. Soft, gentle features — the slope of his nose, plump lips…paired with sharp eyes that miss nothing, especially when it comes to you. You see him glance at you out of the corner of his eye, and you notice the way he almost leans into your lips – stopping himself before clearing his throat and spotting the cameras pointed at Jihoon. He squeezes your hand again, rolling his chair impossibly closer to yours before resting his cheek on your bare shoulder. Your dress rubs his skin, and he quickly tugs at the hem of your sleeve to move it out of the way.
"Minghao." You whisper through gritted teeth, but he only presses a chaste kiss on the skin of your exposed shoulder as he ignores you, your cheeks hot as Junhui smiles inwardly.
You like the warmth in your chest when Junhui's eyebrows wiggle as he keeps reading off his script, talking about the announced stops for the upcoming season. He asks which track makes you most excited, and you sarcastically reply with the Fuji Speedway — something you'd started saying a few years ago, alluding to the idea of wanting to quit racing but no one has truly caught on. The Fuji Speedway had left the racing world before you even got into it, but something within you longed to join it even if it brought financial ruin (which, it wouldn't, but a girl can catastrophize her life in attempts to enjoy it more, can't she?)
It felt like a waste to quit, and you didn't know what you'd do with your time. You didn't have a partner, or kids, or anything that would 'traditionally' take up your time.
Not that you cared to be traditional.
Your life has been so fast, so busy since you got into the world of professional racing — and despite not being a life-long karter like the rest of your colleagues, you still showed up and showed the hell out. Win after win, celebration after celebration…you were one of the best and you had no intention of changing that.
But sometimes, just sometimes…the shadow of doubt tries to creep in.
It's usually after a race, particularly if you've done what you consider to be bad – but Minghao always swoops in before you can spiral into it. He coaxes you out of the bathroom, he tells reporters you'll be with them after you eat…he forms a bubble where the only voice you can hear is his and if it's not the most comforting thing in the world…you don't know what could be. He's become a safe space.
Xu Minghao…he was everything a friend should be, everything a boyfriend could be and everything you hoped a husband would be. Your husband, if you ever actually opened the gate to your beaten heart and let it heal.
Should've, could've, would've.
And you let yourself romanticize normal things like friendships, dating, even potentially starting a family that you're not all that sure you want, anyway — until you looked at the packed schedule in your Google Calendar, color-coded by managers, the lone monthly dinner invitation from Junhui sandwiched under your 8 PM: call Dad.
The dinner you try to catch as often as you can, the call you try to make as weekly as you can – because a part of you misses normalcy. You miss the normalcy of just having dinner at Junhui's apartment; you miss knowing the kitchen where your meals were cooked on aged steel pans, knowing where the bathroom is without having to ask, being able to wear sweatpants and kick your shoes off to sit at his coffee table and eat dinner. The heart in you missed the silence of Junhui's apartment – the solace of it all, the familiar scent of your best friend and his cologne, the way his sheets always smelled of honey and how he'd put on a movie before the two of you inevitably knocked out on his cheap mattress that hurt your back.
That was dinner with Junhui on the 27th of every month. That was your best friend in the entire world, aside from one Mr. Song (your father.) Showing you that he was still the safe space he had been your entire lives; hinting at normalcy, as he talked about his life with his other friends, his dating adventures, his possible endorsements for the show, his bored reminiscing of his time on the tarmac…everything seemed like it was so normal for him.
Because it was. The difference between you and Junhui was that he was able to ease into his fame, his spotlight – because he also left his career as a driver in the past. Two years in, one with Kick Sauber and one with McLaren and Junhui made the ultimate decision to leave — finding success as a radio show host, focused on the ups and downs of athlete lives, of sports, of Formula One and you. You were his favorite guest, one of his only recurring guests, and his best friend on and off the air.
Whereas you were thrust into the world of racing. Photographed alongside then-Kick Sauber driver Wen Junhui, you were immediately perceived as a girlfriend – only to join him on the tarmac during his year at McLaren. You never once gave him a chance to beat you out on the track, and you both cleared up relationship rumors like nobody's business. Not only were you good, not only were you knocking long-standing champions like Aston Martin's Jeon Wonwoo out of the fucking park…
But you're also a woman. One of four current female racers, and you were signed a year after Lee Saerom, two years before Park Jihyo and Chou Tzuyu. You'd become friendly with the three of them, but their own schedules kept them as busy as yours kept you – only managing quick lunches before a race or late night drinks to celebrate wins before hopping on flights, if you weren't looped into some sort of deal together. Last year, the four of you were photographed for Vogue – something about the Fabulous Four of Formula One, with personalized style concepts and lengthy interviews about your lives…
Including your romantic one, something you didn't want to share.
So you didn't.
Lee Saerom was the first to be signed, a blue pen scrawling her life to Kick Sauber for ten years. She was on the tarmac before the ink on her contract could dry, eager to escape the past by driving away at full speed. She was glued to the hip with Junhui that year, meeting you two weeks into their first season together and immediately hitting it off. She remained a close friend to you and Junhui after you joined and he left the tarmac for good, but you watched something shift within her when her new teammate was introduced. Apparently, there was history between her and one Lee Seokmin – romantic history, agonizingly mushy romantic history. It made their team rather awkward, with communication remaining at a minimum until Seokmin mentioned a girlfriend at one of the first weekends during their first season…
But the longing glances never wavered.
Chou Tzuyu was signed to McLaren after nearly two decades dedicated to karting. She was teamed up with a certain Kim Mingyu, only to be immediately warned not to fall for his good looks and natural charm by literally everyone. She rolled her eyes and said she wouldn't – then found herself in a now three-year committed relationship with the driver and breaking records by both being the tallest on their respective rosters as well as being the first (and only) couple to race against each other on the tarmac. You met Tzuyu two weeks after she signed to McLaren, and you met her at a photoshoot of all places — but you'd been hearing all about her from Mingyu since he first laid eyes on her; it wasn't hard to picture them together. You figured being signed to the same team definitely made the relationship easier, watching Mingyu flirt with her like a loser by hanging onto the rear wing of her kart. Eventually, the forced proximity, the flirting, the way Mingyu made it evident he was interested in the way the cogs of her mind worked — it all lead to you following their private couple Instagram where they posted their dates, their destination vacations on the off-seasons, even family dinner photos in Taiwan and Korea.
It was all respected by the fans and the McLaren team, and there was no one trying to invade their privacy as they posted subtle shots together on their public pages. It made you wonder where you went wrong, but no use crying over spilt milk (or broken hearts, if you wanna be technical.)
Despite two co-ed teams having romantic history within teammates (in past and present tense,) Mercedes' Park Jihyo and Choi Seungcheol had nothing of the sort. The two of them grew up together, and while two years apart, they were the youngest children at their apartment complex. They became somewhat of frenemies throughout the years – with Seungcheol chasing off potential boyfriends to get under Jihyo's skin and Jihyo badmouthing him to the girls in his grade to ruin his chances of getting into any of their hearts. She signed to Mercedes the day after Seungcheol renewed his contract – without warning or prior notice to the older man, thus sending him into a downward spiral. She argued that she didn't have to tell him anything, that she was her own person and that only brought forth more bickering; in fact, they were constantly at each other's throats. You once caught them arguing about the catered lunch and how Seungcheol took the last sandwich, only for Jihyo to snatch it out of his hand and narrowly escape the pit with him hot on her heels. Despite their obvious history as something of friends, something of enemies – they were a fiery duo, two natural leaders fighting everyone for the top spot, including each other.
Only for you to find out on a drunken girls' night that Seungcheol was Jihyo's first kiss, and she was his – done the night before he left for his career with Mercedes and changed his number. She admitted that seeing him on the silver screen of the sport they both loved pained her, but she knew she had the same potential, if not stronger, of taking his spot, too.
As for you?
You joined Ferrari six years ago, a year before Junhui left, shocking dozens of Junhui's fans the moment your position was announced. Your initial introduction to the team was nerve-wracking but it certainly wasn't anything particularly exciting — you sat in a slightly cramped office with Junhui for moral support as your contract sat in front of you, your pen uncapped by your manager, Mina.
She introduced other people in the room: Lee Jihoon was your teammate and another new addition to the Ferrari team. Kwon Soonyoung was his racing engineer and your engineer was running late to the meeting. She apologized, saying you could go ahead and sign your contract while you waited, but you refused – only to see Xu Minghao apologetically ducking past the threshold of the office. The apology died on his lips the moment his eyes found yours across the room, instead tonguing his cheek as a smile fought its way onto his face. He rounded the table as you stood almost abruptly, embracing him in a tight hug as everyone stared confusedly. Junhui explained that the three of you were childhood friends that lost contact, and the reunion was (bitter)sweet.
This would be your second reunion, the first tainted by his early departure. And this one would be tainted, too – when Junhui told you both over dinner that same night that he didn't plan to return to racing the following season. You and Minghao took the news hard, but neither said anything more as you dropped Junhui off at his hotel room and took the elevator to yours together. Not much else was said, only soft looks and a quiet goodnight when you both retreated to your respective rooms – but there was something there. Something unspoken, something burning as you glanced over your shoulder to see him doing the same before slipping into your rooms.
Saerom, Jihyo, Tzuyu and you were as close as you could be – forming solidarity through fighting misogynistic views and creating a space in the racing world that would only grow bigger as more and more women got into the sport. You all posed for the same magazines, represented countless organizations, and tried to entertain the idea of a girls' trip during the off-season but even then, your schedules were jam-packed…even if you didn't really allow people into your personal life on the same level you did Junhui or Minghao.
Aside from the fact that quitting the racing scene was something that was constantly on the forefront of your mind, you learned the hard way that letting people be a part of your private life would only lead to complications. Granted, you never thought something like that would happen to you and you genuinely thought you'd covered all your tracks – no social media posts, phones off, hotels and reservations booked under pseudonyms and you thought everything was perfect.
"...you would think you'd be a little more excited for the season, Minghao."
His name pulls you back to the present, and you realize your hand is freed of his on your lap, slightly limp and cool.
"I am excited about the season, Junhui. I'm excited to reunite with a few of the other drivers, and I had the worst time adjusting to the off-season this year. You can even ask Soonyoung, I was restless." Minghao shrugs, and you put a soft smile on your face as the camera pans to you. It pans away just as quickly, and you shift next to him as he clears his throat. His hand grips at the fabric of his pants as Junhui moves the attention to Soonyoung, and fingers grab the underside of your chair and pull you closer to him. He slides his hand over your thighs and interlocks your fingers once more, almost as if he was losing his mind without your touch.
Despite the closeness…you and Minghao were not labeled as anything more than just friends. Friends, coworkers, lunch buddies. You would go out shopping together, you'd join fellow drivers and engineers at outings, you'd spend time exploring cities side-by-side…
Sometimes, you'd end up back in your hotel room. You'd end up in his lap, the two of you tipsy off red wine and the berry taste lingering on your tongues as you pawed at his belt and the hands you admired pushed your skirt up your thighs, grip bruising against your skin. You'd end up in your bed, his hand tugging on your hair and holding you close to him, the sound of skin on skin and choked, muffled moans embarrassing.
You simply sit and listen to the chatter around you.
The rest of the interview went on with your mind filling of your nights with Minghao – whether you were fully clothed or not decided if you bit back your smile or stuttered on your answers. The glint in Junhui's eyes never disappeared, and your wary demeanor in front of the camera never waned, but neither did the warmth of Minghao's skin on yours. Junhui wrapped up the interview with the sponsorship announcements and your goodbyes – your own sounding a bit strained as you waved at the camera with a soft smile.
"You are both nauseating." Jihoon spoke up the moment the cameras were cut, and you scowled as your teammate stuck his tongue out at you. Minghao's grip on your hand didn't loosen as he stood, pushing his chair in with a bitten grin. "When are you guys going to stop hiding under tables and around corners? It's not like we don't know."
Neither of you reply as the photographer makes you all pose in front of the Radio Delta sign. You leave little space between you and Minghao, your hand holding his hidden behind your hip. Your ring digs into his skin, but he doesn't move away from you as both smile for the flashing camera. You feel him press his lips to your temple quickly before Jihoon makes a gagging noise, and you throw him a dirty look as Minghao's arm wraps around your waist gingerly.
"It's one thing for us to know, Ji. You know that." Junhui pipes up as he scrolls through the pictures and chooses one before running his fingers through his hair. "So…lunch on me? Or are you guys busy?"
"I'm down for lunch. We can go to that cafe you took us to, what was it? With the braised pork belly rice?" Minghao agrees, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair when you clear your throat. He glances down at you, everyone's eyes doing the same as you pat the back of his hand.
"I'm not hungry, you guys go on without me. I'm going to head to the hotel and unpack a bit." You give them a curt smile, grabbing your purse off the back of your chair and moving towards the door as the rest of your team nods slowly. Minghao's eyes hold something you don't let yourself think too hard about as you excuse yourself, waving to all the technicians involved in Junhui's show before one of the security guards you came with gives you a sharp look. His name-tag reads A. Hironaka, BSIS.
"Are you ready to head out, ma'am?"
His voice is gruff, and you only nod quickly as he clicks around on his phone. He beckons for you to follow after him, your heels clicking on the linoleum floor the only sound in your ears as you're led out the back to a black van. The same driver from earlier was inside, giving you a quick smile before the guard steps forward to open your door.
"Y/N! Are you sure you don't want lunch? We're meeting Mingyu and Tzuyu at Liu's Cafe."
Minghao's voice rings across the private parking lot, and you don't get a chance to reply before he's crossing it. He's standing next to the guard now, who gives him a nod before slipping around the car to slide into the passenger seat. Minghao's lithe fingers hold the door as you hoist yourself into the car, and you tongue your cheek.
"You love Liu's."
"I need to know if the team got my room checked out."
"Our room, sweetheart. And they did, I got a text. We're cleared."
Minghao's smile is warm as he leans in slightly, his eyes flickering to make sure the partition between the driver and the cab is still up.
"I'm with you. Nothing is going to happen, okay?" His hand moves to squeeze your knee lightly, and you can't help but let a pout grace your lips. He lets his hand slide up to your waist, invading your space a bit more as he brushes his nose to yours. "C'mon, pretty girl. You need to eat."
You sigh, pressing your lips to his chastely and moving away before he can kiss back. He frowns, but you press the palm of your hand to his chest as he chases after your lips. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers carding through the soft hair at the nape of his neck as he watches your face.
"Can I just meet you guys there? I want to at least hear it from their mouths that we're cleared." You admit quietly, and he hums.
"Or…we can order room service. Watch trash reality TV and get you out of this dress." His lips press in soft kisses around your cheeks, and you snort as you lightly smack his shoulder. You feel his lips curve into a smile on the side of your face, before the bite of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp. "I'll text Jun."
"Tell him I'll make it up to him." You mumble as you slide back into the seat, making room for Minghao to slip in next to you. He nods, closing the door carefully as the familiar beep of the GPS is heard through the partition. You make the choice to sit in the middle seat, your thigh rubbing against Minghao's as you haphazardly pull your seatbelt across your chest. Your stomach swirls as the car starts moving; the light tap of Minghao's fingertips against his phone screen is the only thing distracting you from the weird feeling settling in your lower belly.
It's not really weird. It's normal at this point, but it's weird because you don't know what could come of it. You've gotten it every time you've had to stay in a hotel since the incident. You get it every time you stay at a new hotel. Or an old hotel, or any hotel, ever. You don't trust them anymore, the privacy stripped to the point that you wonder if you'll ever be able to get a room alone again.
Not that you mind Minghao's company.
You don't. If anything, you bask in it like a lizard in the sunlight. You take in the warmth and hope it lasts forever, the scent of his soft cologne mixing with your shampoo and lingering in your nose.
The relationship remains unlabeled. It remains confusing, messy, but reliable. Minghao is reliable, you are reliable – and there's no doubt in your mind that Minghao felt the same thundering in his chest when you reunited that morning after the official end of the off-season. You know that his eyes glimmer with excitement when he sees you, not only because he's your friend, but because…well, there's something more. Something in the kissing, in the touching, something in the way your lips form around his name and the way you worship every inch of him like he'd disappear if you closed your eyes. Something about every pet name that slips out of his mouth, in the way he pulls you into him by wrapping his fingers around your neck gently…
Something about Minghao. God, something about him.
The ride is silent aside from the jazz bleeding through the speakers, with Minghao's hand holding yours against his thigh. Your head is leaned slightly on his shoulder, his cheek against your hair as you both look out the tinted window, watching people pass by. You see a billboard for Junhui's radio show, your best friend's face smiling back at you from fifty feet above ground.
The driver pulls into the porte-cochère before you know it, and you unbuckle your seatbelt with a soft thank you through the partition. There are a few people standing around the front as Minghao cracks the door open, your security guard already standing outside as he pushes it further. He slides out, holding your hand tightly as he helps you out. There are no fans, but you can tell the lingering guests are wondering what makes you so important as you duck your head and make your way through the entrance and lobby before you're handed your keycards by the same security guard as you're guided to the back of the lobby, taking a left turn into an office-like room. Inside, there is another security guard standing rigidly, guarding what seems to be a private elevator. Without a word, you all slip into it, with the second security guard following and facing the doors. Mr. Hironaka presses the number 11, before turning on his heel to face you both.
"You are staying on floor eleven in Suite 7B with Mr. Xu. Your personal concierge for the weekend is named Eleanore and her extension is 1-9-9-7. I will be across the hall in room 14B should you need anything, and my room extension is 0-5-2-6. If you are leaving the building or going anywhere within it, you are to take this elevator. You must let your concierge and myself know before doing either." He gives a curt bow of his head, before speaking again. "The cybersecurity team you hired is still stationed in your room. They've asked to check your cellphones and any other technology you might have brought with you for spyware. It should take no more than five minutes."
You only nod, and he turns to face the doors as they open, stepping out before guiding you down the hall to your room. Minghao swipes his keycard, opening the door to see the cybersecurity team is staring back at you. They wear serious expressions on their faces as they greet you almost robotically, before a young woman clears her throat.
"Your room has been cleared, we ran our software twice in case we missed anything. All your mirrors are safe, as is your television and your landline. We will need to run software on your phones and any other tech you've brought with you, if you'd like to handle that now before we head out for the night. It will only take a second." She nods politely, and you fish your phone out of your purse as Minghao hands his over without a second thought.
He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it over the back of the desk chair, heading for the bathroom as you toe your heels off in the corner of the room; watching out of the corner of your eye as they plug all sorts of wires into the ports of your phones. A few beeps are heard, murmurs amongst the team sounding in your ears as you grab a hanger out of the wardrobe and beeline for Minghao’s jacket. You smooth it over the wooden arms, tugging the zipper up as more murmuring fills the room before the same throat clearing catches your attention.
"Your room and devices are have passed inspection. Is there anything else my team can do for you during your stay?" The young woman presses more buttons on a remote-like device in her hand, unplugging your phone from it with one hand before holding it back out to you. You shake your head, taking Minghao's phone as the team packs up quickly.
"Thank you. Is there a business card I could get? I'll be in Los Angeles more after the end of my season." You smile politely, and she fishes one out of her pocket, her own smile mirroring yours.
"We'd be happily at your service, Miss Song. Take care and thank you for trusting us with your cybersecurity needs."
They exit the room in a uniform line, Minghao popping back out of the restroom to say his goodbyes. You give him a look as you follow behind them, giving them a small wave as you close the door, locking it quickly. You sigh, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of the door when you feel his fingers curl around the slope of your neck, pulling you back lightly. The back of your head hits his chest, the warmth of his hand covering the base of your throat as his arm wraps around your waist.
"Minghao." You groan, but he doesn't dignify you with a response. He dips his head down slightly, pressing his lips to your temple. You let your eyes flutter shut, your hand moving to wrap around his wrist on your neck; feeling his hand around your waist move to your back and slide up, pinching the zipper of your dress between his fingers.
"Minghao, lunch." Your voice is no higher than a whisper as he tugs the zipper down, your skin prickling as the cold air hits it. He smiles against your cheek, nipping at it with his teeth.
"You hate this dress, don't think I don't remember." He gives your neck a soft squeeze, before dropping his hand and turning you in his hold. Your hands press against his chest, his eyes making your cheeks warm as he smiles down at you. "I'll look through the menu and see if there's anything you like while you shower. Deal?"
"Join me." You mumble, your fingers picking at his shirt aimlessly. "Please?"
"Mmh, I'll think about it. Go."
You huff, worming out of his arms as he chuckles behind you. You turn into the bathroom, pulling the sleeves of your wretched dress down your arms and pushing the bunched fabric down your legs before kicking it to the side. You sigh as you stuff it into the woven basket in the corner, moving about with purpose and fiddling with the shower knobs. The water isn't too strong, but hot enough that you let it go and strip off your intimates.
The water is soothing against your back as you step into it, trickling through your hair and down your shoulders as yet another sigh slips from your lips. You cross your arms on your chest, closing your eyes as you let the warmth wash over you – the warmth of the water, of the security blanket, of knowing Minghao is with you and nothing could possibly go wrong with all the precautions you've taken.
The creak of the bathroom door opening is heard, a soft tsk from Minghao's lips as he moves around, likely picking up your underwear and putting it into the hamper. You can hear the thwip of his shirt being discarded, and you ignore the heat of your cheeks as you feel his presence behind you.
This is how it starts every time. A shower together to mark the beginning of the season, his hands sliding up your wet body and caressing the most intimate parts of your soul as the water pelts you both. A shower that turns into kissing, into sex, into spending your nights after practices and races in his arms in one bed despite all your rooms coming with two.
Even if you slipped into your own bed halfway through the night before you refused to let yourself feel more than him, even if you speculated it was the other way around…nothing meant anything if he didn't say it.
"How are you feeling?" His voice is soft as he swipes all your hair back, his fingers barely grazing the skin of your shoulders as you shrug. You turn, keeping your eyes closed as you let the water run over your face.
"I should've taken you up on the offer to go home with you. The off-season was dreadful this time around." You confess, wiping at your eyes before opening them. He's peering down at you, his gaze gentle as you look away. "I missed you."
"You could've called, baby."
"And look desperate?"
"It's not desperation if I feel the same way, you know. I miss you all the time."
"Then why didn't you call?" You scowl lightly, running your fingernails up his torso. He shivers, grabbing your wrists and pulling you forward. You wrap your arms around him, still giving him a nasty look before resting your head against his chest; the thundering of his heart comforting to your restless mind. He cards his fingers through your wet hair, reaching for the shampoo and lathering it into your scalp. He sighs, shaking his head above you.
"I should've. You're right." His admission is laced with defeat, likely feeling your triumphant smile against his skin. "Maybe then you wouldn't have posted that photo of you in the black dress from the New Years Eve party. That comment section was atrocious."
"Are you jealous, Xu Minghao? That's not like you." You gasp in feigned shock, feeling his hand slide from your head to your neck, spreading suds across your skin as he makes you look up at him.
"Are any of those people in this shower with you?" He says pointedly, a brow raised as if to challenge you. You only smile up at him, your nails digging lightly into his back as he rolls his eyes. "Didn't think so. I can't believe everyone saw you in that dress. Do they know I picked it?"
"You are jealous." Your voice is teasing as he tilts your head back to rinse it of shampoo, leaning forward slightly to brush his lips to yours. You almost try to kiss him, missing the ache of his teeth sinking into your lower lip but he pulls away.
"I'm allowed to be jealous."
"Are you?"
"Yes. You're not available and the people should know that."
"But that means a label." You remind him, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes once more. "You said you didn't want one."
"No, you said that. I don't see anyone that isn't you, anyway. Have a heart, let me be yours officially." He tries to sound nonchalant, but there's a twinge of want in his voice that you can't seem to gloss over.
The relationship was complicated. You fucked around the entire season, sleeping together, sharing meals and making memories – only to go home at the end of the season without so much as a parting kiss, sealing said memories to the backs of your minds. Him, going home to Haicheng; you, wallowing in the luxury apartment you attempted to make home in New York City.
No home without Xu Minghao.
Or with a twelve-hour time difference between the two of you. You were starting your day and he'd be winding down – but the phone remained untouched. No emails, no texts, no calls – just indirect mentions on Instagram stories and liked photos. Comments of emojis, nothing that someone could take out of context – emojis under a photo of you in Cape Cod for a weekend, a simple see u soon on his Japan visit post for ViVi Magazine.
Though you both knew you wouldn't be in Japan and he wouldn't make the move to try to see you in New York. Even if it was one of the shorter flights either of you would ever take. Even if you got one of the magazines in the mail and posted it on your story to promote a 'friend.' Neither of you would make the move.
Ever.
"You wanna be my boyfriend?" You ask softly, and he sighs above you. His cheeks are tinged pink, hair dripping with water as he shrugs.
"Only if that's something you want. We don't have to think about it now, but it's on the table. I know it's not the easiest thing for us. I'm willing to wait." His hand around your neck slides slowly, wrapping his finger in the thin gold chain he gave you for your birthday a few years ago. He tugs at it.
“At the end of the day, it's your choice. I'm just letting you know that it's an option and it's one I'm on board with."
"Mmh." You hum, nodding slowly as his hand trails down your chest, knuckles brushing your wet skin in a way that makes your stomach flip. "We'll see how the season goes, yeah? I'll have an answer for you, promise. Just wait for me."
You hold your pinky out, and you don't miss the way he nibbles at his lower lip. Hesitance flashes across his features, but you only file it away, pushing your hand into the palm of his on your chest. He tongues his cheek, curling his pinky finger around yours.
He brings your hands to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your lips. You kiss it softly, watching him do the same to yours before pressing them together.
"By the end of the season?"
"By the end of the season, I promise."
He nods slowly, letting your hand go to trace the slope of your neck with his fingertips. The water is losing its heat as you stare up at him, but the space between you is burning hot as he leans down slightly, nose brushing yours.
"Can I have a kiss?"
"One?"
"As many as you'll give me."
"What about lunch?" You murmur, your lips barely touching him as his impatience flickers through his eyes. You bite back a smile, feeling his fingers wrap around the base of your throat as you give in to him. His lips are soft but unforgiving, swallowing your contented sigh and sucking you into him. Teeth pulling at your lip, tongue sliding into your mouth with a yearning you feel deep in your stomach every time you reunite.
You wonder if a label will make him want you less. You wonder if eventually, he'll lose himself in you and resent it — resent you.
Something to worry about another day.
STORY OF ANOTHER US – WHY F1 STARS CHOI SAN + SONG Y/N SHOULD HIT THE BRAKES.
Written by: Anonymous
Thursday, August 27th.
12-minute read | Updated: 5:41 PM.
Author's Note: As this is published, the F1 drivers will be on their way to the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps for the Belgian Grand Prix. Do not let Y/N's recent win deflect from the fact that she has been involved with a new racer and thus sabotaging his chances at a career in Formula One along the straight and narrow. We refer to both parties by their surnames, so please do not mistake SONG for Song Mingi of the VCARB team.
— Location: Spielberg, Austria.
Date: July 10th | Time of Arrival: 6:32 AM.
The Ferrari team was stationed at Enzingerhof as was the Red Bull Racing team. Song Y/N and Choi San were seen arriving at Perschler Hotel following a post on Song's personal Instagram story congratulating Choi on his birthday. In the mentioned birthday post, the two are seen sitting next to each other on an Asiana Airlines airplane (presumably business class,) assuming the teams flew in together. Choi did not reply to the story publicly and then posted around 7:56 AM, with a snapshot of the hotel's breakfast nook – barely capturing Song's recent MAESTRO Jewelry sponsorship wrapped around her wrist in the form of a gold watch on his Instagram story via choi3an. She was not tagged, but suspicions were confirmed when another Instagram story was posted on her respective profile, flashingyou_by, where she posed for a quick mirror shot with fellow Ferrari driver, Lee Jihoon 'Flame', with the same watch caught in the reflection.
On July 11th at 5:34 AM, Song posted another cryptic Instagram story of her hotel room, holding a pair of running shoes and a man's shoulder in a bright red muscle tee was in the corner. Choi later confirmed it was him with a collage of photos posted to his own story showcasing a five-minute mile run with the same shoes Song was holding in the corner of the frame. The two are suspected to have started dating sometime around the beginning of the season, if not before.
— Location: Mogyoród, Hungary.
Date: July 16th | Time of Arrival: 4:23 AM.
The Ferrari team had flown separately to Song, and landed an hour before she did. Racing engineers Xu Minghao, Kwon Soonyoung and fellow Ferrari teammate Lee Jihoon 'Flame' were photographed arriving at Hotel Foldana at 3:45 AM, with Kwon and Lee venturing back outside from 3:59 AM to 4:39 AM, returning to Foldana with takeout boxes and brown bags holding alcohol from the local liquor store.
Choi and Song were photographed taking a private car (2016 GMC Yukon) straight off the airport tarmac. Other concerned fans were said to have used inner connections to figure out that the pair had booked a room at the Alice Hotel under Red Bull Racing – thus taking the steps to install recording devices in several spots around the hotel and even using a janitorial master key to install more within the booked room.
▸ Listen Here.| TRANSCRIPT:
5:39 AM: [muffled noises]
5:39 AM: [female voice: SONG Y/N] I missed you…wait, wait…let me put my bag down.
5:40 AM: [male voice: CHOI SAN] Just one, princess.
5:40 AM: [muffled noises] [squealing]
5:41 AM: [SONG] At least ask me how my flight was, you twerp! (laughter)
5:41 AM: [CHOI] I know how your flight was, I was there. You were sitting on my lap.
5:42 AM: [SONG] You could still ask me, you know. It's what a normal boyfriend would do.
5:42 AM: [CHOI] Let's get in the shower and we can talk all you want, pretty girl.
5:42 AM: [SONG] Mmh. [muffled noises] Not so rough, I'm still sore from yesterday.
5:42 AM: [CHOI] I'm sorry, my love. I'll be nicer. [muffled noises]
5:42 AM: [muffled noises] [door slamming]
We can only presume intimacy ensued in the bathroom, as nothing much but muffled whispers were heard in the recording afterward. We have cut the audio to protect Choi's image. This further proves that there is a romantic link between Choi and Song. While an invasion of privacy, as fans and supporters of Choi San we want to ensure that he is getting the best possible shot at a clean career in Formula One after being a life-long karter. Choi went on to place 4th in the Hungarian Grand Prix, three places behind Song who won after placing P4 during Q3.
— Location: Silverstone, England.
Date: July 30th | Time of Arrival: 2:33 AM.
Once more, Ferrari and Song have flown separately. Song arrived first, taking a private car off the airport tarmac and caught on film arriving at The Ritz London, 90 minutes away from the Silverstone Circuit. Choi flew in with the Red Bull team, heading for the original hotel booked fifteen minutes from the circuit. Choi does not descend from the vehicle, instead bidding teammate Park Seonghwa and engineers Kim Hongjoong and Ogawa Mizuki a quick goodbye at 3:21 AM and heading towards Song's location.
Upon arrival, Song is heard through more transcribed audios (recording devices placed a day in advance by connections) inviting him in at 4:57 AM.
▸ Listen Here. | TRANSCRIPT:
4:57 AM: [muffled noises]
4:57 AM: [female voice: SONG Y/N] Welcome, welcome. (laughter)
4:58 AM: [male voice: CHOI SAN] Hey, gorgeous. [muffled noises] I'm so tired.
4:58 AM: [SONG] Yeah, me too. Quick shower?
4:59 AM: [CHOI] Mmh, join me?
4:59 AM: [SONG] Yep. [muffled noises] Is your back still hurting? I got some heat patches.
5:00 AM: [CHOI] You're an angel. I love you. [muffled noises]
5:00 AM: [SONG] What did you say?
5:00 AM: [CHOI] Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't…babe–
5:01 AM: [SONG] You love me? San…[muffled noises] San, answer me.
5:01 AM: [CHOI] It just slipped out, I'm sorry…[muffled noises] I understand if you're not ready for that.
5:01 AM: [SONG] Could you at least look at me? Babe.
5:02 AM: [CHOI] Do you want me to go? I'll leave.
5:02 AM: [SONG] I love you.
5:02 AM: [CHOI] Are you just saying that?
5:02 AM: [SONG] You're not seriously asking me that, Choi San.
5:02 AM: [CHOI] Are you sure we're ready for this?
5:03 AM: [SONG] (laughter) I don't think I've ever been more ready to love you.
5:03 AM: [CHOI] It's kind of painful, actually. Loving you. In private, that is.
5:03 AM: [SONG] We'll go public eventually. We just need to keep this to ourselves for a little while longer. It's for the best.
5:03 AM: [CHOI] I know, babe. I know. [muffled noises]...I love you.
5:03 AM: [SONG] Feels good, doesn't it? (laughter) I love you, San.
5:04 AM: [CHOI] Does this mean you'll finally get on top? [muffled noises] Ouch! I was kidding!
5:04 AM: [SONG] Get in the fucking shower, you freak. You smell like airport peanuts and despair.
We have once more cut the audio to protect Choi's image. This is the most damning evidence that Song and Choi have been in a long-term relationship. Other inner connections have started analyzing posts starting at the PR teasing of Choi joining Red Bull Racing at the end of last season upon the retirement of Adachi Yuto, who is now an engineer for VCARB. Several hints at a relationship between the two have piled up dating back to that point and likely before. Choi went on to win the British Grand Prix, with Song coming in second despite getting Pole in Q3 against Choi in P8.
— Location: Ibiza, Spain.
Date: August 10th | Time of Arrival: 7:32 PM.
Choi and Song were photographed arriving at the Ibiza Airport four days before the Spanish Grand Prix, landing at approximately 7:35 PM and taking separate vehicles to the Nobu Hotel Ibiza Bay. They checked in separately at approximately 7:54 PM, and insiders found that they were booked into separate rooms. A concierge (whose name we've omitted to protect their privacy) provided intel that the couple seemed frigid and annoyed with another. They were escorted to their rooms, and later vacated within 5 minutes of each other to visit the pool. Aside from photographs being taken as the couple shared a hammock, it was then that our team moved in. We have transcripts from both rooms, as well as some intel from their cellphones that we will not be sharing.
▸ Listen Here. | TRANSCRIPT #1:
10:11 PM: [muffled noises] [door slamming]
10:11 PM: [male voice: CHOI SAN] You didn't have to do that. She was just being nice.
10:12 PM: [female voice: SONG Y/N] Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know being nice meant undressing you with her eyes? She was practically eye-fucking you, San.
10:12 PM: [CHOI] So you embarrass her? You couldn't let me handle it? I was on top of it.
10:12 PM: [SONG] (laughter) On top of it? She was acting like I wasn't even there. I'm your girlfriend, San. On and off the tarmac, on and off the clock.
10:13 PM: [CHOI] This is your problem, Y/N! You're so jealous sometimes, it's hard to be around you. I can't believe you can't just trust me. I've never given you a reason not to.
10:17 PM: [SONG] It's hard to be around me?
10:18 PM: [CHOI] I didn't mean it like that. Fuck, I never–
10:18 PM: [SONG](whispered) Is that why you wanted separate rooms?
10:18 PM: [CHOI] I'm sorry, my love. I didn't choose my words properly, I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I never want to hurt your feelings.
10:19 PM: [muffled noises]
10:20 PM: [SONG] Eleven days ago, you said you loved me. Does your mind change that fast?
10:20 PM: [CHOI] How can you say that? Honey–
10:21 PM: [SONG] (strained) I think I'm going to turn in. I'm sorry for embarrassing you, I'll apologize to the bartender tomorrow morning. Good night, San.
10:21 PM: [CHOI] Honey, please–
10:21 PM: [muffled crying] [door slamming]
10:21 PM: [CHOI] Fucking hell.
▸ Listen Here.|TRANSCRIPT #2:
3:02 AM: [muffled noises] [door creaking]
3:02 AM: [male voice: CHOI SAN] Honey?
3:02 AM: [female voice: SONG Y/N] (whispered) I'm here.
3:02 AM: [CHOI] Honey, I'm so sorry. I was entirely out of line earlier.
3:03 AM: [SONG] It's fine.
3:03 AM: [CHOI] No, it's not. Don't say it's fine when we both know it's not.
3:03 AM: [SONG] It is, though. I booked my flight back to the mainland for tomorrow afternoon. I'm catching Junhui for lunch before he goes back to Los Angeles.
3:04 AM: [CHOI] Please don't go. Please don't leave.
3:04 AM: [SONG] We're fine. I'm not mad, I'm not being petty or vengeful. I'm just going to catch lunch with my best friend and…I don't know. Shop around Barcelona alone, I guess.
3:05 AM: [CHOI] I can't change your mind, can I?
3:05 AM: [SONG] I just need some space from you. I wish you would've told me I was making you uncomfortable instead of resorting to this. It was never my intention to do that.
3:10 AM: [SONG] San?
3:11 AM: [CHOI] You're the perfect woman for me.
3:12 AM: [SONG] (strained) San…
3:12 AM: [CHOI] I love you…so much. I'm sorry that I didn't communicate my needs better and I understand if you need space. I'm willing to give it. But…please don't ever think that I don't love you. I don't think I've ever been in love like this before. I don't know if I'll ever be in love like this again, if it's not you.
3:13 AM: [muffled crying]
3:13 AM: [SONG] Don't say that. Don't say that because you don't know what the future holds.
3:13 AM: [CHOI] I know what I want it to hold. And it's you, and me, together. I can't live without you, I don't think I could go back to a life where you're not everything to me. Your jealousy streaks are the least of my concerns, I just…please, don't leave me.
3:13 AM: [SONG] San…
3:14 AM: [CHOI] Take all the space you need, all the time you need…but don't leave me. I know I'm flawed. I know I'm not perfect but I'm nothing of a man without you and it pains me to know that I've hurt you.
3:14 AM: [SONG] You can't act like I'm the world to you. You have a career, and you might have someone else in a few years.
3:15 AM: [CHOI] If you think that way, don't tell me you love me ever again.
3:15 AM: [SONG] I love you so much, San.
Song departed from the Ibiza Airport the next afternoon at approximately 2:32 PM, with a defeated Choi lingering at the airport for around 3 hours and 17 minutes before boarding a private plane to Barcelona. Choi landed in Barcelona an hour later, taking a private car service to the Hotel Astoria.
Song is seen exiting the same hotel with radio show host, former F1 driver and proclaimed life-long best friend Wen Junhui, their pinkies linked as they boarded a private vehicle at 7:09 PM. They were trailed to the renowned tapas restaurant La Cova Fumada until 10:42 PM. Song made her departure alone at 10:51 PM, and met with Ferrari race engineer Xu Minghao at Mariposa Negra Cocterleria Artesanato by 11:03 PM. Neither party drank but Xu did sit with Song from 11:07 PM to 1:32 AM, before getting a car together back to the Hotel Astoria. Below we've included an audio recording from the car ride with Xu and Song.
▸ Listen Here.| TRANSCRIPT #3:
1:35 AM: [muffled noises] [door slamming]
1:35 AM: [female voice: SONG Y/N] Hotel Astoria, please.
1:36 AM: [male voice: XU MINGHAO] I've got cash, don't worry about it.
1:36 AM: [SONG] Thanks, Hao. I'm…ugh.
1:37 AM: [XU] Couples fight, sweetheart. And we're all human, we all mess up sometimes. He didn't mean it but you're allowed to feel hurt by it.
1:37 AM: [SONG] Have you ever been in love, Hao?
1:38 AM: [XU] Have I ever been in love? (muffled laughter) Yeah. Once.
1:38 AM: [SONG] What happened?
1:38 AM: [XU] She fell in love with someone else because I took too long to confess. She still doesn't know, actually.
1:39 AM: [SONG] Is she still in love?
1:40 AM: [XU] Painfully. I think the man she chose is her endgame. I don't believe in soulmates…but I did think she and I were something meant to be brought together by the universe. I mean, I could spot her out in a crowd of millions of people. That's how important she is to me.
1:40 AM: [SONG] You still love her?
1:41 AM: [XU] A part of me wishes I'd never met her in the first place, but it's just not the way life goes. I think I'm learning to let go, knowing that she's out of reach. He's a good guy, her boyfriend. I think they'll get married if things keep going well.
1:47 AM: [SONG] Hey, Minghao?
1:48 AM: [XU] Yes?
1:48 AM: [SONG] Thanks for being my friend. I don't know what I'd do without you.
1:48 AM: [XU] Ah, it's second nature at this point. I've known you longer than I haven't. Plus, it's nice to have an emergency contact that actually answers her phone.
1:48 AM: [SONG] (laughter) Yeah, Junhui's shit at that.
1:48 AM: [XU] Hey, Y/N?
1:49 AM: [SONG] Yeah?
1:49 AM: [XU] I love you.
1:49 AM: [SONG] Aw. I love you, Hao.
Song and Xu entered the hotel at 1:53 AM. Song and Choi were not pictured together at all for the rest of the week, only seen shaking hands at the paddock on Sunday afternoon. Song took Pole in Q3 and came in 2nd place to two-time Spanish Grand Prix winner, Park Jihyo of Mercedes. Choi was P9 and came in 12th place.
In conclusion, we do not think that a relationship between Choi San and Song Y/N is healthy for either driver. While Song uses the turmoil of their relationship as fuel for her wins and placements, it only slows Choi down and puts him in pitiful spots on the grid and knocking him down several pegs on winning rosters. As fans, we think it's unacceptable that a seasoned driver is ruining a rookie's career with romance, and we have put together an anonymous petition to get the FIA, Red Bull Racing and Ferrari to intervene and pump the brakes on this kart before it crashes and burns. We only want the best for our Rookie of the Year, and we hope that Song Y/N takes this as a reminder to not intervene with someone's career when hers is already stabilized.
We will continue to update with audio files and transcripts should the relationship not be stopped. Thank you, FIA, from concerned F1 fans all around the world.
– Monza, Italy. | 5 years ago, September 5th.
Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you scrolled through the blog post. San was seated next to you, his cheeks blazing red as everyone else in the room looked uncomfortable. Your fingers pressed on the audio files, hearing your own voice echoing back at you from the speaker. You gagged inwardly, dropping the phone as the fight you had with San the week before echoed through the room. Minghao grabbed it off the floor, turning the screen off and tucking the phone under his thigh.
Just seven days ago, you sped past the checkered flag in first place. You won the Belgian Grand Prix, with Jihoon sliding past in second and San coming in third. You celebrated in your hotel room with your boyfriend after dinner with your team, fooling around in bed and getting tipsy off hotel champagne.
And now you're sitting in an office the morning of Qualifying, with your breakfast in your throat as you stare at the landline covered in dust on the desk. A trembling, humiliated San to your right, a quiet Minghao to your left and a pissed Jihoon in front of you. Every single PR person on both racing teams is trying to figure out how to get the post taken down, but it's of no use. You know those audio files are probably everywhere by now – romanticizing San's begging, making you both the laughingstock of F1 but furthermore, tainting your careers by airing out your personal, private affairs.
So much for cutting audios to protect San's image.
"We won't tell you what to do." Minghao says softly, "but…it's better to do it now than to wait for Jungkwon to get involved. Cybersecurity is on their way to look at your phones and make sure you're safe."
Seo Jungkwon and Yoon Mirae – the married duo that once famously owned the tarmac now owned two of the teams. Mirae, the first woman in F1, now the owner of Red Bull Racing and famously in touch with everyone in her team, was already present. Her eyes were full of what you want to believe is sadness, but you wonder if it's pity as she crouches in front of you and San.
"We can only do so much to protect you both." She speaks gently, "we're going to have to take legal action as it is, because this blog post and these audios are a direct violation of privacy. Not to mention stalking, abuse of resources, bribing…the list goes on. You know what you'll do, and we will try our best to keep you both safe. I just hope you know that none of this is either of your faults."
She looks between the two of you, and you can only imagine the distress on your face as you glance at San's hands folded in his lap. He's digging his dull nails into his skin, a single tear rolling down his face as he takes a shaky breath.
"Can we get a moment alone, please?"
His voice is strained, and you feel a sob try to crawl past the waves of nausea but you force it down. Everyone quietly vacates the office, with Minghao taking your phone and San's in his pocket as he steps out. You watch his head turn from the small window in the door, a deep frown on his lips as he walks away.
You feel a cold sweat settle on your back, your hands clammy as you run them down the front of your jeans. San is staring at the floor, his leg bouncing before a humorless laugh leaves his lips shakily. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, watching the way he covers his face with his hands as he tries to bite back a sob.
"I love you." You whisper, the reality of what had to happen sinking into your very bones. You turned in your chair, his eyes glossed over as his lips quivered. "I love you, San."
"I love you, too." He murmured, barely intelligible as his voice grew thick. "I love you so much. I can't believe this is happening."
You don't have any words for him, simply sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around him so tight, you weren't sure he could breathe. He sobbed into your shoulder, his fingers digging into your hips as you silently let tears drip down your face. You didn't really know what to make of the situation – you felt violated, your intimate conversations and raw parts of your life were now posted on the internet for everyone to dissect. You were dragged through the muck for the supposed sake of San's career, and everyone around you took hits, too. Your rapport, your guarded life – everything was stripped from you for the man you loved.
It's not his fault. It's not.
But you can't help but lose your footing on the trust you built.
Minutes feel like hours as you tighten your arms around him, his sobs subsiding into shallow sniffles as he grips the back of your shirt. You swallow your nausea, letting your tears seep into his shirt when a knock makes you hum defeatedly. You barely turn your head to see Minghao opening the door quietly, your phone in his hand as he holds them both out.
"They found spyware on your phones, but it was apparently only installed around the time you were in Hungary. Jungkwon came in during the middle of the meeting and decided to assign you a cybersecurity team to scan your hotel rooms for malware every time you arrive at a new place, or leave the room for an extended period of time." Minghao speaks almost robotically, and you only nod into San's shoulder as your phones are placed on the chair you formerly occupied.
"I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Hao." You mumble, your voice almost too soft to be heard but you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye.
"It's not your fault. You couldn't have known, and I'm sorry the two of you are being put in this position." His voice is slightly warmer, and he sighs as he looks down at you both. "I hope that everything works out the way it's meant to for you guys. I'm rooting for you both."
"Thanks, Hao." Your voice is no higher than a murmur, and he hums in response before turning on his heel.
"They're waiting for you both to come out, by the way. You're going to have to make a statement, and then they'll decide whether or not you'll be pulled from the roster for the race this weekend." His fingers curl around the doorknob, and you turn your head enough to face him. He looks just as defeated as you do as he glances over his shoulder, "I just thought I should let you know that they expect a clean break. No drama on the paddock and no tears on the tarmac."
"Thank you." San's voice is strained, his cheek wet as he leans it against your forehead. You give Minghao a blink of affirmation, and he takes his leave, shutting the door tightly behind him.
"Does it have to be the end?" You can hardly hear your own voice, and San's fingers tightening in your shirt say it doesn't. The motion screams that it doesn't – but somehow, you know it is. It's the end, whether you like it or not.
"I think I'll die without you." He snivels, and you let a humorless chuckle slip from your lips as you sit up in his lap, your hands cradling his cheeks gently. His wrecked face and bloodshot eyes make your chest ache, your eyes now too dry to produce any more tears. You run the pad of your thumb along his brows, watching the way his eyes flutter shut as you trace his eyelids. Your hands are featherlight as you press a soft kiss to his pouted lips, feeling his arms constrict around you. You can't bring yourself to pull away, the kiss turning desperate as your hands tangle in his short hair – but he pulls back first, resting his forehead against the slope of your shoulder as you swallow a sob.
"You won't die without me. I'm still here." You choke out, but he doesn't dignify you with an answer as his arms loosen, hands falling down your sides and patting your hips. He sniffles, a sound of disgust coming from his throat as you slide your hands down his arms before interlacing your fingers with his and bringing them between your bodies.
"So…this is it? I'm supposed to sleep without you after sharing a bed for a year?" He murmurs, and you actually let a laugh bubble out of your throat.
"You can cuddle with that dinosaur body pillow I got you as a gift last Christmas." You tease, making him scoff as he moves to rest his head against your clavicle. "At least…we did well in hiding it. Not these couple of months, but they didn't catch on until last month. We almost made it, a year in hiding."
"I never got to love you out loud." He sighs, and you smile sadly. "God, I want to love you out loud so bad."
"...Maybe in another life."
"I'm gonna throw up."
"I can't imagine someone being so obsessed with you that they sabotage our relationship. Not to mention, you came on to me." You scoff, tonguing your cheek as you feel his lips curve against your neck.
"How could I not? You're ambitious, you're smart…you're gorgeous. It's so easy to love you." His lips brush your skin, making it prickle as you move away lightly. "I've never wanted anyone as bad as I've wanted you. As bad as I want you now."
"San." You groan, "stop it."
"It's the truth. If we're breaking up, you need to know everything I feel about you."
"I already know how you feel about me."
"Did you know that I love the way you smell so much, I stole your perfume out of your suitcase in Spielberg?"
"You little rat, I've been wondering where I lost it!" You smack his shoulder, but he only smiles as he plants a kiss to your cheek. You sigh, giving his hands a soft squeeze before looking him in the face. A small smile graces your lips, "maybe…we love ourselves more than each other."
"Rookie of the Year, huh?" San leans back in his seat, his head hitting the wall lightly. He closes his eyes, letting out a tired grunt. "I don't even care about that shit."
"You say that now, but you are the Rookie of the Year. You're a great driver with insane potential. I shouldn't be the reason you don't get that recognition and that you're painted as someone that's 'hard to work with' for choosing love over success." You shrug, and he only shakes his head.
"Can't I have both?"
"Not as a rookie. Try again in two years."
"Who says someone won't snatch you up by then, pretty girl?"
"Shut up." You snort, feeling your cheeks heat as you look away. The heat of his gaze is still intense, but you let out a quelled sigh. "I love you, you know?"
"I know, princess. I'll love you to the end of time. You're my first, after all."
His words cause a sharp pang in your chest, with your eyes suddenly teary as you let out a laugh.
"I'll be here, always."
"Me, too. Let's go."
PUMPING THE BRAKES ON LOVE – SONG Y/N AND CHOI SAN END YEAR-LONG RELATIONSHIP AMIDST ANONYMOUS STALKER BLOG POST.
Written by: Lee Ro and Zhou Jieqiong
Wednesday, September 9th.
5-minute read | Updated: 3:12 AM.
On August 27th, an anonymous blog post was made under the pretense to allegedly protect Formula One Red Bull Racing driver Choi San from attempted sabotage at the hand of love, particularly by Song Y/N of Ferrari, often referred to as the Ferrari Flash. Choi has only joined Formula One this year, whereas Song is a seasoned driver on her second of ten contracted years with Ferrari – not to be mistaken with Song Mingi of the Visa Cash App Racing Bulls, who has only been with Formula One since the start of this season.
Despite Choi and Song keeping their relationship neatly tucked away for the greater part of a year, an unnamed stalker gathered enough information to put the couple on blast for hiding their romance from the eye of fans. This person of interest managed to go as far as tapping electronic devices in the couple's shared hotel rooms on multiple stops of this year's circuit stops – Austria, Hungary, England and Spain. They also managed to install spyware into their personal cellular devices as a means to gain further intel on their lives, then moving forward to edit and publish these audio files without the consent of either party. Should this person be found, they are facing extreme legal consequences for what they assume to be a simple invasion of privacy.
Amongst all of the so-called information this person managed to gather, they ended their blog post pleading with Red Bull Racing, Ferrari and the FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile) to end the relationship before Choi could face any serious setbacks as the fans' choice for Rookie of The Year, lest they continue to stalk and harass the couple and posting their intimate moments. Both racing teams quietly addressed the situation with the drivers, and both Choi and Song had posts on their respective X accounts (formerly known as Twitter) announcing the end of their relationship within 12 hours. In case you missed it, see them below.
Choi San (@choi3san) via X:
I am at a loss for words. This complete circus has left my family, my team, my friends and my partner with no words. It is unfair to us that we no longer feel safe in each other's presence, and I hope that whoever is behind this realizes that they are no fan of mine if they felt comfortable enough to strip me and Y/N of our privacy. It is with a heavy heart that Y/N and I part ways after a year of memories together, for the safety of one another and the sanctity of her image. I wish her absolutely nothing but the best and she will always, always have my unconditional love and support. Until the end of time, my heart is yours Y/N. I love you. – San.
Song Y/N (@flashingyou_by) via X:
I am truly astounded at how invasive people can be. From the beginning of my career, I knew things could get complicated should I decide to get romantically involved with anyone whilst in the spotlight – but I never, ever thought it would be like this. To San, I am incredibly sorry to have put you in a position where someone felt brave enough to take our lives and attempt to make them fit for public consumption. I apologize deeply to everyone who was involved in this utter mess, and I hope that whoever is behind this atrocity knows that nothing they do could ever take away that they completely tore away the autonomy San and I had as partners, but more importantly, human beings. Unfortunately, we have chosen our careers and are continuing our journey together as colleagues with no further ties than the paddock and tarmac. We will always support each other, in love, life and work – I love you, San. – Y/N.
Xu Minghao, Song's racing engineer and childhood friend, and Wen Junhui, Song's life-long best friend, radio show host and retired Formula One driver also had some comments to make on the matter.
Xu Minghao (@xuminghao_o) via X:
Hello, this is INFINITE. I am aware that a private conversation I had with Y/N in Barcelona was taken to be made part of a malicious post directed towards her romantic relationship with Choi San. I am in no way condoning this behavior, and I am appalled that a conversation with a friend I have known my entire life had to be made public because of a cowardly stalker not understanding boundaries. For the future, I ask people to carefully calculate their actions and take into consideration that the people you are hurting are human. My personal life, my relationship status and my friendship with Y/N is not something I want exploited, much less used in malicious intent against her and the relationship I was a part in creating. I would appreciate all comments and questions to be ceased, as I do not plan to address or discuss this further. Y/N is my friend before she is my colleague, and I will always respect and support her endeavors and relationships. Point blank.
Wen Junhui (@junhui_moon) via X:
Hello, this is Junhui of 105.7 Radio DELTA. I have been made to know that Song Y/N, someone I care deeply about, has been under fire for a relationship with a fellow driver, of all things. I was also informed that I was followed while on vacation in Barcelona because I met with Y/N while this person was gathering information in order to blackmail her into ending a relationship she cherishes (and has since, succeeded.) I hope whoever is behind this post knows that nobody in the racing, sports reporting, or cybersecurity world likes you. I hope you can't sleep at night knowing that you bullied and harassed two innocent people in love for whatever weird agenda you had in mind. Maybe put that energy into finding a job, or studying for school. This being said, I fully support Y/N and San in all their endeavors, as colleagues or partners. Good day.
Choi and Song did end up driving in the Italian Grand Prix despite learning about this information the day before the race, after crashing their karts during Q1 and setting them both at the back of the grid in P19 (Song) and P20 (Choi.) Despite the odds, Song and Choi came out on top – with Choi winning the Italian Grand Prix with 1:47:06.056 on the clock, and Song hot on his heels, sliding past the checkered flag only 0.415 seconds later.
Choi and Song have both since been pulled off the roster for legal proceedings as well as mental health evaluations. They will not be racing for the following circuits: Sochi Autodrom (Russia), Nürburgring (Germany), and Autódromo Internacional do Algarve (Portugal.) The Ferrari Flash will make her comeback at the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix in Italy, and Red Bull's Rookie of the Year will return for the Turkish Grand Prix.
We hope both drivers are feeling better upon their return, and we hope the two can move forward in their careers with little push back from fans. We are vigilantly watching for updates on whether or not the person behind this malicious blog post will be apprehended. Stay tuned.
— MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA | 12:03 AM.
"We've been cleared."
Minghao's voice is soft as you use the hotel stairs to stretch, your legs sore from the long flight. You nod your head, slipping your hands in the pockets of your sweatpants as you follow him to the room. He swipes his keycard, the cybersecurity team giving you both tired smiles as they filed out of your room.
"Thank you." You call gently as they load into the elevator, only getting a quick thumbs-up as the doors close. You slink into the room as Minghao holds the door open, seeing your cellphones laid out across the desk in the corner. You don't bother picking it up, instead opting to unzip your sweater and shove it off your shoulders as you kick your suitcase in front of one of the beds.
"I should be awake right now. It's only noon in New York." You grumble, and Minghao smiles as he shrugs his own sweater off, laying it over the back of the desk chair. He slips into it, stretching his arms over his head as you crouch next to your bag, fiddling with the lock before it pops open. "Do you wanna shower with me?"
"If I do, we'll be in there for two hours." He snorts, folding his hands on his lower stomach as you throw a rolled sock at him. He giggles, tossing it back into your bag with precision as you thumb through folded underwear and pick a soft pair of pink briefs. "But who am I to say no?"
"I'm so awake, Hao. I need to tire myself out but I can't leave the room and bring that poor team back this late." You rest your cheek on your knees, wrapping your arms around your shins as you look at him with low eyes. "I don't like timezones. They don't make sense."
"Yes, they do. Come on, I'll wash your hair if you get up now." He lets out a grunt as he stretches his arms over his head once more, the hem of his shirt rising up to reveal a sliver of tan skin. You huff, untangling your arms and standing up as he toes his shoes off, sliding them towards the front of the room. You pluck a random shirt out of your suitcase and your toiletry bag and bunch them under your arm as Minghao peels his shirt off. Your eyes fixate on the smooth skin of his back, muscles flexing lightly as he shakes his hair out.
"I can feel you staring at me, you know."
"When you take your pants off, go a little slower. Give me a show."
"Yeah, right. Get in the bathroom, pervert." He snorts, rolling his eyes as you swipe your fingertips down his back. He swats your hand away, only for you to grab his hand and interlace your fingers. He tongues his cheek, fighting back a smile as you tug at the knotted string of his sweatpants.
"Just a suggestion." You shrug, shooting him a cheeky smile before dropping his hand and making your way to the bathroom. He clicks his tongue behind you, letting you slip into the bathroom before following behind, watching you set down your minimal clothing before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.
"You think you're so funny."
"I am hilarious, actually."
You give him a pointed look in the mirror as you open your toiletry bag. Face wash, sunscreen, moisturizer…Astroglide. Rolling your eyes, you set it to the side as you find your toothpaste and toothbrush at the bottom of the bag. Minghao makes a noise of amusement as he slides up behind you, caging you between him and the bathroom counter as he grips the edge on either side of you.
"Minghao." Your voice has a warning lilt to it, but he only snickers as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You raise your brow at him in the mirror, "what do you want?"
"Who says I want anything? Can't I just be near you?"
"Mmh, so you're just trapping me for comfort's sake? You missed me that much on the flight?"
"You're a tease."
His chuckle is low in your ear as he smiles at you in the reflection, tilting his head to look up at you. You can't bring yourself to look at him, knowing one glance will utterly crush your resolve and you'd sell your soul to the Devil if that's what he asked of you.
"A tease? Me? You've got it all wrong."
You feel your cheeks warm as his fingertips brush your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt up slightly to feel the heat of skin on skin. Your eyes divert to your reflection in the mirror, your fingers flitting to your ears as you carefully pull off your earrings.
"I don't know, I think I might be spot on. You take 'airport casual' to another level, you know?" His voice is featherlight as you smirk inwardly, reaching around your neck to unclip the random necklace. Your eyes linger on the gold chain that's snug to your throat, but you leave it alone. "At least you wore pants this time."
"I always wear pants, Minghao."
"The pink shorts you wore in Los Angeles that did nothing to hide the marks of my teeth on your inner thighs don't count as pants."
"What happened to wanting people to know that I'm not available?" You question with a bitten grin, slipping your necklace into the side pocket of your toiletry bag. His fingertips breach the hem of your shirt, bunching the fabric as he slides it up. Evidence of your intimate moments are littered across your soft belly, and your skin prickles with goosebumps as he stops it right under your breasts.
"If that were the case, you wouldn't have edited these out of your bikini shot from before we left Los Angeles. They'd be displayed, front and center…" His fingers push the fabric a little higher, the bite mark on the underside of your breast now visible, "maybe I should take these up a little higher, hm?"
He looks at you in the reflection, his lips ghosting over the side of your neck as you fiddle with your rings. Silver dragon from Junhui on your forefinger, your mother's old wedding band on your right hand…a simple, gold band with the letter M engraved on the inside on your thumb, matching the one on his and twinkling up at you.
"Maybe you should." You whisper back, slipping the rings off your fingers one by one, but leaving the gold. You wiggle it in the mirror, the sparkle catching his eye. He smiles against your skin, "yeah?"
His fingers slide up to the base of your throat, covering the thin chain he gave you all those years ago, your nipples peeking out from under the bunched hem of your shirt. "Since when does 'airport casual' mean going braless?"
"Since it means I'll get your attention from halfway across the gate."
"And you dare say you're not a tease?"
You only shrug, your fingers tracing his bare arm with featherlight touches as your eyes meet his in the reflection. You tilt your head at him, a silent challenge as you feel his other hand palm at your hip. The pad of his thumb slips beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, slow and deliberate. He tugs at it, just enough to see the marks his teeth left on your hip — typically, covered by a pair of lacy underwear.
"You're insane." His voice is no higher than a whisper, but you don't say anything as he wedges his knee between your legs. You oblige, spreading them slightly as you tongue your cheek to suppress a mischievous grin. Minghao was…composed. He was composed and level-headed, and seeing him lose his grip on that was enough to fill your belly with a flutter only he could subdue.
"Can I have a kiss?" He murmurs, fingers sliding up to your jaw with practiced ease to make you face him. You nod as much as his grip will allow, your lips meeting his as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, teasing its way across your lower belly before cupping your heat. One, two fingers dip further south, cool against your swollen clit as he circles it gently. You gasp against his mouth, earning a low chuckle before he slots his lips to yours in a kiss. Soft, smooth — annoying to your mind as you impatiently nip at his lower lip, making him pull back with a raised brow.
"Don't be a brat." He murmurs, a pout gracing your mouth as he presses himself against your ass. He drags his lips down the slope of your neck tortuously slow, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel the scrape of his teeth against your skin. You tilt your head away, his hand giving your throat a soft squeeze before slipping down to push your shirt out of the way to palm at your breast. His thumb swipes over your nipple, sending a quick shudder down your spine as you push your chest into his hand.
"If you're just gonna mess with me—"
"Just having my fun, sweetheart."
You ignore the sudden feeling of déjà vu as you roll your eyes; he untangles himself from you, a frown on your lips at the loss of contact as he slides his hand out of your pants with a quick kiss to your cheek. Your cheeks flush at his glistening fingers, feeling them grip at your hip as he turns you to face him. You don't get a chance to speak, the closeness rendering you silent as his lips brush yours before you meet them as you carefully perch yourself onto the counter.
He moves between your spread knees, his free hand sliding up your thigh and slipping back under your sweatpants, your mouth falling open against his at the contact. He kisses down the side of your jaw as his fingers spread your wet folds, tight circles traced on your clit as you force yourself to focus — your lips slotting with his, hard, as he smiles into it at the way you rut your hips against his hand.
Kissing Minghao always makes your skin prickle, your stomach fluttering in excitement…but sometimes, like now, you forget the world around you. You forget anyone else exists as he pulls you close, eyes closed as he slides his tongue into your mouth with ease, tasting like the berry drink he had in the car on the way to the hotel. You forget he's not really yours and you're not really his as you feel his heart against the palm of your hand on his chest, even if it beats as hard as yours.
His mouth is growing desperate against yours, something uncommon between the two of you but so, so welcome. His slips a finger inside, then another — your teeth nipping at his lower lip as he smiles into the kiss, the heel of his palm bumping your clit as the cool metal of his rings makes you jolt. Your hand slides down his chest, fingertips catching at the loops in the drawstring of his sweatpants. You tug at them, the knot falling apart as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. Your fingers barely dip past the waistband when he shudders, pulling back slightly and looking down at you with swollen lips as he shakes his head.
"Don't." His hand leaves your neck to find your wrist, pulling it away and pinning it to the sink counter as you smile against his lips. You'd be more confident if his fingers weren't curled inside you, but you manage to grin up at him.
"Why?"
Any answer Minghao might've had dies on his throat, a groan replacing it as a knock on the door ricochets through the room. He sucks his teeth, giving a displeased tick of his head before his eyes meet yours. You're annoyed but better at hiding it in the moment, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as he reluctantly retracts his fingers. He doesn't pull his hand out of your sweatpants; instead, featherlight touches against your clit meant to make you squirm.
You're both silent for a moment, Minghao turning to look over his shoulder — as if daring the visitor to knock again. You lean forward, planting your lips against his cheekbone before whispering in his ear.
"Just get the door, Hao. We can finish this later."
"Wanna finish it now, though. I miss my girl." He confesses quietly, still looking over his shoulder when your hand taps his wrist. He pouts, making you chuckle as he pulls his hand out of your sweatpants and begs for a kiss with his eyes. You oblige, softly — when the knock reverberates, making you roll your eyes as he huffs. You grab a hand towel for him, silently watching as he tongues his cheek in frustration before bee-lining for the door. You lean back on your hands, your lower back touching the cool porcelain of the sink. You're slightly embarrassed at the wet sound that rings in your ears as you cross your legs.
"It's…Jun?" He calls out, the click of the lock sounding reluctant as you smile inwardly, quickly pulling your shirt back down and hopping off the counter. Minghao opens the door, and you peek out of the bathroom to see a smiling Junhui being invited in.
"What are you doing here? I mean, nice to see you, but—"
"Hey, Jun!" You interrupt, waving slightly without showing yourself too much from behind the bathroom door. Minghao looks irritated as Junhui grins at you, holding up a brown liquor store bag. "When did you get here? How long are you staying?"
"Considering the way Minghao is giving me a major stink eye, I'm going to assume you're not fully dressed behind that door?" Junhui calls out over his shoulder, making his way to the desk in your room. You snicker as Minghao mimics him, slipping back into the bathroom as you slink out. The sink turns on, and you cross your arms on your chest to hide the peaks of your nipples through your shirt.
"I am dressed, you idiot. We're not always on the verge of coitus, you know."
"Coitus? So polished, aren't you? But hey, I'm not stopping you."
"You kind of are, sweetie."
"Don't worry, I won't keep you too long." Junhui's grin makes you roll your eyes, but you perch on the edge of one of the beds to indulge him anyway, crossing one leg over the other. Your best friend hums to himself as he sets the food out, with Minghao emerging from the bathroom wiping his hands on a different towel and a scowl on his lips.
"You're real sexy when you're angry, you know that?" Junhui smirks as he pulls a bottle of cheap champagne from the bag, wiggling his brows as Minghao sits next to you. He leans back on his elbows, and you pat his thigh. Junhui makes a face of disgust as he pops the cork, making you stick your tongue out at him.
"What are you doing here, anyway? I know you love us and can't get enough, but I thought you were booked and busy for the season? And how'd you know where we were staying?" You watch as Junhui pours the champagne into plastic flutes from the same bag, handing you one as Minghao's fingers play with the back of your shirt. He plucks at it until Junhui hands him one of the flutes, a twitch in his lip as Junhui winks at him.
"So many questions, dearest. Can't you just wait until I tell you what I've done?" He only smiles wider as he pours himself champagne, and you give Minghao a worried glance as he nibbles on his lip with a shrug. Setting the bottle down, Junhui rolls his shoulders back before taking a seat in the rolling desk chair and moving so close, your knees touch. "I know where you're staying because I booked this room, remember? I told you months ago I'd be coming to Melbourne anyway, because I'm working with Ro, you remember Ro, right? The journalist? Also Jihoon's wife?"
"Yes, Jun. We know Ro, we love Ro, we read all her pieces." You roll your eyes, making Minghao bite back a laugh as Junhui scoffs.
"Anyway, I'm working with Ro and her new segment in The Carat. She asked me last season, but I was booked for most of the season with interviews, and then with the MET Gala and the fact that I opened the Oscars of all people…incredible." Junhui raises a brow, making you let out a faux yawn to make him get on with it. You grin as he pouts, before holding up his flute, "but, I have great news. Potentially, if you love me and don't want me to be sad."
"Of course we love you, Jun. You just have horrible timing." Minghao pipes up, earning a smack from you as he giggles. "What's the news? I'm crawling out of my skin with excitement."
Suppressing a smile, Junhui shrugs.
"I've been missing you guys a lot, lately. I feel like we're out of touch," Junhui starts, looking genuinely hurt as he speaks. Your heart sinks a bit, making you sit up a bit as he continues. "It sucks to have grown up together, practically attached at the hip…and then I only see you guys once or twice a year. And Hao…"
You feel your chest warm as Junhui's breath hitches, the man next to you sitting up quickly as your mutual best friend seemingly prepares to bare his heart. He leans in, his hand resting on your knee as he looks at Junhui with a flash of concern.
"I feel like I need to be with you guys, even if it's for a little while. I miss my friends. I know we're all…adults now, with our grown-up jobs and all that but I miss seeing you both, at the same time. I miss staying out late and getting chili oil noodles after a race, I miss doing the stupid poses in the pictures Minghao would take of us. After Minghao left the second time—"
"I didn't think I would let it happen. I'm sorry." Minghao interrupts, and you feel your heart clench at the reminder. It was dumb, really, to feel anxious about it — Minghao chose you, after all. He chose you, over and over again.
"It's not your fault, Hao. Love makes us do crazy things." Junhui chuckles, patting Minghao's knee before giving it a soft squeeze.
"I miss you, too, you know." You pipe up softly, making both men glance at you. "What you said about the dinners, it's been weighing on me. I haven't tried hard enough to keep our friendship alive and it pains me to know that I made you feel this way."
"Don't feel bad for being busy, and genuinely getting so lost in the sauce that you don't know which way is up. I was you, once, remember? I know what it's like." Junhui shakes his head, and you press your lips into a thin line as you nod. "I love you, Y/N. You're my best friend."
"Hey!" Minghao pouts, making the air feel lighter as you and Junhui laugh.
"But, to end this sappy charade and let the two of you get your freak on—"
"Don't rush this for that. We can…'get our freak on' any other time." Minghao shrugs, and you nod earnestly as Junhui smiles inwardly. "After all, we're friends before we're…more."
Lovers, dies on your tongue.
"True, true. I guess…you're right. Anyway," Junhui clears his throat, "I miss you guys. And because I miss you, and I want to be your favorite cock-block—"
"Watch it, Wen Junhui." You snip, pointing a menacing finger at him as he snickers.
"Three years into your career, after the world found out that we all grew up together and had been friends literally our entire lives, Ferrari teamed up with Ro and some other people in their media department to get me back on the paddock. They asked me if I wanted to join you on the circuit calendar, and they'd cover everything, I would just have to report for News 17 for the entirety of the season to make sure they're getting coverage." He nods, his fingertips tracing the rim of his flute. Your eyes narrow in suspicion, with Minghao tonguing his cheek as he fights a smile.
"I couldn't say yes then, because I was just starting in radio and I didn't want to just be known for Formula One. I wanted to have an image outside of McLaren and Kick Sauber, I wanted Wen Junhui, I wanted something to call my own. And then, I got Radio DELTA." Junhui smiles softly, before holding up his champagne flute. "And now…Radio DELTA is going on the road, baby! Can I get a hell yeah!?"
"Hell yeah!"
You're not too sure you process it fully as Junhui animatedly explains more — how he and Ro created F1: Drifting, Danger and Digging Deeper; a segment for The Carat, which just happened to be Ro's magazine. She featured people of all walks of life, often filling the glossy, coated papers with black and white action shots, melancholy think pieces, and long, detailed interview transcripts — until she met Jihoon.
The pages filled with color after that. Beautiful photos shot by her partner, Jieqiong, no longer filtered to fit a certain narrative that paired well with lively articles that wove support in tough spots of guilt and lost motivation of whoever was pictured next to it…
You had yet to sit for your debut in the magazine, constantly dodging Ro and Jieqiong's phone calls and questions from fans about it. You weren't too sure if you were ready for the theoretical Google deep-dive on your life: questions combing through your life before F1, questions about your parents, your friends, your hobbies, who you were before you became the Ferrari Flash.
It's not like you're very sure, either.
But it doesn't matter.
The clock is blinking half past two when the bottle of bubbly is empty and rolling around the floor, Minghao's hand holding the back of your neck as Junhui crawls into the spare bed. He mumbles something about not fucking too loud, not to wake him up — but none of you have anything to do tomorrow, having arrived two days early (three for Junhui) for the sake of it. You and Minghao just giggle, tipsy as you wander back into the bathroom with your fingers interlaced, fully intending to shower before slipping into bed.
He undresses you carefully, one hand tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck as he kisses you messily.
"Do you still—"
"God, yeah."
Neither of you address how slippery the shower floor is as he kneels in front of you and hikes your leg over his shoulder, tongue finding your clit almost hungrily. You cover your mouth with your fingers, your free hand carding through Minghao's wet hair, shuddered whimpers falling from your lips loud enough that Minghao smirks into your skin. Soap covers your skin, suds bubbled around your breasts as Minghao rolls your nipples between his fingers from his place between your thighs; the groans from his mouth against your clit from your hand tugging at his hair enough to make you fill the bathroom with a quipped gasp.
Neither of you say much else as he turns you around, the shower tile cool against your cheek. He drags the tip of his cock through your folds, asking twice if you're sure before giving in to your whispered begging for more, please.
For the first time, your whines are muffled by Minghao's hand over your mouth, his dirty words whispered into your ear, his teeth nipping methodically.
And you break your own heart, again, when you get into the same bed after he dresses you, helps you brush your teeth…
Knowing you'll crawl out halfway through the night and sleep on your bed, curled into a ball to avoid Junhui's sprawled limbs and quietly hoping Minghao never notices.
But it's not hard to feel someone climb out of bed.
And it's not hard to miss the heat of them, either.
— Gunma, Japan. | 8 years ago, November 6th.
"This is it."
Minghao is sitting in the passenger seat of Junhui's modded Supra, his fingers dangling out of the window as they pull up next to a white 2002 Acura NSX with blue butterflies plastered along the side. Cars of all sorts are parked around haphazardly, but three are lined up carefully along a spray-painted white line; girls with thick eyeliner lounging with cigarettes slotted between manicured nails, fishnet stockings under mini shorts and heavy boots. A few are scattered about the lot, clinging to each other or men who seem to be their boyfriends; jersey wearing, cigarette smoking, two absences from failing their Women and Gender Studies course type of boyfriends.
Might dump them for the next pretty girl that bats their eyelashes type of boyfriends.
He slips out of the car with Junhui, wiping the hem of his long-sleeve on the lens of his camera. Junhui slides across the hood, perched near his headlight as he clears his throat. Minghao looks around, before Junhui finally spots who he's looking for and calls out.
"Y/N! Get over here!"
Minghao's ears perk at the sound of your name, the sound of it familiar.
He mouths it, the feeling heavy on his tongue as your head whips up from down the line, your hand clenched around a yellow rag that was wiping the hood of your car that's parked to race. Sleek; some type of super car wrapped in pink glitter and with a modded rear spoiler in black, the words 'Pussy Wagon' spelled out on one of the custom tire rims. Minghao bites his lip to stop from grinning.
You're suspicious as you look around the lot, Junhui's voice calling out to you again before you spot him in a bright yellow jacket. Your sudden smile is bright on glossed lips, and Minghao feels his heart drop to his ass as you toss the rag and make your way across the lot. You're wearing green cargo pants, a brown hoodie that makes you look like you're drowning and a ratty pair of high top canvas sneakers.
You look oddly familiar.
"Hey! I thought I wouldn't see you tonight, did you get your paper done early?" You give Junhui a one-armed hug, before your eyes meet Minghao's. They widen a bit, a flash of curiosity blooming in the back of them as you nod politely. "Hello. Are you racing, too?"
He feels a wave of bashfulness wash over him as he slowly shakes his head, your brow raising slightly as Junhui squeezes your shoulder. Your eyes don't avert from him, instead trailing down to the heavy camera in his hand; an ORBIT Tech 97X, equipped with the newest model of the 105mm S2S macro lens, dropped just last week.
You gesture at it with your pinky finger, your skin and nails tinted with smeared red polish. Why is that so familiar?
"Are you on the yearbook committee? I don't think they'll let you use any photos you take here." You lament, as if you know you're letting him down. He clears his throat, shaking his head before unscrewing the lens.
"Oh, no. I'm just…taking pictures for Junhui." He nods, swallowing carefully as Junhui facepalms behind you.
Minghao has transferred to your university for a semester abroad — and it was truly the universe that brought Junhui and Minghao back together after having lost contact years ago. Minghao had misplaced Junhui's house number when he moved back to Haicheng, turning everything over looking for it to no avail; the two hadn't spoken since Minghao left the summer before seventh grade. Funnily enough, Minghao found Junhui's number on a poster pinned to in the dorm hall resident board for an afternoon car meet; texting the number and asking if they needed someone to take pictures. The two met up an hour before, with the two instantly recognizing each other and immediately falling into excited chatter about everything they had missed throughout the years, and Junhui even introduced him to some of his buddies — none of which Minghao bothered to remember their names.
Minghao easily fit into Junhui's friend group here, though quiet — but you were always busy at the garage under your car, or cramming for school. Junhui kept talking about you, mentioning how you used to throw pebbles and mulch at kids who would pick on him and Minghao at the playgrounds — but nothing in Minghao's memory was sparking an image of you.
Until now — with the tint of smeared red polish on your fingertips, the messily untied shoelaces and the small gold hoops that looped through your earlobes. He remembers Mrs. Huang having to pull you aside constantly and tie them for you, the way she'd have to fold the hem of your brown school pants because they were much too long for you. He remembers the gold hoops most of all, because you fought a girl — yes, fought — who wanted to try them on but you said they were from your grandmother and you weren't allowed to take them off.
He remembers being the first boy to ever tell you that you were pretty — on the playground after school, waiting for your father to pick you up. Of course he gave you compliments before that were much more important in his mind; smart, for figuring out long division without Junhui's help, talented, for learning to do a back-flip on the first try. You were eleven then, holding handfuls of mulch and throwing pieces down at Junhui from the top of the slides when he murmured it. You were so flustered you couldn't even say anything back, instead smiling inwardly, your chin to your chest as you threw more pieces of mulch at Junhui. Minghao took it as a silent win.
And he realizes, in losing Junhui's phone number all those years ago — he lost you, too.
"You look…really familiar. Do I know you?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as Junhui visibly squeezed your shoulder again, his eyes pleading with Minghao. You tore your eyes away from him for a moment, looking up at your mutual friend before looking back at Minghao.
"Y/N, this is Minghao."
Your eyes widened, your hand reaching into your sweatshirt and pulling out a locket. You popped it open, only glancing down at it once before gasping.
"Xu Minghao? From class 7-B?"
You bounced on your toes as a blush crept across his cheeks, nodding slowly when you turned the locket to face him. Inside was a picture of you, squished between two boys in dirty uniform shirts, your face smeared with icing from a cake. You, Junhui and Minghao — squeezed together on one chair, smiling brightly.
"Hi." He mumbles softly, and you nod eagerly as you close the locket and shove it into your shirt. He rubs his neck awkwardly, "I just transferred for the semester, so—"
"No, I know! Junhui has been texting me about you nonstop but I've just been so busy, I haven't been checking anything and my memory is so shit these days. I'm so sorry, but it really is so nice to see you again. Thought we lost ya for a while, there." Your smile, so bright and beautiful…it makes his stomach flip, his knees slightly weak as he clears his throat.
"It's okay, it's nice to see you, too. You're still pretty." His voice is quiet as he toys with the lens in his hand, but he notices the way your shoulders tense slightly, your breath hitching in your throat. Your eyes flicker away, and you clear your throat as Junhui snickers behind you.
"God, you guys. Act like you know each other!" He bumps your shoulder, making you scowl as you shove him away. "You act like no one has called you pretty before. I call you pretty all the time!"
"That's your job as my best friend, dickwad. And you're not as pretty as he is."
"Hey! I resent that!"
Minghao ignored the heat on his cheeks, instead screwing the lens back onto the camera as he listened to you and Junhui bicker. It reminded him of the old times, where the three of you would split a raspberry and cream snowcone but get mad at Junhui for taking all the chunks of ice — eventually, ending in you making Junhui shell out the coins for you to get your own.
"I hate to interrupt, but…" His voice makes you both stop, a pout on your lip as you shove Junhui again, presumably for good measure. "Your tire. It says…it says 'Pussy Wagon', right?"
You immediately perk up, looking over your shoulder at your car across the lot. "Hell yeah! Jun got me the rims for my birthday!"
Minghao bites back his smile, holding up his camera slightly. "Would you like some shots? They're free."
"I love free. Do whatever you want, but I do want a shot of the rims to frame in my dorm." You wiggle your brows, and he lets a laugh slip through as you give Junhui an uninterested look. "Are you gonna race or not? I need to know if I have a confirmed win tonight."
"Are you saying I'm not good enough to beat you? You don't think any of our buddies have what it takes to beat you across that finish line, either?" Junhui scoffs, before shrugging his bag off his shoulder and unzipping it. A wad of cash is hidden in your hand, your eyes narrowing as you quickly cover him with your body. You seemingly tuck it into his bag, and you give Minghao a quipped smile.
"So…how does this race thing work, anyway? Are you guys tracked or something?" Minghao fiddles with the shutter on his camera, and you point upwards, his line of vision following up a winding mountain.
"Pretty simple, we don't get tracked because the race stops if someone gets hurt. We line up here," You foot taps the pavement beneath you, tire marks scattered everywhere, "and we race down this backstreet, which leads you to the east end of the mountain. The trail has been marked as defunct on any online maps you see, but that's because the rangers closed it due to the street racing. We still use it, because one of the rookies has connects with the rangers. Think his name is Mingi."
You roll your eyes, before glancing at the watch on your wrist. Thin, gold. Familiar.
"We have a bit before the race starts. Did you want me to show you some of my mods? I don't know much about photography but you're the artist, maybe you'll find something worth shooting." You try to distract him from the money exchange, but he just files it away as he nods, much to Junhui's delight — who shoots him a sly wink. You eagerly take his free hand, his breath hitching as you drag him across the lot, fingertips cool against his warm palm. You interlace your fingers with his, keeping him close to your hip as you rattle off specs that he doesn't understand as you make it to your car.
"How have you been? I mean, it's been…years." You ask suddenly, and he feels his cheek warm as your thumb strokes the back of his hand before you quickly let go. "Sorry. Force of habit, Jun and I."
"Oh, are the two of you—"
"No! God, no. He's a freak. I say that with love, of course."
You snicker, crossing your arms limply, your fingers gripping at the sleeves of your hoodie. He nods slowly, before shrugging. He crouches next to your car, wiping at a bit of dirt on your tire with the pad of his thumb before you quickly lean over the hood of your car and grab the rag. You hand it to him, crouching so close your thigh touches his knuckles as he cleans the rim of your tire. He smiles at the slogan stamped into the pink metal, clicking his tongue as he speaks.
"I've…existed, I guess. Made my mark here and there."
"Do you still dance? I remember you were super into that back then."
"I retired. I went to Shanghai for a casting and it just wasn't in the cards for me. The universe works in mysterious ways."
"That really sucks, I'm sorry. Do you miss it?" You ask, and he looks over his shoulder, a small smirk on his lips as he raises a brow. Your arms are wrapped around your knees, holding them close to your chest as you peer at him through your lashes.
"You're big on small talk, huh?"
You scoff, rolling your eyes as you look away. "No."
"Yeah? What's next, gonna ask me how I feel about the weather?" He teases, and you tongue your cheek to stop the spread of a smile on your lips. He gives you a wink, watching the way you bury your face in your arms. "How'd you get into this, anyway?"
You seem to lighten up at that, but shrug like it's no big deal.
"Oh, just…watching. Junhui and I would hang out on weekends a lot, and his dad has that sick model car collection, remember? The ones in the upstairs guest room that we weren't allowed to touch?" Your voice is fond as Minghao nods, still wiping at the metal. "Jun's cousins also took us to a lot of car meets and street races when we were still kids, which probably wasn't the best idea because Mr. Wen had to teach us both to drive and we scared him half to death every time we got behind the wheel."
You chuckle, but there's a hint of sorrow in it as you sigh.
"Why did Mr. Wen teach you?" He asks, not looking at you as he sets the rag down. You shift next to him, your knee brushing his as you clear your throat.
"My dad didn't want to teach me."
"…Can I ask why?"
"My mom was a racer, too, back when we were kids." You mumble, making Minghao still next to you. He glances over his shoulder, watching you pick at a loose thread in your pants. He turns, facing you a bit more as you zero in on the green fabric, your fingertips pinching it limply before tugging it out.
"Hydroplaned across the road she was racing on and crashed into a tree head-on. Died on impact back in 2009."
Minghao feels his stomach sink as you shrug again, giving him a small smile. "It's okay, I've learned to live with it. My dad doesn't know I race, but I'm always extra careful around these parts, anyway, especially this mountain. Turns are kinda tight, you know?"
You pat your knees, before standing up quickly. "I've gotta talk to Jun about some school stuff but you'll be around after, right? We can get dinner, my treat. I'm a winner, after all."
Your hand squeezes his shoulder before you scamper away, leaving Minghao with his heart in his throat. He sits for a moment, thinking back. He remembers your mother a lot more than your father — she always pressed a kiss to your cheek when she dropped you off in the mornings, stamping her bright red lipstick on your skin. She picked you up early during thunderstorms, showing up in the door of the classroom with your yellow raincoat in her hand and a clear umbrella. She had these wide eyes, bright and gentle; and she was always the one who answered the door when Minghao's mother dropped him off at Junhui's house, giving his mother soft smiles and polite greetings.
He remembers Junhui's birthday party the summer he left; your mother had baked the cake, sneaking back into the house for plates when your father caught her at the backdoor. He kissed her cheeks shamelessly, her laughter ringing out as she reached out for you, her hand grabbing your wrist as you walked by. She pulled you in between them, your father's lips landing on your cheek as you squealed when he spun you around. She escaped, the plates in her hand for the cake slightly crushed in her grip. He remembers her shy smile as his own mother teased her, slicing the cake quickly to escape the crooning of parents and children alike.
He remembers her face behind the camera as the three of you were squished uncomfortably on one of the lawn chairs, but Junhui smeared icing on your face just as the camera flashed.
And that's the picture in your locket.
But he doesn't remember anything about your mother ever being a racer. He remembers her wearing suits, pressed and pleated. High heels, a camera strap around her shoulder, a chunky gold ring on her left hand from your father — and sometimes, a thin, gold watch around her wrist.
He shudders, his fingers tightening around the lens of his camera. He busies himself, trying to will away the way your eyes blanked for a moment when you said it — snapping photos of your car, wiping the edge of your license plate…
Catching a shot of you and Junhui leaning against the hood of his car, smiling as you talk to each other, before a staticky megaphone sounds out. You and Junhui wince, a scowl on your lips as you cover your ears. It's too warbled for Minghao to make out what is being said, but it seems everyone around is used to it because commotion starts — cheers and hoots paired with the slamming of doors, your hair bouncing as you sprint across the lot. You don't bother opening the door, sliding into your front seat through the open window with a giddy smile on your face as you meet his eyes.
"Hey, pretty boy! Don't get hit, stand over there!" You yell over the rev of your engine, shooting him a quick wink as he shakes his head, tonguing his cheek as he holds the camera up for a quick shot. You smile wide, the flash barely fazing you as the megaphone sounds again, a pair of girls holding green flags in their balled fists. Minghao makes his way into the crowd, giving polite smiles and throwing a quiet excuse me here and there.
"Ready!"
Minghao turns, bringing his camera to his face and zeroing his lens in on you. Another quick flick.
"Set!"
You grin devilishly, shooting a quick finger-gun at Junhui across the lot. He hoists the camera up again, the light perfect against Junhui's skin…
"Go!"
Flash — and you're gone. Minghao looks through the camera as you and Junhui are speeding down the back road, capturing a satisfyingly blurry shot of your bumpers next to each other.
Minghao fades into the crowds, not bothering to speak to anyone as he takes his phone out. His fingers fumble around, pressing into his social media profile before typing in Junhui's name. His profile is full of pictures of cars, cats, you in the most random situations; standing on the hood of your car, hanging upside down from a tree branch, asleep in a lecture hall at your campus.
Minghao sees that you're tagged in all of them, and he takes a deep breath, his finger hovering over the tag. He presses it, opening it to see you and Junhui filling your public profile, but the most recent post from six months ago. You're holding someone's hand in a mirror, his face cut off by the edge of the mirror.
@/007dash: last of my lover. i'll miss u ♡ make me proud. @/96jeon.
He clears his throat, feeling an odd disappointment settle in his belly. Tonguing his cheek, he scrolls through your profile a bit more — your 'lover' is seemingly nameless, and his profile is full of aesthetic shots of you, his car, his friends…
However, there is no pictures of your boyfriend's face on either profile. Neck down shots, short videos of you speaking but they're muted with edited captions and music. The last post was made a year ago, a short video of you and him in Tokyo with Automatic by Hikaru Utada edited over it. The video ends with a reflection shot of you on your tiptoes, seemingly to kiss him, before the screen going black.
@/96jeon: my first love, i'll make you proud @/007dash ♡
Minghao realizes you are really, truly, loved. By Junhui, by your father, by…lover. He's never had to be there, his absence from your life has never made the world stop turning for you. You've moved on, you've lived, you've loved and you're loving.
He sits with his thoughts for a moment — staring up at the sky. The trees cover a lot of it, but there are a few twinkling stars that he makes out as he lets his mind wander. Junhui had briefed him on your heartbreak, omitting names and certain details but Minghao got the general gist. He understood you were in love, that it was something you had fully thought would be long-term. You'd planned it all with this '96jeon' — the house, the kids, the wedding.
When he left, you were restless. You spent all your time filling it — what used to be Saturdays in the garage turned to 40 hours a week, you studied until your eyes hurt and you'd spend days driving in circles all over the city to feel the wind in your hair. Junhui explained it was the way you coped with heartbreak, that he'd seen you do it once before — with your father, and on pedal bikes. You didn't get into a car for a handful of years after she died. He just hadn't mentioned it was when your mother passed, but Minghao was able to put that together on his own.
On the other hand…sure, Minghao has had a girlfriend. Several girlfriends, actually — but something had always been missing and that was enough to get over them sooner than later. Not enough ambition, too much dependency, even a lack of emotional attachment at one point; Minghao needed balance. He needed someone who had her own goals, who didn't need his money, who didn't want to date him just because he was a pretty face. He wanted…well, he wanted love. In the deepest form, even if it hurt him.
It was unlike him to think that way.
He shook it off, taking the time instead to mingle with other people. Everyone was welcoming, of course, and they were even nicer when Minghao offered pictures for free. Poses were struck, engines were revved, detailing was polished clean for a 10-second moment in the camera — until the screech of tires were heard, paired with Hold It Against Me by Britney Spears blaring through someone's speakers. People begin to crowd, on either side of the finish line, their eyes wide and hollers loud as he looks up, seeing Junhui's green supra making its way to the lot—
When your car slides past him, top down and crossing the finish line with a loud skid. You steer into it, spinning into a tight doughnut and leaving marks on the asphalt as the song playing through your stereo changes — Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls blasting as you stand on your seat. His fingers are tight around the camera, hollers of your name ring out as you hop out of the car. Your eyes are sparkling as Junhui skids to a halt right next to you, slamming out of his car as you stick your tongue out at him like a 6-year-old.
For a moment, Minghao sees a gleam of the girl he last knew in your eyes.
And he's sure the flash from his camera is nothing as you scream along with everyone who gathered around you. You taunt Junhui as you hop around him, but Minghao knows better than to think that the smile forcing it's way onto his lips is anything less than mischief laced with adoration. Junhui was a great liar, sure — but there was no way he could be annoyed at someone like you.
"Loser!" You cheer in Junhui's face as he snorted, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest as Minghao snaps another photo. It's not in a congratulatory way, Minghao can see the moment the idea sparks in Junhui's mind as he wraps a playful arm around your neck and your eyes widen. You pat his forearm quickly, letting out a gasp.
"I yield! Wait, Jun, please—"
The rest of the straggling racers pump their brakes as they make it to the finish line, cutting their wheels with scowls on their lips. You shriek as Junhui's fingertips dig into your side teasingly, before you manage to free yourself from his grasp and swat at his hands.
"Pay up, losers! Three hundred bucks each and it's all for me!" You brag, snatching the money you'd slipped into Junhui's bag right out of his hand as he held it out to you. The other racers grumbled about fair play and poor sportsmanship as they pulled their wallets out, watching you prance around happily as everyone began to dissipate. You shove the money into one of your cargo pockets, patting the flap shut as you wave everyone off.
"Jun! Wanna go to Tsuki's?" You ask as one of the racers sorely revs their engine in front of you, making you flip them the bird as you walk backwards. Minghao meets you halfway, his chest hitting your back as you reach behind you. As soon as Junhui nods, you look over your shoulder.
"Told you I was a winner."
"Never doubted you for a second, Flash."
"Ooh, I like that. Flash." You snort, before you glance back at Junhui. He's putting shrugging his jacket off, tossing it into his backseat before meeting your eyes. "Are you riding with Jun?"
"You want me to ride with you?" He asks coolly as you both make your way back to Junhui, and you don't respond as you reach into your car and turn your stereo down. Junhui slips into his seat, giving you both a look.
"You wanna ride with Y/N? She speeds and her car smells like macaroni." Junhui scrunches his nose as you scoff, kicking his wheel. "My car does not smell like macaroni!"
"And she yells, Hao." Junhui feigns tears, making the younger bite back his smile. You huff, turning away and giving Junhui a chance to give Minghao a pointed look. Go with her, he mouths, and Minghao knows a glaze of worry flashes through his eyes. Junhui waves him off, giving him a comforting smile before calling out to you. "I'll meet you there, alright? I've got some business to take care of."
"Sure thing. We'll save you a seat, Jun." You give him a thumbs up, fiddling with your stereo as you look over to Minghao. You pat the side of your car door, "come on, pretty boy. Hop in."
Minghao does as he's told, sliding in and quietly tucking his camera into his bag before placing it between his feet. He pulls at the seatbelt as Junhui speeds off, honking something offbeat. Minghao clears his throat lightly, only for you to look up at him with a soft smile.
"You wanna cruise or you wanna get there fast?" You rev your engine, and he looks away, shrugging.
"Whatever you want."
You seemingly take mercy on him, taking a nice cruise through the streets. You don't speak either, just letting him look around as softer songs play — 24 Hours by Sunmi, Everything is Embarrassing by Sky Ferreira, Twenty-three by IU…
Lonesome Love by Mitski.
It wasn't long before you arrived at Tsuki's, a homey hole-in-the-wall udon shop in Shibukawa that you and Junhui frequented a lot during your first year at Gunma University. You befriended the owners, quickly meeting the namesake — a white Turkish Angora cat with one blue eye and one brown. The two of you were photographed in the restaurant, posing for a quick Polaroid that rested against the cashier's register. Minghao examined it as you ordered quickly, rattling off toppings before telling him to choose a table as you fished out the money in your pocket. He handed his card to the cashier before you could take it out, earning a scowl from you as the receipt printed and he turned to find a seat. You mumbled something about a bathroom, and he gave you a quick thumbs up as he took a seat in the corner.
"Iced tea!" You state, holding two large glasses in your hand as you came back from the restroom. "Best in the area, brewed in house by the owners."
He takes a quick sip, before the waitress comes over with your bowls. You both thank her quickly, hearing the door open and Junhui appearing with an excited gleam in his eye. You wave him over, "I ordered for you. But I told them you'd be a bit, so go tell them you're here now."
"Thanks," He ruffles your hair, and Minghao watches the action silently as he fiddles with his camera. "I'll be back, gonna talk to Mrs. Iguchi. Eat up, don't wait for me."
You don't seem at all bothered by Junhui's behavior, almost like it's normal for you as Minghao clears his throat. You pause, your chopsticks halfway to your mouth with a bundle of noodles.
"Can I ask you something?" He stares at the broth in his bowl, and you carefully shovel the noodles into your mouth as you nod.
"Sure." You cover your mouth with your hand, chewing carefully as he glances up. Your eyes are wide in curiosity, and you tilt your head slightly before swallowing. "You're okay, right?"
"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if I had never gone back to Haicheng? Do you think we would've stayed friends?" His fingers play with the rim of the glass, and you hum, pursing your lips.
"I don't like to think about the what ifs, actually." You start, before a small smile graces your lips. "But if I really think about it, I think you leaving for Haicheng was an essential part of…growing up, I guess. You weren't meant to stay by our side for the time being but clearly the universe brought you back for a reason."
Your smile is gentle as you shrug, and you rest your chin in your hand. "I think…maybe we would've been really close. Maybe you and I would've ganged up against Jun more often than not. Maybe we would've fought the way Jun and I do, but…it'd be easier with you, I think."
Before Minghao can ask what you mean, Jun returns with a bottle of sake in his hand and a glass of water. He gives you both a quick smile, slipping into the booth next to Minghao. You frown, gesturing at the empty spot next to you.
"We have a guest, Y/N."
"We have a ritual, Junhui."
He just rolls his eyes, watching as you scowl and cross your arms, leaning against the vinyl of the booth.
"So." He presses his lips together as he adjusts in his seat, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and kicking you under the table. You jump, his face serious as the waitress drops his bowl off on the table. "Fix your face. What did I miss?"
"Nothing. Eat your food, brat." You stick your tongue out at him, before giving Minghao a quick smile. He smiles back, awkwardly feeling around for his utensils on the table before Junhui clears his throat.
"Did you guys catch up? Did she tell you about the time she tripped down a flight of stairs and—"
"Junhui!"
You kick him under the table, but he still manages a smile as he rubs his shin rapidly. "What?! You didn't tell him about the day you learned to fly?"
"Junhui, shut up!" You pout, and Minghao bites back his smile as he nudges Junhui's side with his elbow. Junhui scowls, swatting his arm away as Minghao snickers.
"Leave the girl alone, Jun."
"Now you're on her side? How is that fair?!"
"Why would I be on your side?" Minghao scoffs, turning his nose up as he slides his bowl slightly closer. "I'm a neutral party."
"Anyway," Junhui smiles softly, "I have news."
"Do tell, since you've been disappearing on me every few days. It's like you're hiding something from me." Your eyes are pointed as you take a sip from your iced tea, and Minghao notices Junhui's gaze turn a bit guilty as he glances at him. Junhui swallows loudly, his fingers tracing patterns into the cold sake bottle.
You blink expectantly as you slurp another mouthful of noodles, and Junhui clears his throat.
"So, I filled Minghao in a bit on the way here. About, uh, your recent heartbreak."
Your eyes narrow, your cheek bulging from the food stuffed into it. You glance at Minghao, who is rigid in his seat. He lets out a weak cough, eyes avoidant as Junhui tries to clean the situation up.
"I didn't name names. I only…I just told him your boyfriend left." Junhui awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, and you blink again, silently setting down your chopsticks as you swallow hard. "Or, ex-boyfriend, rather."
"Whatever you wanna call it. Just spit it out, Wen." Your voice holds no malice, only curiosity laced with concern as you shift in your seat. You're leaning forward, your lips glistening with oil from the broth of the noodles. "You know you can tell me anything."
"I'm…going to be on the roster for the upcoming F1 season." He whispers, and Minghao watches your face change in seconds. Confusion, anger, excitement…hurt. You purse your lips, your hands on the table flattening as you process the information, before Junhui speaks again. "With Kick Sauber."
You shrink into the booth, and Minghao can't read you fast enough before you're nibbling on your lip. Your eyes are glazed over, and Minghao can almost feel the ache in your throat as you look up at the lights of the restaurant. His hands clench in his lap, enveloping each other as he begins to bounce his leg.
"You're leaving?"
"I'll come back. You know I'll come back, I'd never leave you behind."
Junhui's voice is reassuring, but you just nod slowly. Your eyes are brimming with tears, your fingernail tapping against the mahogany wood of the table as you try to clear your throat. You fail, your voice coming out thick as you speak.
"When are you leaving?"
"In March. Second week of March." Junhui's tone grows even softer, as if he's trying to cushion the blow. An angry tear slips down your face, your fingers quickly wiping it away as you sniffle. You tongue your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes shut before running a hand through your hair.
"I'm your best friend. You're my best friend in this entire world, Y/N. I'd never leave you behind." Junhui tries, but you just nod again, blowing a breath out of your mouth before sucking your teeth. You tilt your head, eyes searching Junhui before they land on Minghao.
"Did you already know?" You ask, and he chews his cheek as he nods slowly. A flash of something crosses your eyes as you acknowledge his response with a nod of your own, and Junhui starts slowly scooting out of the booth as if he knows you're going to run. You slide out of the booth entirely, grabbing the strap of your bag and hiking it over your shoulder before looking down at Junhui with what Minghao can only identify as betrayal.
"I can't say what you need me to say right now," You admit quietly, your voice shaky as Junhui tries to get up to comfort you. You step back, "I can't say what I should say right now, and I know that's selfish. I think…I just need some time alone to process this."
Junhui nods, and you don't say anything else as you wipe at your face harshly and whirl out of the shop. Minghao looks at your bowl of noodles, half eaten and your sweating glass of iced tea on the coaster. Junhui sounds off with a defeated sigh, running a hand over his face as he grabs the bottle of sake.
"I told you she wouldn't take it well." He murmurs, and Minghao nods, before clicking his tongue.
"I still think it's better she finds out from you than anyone else, or worse, the media." Minghao replies, when the front door bell rings again. You're barreling back in, and you're still crying but you throw your arms around Junhui and squeeze him tight. The guy looks taken aback, but he quickly recovers by wrapping his arms around your torso.
"You bitch." You sob, smacking his shoulder as Minghao moves back a bit, his fingers fiddling with the lens of his camera. He scoots back more, holding the camera to his face as you press a kiss to the top of Junhui's head. "I hate you. I'm so proud of you. Idiot."
"I know you're experiencing a lot of emotions right now, but you could be nicer."
"You could be a better friend and not leave me and Minghao—"
"You have Minghao and Minghao has you. I'm always in your heart, Y/N."
The flash doesn't distract either of you, but you shove Junhui away before you can cry anymore. Your eyes are full of what can only be described as fear, but you seemingly swallow the most that you can and wipe at your face shakily.
"I love you so much. Don't call me, dumbass. I'll see you later."
Minghao wonders if he'll ever hear those words from you.
"Ninth place is fucking insane. P2 to ninth? What the hell happened?" You hear Mingyu mutter as you walk past him unzipping his suit, tugging at your collar and undoing the Velcro strap as Wonwoo shoves his shoulder lightly. Tzuyu is snickering from the front of the paddock, attempting to hide it behind the chewing of a gummy bear from the pack in her hand. "You're laughing? It's not funny, babe!"
"You'll live."
"Easy for you to say, from the top."
"Gyu, it could've been worse. Take what you get and be better next time." He shrugs, and you smile inwardly as you manage to skirt past them and grab a water bottle off the table. Minghao is across the paddock, likely talking shop as Junhui interviews him.
"Easy for you to say, old man."
"I'm not even that much older than you, dimwit."
"Whatever. Hey, Flash. Nice going out there." Mingyu comments, and you feel your shoulders tense as you glance over. You give him a curt smile, catching Wonwoo's gaze as you speak.
"Maybe if you were three times faster you'd be where I am, Kim. Nice going, though." You chuckle, taking a sip of your water bottle as Wonwoo bites back his laugh, covering his face as Mingyu blinks.
"What?"
"You're ninth place. Three multiplied by three is nine. If you were three times as fast—"
"I know what she meant, Jeon."
You smile to yourself, looking through the snack table and grabbing for a granola bar when a hand grabs it first. You glance up, seeing the familiar navy blue suit attached to one Choi San. You feel your expression turn somewhat apologetic as you reach for something else, but he places it into your open hand and grabs something else himself.
"P15 to third place is impressive." He says softly, "good job, Flash."
"Thanks, San." Your cheeks warm under his gaze, steady as you shrug, "but it's no big deal. They don't call me Flash for nothing."
He laughs, "I know, sweetheart. See you."
You feel a bit of guilt spread in your chest, knowing that Minghao is only a few feet away. However, you've always just been that way — joining F1 a year after Junhui did and seeing Wonwoo was a hit to the heart like no other. You'd ended up going to dinner to fully tie up loose ends, and now things were as casual as they could be between two first loves.
But San?
You and Wonwoo had been something incredibly private. He was an entity of a first love — nameless, faceless, even voiceless throughout the public duration of your year-long relationship and social media was about you to him. You kissed out in the open without scrutiny, you held hands walking through the streets of your college town, you went on dates without anyone ever thinking anything except two lovers…well, loving.
And then he left.
With San…you were so careful. You tried so hard to keep it under wraps, not really knowing the severity of a relationship in the spotlight but wanting to avoid it anyway. You both loved so hard, so silently — only to be stripped of it all in one go. You were made a laughingstock, you were exposed for being someone in love and while things calmed down, you knew people in your vicinity were still wary of you even if it wasn't your fault.
San's team made it a point to keep the two of you separate in every occasion possible. You were sat on opposite ends of the interview rooms during post-race questioning, you were not allowed to be on the same flights or stay in the same hotels, and you were even told not to stand too close together if either of you placed in the top three on Sundays.
It was miserable, and when you were both taken off the roster, you felt like everything was crumbling in your hands. You didn't feel safe in your apartment in Long Beach, repeatedly having it checked for bugs and even San himself mentioned feeling paranoid at his condo in Los Angeles. After every lead in the investigation came to a dead end, you felt discouraged and any form of contact with San was so limited that you just stopped trying.
You made the move to New York City after your lawyers admitted there was nothing else that could be done, and San made a cross-country move as well — to Miami. You got one last message from him before he changed his number, and you weren't recommended to be given the new one per his legal team's advisement.
Yet, he still looks at you as though you've hung the stars from the sky.
"See you."
Message From: Choi San [old number]
[07/10] settled in. just sending this because i miss you and i was told i shouldn't give you my new number to keep you safe. i hope you know i love you, always, and that i'll always be here if you need someone.
[07/10] for my birthday, all i ask is you stay for just a moment more. please don't move on right away. please love me a little longer.
[07/10] i'll see you next season. (Read: 3:42AM)
— SHANGHAI, CHINA. | 4:32 PM.
"My stomach hurts."
You always feel this way when you land in Shanghai. Junhui's parents always take the flight up to watch you race for the weekend, getting their tickets through your team directly — and bringing gifts from your father, who also gets a ticket.
It's always unclaimed.
He never comes down to watch you race and you can't say you blame him, but you get a single text from him the morning of the race with a simple be safe. He's never in the stands, and you don't blame him — he wasn't very happy when you called him about your college boyfriend leaving to be a racer, then Junhui…then you.
He didn't speak to you for a week after learning you'd signed the contract with Ferrari. He called Junhui and asked him to talk you out of it, only to find out that Junhui was the one who encouraged you to break into the scene after your racing past was discovered by the Kick Sauber team through him. He was upset, and you still called every day at 8PM Shenzhen time — no matter where you were.
Minghao glances at you over his shoulder, his hair damp from his shower as he fishes through his duffel bag.
"You can call him now, babe."
"I know, but he already texted me. I know he's nervous and that makes me nervous. I never place well in Qualifying when we race in Shanghai."
"You'll place well, you just need to shake it off. I'm certain you could even win."
You groan as you flop onto your hotel bed, earning a hum from your…something as he slides onto the bed next to you. He sits up on his elbow, and you pout up at him as he brushes your hair out of your face carefully. You pucker your lips slightly, begging for a kiss and he obliges, lips soft against yours as he cups your face.
"He loves you anyway."
"It's selfish of me to want him to be here, isn't it?"
"It's human nature to be selfish, you know."
He presses a kiss to your nose as you turn on your side, draping your leg over his hip and settling into his neck. His hand slips under the back of your shirt, tracing circles into your warm skin as you sigh.
"Sometimes I want to move back, you know." You mumble, "I miss my dad a lot. I think being home would also help me figure out if racing is really what I want, and…"
And we'd be closer.
Minghao understands, squeezing your hip under your shirt.
"You can. You can always move back, you know your dad would love to have you back and Junhui is over here all the time anyway. It's like he never left."
"I know, you guys are always hanging out without me! It's like you hate me."
"We don't hate you, angel. Shanghai is just a good halfway point for Jun and me, and if you ever came back home…you could be with us. We could spend time together, but you like New York too much." He teases, but you know there's truth to it. It's not that you like New York, but it's…easier to say that than to say you're a coward. A coward that can't admit her feelings, that can't say what she wants to say so she hides behind the veil of the smog in a concrete jungle she's tried to call home.
It never works.
"If I came back, I'd stay in Shenzhen with my dad."
"You came back to Shenzhen three times during the off-season and never once asked to see me, though. So what would change now? At least you'd be closer."
"I was homesick."
"So am I, any time we're apart."
Silence settles between you as his words sink in, his lips pressing to your face in random patterns. You let your eyes flutter shut, pulling him closer as he plants a kiss on your lips.
"An eight-hour flight is easier than a thirty-hour one, don't you think?" He murmurs against your lips, likely feeling the way you pout because he laughs. "As much as I love just laying here with you, we have lunch plans with Jun, Tzuyu and Mingyu."
"It's almost suppertime."
"It's lunch because you didn't eat on the plane. You pushed your food around."
"Stop noticing things about me, it's like you're obsessed with me."
Your scoff does nothing to deter him, his smile only growing cheeky as he peppers kisses across your cheeks.
"I am obsessed with you, angel. Get up."
You huff in embarrassment as he pats the swell of your ass before slipping away, your hand swatting at his as he giggles. You force yourself up with a groan, watching him pull a shirt over his head as you click your tongue.
"I'm already in my pajamas."
"You should wear your yellow dress. You know the one, with the pockets?"
You change begrudgingly, moving around the room as Minghao watches silently. Your thumb shines with the same gold ring, your neck sparkling with the same thin chain…and he doesn't miss a chance to kiss the top of your head as you pull him close to you for a picture in the hallway mirror.
"Are you posting that?" He asks softly, and you hate the weight his words hold. The weight of being tapped into, of the safe haven he's built around you being stripped and shown to the world for all to speculate. The weight of being discovered, the romance between driver and engineer something not uncommon but it's you. It's you, the Ferrari Flash, debuting another man. Another target for people to dig deep into, as if they don't already have so much information about him.
The difference is that Minghao can still hide from the spotlight, he doesn't owe anyone anything because he's not the one on that stupid tarmac.
You're on it almost every weekend. You chose it, he didn't.
"Are you okay with it?" You let him interlace your fingers as you slip into the elevator, your phone open to the gallery. Hundreds of images of you and Minghao filled it, often filed away to a private folder — dating all the way back to your reunion in Gunma eight years ago, full of videos and stills from his camera and your phone until he left after the semester ended, breaking his phone halfway through his first month back in Haicheng and once more losing you in the process.
"I don't mind." He shrugs, "I can hold my own."
"You say it like I'm throwing you to the sharks."
"You're throwing me to the wolves but a death by your hand is all the sweeter."
"Charmer." You roll your eyes, but open your Instagram anyway. You click around, choosing a song for your story as he presses the button to take you down to the lobby. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, his matching ring cool to your skin as you post it, his phone pinging with the notification.
@/flashingyou_by | ♫ Suga Suga - Baby Bash, Frankie J.
↳ 💬 lunch on us? @/xuminghao_o
"Us? I'm paying, angel."
"Your money is mine, my money is yours. Loser."
"Doesn't that come with marriage? Shared finances?" He asks, pulling his phone out as the elevator jolts to a stop. You pull your hand out of his, despite having been photographed holding hands and such for ages — stepping out of the elevator as your stomach growls. He reaches for your wrist, pulling you close as a camera flashes in the corner of your eye. He doesn't care, wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you so flush to him that your hips bump as you walk towards the car awaiting you. Junhui is already there, talking to the driver as he leans through the window.
"Doesn't it?" Minghao's voice is soft in your ear as he opens the door for you, giving you a pointed look as your cheeks burn. You stick your tongue out at him, making him do it back as another camera flash goes off. He helps you into the car, and you both greet the driver quietly without a response as Junhui rounds the vehicle to get in on the other side of you.
"Hey, losers. Or should I say—"
You smack Junhui's arm, a scowl on your lips when you realize that the driver is just Mingyu, and Tzuyu is sitting in the passenger seat. Minghao swallows his laughter as you rub Junhui's arm apologetically, his lip jutted in a pout as you pat him.
"I was wondering why the hell you were both greeting me like that. Always lost in each other, huh?" Mingyu snorts, and you feel Minghao's hand pat your knee as you reach forward to pinch Mingyu's shoulder. He jumps, swatting at your hand as you cross your legs and wedging Minghao's hand between them as Mingyu pulls out of the hotel lot.
"How did the two of you become a thing, anyway?" Tzuyu asks curiously, and Minghao tenses slightly next to you before clearing his throat. You catch her eyes in the rear view, wide and inquisitive as you shrug, gesturing at the air.
"I mean, we've known each other for ages, and you kind of just…feel it, I guess. It's not a crush because a crush is lack of information, but it's too much to just be chemistry. It's…something."
"It's romance, is what it is. God, just slap a label on it already!" Mingyu scoffs, earning a shove from Tzuyu as he stops at a red light. Minghao snorts next to you, and Junhui pushes the back of Mingyu's head.
"Leave them alone, Gyu."
"And it's easy for you to say, lover boy. You were ready to get married the moment you laid eyes on Tzuyu." Minghao quips, "some of us like to take things slow."
"Slow? You've been doing this for the last three years! The off-season is full of you both moping on social media and Y/N posting photo dumps that scream 'I miss Minghao.' If you want it, make it happen!" Tzuyu shakes her head, grabbing Mingyu's hand and interlacing their fingers over the center console. Your eyes soften at the sparkle of the promise ring on her hand, next to an M ring on her middle finger as the light turns green, with Mingyu pressing softly on the gas to take a left turn.
"We'll be ready when we're ready." Minghao's voice is soft, with an air of nonchalance that you don't really like. If he notices, he says nothing; his fingers wedged between your knee sliding up slightly. You glance at Junhui, who is typing rapidly on his phone in an open Outlook email to Jieqiong. Leaning back silently, you watch Tzuyu fiddle with the radio as you rest your head on Minghao's shoulder.
"Does your stomach still hurt?" He asks quietly, and you open your mouth to respond as Mingyu looks in the rear view, making you stop.
"Your stomach hurts? Are you sick?" Mingyu's voice is concerned, and you shake your head.
"No. I always get like this when we're in Shanghai for a race." You shrug, before wrapping your hands around Minghao's arm. "You know how Junhui's parents always come?"
"Yeah, his mom always brings us almond cookies. God, I miss those right now." Tzuyu sighs dreamily, and you can practically feel the pride radiating off Junhui next to you as he chuckles inwardly.
"She's here, you know. She'll have some, I think." Junhui chimes in, before elbowing you lightly. "Keep talking, honey."
"Don't call her 'honey.' She's not your honey." Minghao scoffs, his fingers squeezing your knee unconsciously. You cover your face as Mingyu and Tzuyu's eyes find you in the rear view, twinkling with delight as Junhui leans over you to argue with him.
"She's my best friend."
"Yeah, well, so am I; you never call me 'honey.'"
"Because you're gross."
"Guys, she isn't going anywhere, you know." Tzuyu teases, and you feel Junhui shove Minghao's shoulder and slip your hand off your face to see Minghao reaching to pinch his nipple through his shirt.
"Stop it! God, you guys are annoying," You swat Minghao's hand away, grabbing his wrist and pinning it to your thigh as you look at Mingyu and Tzuyu with burning cheeks. "The reason my stomach hurts is because my dad never comes to the races. He lives in Shenzhen, and he gets a ticket just like Junhui's parents do but he never comes."
"Why? You always do well when we're in Shanghai. You get Pole almost every year and if not, you're always top three."
The car falls eerily silent as Tzuyu stops talking, Mingyu carefully turning into a parking lot that you recognize as Lian's Tea House — a place Minghao once took you in the middle of the night during your first year together with Ferrari, and you ate steamed pork buns in a hidden corner booth while crying about your father until your stomach hurt. San hadn't been in the picture yet, and Minghao held your hand the entire time; wiping your face of dipping sauce and tears.
Your lips part, about to answer the question when Minghao clears his throat.
"This place is great. I came here a few times with an old friend, and it's been one of my favorite spots in Shanghai since. Junhui and I are always here during the off season." Minghao taps the glass of the window with his knuckle, and your stomach loses a knot as he squeezes your leg softly. You swallow hard, watching Mingyu reverses into a parking spot, your eyes trained on the leather sleeve of the wheel as the car jolts to a stop. You all slide out of the car, Minghao's hand tugging your dress down smoothly as Junhui rounds the car and shuts your door behind you. You stick between the men as Mingyu and Tzuyu walk hip-to-hip, her hand slotted into the back pocket of his jeans as he drapes his arm over her shoulder.
"I heard they have tea. It might help with your tummy." She talks over her shoulder, and you give her a weak smile as Junhui interlaces your fingers, squeezing your hand with a worried look on his face as you squeeze back. "I'm so excited, I missed the breakfast at the hotel and Mingyu—"
"I woke you up! You went back to bed!"
"You could've brought me something back! What kind of boyfriend are you?!"
"A good one! A great one, even! I love you!"
You let them bicker as you make it to the front of the restaurant, and Mingyu holds the door open for you all to trickle in. The restaurant is quiet, soft music playing through the speakers as you scan for an empty table.
"Welcome to Lian's Tea House. For five?"
You're barely present as you're seated in a long booth across the wall, your back to the door. The hostess takes your drink orders, your words mumbled as you rested your head back against the booth. No one made you feel bad about your sudden silence — with Minghao and Junhui understanding in depth that the ache in the pit of your stomach had nothing to do with hunger or illness, but longing.
The food came and went — steamed pork buns stuffed so full they burst upon teeth sinking into the soft dough, soft tofu in spicy garlic sauce with ground pork, stir-fried rice cakes with shiitake mushroom and crunchy bok choy bits…
You took bits of everything, but never enough to chew more than twice. You smiled when they laughed, nodded with interest when Tzuyu told story after story of her karting days with Jihyo, shifted in your seat with warmed cheeks every time Minghao's fingers brushed your thigh. You tried to stay involved, to stay present — but your heart is elsewhere, and they understand.
They always understand.
"Does anyone wanna split a honey cake with me?" You mumble as the waitress slips dessert menus on the table, before Tzuyu quickly asks her to snap a picture. Junhui uses the camera on your phone to wipe at his face, making you elbow him before taking it back. You grab Minghao's leg under the table, scooting closer to him as you both smile for the flashing camera. Tzuyu thanks her, before giving you a quick smile.
"I'll split. Gyu's probably about to burst—"
"I can eat honey cake! I can so fit a honey cake!"
Junhui snickers next to you as they bicker, managing to order dessert for the table (including honey cake for Mingyu) when you feel your phone buzz on your leg. The waitress returns with plates of dessert, and you slice your piece of cake in half for Tzuyu before peering down at your screen.
[NEW] (2) Messages in: car go vroom (3 members)
hao ♡: let's get a separate car.
hao ♡: if i see gyu try to kiss tzuyu one more time i'm gonna barf.
You snicker, glancing up to see Mingyu practically devouring Tzuyu with his eyes, leaning into her as she talks to him about one thing or another. Junhui snorts from beside you, before the chat gets two more messages as you type.
[NEW] (4) Messages in: car go vroom (3 members)
junhui: talk about wolf in sheep's clothing, look at the way he's looking at her…
junhui: me when? :(
You: when you stop third wheeling like a loser.
junhui: you idiots have to be a couple for me to be able to third wheel, dipshit
"Mingyu, buddy, she's not going anywhere." Junhui scoffs, making him pout as Tzuyu laughs, shoving him away lightly. "We'll get a separate car, don't worry about it."
"He always does this," Tzuyu rolls her eyes, "you don't see Minghao all over Y/N, do you? Have some decency."
"No, but I'm also not your situationship. I'm your boyfriend and I have been for the last four years." Mingyu scoffs, and you pretend it doesn't sting as Minghao tenses next to you. The mood shifts as Minghao clears his throat, but he says nothing.
What can he say if it's only the truth? What can you?
"Mingyu." She grits, but you shake your head quickly as Minghao scoots out of the booth with his wallet in hand.
"It's alright," You shrug, and Minghao gives a curt smile as he disappears behind you. You feel the urge to go after him, but stay glued to your seat as Mingyu apologizes quietly. You only tell him there's nothing to apologize for, but you watch the way your hands tremble as you reach across the table for a napkin.
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" You ask quickly, desperate to change the subject as Minghao returns, stuffing his wallet in his pocket.
"I think my parents came from Taiwan to see me, or they're on their way. If they're not here by tonight, we're gonna see if we can catch a late viewing of MaXXXine. There's a cinema about an hour out that plays night shows only and we wanna swing by it. You wanna come?" Tzuyu smiles as she spears her cake with her fork, and you feel Minghao's fingers settle back on your thigh as you tilt your head, before shaking it.
"You guys have fun, but I think…I might go to Shenzhen for the night." You clear your throat lightly, poking at your cake. "I miss my dad."
"By yourself?" Mingyu inquires, his eyes filling with worry once more as you smile. "Yes, by myself. I'm a big girl, Mingyu. I can travel alone."
"Well, what if I wanna see your dad, too? You're just gonna leave me here?" Junhui scoffs from beside you, making you elbow him as the rest of the table chuckles.
Conversation moves to smoother topics — Junhui joining the international journey with F1 as a reporter, Tzuyu kicking off the season with a win and setting the mood for the rest of the races, Mingyu dropping subtle hints at an engagement before Tzuyu twists his nipple through his shirt and tells him to stop lying. Something in his eye as he rubs his chest says he might not be, but you think you're the only one who catches it as you shoot him a quick wink.
Minghao says nothing. You hold his hand under the table tightly, the both of you rubbing circles into each other's skin as if to soothe — bruised egos, maybe.
Junhui ends up paying for a separate car to pick the three of you up, with Mingyu and Tzuyu standing in front of the restaurant with you until it pulls up. Goodbyes are exchanged, and you and Minghao slip into the car when Junhui shuts the door. He taps the passenger window with his knuckle, and the driver rolls it down only to get an extra wad of cash slipped into his hand.
"You're not coming?" You ask, your hand barely pulling on the seatbelt as Junhui shakes his head with a knowing grin. "Nah. You two have fun, I've gotta get back to Ro and Jieqiong and explain why you don't wanna sit for the new segment yet again."
He pats the car, and the driver rolls the window up as you and Minghao turn in your seats, watching Junhui take a call before you're turning out of the parking lot. You both adjust in sync, his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, resting his head on your shoulder as your driver gives you both a polite nod in the rear view mirror.
Minghao pulls away, and you pretend it doesn't matter.
Because it doesn't. Not when you're nothing more than two people who kiss, two people who sleep together and eventually, two people who part ways.
So it doesn't matter. Not now, not later, not ever.
— Gunma, Japan. | 7 years ago, March 3rd.
"I'm going to miss him."
You're sitting on the roof of your apartment building with Minghao, your coats wrapped tightly and covered with a quilt as you both stared out over the forest greenery. Thick, cushioned blankets lay beneath you, protecting you both from the cold cement flooring as you fight a dejected frown. You glance at your watch, the time reading half past midnight.
Junhui left a week ago — a week earlier than he said he would, for some sort of training. You had dinner at Tsuki's one last time, posing for teary photos but generally letting him go with well wishes and a stamp of your rouge lipstick on his cheek. He hadn't been able to call since, and you and Minghao settled with taking photos together and posting them on Instagram for him to see when he had time. You changed your username, crediting Minghao with the new one in your latest drop earlier that day — a dump of photos ranging from your car to Junhui to you and Minghao, to one of your mother in the middle.
@/flashingyou_by: missing you xtra today @/junonthemoon ♡ (and mommy!!)
↳💬@flashingyou_by commented: and thanks for the new username @/infinitelyyourz :P
"You already miss him, sweetheart." Minghao reminds you, bumping his shoulder to yours as you smile inwardly. Your hands are warm, tucked under your thighs, and you lean your head against his shoulder. He rests his chin on top of your head, clicking his tongue before you sigh.
"I know. But…it's nice to have you around. At least I'm not alone."
"You're using me to heal your broken heart."
"My heart is not broken, and if you didn't want to be used I think you would've gone back to Shanghai after your semester ended. You're still here."
"So I extended my stay, let me live!" He laughs, your own bubbling in your throat as you look up to the indigo sky. "This is nice, by the way. Thank you for giving me a reason to stay."
"Of course. You're my friend." You shrug, "and you're easy on the eyes. It's a nice change of pace."
"Stop flirting with me, you'll fall in love and then I can't help you." He jests, making you elbow his ribcage. He gasps, swatting your arm away as the blanket falls off your shoulders. You snicker, "as if I'd ever fall in love with you."
"You could, you never know!" He protests, "plus all you do is make suggestive comments. If I knew this was friendship with Song Y/N, I would've considered twice."
"No, you wouldn't."
"No, I wouldn't."
You feel your cheeks hot as you bite back a grin, leaning back on your hands as you look back up to the sky.
"You really stayed for me?"
"Of course. You think I'd leave you out here on your own?"
"You don't owe me anything."
"I know. Doesn't mean I can't give you everything." He shrugs, holding a hand up to the sky and tracing the stars. "Well, maybe now I can't. But I'd certainly try."
"How isn't what you're saying so much more dangerous than me flirting? It's like you're trying to convince me you're this dynamite guy." You snort, and he looks over at you with a shy grin.
"Am I not?"
"I never said that."
"You're thinking it."
"You don't know what I think, Xu Minghao." You roll your eyes, only to look and see him staring at you with an expectant look. "You can ask, it doesn't mean I'll tell."
"You and your secrets."
"I have none, you know that."
"Then tell me what you think," His breath is cloudy in the early spring air, and you snort as you shove him away lightly. He only smiles, running a hand through his hair before leaning back on his elbows and looking up at you. "I never pegged you to be a coward."
You gape, earning giggles from him as you look at him. A scoff leaves your throat as you cross your arms, "I am not a coward."
"And I'm not an engineering student."
"…Yes, you are?"
"Idiot." He whispers, and you shove him fully as he laughs loudly. Your fingers dig into his sides, making him squeal as he tries to push you away. You pin him down by swinging your leg over his hips, locking him in with your knees as he wrestles your hands from his ribs. "I yield! I yield!"
"Yeah, you better. Loser." Another scoff escapes you, and you cross your arms on your chest as you watch him catch his breath. He gives you a grumpy look, his hair mussed as he runs his hand through it again.
"You don't play fair. No wonder you win all those races."
"I play fair! You're just mean. Junhui would never—"
"Junhui's not me, sweetheart." He sits up on his hands, shrugging as you realize just how close you are to him. You can't speak, suddenly too aware of how warm he is against you, how you can feel the thick material of his jeans against your inner thighs because you chose to wear a stupid skirt out tonight. A stupid, dumb skirt that showed everything if you bent the wrong way — but it was Minghao.
Smart, sweet, handsome Minghao.
It's not like either of you care, clearly — minimal clothing to welcome spring and denim jackets from the back of your closets. The blankets are enough, the warmth of closeness…the platonic warmth of his hand on your thigh when you mumbled about being cold moments after you both got on the roof. He'd buttoned your jacket for you over the green tube top you foolishly chose; pulling you closer by the lapels and likely hearing your breath hitch, and doing nothing about it but bite back his smile.
It wasn't anything serious. You'd convinced yourself already.
"Tell me what you think." His voice is soft, eyes glued to yours as you nibbled on your lip. He grabbed for the blanket without breaking eye contact, draping it around your shoulders as goosebumps littered the skin of your thighs. "Tell me."
"I think you're cute." You admit, staring up at the sky as your cheeks burn despite the biting wind. Your fingers dig into your arms, a motion clearly not missed by Minghao's eyes as he moves your hands away by your wrists. You instinctively move to shove them in the pockets of your jacket, but he interlaces his fingers with one before you can do so.
"You can look at me when you talk, you know," Minghao whispers, his hand squeezing yours slightly as you roll your eyes. "You're so pretty."
"Shut up." You mutter, attempting to twist your hand out of his grasp, but he holds your fingers flush to his chest, yanking you forward in the process. You glance down at him, only to see him already staring up at you — your eyes, your nose, your lips. They linger there for a moment, and you stop yourself from leaning into him as he speaks.
"You're beautiful."
"I'm more than just my looks, you know."
"I do know, sweetness. But you called me cute, nothing else. I'm just returning your words." He taunts you, his ring cool against your skin as he rubs his thumb against the side of your hand. "Is that all you think?"
"I think lots of things." You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you let him play with your fingers. You let a breath out through your lips, "there are lots of things I know, too."
"Oh, so you know things? Anything I should know about?"
"You mean anything I want to tell you?"
You give him a lopsided smirk, earning one right back as you shrug again.
"I know that…we're on this rooftop."
"Right."
"Under the stars…missing the same person.."
"I don't miss Junhui, that bitch left his dirty socks in my hamper this weekend."
You double over in laughter, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately wrap around your waist, smiling into your jacket as your laugh rings out in the night.
You rest your cheek on his shoulder, wrapping your own arms around him before sighing.
"Is that all you know?" He asks in a hushed whisper, his hand splayed across the small of your back as you breathe in the soft scent of his cologne. Citrus, mixed with something floral — maybe jasmine, maybe ylang ylang. Your nose brushes the slope of his neck as you turn to face him. His eyes follow the soft curve of your jaw, and you think he leans in as your cheek brushes his.
You look down at him, your eyes narrowing slightly as you pass them over his face. He looks at you with something in the depth of his eyes — not expectant, not demanding…but curious. Wondering, what your next step would be, what the next words out of your mouth could change between the two of you.
"I think you want to kiss me."
He gives you an amused look, his lips forming into an ‘O’ shape as he nods. He doesn't hide the smile that spreads on his lips, the tip of his tongue peeking out to wet them slightly.
“You think I want to kiss you? You think about kissin’ me a lot, sweetheart?” He tilts his head, and you tongue your cheek before shrugging.
“I’ve thought about it, once or twice.”
“Once or twice?”
“Maybe three times, what’s it to you?”
“Maybe it’s everything.” He shrugs, a soft heat trailing up your neck and cheeks as he peers at you through his lashes. “You’re a smart girl, though. I’ll give you that. I just think, personally...”
He leans closer slightly, your breath hitching quietly in your throat. He smiles, one of his hands on your back sliding up and cupping the back of your neck as your fingers dig into his shoulders slightly.
“I think that I know you want me to kiss you.”
“I do not.”
“Then why are you always staring at my lips?”
“Because they’re...pretty.” You clear your throat slightly, shuddering slightly as you feel his fingertips graze the shell of your ear, before thumbing at your earring.
“Pretty?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“So...you don’t want me to kiss you?”
His breath is minty against your lips, his eyes scanning your face as he traces your collarbone lightly and tugging at the chain of your locket.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.” He echoes, nodding his head with pursed lips as his hand traces the slope of your neck. You lean into it, your lips parting slightly as he loosely wraps his fingers at the base of your throat. The cold of his pinky ring against your skin is somehow searing, nothing to compare with the cool midnight breeze.
“Do you...want to kiss me?”
“I think you know the answer to that, sweetness. But, I won’t unless you want it, too.”
His fingers press lightly against your pulse point, and you nibble on your lip as he pulls you slightly closer. You can count his eyelashes from the proximity, your hand moving to hold his wrist and feeling the metal of his bracelet beneath it. Your eyes dart to his lips, earning a smile as he leans towards your ear, his lips brushing against the shell lightly.
“You just let me know, yeah?”
He moves back, slipping his hand away from your throat only for you to hold it close to your chest. You pull at his jewelry, slipping rings up and down his fingers and tracing his knuckles silently. You pull off a gold signet ring with a plum blossom stamped onto the face and slip it on.
“Will things change?” You ask softly, interlacing your fingers between your bodies. Your eyes flicker up to his, the tip of his nose brushing yours as you suck in a breath.
“Only if you want them to.”
“And if I do?”
“Then we move at your pace. Whatever you want, sweetness.” He shrugs carefully, and you tuck your lip between your teeth as you lean in closer. You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into you, your stomach fluttering as he nuzzles his nose against yours. “It’s up to you.”
You don’t say anything, blinking twice before brushing your lips to his. He doesn't indulge you, smiling against you instead as you meet his eyes.
“What's so funny?”
“Nothing, you're just cute."
"Cute?" You echo, your lips touching his as you speak. He nods, his hand moving to card his fingers through your hair. You allow it, letting him tug at the strands on the back of your head to keep you in place.
"Can I kiss you?"
Your hand holding his between your bodies squeezing tightly as you nod, a mumbled please falling from your lips as he closes the gap. You let go of his hand to fist his shirt between your fingers, his own moving to the small of your waist. His lips are soft, patient against yours; your tongue slides against his lower lip, begging for entrance.
"Yellow flag." He mumbles, his fingers wrapping around the base of your throat as he keeps kissing you. "Slow down, baby. We'll get there."
You don't say anything back with embarrassment pooling in your chest, but it quickly washes away as his lips meld with yours. It's easier, smoother to melt into him — you don't even notice when your lips part, his own sucking lightly on the tip of your tongue as your thighs tighten around his hips.
"Hao," you whine against his mouth, only earning a chuckle as he plucks at the buttons of your jacket. "Minghao."
"You can't say my name like that and not tell me what you want." He says pointedly, voice slightly raspy as he undoes the first button. Your teeth nip at his lower lip, pulling at it softly before watching it spring back. "You're so impatient, sweetheart."
"Minghao."
"Whining won't get you anywhere," he tuts. Your lips nearly curve into a frown before he brushes a kiss against the corner of them, "tell me what you want. I'll give it to you."
You shudder as he presses another to your chin, moving up the curve of your jaw as you feel his fingers pop the second button on your jacket.
"If I get to the bottom, and you haven't said anything—"
"Just kiss me, please. Anywhere."
He's smiling against the shell of your ear, his teeth pulling at the lobe as you gasp lightly, your hand finding home in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Anywhere?"
"Minghao."
"So pretty when you say my name."
"Stop it." You tug at the ends of his hair, a soft groan falling from his lips as he nuzzles your neck with the tip of his nose. His teeth graze the soft skin, his lips featherlight against the sweetest spot as you tilt your head back with a sigh, your skin prickling as he mouths at your throat.
His fingers make quick work of your jacket buttons, plucking at them incessantly as his lips drag along your warming skin. He lets go of your hand, sliding both of his up your thighs to hold your hips as you try to shrug your jacket off one shoulder.
"It's cold, keep it on." He murmurs, his hands grabbing the lapels and holding them tightly. You peer down at him by the slope of your nose, watching the way he tugs at your necklace with his teeth to get your attention. "You'll get sick."
Your hand in his hair pulls him back, his lips pouted as he looks up at you with glossy eyes.
"Isn't the point to get undressed?" You question, your voice full of air. His eyes dart across your face, tilting his head a bit as he tongues his bottom lip, fighting a smile.
"You said kiss. You never said anything about sleeping together, silly."
"And if I want more?"
His hands drop back to your hips, squeezing gently as he runs his eyes over you.
"Well, I'd be a dumbass if I said no, right?" He raises a brow, his thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt, tracing circles into your warm skin. "Pretty girl on my lap…kissing me like I'm the only man in the world and you're not even wearing a bra. I'd be stupid to say no, wouldn't I?"
He pulls at the hem of your shirt, taut against your pebbled nipples, cause of the chilly air. Your fingers card through his hair, running your nails down the back of his neck; your shirt bunches around your navel as his hands slide up slightly.
"I'd say so." You whisper as your hand cradles his cheek, your thumb tracing the seam of his lips. He smiles against it, pressing a kiss to the pad before shrugging. You lean down slightly, your lips brushing his as you speak. "We don't have to."
"I know we don't." He lets your hand slide down his neck, lips parting slightly as your fingers squeeze the sides gently. His fingers dig into your skin, pulling you down against him. Your breath hitches slightly as your skirt rides up, feeling the thick material of his jeans brush against your clothed core. "I don't have—"
"Want you, Hao." Your lips are touching his as you speak, eyes searching his as he lets out an airy chuckle. He presses a kiss to your pouted lips, smiling inwardly as you chase him when he pulls away. His hand moves to cradle your face, your eyes watery as he pulls you closer.
"Beg for it."
He watches the way your eyes widen, your hands on his body stilling as you look down at him. Your cheeks are hot as he squishes them in his hand, planting a chaste kiss to your puckered lips.
"Prove to me that you want it. That you deserve it." He shrugs, watching the way you peer at him through your lashes. He clicks his tongue, gently shaking your head side to side in his grip. "Don't look at me like that, I might fall in love with you."
"One step closer to getting in your pants," you jest, pulling his hand off your face and dragging it down your neck. "Please,Hao?"
He's gazing up at you as your hand on his wrist is slowly stopping on your chest, his thumb instinctively running over the sensitive bud over your shirt. He tongues his cheek, glancing at your chest as you slowly pull the top down, your breasts spilling out and he averts his eyes. You lean closer, pressing a kiss to his lips and trailing up his jaw as he pushes your shirt down to bunch at the waist of your skirt before he cups your breasts in his hands. You pretend not to shiver as his thumbs graze your nipples, forcing yourself not to whine in his ear.
"Want you to see me," you whisper, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hand trails down his chest, fingers catching on his belt buckle. You mouth at the slope of his neck, feeling his hands slide to your waist as you suck a soft mark on his clavicle. He groans, his breath quipped in your ear.
"Touch me," your hand slips under his shirt, feeling his stomach cave in slightly at your cool hand. You push his shirt up slightly, your fingertips tracing the waistband of his underwear, plucking it against his hip as you trail back up the other side of his neck, watching his eyes flutter when you pull at the small hoop through his earlobe with your teeth. Your hips grind down against his gently, slowly, as you single-handedly undo his belt buckle; your fingertips popping the button as you drag your lips against the side of his jaw.
"Taste me," your voice is no higher than a whisper against his lips, your cheeks warming as he looks at you with low eyes. The sound of you pulling his zipper down punctuates the kiss he gives you, slotting your lips to his with a purpose to ease the burning ache in the pit of your bellies. You're flush to his chest as cool fingers curl around your throat, your limbs buzzing as he lightly sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, tugging it slightly before pressing a chaste kiss to it and pulling back.
"Want you, Hao. Want to be yours."
"Mine, huh?" His tone is low as you nod as much as his hand on you will allow, your own palming at his painfully hard cock beneath his jeans. He ruts lightly into your hand, your panties sticking to you uncomfortably as his hand slips from your throat. His fingers ghost over your chest, making your skin prickle as he suddenly slides them up your thigh, flicking the hem of your skirt. "Can I touch?"
You nod, a whispered please falling from your lips as his hand bunched the fabric around your hips; his knuckles grazing the skin of your inner thigh as he pulls your flimsy underwear to the side, smirking as you shiver in the breeze. He tuts, glancing at you as he slides one finger between your folds, the pad bumping your clit and making you jolt in sensitivity. He adds another finger, your hand in his pants moving to clutch his shirt as he traces tight circles on your clit, the wet sound filling the air when he moves his hand away the moment a soft whimper slips your lips.
He holds it up, your arousal stringy between his fingers as he tilts his head, "I've hardly touched you and you're a mess, baby."
"If you're just gonna mess with me—"
"Just having my fun, sweetheart."
His smile is genuine as he plucks at your lips with his wet fingers, your mouth opening instinctively as your tongue peeks out. He shakes his head, moving the blanket out of the way enough to let you move but not show your current state.
“Lay back.” He instructs, fixing your skirt as you oblige, his fingers pinching the swell of your ass as you scowl. You swat at his hand as you lean back on your elbows, the blankets cushioning beneath you when you feel his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. You let him slip them down your legs, tucking them into his pocket shamelessly before shucking your shoes off and pulling you closer to him by your ankle. You let out a choked sound between a shriek and a yell, earning a laugh. He hovers over you, the same hand snaking between your legs as he presses his lips to your cheek.
“If you want to stop, you just tell me, okay? We’ll stop.” His voice is soft, and you nod as your eyes meet, and there’s something you can’t place in his as you silently beg for a kiss. He obliges, his fingers slipping inside you with ease, curling up as your thighs try to shut. He smiles against your skin as your jaw falls slack, and you embarrassedly try to hide your face in the crook of his neck as wet sounds fill the silent night.
“Don’t hide,” He whispers as you bite back groans into his neck, “let me hear you. I want to know I’m making you feel good.”
“I’m shy,” You gasp as he finds the spot that makes your vision blurry, making him chuckle as he presses a kiss right under your ear. Your walls clench around his fingers, a whimper falling from your lips as he continues to hit the same spongy spot as he drags his lips down your neck.
“You’re a lot of things, but shy is not one of them,” He whispers, nipping at your clavicle as your nails dig into his shoulders. His hand keeps its pace as a few moans join the sound of your arousal, “that’s it. Sound so pretty for me, don't you?"
His lips trail down your chest, mouthing at the curve of your breasts before pressing a kiss to your left nipple, your thighs trembling around his hand as his tongue circles it painfully slow. Your cheeks heat as a whimper leaves your throat, your fingers flying to his hair as your back arches off the layered blankets. You tug at the jet black tresses as he switches sides, plump lips wrapping around the sensitive bud with a soft suck. A shuddered gasp is heard as he scrapes his teeth against it gently, your eyes brimming with tears of pleasure as you feel the familiar heat building in your lower belly. He swirls his tongue around your nipple teasingly, before kissing up your chest as he pulled his fingers out of you, tracing circles around your clit. He's nipping at your earlobe as your hand tightens its hold in his hair, earning a breathy moan against your jaw.
"Want you to cum on my tongue, sweetheart," His teeth graze the column of your throat, "can you do that for me?"
He's sucking a mark into your skin as you let out an airy yes, only trail down your chest and stomach with featherlight kisses, moving his fingers off your clit before wrapping both hands around your thighs and pushing them apart. Wet kisses are dragged across your inner thighs, teasing and slow as he sinks his teeth into the plush flesh to earn gasps from you, only echoed with his own grunts as you tug on his hair. He laves his tongue over the marks of his teeth as you clench around nothing, sitting up slightly on your elbows to meet his eyes as he drags his tongue through your folds. His eyes flutter shut as the taste of you spreads in his mouth, your breath hitching as he groans into your pussy.
"Fuck." His whisper is barely heard as he buries his face in your center, smearing your arousal all over his chin and lips as he sucks your swollen clit into his mouth. Your stomach caves in with a guttural moan, pleas of yes, yes falling from your lips as you grind your hips against his tongue. He opens his eyes to see your head thrown back, the moonlight shining on the sheen of sweat on your neck and chest, where your fingers have started teasing your nipples; his cock painfully hard in his jeans as he grinds down against the layered blankets at the mere taste of you, the subtle stinging pleasure of you tugging at his hair.
"Hao," You whine, your hips stuttering against his face as your orgasm washes over you with another choked whimper, his tongue continuing its evil ministrations against your bundle of nerves like a starved man. Your thighs tremble at the overstimulation, tightening around his head as panted breaths fill your ears as you pull his head back by his hair. He looks up at you, lips swollen and covered in your juices, eyes watery as he pouts.
"Don't look at me like that." You're breathless as you tap his cheek, his lips brushing against your inner thigh once more. "Minghao."
"Just one more," He pleads, making you shudder as he presses a tentative kiss to your thigh. You almost cave, his lips parting in a breath as you tug him back further, shaking your head. He sits up, hovering over you as you let go of his hair. You glance at his lips, glistening, enticing as your own part lightly.
"Want you to fuck me," You breathe out, making the corner of his lips twitch as he blinks at you. He has an expectant look in his eyes, careful as he leans closer, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as his nose brushes yours. "Don't make me beg, please. Please."
"I haven't even opened my mouth and you're already begging, sweetheart." He teases, pressing a kiss to your parted lips. You slot them with his, the taste of yourself seeping into your mouth and making your skin prickle as his hands move to shove your jacket off your shoulders. "Say please."
"Please."
"Say pretty please."
"Oh my God, pretty please." You whine, letting him slip your jacket off onto the layered blankets. He tugs at the hem of your top, before bunching the fabric in one hand and pulling it up your torso. You wiggle around, holding your arms up as his lips brush yours once more.
"With a cherry on top." His voice is sultry in your ear as he successfully gets your top off, tossing it off to the side where your bag lays. You pout, making him bite back his smile. "You're such a brat."
"You're teasing me," You mutter, your fingers moving to pull at his belt loops. "You're not being fair."
"You're just so cute when you beg, baby."
"'M not your baby."
"Not yet." He murmurs, making your cheeks hot as he slips his belt out of the loops, rolling it in his hand and tossing it to the side. You peer up at him through your lashes, your hand moving to palm his cock when he grabs your wrist, pulling it away. "Hands to yourself, sweetheart."
You tongue your cheek as he smirks, before he taps your knee. "Better yet, why don't you turn around for me? All fours, pretty girl."
Huffing, you do what you're told; hearing a soft hiss from his lips as you attempt to look back.
"Face forward." He says sternly, his hands grabbing at your hips carefully. You click your tongue, feeling the warmth of one of his hands disappear as he flipped the back of your skirt up. You push your hips back in anticipation, earning a quick slap to the back of your thigh before you feel the weight of his chest against your back. "Be patient."
You nod, the words caught in your throat as he rubs his hand over the stinging skin. "Are you sure?"
"Minghao, please." You let your forehead touch the blankets below you, your thighs tensing as you feel him run the tip of his cock through your folds. You shiver, a broken whine falling from your lips as he taps your clit. "Please, please—"
"Shh, I've got you." He sinks into you carefully, his fingers digging into your hips. Your eyes roll back at the stretch, walls fluttering around him as a punctuated fuck sounds in your ear. Your fingers fist at the blankets beneath you, a soft breath from your parted lips as dull fingernails sink into your hips, and you feel him shudder behind you as his hips are flush to your ass.
You rock back against him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as the metal of his zipper brushes your thigh. He doesn't move, instead pinning you to the blankets, with his hand clutching the fabric of your skirt, the other sliding up your back to wrap around your neck from behind. He pulls back slightly, a slow roll of your hips producing an embarrassed whine as the wet squelch reaches your ears.
"So messy," His voice is taunting as he gives another gentle thrust, his fingers squeezing the sides of your throat. "Just for me, right?"
Your cheeks burn as he builds a slow pace, impatience stirring in your lower belly that gets cut by your trembling whimpers and muffled whispers for him to go harder. He doesn't give in, only laughing weakly and leaning down to press his lips to your shoulder. He bites at it, nipping his way up to your ear; feeling the shell grow hot against his lips as he calls you his pretty little slut.
"More," You plead, squeezing around him like a vice and feeling his fingers around your throat do the same. He groans against your neck, giving an involuntary jerk of his hips as you reach back, wrapping your arm around his head and pulling at his hair. "Please, please—"
"You're so fucking impatient," He mutters, holding no anger as he gives into your pleas, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a hard thrust of his hips. Your jaw goes slack with a breathless sound, the tip of his cock brushing you just right as you melt beneath him. He leans up, grabbing at your hips with a bruising grip as he fucks his cock into you with bitten groans. "So fucking needy, huh? Can't just take what I give you? Always want more."
"Want you," Your voice is broken with every snap of his hips, the sound of skin on skin filling the quiet night as you muffle yourself with the blankets, clawing at the fabric. You hate how quickly you can taste your end in the back of your throat, your thighs trembling as he keeps a brutal pace that makes a few tears trickle down your face from pleasure. Your gasps spur him on, before you feel his hand tangle in your hair, pulling you up towards him gently. Your back hits his chest, his hand moving you to face him as he coos at your wet lashes.
"So cute, huh?" He smiles against your cheek, wrapping his fingers around your throat as you whine softly, "so pretty when you cry, angel."
"Wanna be pretty for you," You whisper back breathlessly, feeling his lips press to your jaw as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, your tears trickling onto his face. "Yours, Hao."
"Mine?"
You nod frantically, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you feel his thrusts grow sloppier, perfectly hitting that sweet spot as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder.
"Want you to fill me up," You mewl, his fingers tightening around your neck as he whines into your neck, hips stuttering briefly before sinking smoothly into you. "Make me yours."
"You're already mine." His lips brush your neck, gasping against your skin as the band in your belly snaps for the second time, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you feel him twitch inside you, stuffing you full with a shaky groan.
You both shudder as a breeze blows past, your thighs twitching as he rolls his hips against you slowly, riding out your highs together. His hands smooth down your body, palming at your breasts and sides as he peppers kisses along the slope of your neck, the air filling with panted breaths.
He lays you down slowly, massaging your hips and thighs as he pulls out carefully. Any embarrassment leaving your chest as you wince, his palms squeezing your calves before helping you onto your back. You cover your face with your hands, feeling the mix of your releases sticky between your thighs as he reaches over to grab your shirt.
"Good?" He asks softly, pulling you up to slip it over your head. You welcome the warmth of it, your vision slightly blurred as you look up at him with tired eyes. You nod, "great, even. I didn't know you had it in you."
"Whatever that means," he scoffs, making you laugh wearily as he tugs your shirt down to cover your belly. You reach up, running your hand through his hair before cradling his cheek.
"What did you mean—"
"Oh, I just…say things."
His cheeks are ruddy as he clears his throat, reaching for your jacket as you grab the collar of his shirt between your fingers. He raises a brow, glancing at your hand before tilting his head at you.
"You just say things? Sounds like bullshit to me."
He tongues his cheek, fighting a smile as he fluffs out your jacket, expectantly holding it out for you to slip into. You shake your head, sliding your arms limply into the arms and flipping your hair out of the back.
"So?"
"So…what?"
"Minghao."
"I should get you home. We don't have anything to clean you up with here." He clears his throat, and you give him an unconvinced look as he tucks himself back into his underwear, zipping up his jeans and reaching for his belt.
"Your pillow talk is shitty." You scoff, making him gape at you as he shoves your knee playfully.
"It is not! I'm trying to get you home so you can get cleaned up and rest! How is that shitty?"
"I said you have shitty pillow talk, not that you're a shitty person. Two separate things."
You wiggle two fingers in front of his face, making him roll his eyes as he swats your hand away. You grab his fingers, interlacing them with yours as he sighs. He leans forward slightly, your eyes widening as he brushes his lips to yours. You kiss him first, holding your hands to your chest as he kisses you back almost lovingly. Almost like he wants this, wants you.
"Should we go again?"
You shove him away from you, rolling your eyes with a laugh of disbelief. He giggles, hovering over you entirely and peppering his lips all over your face as you pout.
"You're not funny."
"But I'm yours. So it's okay, right?"
You hate the way your heart beats faster, his face settled into the crook of your neck as one of his hands strokes your thigh. You huff, feeling his fingers squeeze the plush flesh as you limply hit his chest. He meets your eyes, your lip jutted in a pout as he smiles.
"I guess."
"You guess? I'm offended."
Neither of you mention anything about your underwear, seemingly in agreeance that they were his now. He rolled up the blankets, tucking them under his arm while grabbing both your bag and hitching it over his shoulder. He smiles inwardly as you try to stand from where he's seated you to collect your belongings, failing miserably as your cheeks burn.
"Well, don't just stare at me! Help me up!"
"You're so cute."
He does so, holding you flush to his hip as you both make your way off the roof. The silence is comfortable albeit thick, a slightly limp in your walk making him bite back his laughter as you poke his sides with a scowl. You make it to the elevator that will take you down, your knuckle pressing the button to take you down three flights of stairs. His hand on your hip slides across your lower back, smoothing the waistband of your skirt before slipping his hand into yours.
Your fingers are linked together as the elevator jolts to a stop, any discomfort from the mess between your thighs forgotten as he stops in front of your door. There is something suspended in the air, something neither of you can say but both know is the inevitable change of your dynamic. You can't bring yourself to let go of his hand, the blankets he's holding belonging to you as the silence grows thick.
"Uhm," you start, but he just squeezes your hand. His eyes are glazed in warmth, something that makes your stomach flip and flutter and damn near fall out as he glances at your lips before clearing his throat.
"It's late. You should get some rest." He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line before squeezing your hand again and letting go. Your hand curls into itself, feeling odd that neither of you can seem to move. You nibble on your lip, before rolling your eyes with a frustrated sigh. You grab the lapel of his jacket, pulling him towards you as you press a kiss to his lips. His hands immediately move to your waist, dropping the blankets on the floor as he pulls you flush to him. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he pushes you against the door, before feeling him pull away abruptly, lips slick with your saliva and glitter from your gloss.
"You have to go inside." He breathes against your lips, "I can't say no to you and I'll be here forever if I don't. Go."
"Just one more."
"Y/N, go inside."
You sigh, clicking your tongue as his hand on your waist moves to press the code into your key pad. It clicks open, and you bite back your pout as he pulls away. He physically turns you around, pushing you carefully into the apartment. You give, toeing your shoes off as he picks up the blankets and puts them into your coat closet. You're moving to tug your jacket off, only to feel his fingers wrap around your neck and pull you to him, your back hitting his chest and making your cheeks burn as you peered up at him.
"Yes?"
"One more and I'm out of here. Just one."
You grin, watching him tongue his cheek in feigned annoyance as you turn and wrap your arms around his waist. He cups your jaw, leaning down to brush his lips to yours softly. It's sweet, the way he slots his lips to yours carefully while wrapping his fingers around your throat like it's muscle memory. Your fingers grip his jacket as you swipe your tongue against his lips, only for him to pull away with one, two, three chaste kisses.
"Wash up and sleep, yeah? I'll see you in the morning." He whispers, and you jut your lower lip in a pout as he rolls his eyes. "Don't pout. If I stay, I'll never leave."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"Not when we both have class tomorrow, and not when I've got a weak heart when it comes to you. I have to leave."
"You don't have to—"
He shakes his head, pressing another kiss to your lips. And another, and another before pulling your hands off him and holding them to your chest.
"Get some rest, dream of me." He jests, making you stick your tongue out at him as he plants a kiss to your hairline. "I'll see you later."
"One more."
"Y/N."
"Last one, promise."
"Let me leave!" He huffs as you curl your fingers around the buckle of his belt, biting back a smile as he cups your cheeks in his hands. He presses his lips to yours, almost fighting back a hunger as you paw at him. He pulls away, holding your wrist away from him as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "I am leaving. Goodnight."
You smile up at him, shrugging as you open the door for him.
He ruffles your hair as he slips out the door, running a hand through his hair as you watch him beeline for the stairs. A piece of black lace hangs from his back pocket, and you run your fingers over your lips as he disappears with a clamber of his boots on the steps.
You turn into your apartment, carding your fingers through your hair as you lock the door behind you. You head for the bathroom, shedding your clothes like a snake does its skin on the way. Your shower is quick, scrubbing at every crevice with vigor as the guilt of sleeping with your friend sinks into your skin, the taste of him still heavy on your tongue even after you brush your teeth. The marks of his teeth lingering on your skin as you pull on your pajamas, and you feel pathetic for the pooling arousal in your lower belly as you force yourself to stop staring at them and walk into your bedroom with your phone in hand.
Message To: junhui
[2:58 AM] hui. don't be mad. promise you won't be mad.
[2:58 AM] i slept with hao.
[2:59 AM] fuck i'm so stupid.
You drop your phone on your nightstand, your lips still swollen from Minghao's incessant need to kiss you. You try not to think about it, your chest filling with fluttering at the thought of his lips on yours again. The sound of his voice asking you questions when he knew you couldn't respond, his fingers digging into your skin and taking your stupid underwear with him. Flopping on your bed, you let out a groan as you stare at the ceiling, your hand sliding up your chest and resting at the base of your throat but feeling nothing like his — aside from the ring you took that he didn't ask for back. The weight isn't enough, the want, the lustful little itch in your belly not being quenched as you hear a ping from your phone.
NEW! Message From: junhui
[3:02 AM] dumbass. call me when you can.
And a dumbass, you are.
Because across campus, there is a nervous Minghao sitting on the edge of his bed — his message thread open to your contact, eight words sitting in the text box waiting for a shaky finger to send it off and never be able to take it back. A nervous Minghao that wonders where his ring is as he thumbs at the fabric of your black panties that he'd stuffed in his pocket.
A nervous Minghao that stares at the blinking text cursor that mocks him as he thinks about your lips, your whines…the way his name fell from your mouth like a prayer. The way he couldn't believe he got the girl, even if just for a moment. A nervous Minghao that also texted Junhui in a panic, only for the guy to respond with "you absolute fool. call me when you can."
A nervous Minghao that realizes he is in love with you, as he exits the message app, the message disappearing with it.
Unsent Message To: flash ♡
[3:03 AM] and by the way…i've always been yours.
"Would you look at that?" You nod to yourself as Jihoon yanks his helmet off his head next to you. You punch his shoulder lightly, earning a scowl as he swats your hand away while biting back a smile. Minghao is nowhere to be found, as is Junhui — which isn't unusual, but you're not sure what to do if you're not going to review the data graphs with him. You loop your arm with Jihoon's as Ro makes her way through the paddock with a clipboard in her hand, giving you an amused roll of her eyes as you drag her husband towards Soonyoung.
You feel an odd sense of pride seeing yourself at the top.
"Don't brag, it's not a good look on you." Jihoon pretends to be annoyed, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and sway him back and forth. "Stop it, you'll make me sick—"
"I overtake Kim easy." You say loud enough for the taller man to hear you across the paddock, earning a smirk as he flips you off from ten feet away. Tzuyu smacks his arm, speaking at him through her teeth as he pouts, only for her to roll her eyes and kiss his cheek before ducking into the air-conditioned building, likely on her way to the bathroom to freshen up. She's sitting for Ro and Jieqiong this week, timeline unclear.
"I'll be back, I'm gonna see if I can find Hao." You smile, squeezing Jihoon's shoulder as he reviews his footage with Soonyoung. They both give you a thumbs up, and you undo the Velcro strap of your suit as Ro returns with a second clipboard.
"Flash! Can I get you for a second?" She calls, and you still. You turn on your heel, a pained smile spreading on your lips as you realize what's to come. She gives you an expectant look, holding up her second clipboard and using it to point at you menacingly. "You've been dodging my calls."
"I don't mean to," You try to lie, but she tuts, tapping your chin with the corner of the clipboard.
"No excuses. I know you and Minghao are heading to Gunma for a week or so before we're supposed to be in Suzuka, so I talked to him and we're carving a day out. I'm sitting you down the day before Free Practice, so wear something pretty and make sure you get some sleep. Okay?"
"Or, or!" You move the clipboard away slightly, her eyes narrowing as she fixes her glasses. "I give you two hours after the race, and I'll pose for the feature photoshoot."
You try to smile as she seems unimpressed, her eyes rolling as she sighs.
"Promise me I'll get you before we're out of Japan."
"I promise—"
"I'm serious. I have Mingi sitting for Bahrain and if I don't get you in The Carat soon, I'm gonna lose my head."
"I promise I'll sit pretty for The Carat after the Suzuka race. I even pinky promise!" You hold your finger out, and she tongues her cheek as she links your fingers together. "Call me with the deets, okay? I've gotta find Hao for my review."
"Yeah, yeah. Go find lover boy." She snorts, crossing her arms as she turns to walk towards Soonyoung and Jihoon. You turn on your heel, unzipping your suit halfway down to shoulder out of it when you see an ecstatic Junhui running out of the building onto the paddock.
"Y/N!" His eyes are wildly looking around, and you whistle through your teeth as you walk towards him. He whips his head around, excitement clear on his face as he practically sprints towards you. "You'll never believe it—"
"What, the girl who ghosted you last month finally called?" You wiggle your brows as he pulls you towards the building, a waft of cold air hitting your face. You scoff, pulling your arm out of his hold as he looks for your hand. "Hui, you're freaking me out."
"…it's really nice to see you again, sir."
Minghao's voice is soft as Jun interlaces your fingers, pulling you towards the offices. You see Minghao standing in an open one, his headset in his hand as his voice bounces off the walls. You see a hand with a familiar gold signet ring pat his shoulder, your heels suddenly digging into the floor as Minghao looks up at you. His expression immediately changes to worry as he meets yours, his lips parting as your eyes suddenly well with tears.
"Come on, Y/N." Junhui's voice is encouraging as you refuse to let him pull you towards the office. Minghao steps out, whispering something before taking three long strides towards you as Junhui pats your head. Minghao presses a kiss to your hairline, running his thumbs over your cheeks before any tears fall.
“Just take a deep breath for me, okay? In, out.” He smooths his hands over your hair, cupping your face as you breathe in shakily. “You’re alright. Everything is okay.”
“It’s...is it my dad?” Your voice is thick, and he nods with a glaze of warmth in his eyes. You press your lips together, trying not to let your face crumple and let yourself burst into tears as Minghao runs his hands down the sides of your neck, fixing your t-shirt on your shoulders before leaning down slightly.
“Kiss for good luck?” He whispers, and you sniffle before pressing a simple peck to his lips. He cups your jaw lightly, stealing two more before brushing his thumbs under your eyes. You try to take another deep breath, fanning at your eyes as he smiles above you; his arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you flush to his chest. You let a singular sob fall from your lips as he chuckles, his laughter vibrating through your face as he holds the back of your neck gently.
“You can cry, but you should at least say hello to him, you know?” He whispers, and you let out an uglier, louder sob into his chest before a shaky breath follows. Your hands cover your face, wiping haphazardly as he unwraps himself from you. You sniffle, his fingers tilting your chin up as he plants a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. “Come on, sweetheart.”
You can't help but hide behind him as you let him take your hand, the crook of his elbow covering you as you reach the threshold of the office. Your father is sitting in a chair with a picket in his hand, your smiling face plastered across it with Ferrari in bold red letters across the top, and FLASH 08 across the bottom. He's wearing one of the many merchandise pieces you'd sent him over the years, this one being a custom windbreaker with your number and nickname across the back, and has a nervous look on his face as he fiddles with the gold ring on his pinky finger — with the number 8 engraved on the face.
"She's here." Minghao's voice is quiet as your father stands abruptly, and you bite back a sob as you skirt around him into your father's outstretched arms. You don't see the way their eyes widen as you let out a sob, both men quickly stepping out and closing the door for privacy. Your father shushes you the way one would a baby, patting your back gently and swaying you back and forth as you cry into his shoulder.
"Why are you crying? Are you hurt?" His voice has the gentle rasp it always does, only making you cry harder as your fingers grip the vinyl on the back of his windbreaker. He hums, pressing a kiss to your hairline before pulling away slightly. He peers down at you, your face covered in tears as he pats your head. "Was this a bad time to come see you?"
"Why are you here? You never come to the races. Not once." You sniffle, and he shrugs as a soft smile graces his features, features you also have.
"I had an inkling you'd need me here. I went to bed and something felt off, but you'd gone to bed so I didn't think to call again. I called Junhui this morning to help me get up here." He nods, a thoughtful look in his eyes before he tilts his head at you. "Is everything okay? I've been worried about you for a few weeks but you just brush it off."
You roll your eyes, tonguing your cheek as you shake your head.
"I'm fine."
"You've never been a good liar, Y/N."
"You didn't have to come," your lip trembles, and you wipe haphazardly at your cheeks as more tears roll down. "I never want you to be somewhere that makes you hurt or worry."
Your father smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and giving you a soft squeeze.
"I've come to realize that you'll do whatever you want, whether I like it or not. You're a lot like Mommy that way, you know?" He pats your shoulder, your face crumpling as you cover it with your hands. He pulls you into his chest, shushing you with a hand patting your back. "You're born to be out there. You're a born winner, even when you don't come in first place that crowd loves you. You should hear the way they scream that nickname, Flash? Yeah."
"Flash," You cry into your hands, your heart sinking in your chest as his words sink into your mind. That crowd loves you. Born to be a racer, born to be a winner.
"I'll try harder to be at more of your races. Maybe Suzuka, that's the next one, right? Or—"
"My favorite is Silverstone. I'll talk to the team, we'll get you out there. Hotel and all."
You suck in a breath, wiping your hands on the pants of your suit as you pull yourself out of his embrace. He sighs, patting the back of your head as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.
"I'm proud of you, you know. Racer or not, you'll always be my favorite kid."
"I'm your only kid, Dad."
"Makes it all the sweeter!"
You scoff, swatting his hand away as he laughs before you open the door to see Minghao and Junhui whispering amongst themselves. You wrap your hand around your father's arm, tugging him out as they stop their conversation and stand up straighter. Your father snickers, patting your arm as tired legs trudge along slowly to the cadence of your antsy ones.
"I have a press conference right now, but I'll get you a badge so you can sit in and we can go to lunch with Jun and Hao. There's a restaurant here that makes really good braised pork, you'll love it!"
All the embarrassment and guilt washes away as excitement takes over, and you see Junhui dig in his pocket and pull out a Press pass. He holds it out to your father with a warm smile, bowing his head slightly as he takes it and ropes it over his neck.
"This is kind of nerve-wracking, isn't it? Being famous and all?" He whispers as you all make your way to the seemingly packed interview room, where Jihoon is standing on a chair and looking around. He spots you through the glass of the doors, waving you over frantically as reporters turn, cameras flashing at you through the glass. You squint your eyes only to see Jieqiong running out of the back doors, a stressed look on her face as she beelines straight for you.
"Flash, you're late. Everyone is asking where you are, let's go! Move it!" She grabs your hand, and you reluctantly let go of your father as Minghao and Junhui move to his sides.
"I'll see you after, okay? The guys'll take care of you, promise!" You hold a thumbs up, and your father only smiles, reciprocating as Junhui hooks his arm with your father's as if he were his own. You feel your heart warm, but focus on running into the back room with Jieqiong to get yourself situated. The cameras are flashing and the room is loud as you enter, apologizing profusely to everyone as you take a seat at the end of the table with Jihoon on your left.
Your father is seated already, tucked safely between Junhui and Minghao — heart warm as you're congratulated for winning the Chinese Grand Prix, cheers erupting from all corners of the room but none shining as bright as the three most important people in your life.
After all, you're a born winner.
— GUNMA, JAPAN. | 1:32 AM.
You'd taken a late flight to Gunma from Shanghai, following your father's own flight back to Shenzhen. Your heart was full, sending him home with a ticket to the Suzuka race in exactly two weeks — but your eyes were heavy and your brain was frazzled as you blindly made your way around the apartment, muscle memory lost on you as you fumbled for the light switch.
You find it along the wall, flicking it on and the same low light you hated back then fills the room. Sighing, you drop your backpack, dropping face-first onto the couch you hadn't seen in almost a decade, having broken your lease to it shortly after signing to Ferrari.
But Minghao had seen it almost yearly after. He'd stayed there during his shoot with ViVi Magazine, the furniture still lingering with the scent of his cologne. You nestled your face into the old couch cushion, having bought the apartment on a whim after the owner said it was for sale in an accidental email to you. He decorated it, kept it hidden from the public — a safe, quiet space for the two of you to enjoy, with elderly neighbors who weren't gossips. Or well versed in what it was that either fo you did, only knowing that Minghao was the nice boy that brought them steamed pork buns and honey cake he made himself every time he stayed there.
"God, I missed this place." You grumble, feeling Minghao tug at your boots with a huff.
"No shoes in the house, you'll ruin my carpet."
"This is my carpet."
"This is my apartment, sweetheart."
You turn on your back, rolling your eyes as he shucks off his coat. "What's mine is yours, Hao."
He shakes his head, clicking his tongue as he looks over his shoulder at you. Your arms are outstretched, beckoning him into your embrace as he sighs.
"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"
"Mmh, I love it when you talk dirty."
He huffs, lightly smacking your foot before climbing onto the couch, sliding into your arms. You laugh as he settles his head on your chest, his lips brushing your clavicle under your thin top. He nuzzles his nose into your skin, your fingers carding through the mess of black hair on the top of his head.
"I miss you." He murmurs, your skin prickling as you let out a laugh.
"I'm right here, Hao."
"Eventually, you won't be."
"Ah, you're so negative." You scoff, feeling him push off you and look up to see him staring down at you. "It's not good for the heart to be so pessimistic, you know."
"I'm being realistic, sweetheart."
"You're being—"
"Shut up."
He presses his lips to yours, catching you by surprise before you quickly melt into him. Your stomach fills with fluttering as he cradles your face, your hand circling his wrist as he nips at your lower lip. He trails off your lips, kissing down your neck as you tug on his hair to get his attention.
"Hao, I have to shower—"
"You could be fresh off the tarmac and I would not care."
"You're a freak."
"And you're mine, so what does it matter?" His hands move to your waist, pushing your shirt up slightly. "I just want to make you feel good, nothing else. Is that okay?"
His fingers are warm against your belly, thumbs tracing circles into your skin as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. His own are starry, and you feel your heart start beating harder in your chest as his thumbs brush the swell of your breasts. You nod silently, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you.
"It's kind of nostalgic, isn't it? This apartment?" You say suddenly, watching him shrug as he pushes your shirt higher up your chest, thumbs brushing your nipples.
"It hadn't been lived in since you left, you know. The owners couldn't convince anyone to rent or buy, it's like you did some sort of witchcraft to it." He chuckles, making your scoff be cut with a gasp as his head dipped down, pressing a soft kiss to your nipple before swirling his tongue around it. Your thighs tensed around his hips, and you feel him smile against your skin, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth as you tried to speak.
"Well that just means…" You shiver as he lightly scrapes his teeth against it, an involuntary whine cutting through the air as your fingers tug at his hair. "That just means it was meant to be mine. Just like you."
"Yeah?" He kisses his way across your chest, rolling the slick bud through lithe fingers as he gives the other a tentative kiss. "I'm yours, right?"
"Let's take this to the bedroom." You whisper, "I don't want to sully our couch."
"My couch."
"What's mine is yours, Minghao. Just like you are mine, got it?"
You don't miss the blush that coats his cheeks, your hands taking his face and pulling him to your lips. He pouts as you press a kiss to his lips, eyes watery as you pepper his skin with your lips.
"You're oddly emotional today. Come on, I can fix it."
"You're mine, right?"
You blink up at him, a concerned look glazing your eyes as you rub the pads of your thumbs under his eyes.
"Yes, Minghao."
"Say it."
"I'm yours. Just like you're mine. Are you okay?"
"Sometimes I just need to hear it." He admits softly, planting a quick kiss to your forehead before pulling your shirt down. "Bedroom?"
FERRARI FLASH CAUGHT ON CAMERA CANOODLING WITH RACE ENGINEER INFINITE — BLOOMING ROMANCE OR BAITED REBOUND?
Written by: Anonymous
Wednesday, March 27th.
3-minute read | Updated: 9:14 PM.
Suspicions of an off-paddock romance between the beloved Ferrari Flash (Song Y/N) and one of Ferrari's race engineers, Infinite (Xu Minghao) have been confirmed as of March 24th. The racer was seen and photographed sharing not one, not two, but five passionate smooches with the engineer.
Song was formerly linked to Red Bull driver Choi San, having a very public and amicable breakup after articles and voice recordings surfaced exposing their relationship through stalking and several breaches of privacy. Both drivers were left incredibly affected and left the roster for a few races that season, but Choi was still named Rookie of The Year with four consecutive wins after his return at the Turkish Grand Prix. Song was photographed congratulating him from a distance, but no more interactions have been recorded since.
Aforementioned suspicions between Flash and Infinite arose after the duo were spotted leaving a New Year's Eve party, with Xu's hand reportedly being a little too low on the racing star's hip to be friendly. The two were photographed for a few days afterward, but the allegations died down before reaching major media outlets, as Song reported back to her $3.2 million-dollar apartment in New York City, whereas Xu was spotted in various cities in China and posed for ViVi's Magazine in Osaka, Japan before settling back in his hometown of Haicheng for the remainder of the off-season. Song was reported to have taken two flights out of LaGuardia and one out of JFK to her hometown of Shenzhen, spending a week on each trip.
Despite the beloved Flash's constant trips to Shenzhen, where she grew up with Xu for a few years; no reports were made of her meeting with Xu while there. Her social media was radio silent for all three trips, and fans speculated from paparazzi photos that the star was spending her time with her father, who tends to keep himself out of his daughter's spotlight.
Mr. Song was also photographed to be standing with Xu, radio show host and former McLaren/Kick Sauber driver Wen Junhui and Song shortly after the kissing photos were taken — and it was heard through Song herself during the post-race interviews that her father had never been in attendance to one of her races before, and she was glad he was there to see her win the Chinese Grand Prix.
A few tears were shed, but our focus is still on Xu and Song. What is to come? Fans have reported seeing them in Gunma, Japan — where the two attended college together along with Wen, and where Wen and Song were first discovered as skilled drivers. Xu and Song have been photographed near Tsuki's, a long-standing udon shop that has several pre-Formula One photos of them and Wen, as well as many autographs and they are close with the shop owners. They have been mentioned to be driving a grey 2000 Nissan Skyline, formerly known to be kept in a car garage as it was Song's first racing vehicle — alongside the pink Kill Bill inspired Pussy Wagon (2000 Honda NSX Type S) we've all come to know and love.
We all had our rising suspicions that our favorite Ferrari team members were anything but platonic, but with years of radio silence between former lover Choi and Song following the exposure of their private relationship and several lovey-dovey statements — some fans are disappointed to know that their favorite ship has ended for good. Choi has not been seen with anyone since his breakup with Song, and this is the first of Song's spottings with another man.
Could it be that our Flash is finally debuting a new beau? Or, maybe, not-so-new — perhaps the two have history that runs deeper than life-long friendship? Keep your eyes peeled, we'll update as we find out more information.
— Gunma, Japan. Present Day.
You've only been in Gunma for four days. You've gone to Tsuki's more times than you can count, sending pictures of Mrs. Iguchi and the namesake cat; you've spent hours hiking through the forests with Minghao, running your hands through flowing streams when it gets too hot…
You've resisted revving your engine back at a couple of stupid kids in glittery Supras and LS swapped Miatas — feeling Minghao's hand on your thigh as your jaw ticks. His gaze reminds you it's not worth it, you can't race the mountains now; but your fingers itch as you let them leave you in the dust in your rental. You tongue your cheek, you grip the wheel; but he presses a kiss to your temple and offers to drive the rest of the way. You only agree because you know better than to give into a short-lived race for a measly two hundred dollars.
Everything is fine. You feel secure in Gunma, having spent so much time wandering the streets and spending time in obscure shops with Junhui and Minghao as college students; everything is still where it was then, as is your heart, warm and full when you're greeted by name by the older women who don't care that you race karts for a living. Older women who don't care that you're an adrenaline junkie, because they remember your soft cheeks and starry eyes from long nights of studying with sweating cups of iced coffee and half eaten cream sandwiches.
Everything is fine.
The article pings on your phone halfway through your second bowl of takeout udon from Tsuki's. It's from Junhui, followed by several messages telling you not to do anything rash and just read it. To just tell Minghao, who is sitting next to you on the bed — who sets down his bowl he moment he sees you pick up your phone, the white-and-black article filling your screen.
He can't tear his eyes from you as your lower lip starts trembling, his hands finding your thigh as he peers over.
"What's wrong?"
You don't answer, your thumb stilling as a picture comes across the screen. It's from Shanghai — Minghao, in his all-black ensemble, holding your cheeks as he kisses you. You're half dressed in your racing suit, your face crumpled the way it is before you burst into tears; and a second picture shows him holding you to his chest, a third showing him kissing the corner of your lips. He takes the phone from you, scrolling back to the top as you shove your bowl onto the nightstand and kick yourself out of bed.
You pace like a caged animal, your heart practically beating out of your chest as Minghao sits silently, staring at the screen before turning your phone off and sliding it facedown on the nightstand. You slide your hands through your hair cupping the sides of your neck as Minghao's phone pings incessantly. You look up, watching him flip it over to see Junhui's contact flashing across the screen.
He stares for a moment, before answering.
"Hey, Jun…yeah. Yeah, we saw it….I don't know. Uh huh. Yeah. No, she's right here…"
You shake your head at Minghao, holding your hands out as you feel your heart in your throat.
"She can't talk…I'll call you later. Jun…Junhui, I said I'll call you later. Uh huh. Yeah. Bye."
Minghao can't tear his eyes away from you, you feel the heat of them on your back as you turn away. Your mind is racing a million miles a minute, the feeling of your chest tightening far too familiar to the first time this happened — with San, five years ago.
"I must be cursed." You laugh in disbelief, turning to face him. "I'm cursed, that's the only way this keeps happening. I pissed off a witch or made some sort of binding covenant with the universe unknowingly."
"Y/N—"
"What were you thinking? Kissing me out in the open?" Your eyes are wide as you think back to the Shanghai race, your hand moving to pull at your necklace as you walk past the foot of the bed, your thighs brushing the bunched duvet. "What was I thinking? Did I just throw caution to the fucking wind?"
Your spiral is momentarily paused by his hand grabbing the pocket of your shorts, pulling you to him. Your eyes burn with tears as you let him, and you let out a pitiful sound as he settles his hands on your hips.
"Just take a deep breath for me, okay? In, out." His words are too familiar, "you’re alright. Everything is okay."
The same words he said in Shanghai, just moments before kissing you. Moments before those photos were taken.
"Everything is not okay, Minghao! Didn't you see? Didn't you read the article? People know, people have been anticipating this for years. How is that not detrimental to my career? To my image? To yours?" Your voice is dripping with something you can't place, but you can tell it's nothing positive as it sours on the back of your tongue. You push his hands away, ignoring the clink of your matching rings, ignoring the plum blossom signet ring on your forefinger that you stole from him all those years ago.
"We should just end it. We just…we put out a statement that it was a lapse in judgment, that it didn't mean anything. We'll get Ro and Jieqiong to counter the article, they know us. Their word holds more weight."
"Is that what this is to you? A lapse in judgment?" His is soft, any feelings masked by his obvious patience. You give him a look, and it must hold something, some sort of weight, because he repeats himself.
"Is that all I am to you?"
"That's not what I said."
"Then what are we doing?"
You don't have an answer for him. Your mind races to the week before the season, the first night in Los Angeles where you promised to have an answer for him by the end of the season. Where you knew he was giving you an out, because you know that though Minghao is patient, and Minghao is forever someone that holds you in high regard…he's human.
And he won't wait forever.
"Let's end this." You whisper, "let's end it and we can spare ourselves the ridicule. I can handle it. I signed up for it, I signed that contract and I put myself in the public eye. You didn't. Don't let me stop you from reaching higher."
Minghao stares at you, hurt evident in the back of his eyes as he swallows hard. He nods silently, his fingers feeling around absently across the nightstand before snatching up his phone and his wallet. He slides off the bed, nearing you quietly before giving you a wayward glance.
"Say something!" You yell, your voice thick from holding in your cries. He scoffs, shutting his suitcase that's open on the floor and setting it upright. "Minghao!"
"What? What do you want me to say, Y/N? You want me to beg? Should I get on my knees and beg you not to leave me, when that's all you've ever done? How can you expect me to keep hurting myself to keep you happy? To keep you with me when I know you don't want me?"
His voice trembles, low as he covers his eyes, yanking the handle of his suitcase up.
"I can't. Okay? I can't do it anymore. You're not choosing me, you never choose me." He lets out a shaky breath, "every time I think we're moving forward, you pull away. It's always something, it's your career, it's our friends, it's the press, it's your fear. What are you so afraid of? Why are you so scared of being loud with your feelings? Why?"
"Because I deserve privacy. I deserve to—"
"I'm not saying you don't, but what about me? What do I deserve from you? After all these years, shouldn't I deserve something that isn't the tip of your boot when you kick me out of your life because it's convenient?"
His voice cracks, and he curses himself as he moves around the room, shoving shirts and sweaters into his duffel. Your lip trembles as you hold in a sob, watching him haphazardly zip up his bag and shove it over his shoulder. He runs a hand over his face, stopping it over his lips as a wounded sound tries to fight its way out.
"Minghao."
You can't move from your spot at the foot of the bed, your fingers grabbing at the fabric of your shorts as he runs a hand through his hair. He slides his phone and wallet into his pocket, tossing his key to the apartment onto the dresser in a smooth glide.
"Minghao."
"Stop saying my name like it means something to you."
He lets out a defeated sigh, teary eyes looking at the annoyingly bright lights in your lamp. He blinks rapidly, before meeting your gaze. You're sure you don't look any better, your sniffling louder than his as he fights himself internally. To leave, to leave you.
"Do you remember the first time we slept together?" His voice is a whisper, white-knuckling the strap of his duffel. "March third. It was a Tuesday, and we were on the roof after we went to Tsuki's for the first time without Jun."
You can't bring yourself to respond, your tears flowing down your cheeks as you're frozen in place. Your fingers are numbing at how tight they're curled into your shorts, but he lets out a humorless laugh, running a hand over his face as he fights back tears. You've seen Minghao cry a total of two times — when you were named Rookie of the Year seven years ago, and when he came over to see you breakdown, alone in your hotel room, after the exposé on your relationship with San was released.
"I think that was one of the most memorable nights of my life. I thought, just for a moment, that I got the girl." He tongues his cheek, "Even after I left Japan and I cut contact, I never moved on. I never wanted anyone else, but I couldn't have you because you didn't want me. You wanted a good time, and I was a good time. I was a great time, even."
He grabs his suitcase, letting another trembled breath out.
"I don't want to just be a good time. I don't want to know that I keep choosing you, over and over, and you can't make up your mind. You say it's not about San, it's not about me, it's not about the press…so it's about you. You are the one stopping this, because I don't care if people photograph me kissing you. I don't care if the FIA fines me. I don't care what anyone thinks about the way I love you, because it's me doing it. Not them."
Your heart drops at the three words he glosses over, how he says them with ease, like he's known his whole life.
"Eight years, not counting our school days. Eight years of knowing you, missing you, wanting you. Eight years of choosing you, over and over again, even when everyone told me I was making a mistake because you were too focused on your career, because you have a one-track mind. Years of knowing that I can't sleep after you slip out of bed in the middle of the night, but I still beg to have you in mine even if just for a few hours. So much can't be good for the heart and soul. " He speaks to the floor, before looking up at you.
"And leaving you gets harder and harder as the time keeps going. But that's just it, isn't it? Time keeps going, we keep growing and…we're not growing together. Your career is important to you, our friends, keeping an image that you're a winner. Everyone loves the Ferrari Flash. Everyone loves watching you skid past that finish line first, asking you questions, looking at you pose for magazines and organizations. Everyone loves Flash, number eight on the tarmac and number one in their hearts, right?"
He steps forward, his hand warm as he presses it to the center of your chest.
"When do they get to love Y/N?" His voice is soft, and you blow a sob out of the side of your mouth as he wipes your cheeks carefully. His hand grabs yours, his thumb rubbing over your matching ring before he gently pulls it off. You close your hand, but he slips it into his palm anyway. He pulls off his own, looking at them closely. Looking at your initials engraved on the insides, he lets out a sigh and slides them onto the dresser.
Your lashes are wet with tears as you look up at him, his fingers carding through your hair as he plants a kiss on your hairline before he meets your eyes.
"When do I get to love you? Is it any time soon, or should I wait for the next life?"
"Minghao." Your voice trembles, but he just shakes his head.
"Stay. This is your home, too." He strokes the back of your head, "I'll take the couch and fly to Suzuka first thing in the morning. I'll see you there, hm?"
— synopsis: minghao is eerily convinced that nothing means anything without passion. love, money, fame...it's nothing without passion and everything with love. he just has to find the love he preaches before it's too late for her.
– genre: fated lovers au; angst, fluff, suggestive.
— pairing: dancer!xu minghao x heiress!reader
– word count: 22.3k.
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: swearing, alcohol, smoking (cigarettes.) homophobia (non-descript, insinuated). suggestive scenes, sexual language. minor character death, mentions of grief and the process, grappling at control, mentions of pregnancy (not main couple). vague! very vague! go with the flow!
— what to listen to: star crossing night - the8, gali ; be my baby - the ronettes ; through the night - iu ; only love - ben howard ; blue - dxs ; leftover - wonwoo ; start over - beyoncé.
– author's note: [thank you to @/saradika here on tumblr for these star dividers!] welcome back to haologram...and we are kicking off the new year with my man, my lover, my starlight (and yet another collab!) thank you to the lovely @studiosvt for yet another exciting moment!! for some context: 'cash or check' means 'kiss now or later.' this being said: no beta, we die like men!! enjoy!
— NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK | 17 JULY 1923.
Minghao is used to many things — small talk about work and the weather, the itch for a cigarette after a particularly stressful day, rummaging through his pockets for enough change to pay for his dinner…but he is not used to the full range of all four seasons. Los Angeles is never this hot, he swears they stay at a beautiful springtime breeze all year round — but the first three days after he arrived were agony, and he showered six times alone.
The man renting him a room only looked amused as Minghao exited the bathroom every time.
Los Angeles had been a blur. Really, the last handful of years that Minghao barely called life were all just a jumbled mess — he'd left Seattle and made his way down the west coast in search of better opportunities. He found a few, here and there, but nothing was permanent in the way Minghao wanted it to be. He couldn't find anyone with the same passion, the same anger for things, and it was bleak.
Los Angeles soon became tiresome. It became boring, and Minghao found himself wanting more. He wanted more than to sit in diners with his chin in his hand, he wanted more than beach days that seemed to never end…he wanted more than a handful of hours before he quietly ducked out of a bedroom window and made his way back home.
It wasn't ever really home, but the closest he'd been getting to it, anyway.
The man renting him the room had been, by far, one of the more tragic stories he'd come across — Kwon Soonyoung, only a little over a year older than him and yet, had lived a thousand lifetimes. He'd been married before Minghao met him, to a woman from California — a woman who later left him when she realized the glitz and glamor of New York City that she read in books was not something she'd find with Soonyoung. She insisted life (and love) were nothing without the gaudy watches and chunky diamond necklaces that screamed financial abundance; Soonyoung tried to give her the life she wanted.
Soonyoung, from what Minghao observed and understood, was not a quitter. He was hard-working, smart, and incredibly attentive — and all the other men that were housed in his large home were proof of it. They had only good things to say about him, aside from the one or two stories of how scary he was when he was truly angry; but they admitted that was never something common. One of the housemates, Lee Jihoon, made it known that in his fifteen years of being Soonyoung's friend, had only seen him get angry twice.
So it wasn't any surprise that Jihoon was the witness to Soonyoung's messy divorce.
He filed from his wife after two years, over twenty grand in the hole from her frivolous spending. She moved back to California, taking her piles of jewelry and even a hefty sum of cash — and left Soonyoung to deal with the debt. The bank wound up taking his home as collateral, the man renting the rooms out to barely make a dent in the dues. Despite it all, Soonyoung was sweet, funny, bubbly. He rose with the sun, making breakfast for the men who lived in his house.
Aforementioned Lee Jihoon was one of them. He was a teacher down at the local high school, proficient in classical music that ranged from violin to piano to even the clarinet. He had grown up glued to the hip with Soonyoung, being the best man at his wedding and leaving his apartment in Albany once the divorce went through to keep him company.
Minghao doesn't really think it's just friendship between them, but he keeps his mouth shut about the longing gazes and subtle touches. Soonyoung is less good at the casualness of it all, ears always tinged pink the moment he sees Jihoon in the mornings — and Minghao can't help but laugh to himself at the cuteness of it.
The other housemates are much more open about their relationship, though still kept neatly under wraps in public. A bookkeeper by the name of Boo Seungkwan shared the upstairs room with who Minghao assumed to be his boyfriend — a mechanic named Hansol Chwe. Minghao heard them bicker a bit through the thin walls at night, his eyes widening at the soft smacking of lips right after. He'd plug his ears, ignoring the creak of the bed and forcing himself to fall asleep; if he was lucky, he'd be asleep before Hansol ever made it home, hearing Seungkwan call him Vernon in a tone that was nothing like the sweet one that he sent him off with in the mornings.
Something else all of these men had in common was that they all quietly filed in the direction of the same place every few nights. Jihoon was always dressed nicely, soft black hair pulled away from his face in a half-updo and sporting a thin gold watch on his wrist — a white button-up that exposed a bit of his creamy chest and tight black pants that ensured Soonyoung's eyes didn't leave him all night.
Seungkwan and Hansol were just as done up, but wore all-black and ties snug to their throats. They whispered between themselves, Hansol's lips often brushing the small silver hoop looped through the shell of Seungkwan's ear. Seungkwan also usually fiddled with the rings on Hansol's fingers before ultimately dropping his hand and tucking his own in his pockets once they crossed the threshold of the shared home — wary of prying eyes.
Of big mouths, too.
Minghao learned from Soonyoung that he worked for the richest family in the city — the Chois were big in the automobile industry, with their son creating his own league in the business of steel. According to Soonyoung — Choi Seungcheol was one of the nicest people in the city, but had the dominating persona of a lion. Few people bothered to get on his bad side, but realized that there was a weak point to him — a younger sister who kept his head on straight.
Choi Y/N. Born two years after Seungcheol and an equal heir to the family fortune, you were the star of the show. You kept everyone at ease with a red-lipped smile, easily moving through enormous parties and galas held at the residence you shared with Seungcheol. Or, 'shared' — Soonyoung admitted to Minghao that you were more of an independent person, buying an apartment on the east side and leaving the rather huge house to your brother. You were also apparently very prone to an Irish Goodbye — Soonyoung whispered about one speakeasy or another you enjoyed frequenting, getting tipsy off contraband liquor you'd brought with you to the establishments.
A bit of a political statement, Soonyoung admitted, but you supplied the places you visited with enough booze to get at least a few people plastered. Apparently, everyone kept quiet about it, too — under no threat, either.
They simply liked you.
A sweet girl that had everything and stopped at nothing to share it — your pen eagerly signing checks with hefty amounts to organizations and charities, wads of cash from your purse that held far more than necessary being shoved into hands that needed it more. You enjoyed letting loose; one hand holding a thin cigarette between jeweled fingers that sported manicured fingernails, the other holding a set of dirty playing cards or a steel flask with your family emblem engraved on it. You wore dresses that showed what aunties would say to be too much, what your friends would say was not enough and what you said was just right.
Minghao hadn't met you yet, or Seungcheol.
Soonyoung worked directly under Seungcheol as his second in command, managing their relationships with manufacturers and keeping their heads above water. Seungcheol was very active in the businesses your family kept — he'd get down and dirty, he'd sustained injuries, he'd heavily involved himself in the grittiest jobs to understand what helped you both live the lives you got to.
Soonyoung also admitted that his relationship to you and Seungcheol was one of the bigger reasons why the bank hadn't foreclosed on his home yet. They were too scared of Seungcheol and too enamored by you to even attempt to start that paperwork — but Soonyoung was too stubborn to take any help either of you offered him. He'd rather struggle and make his sprinkle payments than take anything from you and Seungcheol.
Soonyoung told Minghao that Jihoon, Seungkwan and Hansol were close friends of yours; that they also moonlighted for your family on numerous occasions. Jihoon played piano at your parties, Seungkwan tended the bar and managed waiters, and Hansol joined a friend of Seungcheol's, Kim Mingyu, in security.
Minghao knew about Mingyu. Smart, tall, a bit clumsy…and absolutely enamored with your best friend, Chou Tzuyu.
Who, subsequently, happened to be Minghao's childhood best friend.
Tzuyu was from Seattle — and had grown up with Minghao. She moved to New York City shortly after high school, leaving Minghao an address to write letters to and urging him to move to the city with her. She often wrote him as he hopped around Los Angeles, and he wrote back as often as he could — and she told him all about the puppy-eyed giant that kept trying to win her over with soft smiles and stuttered compliments.
So when Minghao finally met Mingyu the day he arrived in New York, it was…funny. To see how things all came full circle, his cheek stamped in what Minghao knew to be Tzuyu's signature matte red lipstick. He only smiled as Mingyu's ears coated in a hot flush, welcoming him into the apartment the two of them shared and letting Tzuyu know he'd arrived.
He didn't know why you and Tzuyu were close — she'd never mentioned you. Maybe at your request, perhaps without it and just opting to keep your clearly tumultuous life private. However, he understood that you were now the person he shared his best friend with, as well as Mingyu — and it didn't stop his curiosity from piquing, but he has yet to get even a glimpse of you.
Tzuyu introduced him to Soonyoung, and gave the older man the first three months of what Minghao's rent would be without consulting him. She rattled off a bunch of places he could visit for a job — a stern look in her eye when she said not all of them would be involved with dance. He only nodded, silently jotting them down on a piece of paper that was now pinned on the corkboard in his bedroom by a gold thumbtack — seven out of nine places crossed out with no luck since he arrived last month.
He's sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his palm as he scours the daily paper for any openings. His food is cold on his plate as the rest of the men file out with murmured goodbyes, Seungkwan squeezing his shoulder gently as Soonyoung slipped into the chair next to Minghao. He sips a cup of hot coffee, half-dressed for his day when he takes the paper out of Minghao's hand and points at his food with a fork.
"You should go to Cherry Jubilee," he says carefully. Minghao eyes him, watching the way Soonyoung easily flips straight to the business section. Seungcheol's name is across the top of the page, a hefty article written by Soonyoung's good friend Jeon Wonwoo — a journalist that easily got himself into what Minghao thinks is too many situations. Minghao stirred his spoon around his oatmeal, watching as Soonyoung took a careful sip of his coffee, "tell the owner that you're a good friend of mine. They'll give you something."
"Where is that?"
"Don't sound bored. I think it'll be right up your alley."
"How do you know what's up my alley?" Minghao smirks, stabbing the globs of oatmeal with his spoon as Soonyoung smiles, "because I was you."
"Were you?"
"I used to dance, too. Before I got married."
"Really?"
"Really," he nods, reaching across the table and plucking a couple of sugar cubes off the plate in the middle. He drops them into his coffee, taking Minghao's spoon out of his hand and eating the oatmeal off it. Minghao scrunches his nose as Soonyoung uses the spoon to stir his coffee, "Jihoon always says I should go back to it, but I dunno. Anyway, Cherry Jubilee. She's hard to find if you're not looking properly, but if you take a left and see a Lutheran church, you've gone too far."
"What if I see a Catholic church?"
"I suggest dropping in for a prayer regardless of denomination, buddy. You need it."
"Yeah, yeah." Minghao rolls his eyes, making Soonyoung snort around his coffee as he takes his bowl and scrapes the uneaten oatmeal in the garbage. He turns the sink on, rinsing the bowl before grabbing for the dish sponge, "are they nice down there?"
"Yeah, Jeonghan's real nice. I'm not sure if he'll be looking for anyone to take on, but it's something. You'll never get anywhere without a few connections."
"Nepotism's all the rage out here, eh?" Minghao chuckles, his eyes glued to the suds surrounding his bejeweled fingers. His rings sparkle back up at him, gold and silver and a singular onyx stone. It matches his cuff links, and he turns the tap off before the water gets a chance to sprinkle on his sleeves. He slips the bowl onto the drying rack, and Soonyoung holds his hand over his head — a thick wad of cash held together by a personalized money clip.
"Go on, wander. Bring back whatever you don't spend."
"You need this money"
"Ah, they'll never take the house anyway. Go. I've gotta get to work and I can't leave in peace if you're stuck here moping around instead of going where you need to."
Minghao sighs, taking the money and tucking it into his pocket, "I'm not spending this."
"Cherry Jubilee, ask for Yoon Jeonghan. Go." Soonyoung waves him off as he pushes his chair back, standing up and tucking his shirt into his slacks. The thump of footsteps is heard above them, and both men look over to see a soaked Jihoon holding his shirt in his hand — dripping with water.
"You didn't fix the faucet," he grumbles, throwing his shirt over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Soonyoung rubs his face, a pleading look shot Minghao's way; practically begging him to exit the house.
Minghao does just that as Jihoon and Soonyoung get into a muttered argument — but Minghao hadn't manage to get out the door yet when he heard the soft smack of an apologetic kiss. And another, and another, paired with a soft groan and a gentle I love you.
"Cute."
It's half past nine at night when Minghao finally finds his way over to Cherry Jubilee — he spent his day familiarizing himself with the streets and the people. He stopped at a handful of diners and left Soonyoung's home number in case they needed a waiter or dishwasher, he got cooed over by some older women at a tea shop who gave him olive oil cake and paid for a scoop of Neapolitan ice cream on a crunchy waffle cone. A group of men at the next shop over bought him dinner, sitting him with their party and smelling of expensive cigars — two bowls of parsnip and celery root bisque and a heaping hot serving of chicken a la king with warm, buttered biscuits later…
Minghao was sat at the bar of Cherry Jubilee, a tick in his jaw as he ran his fingertips over the small glass of water he'd asked for while waiting for Jeonghan to get back to him. The man reappeared, long hair in his eyes before he swiped it away and leaned over the bar, rolled sleeves brushing the heavy mahogany.
"Leave your home number and I'll have to give you a call back," Jeonghan's face is remorseful as he slides a pen and pad across the bar, and Minghao just nods quietly. Jeonghan, in fact, was not looking for anyone to take on — but insisted that Minghao seemed good for it and he'd give him a call back if he ended up firing one of his croupiers.
If anything, Cherry Jubilee wasn't even supposed to exist. He'd carved out the basement of a candy shop, paying the owner a hefty amount to re-do his backroom into a staircase leading down to the speakeasy. It smelled like cigarettes and faintly of prohibited booze, and the back door was hidden deep in the dark back alley with a mail slot that was guarded by a doe-eyed man that spoke like half the people from Los Angeles — Joshua, though his name tag said Jisoo. He'd been the one to let Minghao in, after the candy shop owner told him to go around back and whisper coup d'état.
"Actually, you could head to…" Jeonghan tears off a scrap of paper, scribbling an address on it in jagged handwriting, "Guilty Pleasure. Tell the owner you know me, he'll get ya in. Promise."
Minghao nods, "and the owner is?"
"Lee Seokmin. Nice guy, great teeth. Look at 'em." Jeonghan nods, running his fingers over his lips, "he mentioned he was looking for a new croupier. You can play, right? Poker, hearts, rummy? Guts, even?"
"Yeah, yeah. Learned when I was kid." Minghao folds the paper carefully, and Jeonghan reaches over, touching his knuckle to Minghao's chin with a light tap.
"Lighten up, babe. You'll get something, and I promise," Jeonghan crosses an x over his chest, "I'll give you a call back if I get rid of one of these losers. If I don't get a hold of ya, I'll hold off until I do. Consider it a voucher, we were all new once."
"Thanks," Minghao can't help but be pouty, and Jeonghan's words die on his tongue as the heavy back door slams shut. They both look up to see the Choi Seungcheol in the flesh — Minghao's eyes widening at the tightness of his brows as he tongues his cheek, looking around the speakeasy as he crosses thick arms on his chest.
"She's not here," Jeonghan pipes up, and the scowl on his face only grows deeper as he hops over the bar, making his way over to him. He reaches under the bar, crouching as Jeonghan gives Minghao a quick look, "lookin' for that sister of his. Always getting into trouble."
"She's not in trouble, she's just ticking me off." Seungcheol grumbles, slamming a thick glass on the counter and uncorking a bottle of cognac with his teeth as he stands up straight. He pours it freely, before stilling and looking up at Minghao. Thick brows remain furrowed as he eyes him, Minghao's skin prickling slightly as Seungcheol puts the bottle down, "you're not from around here, are you?"
"You can tell?"
"Never seen you."
"You remember everyone you've ever met?"
"Seungcheol's got a great memory," Jeonghan nods, reaching over and sliding the glass towards himself. Seungcheol huffs, but Jeonghan quickly grabs a bottle of orange liqueur from under the bar and pours it with a deadpan glare, "this is Xu Minghao. He's from Seattle."
"Little far from home, aren't you?" Seungcheol's shoulders stay visibly tense, and Jeonghan peers up at Minghao through his lashes before pressing a kiss to Seungcheol's bicep. The man flinches, and Minghao shakes his head, as if to say he doesn't care, he won't tell, it's not a big deal.
"Why are you in New York?"
"Why are you interrogating me?"
"My city, gotta know my people." Seungcheol shrugs as Jeonghan slides the drink back in front of him. He takes it, giving Minghao another quick once over, "you need work?"
"Yes."
"You tried Guilty Pleasure yet?"
"I will, soon. Maybe tonight, I'm not sure."
Seungcheol nods, the stiffness in his body leaving as he clicks his tongue, "if not, try—"
"Everyone keeps bouncing me around the city," Minghao interrupts with a soft laugh, and Seungcheol hums, "everyone was new once."
"Were you?"
"No. That's why I'm trying to help you. If Seokmin can't get you, try the bank and say we're family friends. They'll be too scared to say no."
"Fear is not respect," Jeonghan chides, but his hand still swirls the pen on another piece of paper and tears it out to hand to Minghao. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, "well if it's not fearing me, it's loving Y/N. Take your pick, man."
"Y/N is the sister, yeah?" Minghao nods slowly, and Seungcheol's eyes narrow slightly.
"She's about your age. Might see her around, her best friend is also from Seattle, I think."
"Chou Tzuyu, yeah. I know. We were friends back home."
"Minghao is Soonyoung's latest tenant," Jeonghan says, crossing his arms on the bar as Seungcheol takes a sip of his drink. "Been here a couple months."
"Then why haven't I met you?" Seungcheol leans closer, and Minghao clears his throat as the soft scent of the older man's cologne fills his nose. It's comforting but something sultry, something that makes his cheeks hot as he blinks carefully, "I don't get out much. I haven't explored the city yet, I don't have friends except Tzuyu and she's got a lot more going on than I do."
Seungcheol seems skeptical, but lets it go as he nods again, "if you bump into Y/N, she's good company. If Tzuyu's your friend, then you'll get along fine. Just…keep her out of trouble."
"Y/N's a big girl, she can keep herself afloat," Jeonghan's seemingly reminding Seungcheol, but the man just shakes his head before offering Minghao his hand.
"Nice to meet you. Good luck on your job hunt, and circle back with me if none of it works. I'll get you in somewhere." He says gently as Minghao shakes his hand, giving it a careful squeeze before letting go. Minghao sees the same hand curl around Jeonghan's hip as Seungcheol brushes his lips on the back of his neck, and he looks away when he hears Seungcheol tell Jeonghan he'll wait for him in the office. "Stay safe, Minghao."
"I will," he murmurs back, tapping his knuckles against the wood before looking back up. Seungcheol's slipping into a door as Jeonghan blushes furiously, "you guys are cute."
"It's not like it's legal."
"Doesn't matter. Love is love, is love."
Jeonghan smiles inwardly, "I'll give you a call, I promise."
"Thanks, I'll get outta here." Minghao nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he takes a quick sip of his water. Jeonghan taps his pen on the notepad as Minghao slips off the stool, knocking on the wood again, "I'll see ya."
"See ya, Hao."
"Hey, don't get too cozy."
"Bye, Hao."
— 18 JULY 1923.
Guilty Pleasure is yet another illegal speakeasy hidden in the basement of a shop, somewhere on a corner in the deep inner city.
Unlike Cherry Jubilee that was hidden by the sweet scents of candy, Guilty Pleasure was surrounded by the gourmet aroma of a beautiful bakery called Whipped. Minghao had been instructed by Soonyoung to ask for Lee Minseo — who had the sharp eyes of a feline, locking him into place the moment he walked through the front door, just shy of nine-thirty at night. She gave him a once-over, red lips pulled into a soft smile before she leaned over the counter.
"Looking for somethin'? Or…someone?" Her voice was something that made Minghao's cheeks burn as he carefully shoved his hands in his pockets, nibbling on his lower lip as he nodded. "Well who is it, handsome?"
"Seokmin."
"Gah, everyone's always lookin' for him. He's downstairs."
Minghao nods, "sounds like you're not too happy about that, miss."
"It's Mrs., and you're right, I'm not. God forbid you want your husband all to yourself," she chuckles, pushing off the counter and pointing at the door, "lock my door, would ya? It's closing time."
Minghao does that, pausing when he sees her walk around the counter — a hand on her back as her dress drapes gently over the belly bump. She raises a brow, "what?"
"Sorry, congratulations."
"Soonyoung didn't say you'd be this awkward."
"I'm not awkward, I'm just not from here!"
Minghao's pout is prominent on his lips as she laughs, her hands pulling down curtains and blacking out the streetlights from outside, "what, people in Los Angeles don't talk to each other?"
"West Coast is nice, not kind. You wanna talk, you head east or to your hometown."
"Yeah, I heard a bit like that. I'm not from here, either, though," she says pointedly, and Minghao tilts his head. "I'm from Chicago."
"Halfway point."
"Sort of. Here, come on. We've gotta get you downstairs before I go up for the night."
"You're alone by yourself up there?" Minghao's tone is laced with concern, and she smiles, "if anything, the fellas take good care of the bar and Seokmin's up in bed with me. Don't you worry, follow me."
Minghao nods slowly, picking his pace up as he sees her pull a necklace out from under her collar, a silver key hanging off the end of it. The door to the basement reads STORAGE — her smile is mischievous as she quickly unlocks it and pulls the door open to reveal a reddish glow and a set of worn stairs, dipped with years of shoes clambering up and down. Minghao quickly reaches his hand out, stepping in front of her onto the first step as she holds the wall, her left hand taking his — a chunky ruby ring sparkling up at him, set in gold and snug against a wedding band.
"Seokmin should like ya," she says as they make their way down, Minghao's eyes quickly catching a few patrons' as they move past the main beams, a thick pillar blocking his view of the crowded bar. Minseo grimaces as they reach the floor, scrunching her nose, "at least they haven't started smoking yet. Seokmin doesn't let them until after I've come to collect him."
"That's sweet."
"He's my husband, 'course he's sweet."
Minseo proudly turns her nose up, her hand still holding Minghao's fingers lightly as she guides him through the patrons. Croupiers eye him with lopsided smirks, women with low-cut dresses peer at him through thick lashes — but Minseo gets his attention as she rounds the bar to a black door, knocking in a three-pattern sequence and making it fall open.
Inside is a tall man, with soft eyes and a bright smile looking down at Minseo. Minghao studies him carefully — a neatly pressed white shirt layered under an olive green sweater vest, tucked carefully into a brown pair of chinos with a brown leather belt…the gold buckle boasting Minseo's name and a carefully picked ruby dotting the I. He lifts the glasses off his nose, leaning down to press a kiss on her lips when he spots Minghao.
Doesn't stop him from kissing his wife, though.
"Guy's lookin' for ya. Minghao, right?" Minseo squeezes his hand gently, Seokmin's gaze curious as he extends his own with a careful smile. Minghao takes it, giving it a firm shake as he nods, "yes, Xu Minghao. Jeonghan and Seungcheol sent me."
"Jeonghan and Seungcheol, huh? Must be pretty dire." Seokmin's voice is smooth, honeyed — enough to make anyone's knees weak. Minghao's smile is shaky, and he feels a bit foolish; he's not a nervous guy. He's confident, shoulders often set back and face laced with determination.
He blames it on the move across the country.
Not at all on the way Minseo and Seokmin's smiles sparkle all the same.
"Yes, I'd say so. Been here a while with no luck." He nods quickly, and Seokmin's eyes lace with concern. He opens the door wider, ushering them both in and pulling a chair for Minseo. She sits carefully, and Minghao keeps himself tucked behind her with wide eyes. Seokmin isn't facing them; broad shoulders on display and the muscles of his back tensing as he reaches overhead for a box of files. Likely bills and payments for the speakeasy…hush contracts for the patrons.
"How long?"
"Almost three months. I've left my host's phone number all over the city to no avail."
"Who is your host?" Seokmin asks, setting down a box and opening it up, procuring a folder thick with papers. He rifles through them as Minghao clears his throat, "Kwon Soonyoung."
"You just know everyone, huh? That's my buddy," Seokmin nods, pulling a paper out. "Alright, I can't promise you anything, but you can fill this out for me with your information and I should get back to you before the end of the week. In any case, I can have you fill in for any dealers or waitresses on the occasion, does that work?"
"Per diem?"
"Per diem. Most of my fellas are pretty consistent, been with the place since I opened it. Practically part of it."
Minghao chews on his lip, "yeah, I get that. Uh, can I ask how much I'd be getting?"
"Of course," Seokmin holds out a pen and a clipboard holding the paper, "if you're serving patrons or dealing cards, you'll have to be here from six in the evening to four in the morning. That's six dollars an hour, so sixty bucks. You can keep any gratuity you're given and eighty-five percent of any winnings you get if you get dealt into a game. If you're good, you'll typically walk out of here with a hundred to a hundred-twenty dollars."
Minghao nods along as he scribbles his information across the pages, "six dollars an hour is…a quite a bit. No one out here is paying by the hour, either. I don't even think that's a thing."
"Call it innovation. Do you need more? I can go eight."
"What?"
"I can go eight an hour, is that good? Or do you—"
"No, no, six is perfect." Minghao lets out a laugh of disbelief, and Minseo rolls her eyes, tugging on Seokmin's vest, "give him seven-fifty. Put him on tonight, I'm sure Junhui would love some help out there. They're slammed."
"Seven-fifty it is!" Seokmin grins as Minghao holds the clipboard back out, and he nods eagerly as he looks it over, "you can stay for tonight. I'll introduce you to Junhui and he'll get you up and running, but it's likely you'll just be hanging out for a few hours because he's a bit of a control freak. Is that okay? I'll still pay you."
"Yeah, yes! That's fine, thank you. I really appreciate it."
"Ah, don't thank me yet. Things won't be steady for a while, and I'll have to see if I can onboard a new bartender. You ever serve drinks, Mr. Xu?"
"I'm a quick learner, promise." Minghao draws an x over his chest the way he'd seen Jeonghan do the day before, and Minseo snickered from her seat between the two men, earning a stroke of Seokmin's hand over the top of her head, smoothing her hair down. There's an adoration in his touch, in the way she leans into it, in the way his hand slides further south and his fingers thumb at her earlobes before she leans her temple against his hip.
The casualty of it all almost makes Minghao's cheeks burn.
And something in his stomach reminds him that it's something he yearns for, too.
The adoring touch of a lover. Proof that he, too, belongs to someone.
"For sure. Remember, though, per diem. I only call once, and I always call twenty minutes before the shift on the dot. You miss the call, the job is taken by someone else. Do we have a deal?" Seokmin holds out his hand, and Minghao shakes it quickly, "I am also paying you in cash, under the table. To the government, you don't work. Got it?"
Minghao nods carefully, and Minseo cheers softly from between both men.
"Now that that is settled, it's time for this doll to get back in her case. Minghao, it was lovely to meet you. Please, let us know if there is anything else we can do for you," she plucks a business card off the desk, sliding it into Minghao's palm as she uses it as leverage to stand up. Seokmin gives Minghao a warm smile as he nudges the door open, "you're welcome here any time."
"Thank you…I just…sit at the bar?"
Seokmin nods, helping Minseo out of the office before rapping his knuckles on the counter — a man behind it glancing up with wide eyes. He's free pouring a bottle of rum, almost expertly cutting the stream as he glances at Minghao.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, "new meat? Replacing me already, Seok?"
"Gah, you know I wouldn't. I just need you to take care of him. Teach him the ropes, yeah? Play nice with the other puppies," Seokmin chides, pointing a menacing finger at the man, only for Minseo to grab it. Minghao can barely hear over the chatter, but the smirk on the bartender's face says enough as Seokmin gives Minghao an embarrassed smile and lets his wife pull him towards the stairs.
"She said, this puppy wants to play nice, in case you're wondering." The bartender snorts, grabbing a glass bottle of cola and flipping the cap off. He pours carefully, before sliding the finished drink over the bar and tapping the counter, "I'm Junhui. You're…Minghao, right?"
"…Right."
"Walls are thin and word travels fast, pretty."
Minghao tongues his cheek, "pretty?"
"You are, yeah." Junhui nods, eyeing him carefully as Minghao bites back the blush trying to crawl up his neck. "You're new around here, right? Out west?"
"I'm from Seattle, but I came here from—"
"Los Angeles."
"Yes…how do you know that?"
"I told you, word travels fast." He shrugs, sliding a glass of water across the bar and leaning his elbows against it. Minghao turns the glass in his fingers as Junhui studies him, "you're a dancer, right?"
"Right."
"No luck at the joints?"
"None," he rolls his eyes, "it's annoying. You need help, I need a job, hire me. I'm good for it, you know?"
"Mmh, you're cute when you pout."
"Stop flirting with me."
Junhui smirks, shrugging a shoulder as he turns to face the patrons, "they're nice out here. You're per diem, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Nice. Keep an eye out with the girls, they'll usually slip you a little cash if you walk them home. Very sweet."
"I'll keep that in mind," Minghao murmurs, taking a sip of the water as he peered around the speakeasy. Smoke filled the room, low hanging lights illuminating poker tables and sinister smiles hidden behind the rims of glasses and cigarette butts. Red lipstick was a stamped stain across several cheeks and necks, a gentleman seated with a girl on his lap as he slides his poker chips all in. She holds his cigar, her eyes starry as he squeezes her hip.
Minghao doesn't know the connotation.
So Minghao looks away.
His eyes find another table — littered with familiar profiles. A few men are gathered around an oval table, a hand (donning a silver ring he's sure he's seen before) holding a fan. The fan wafts the cigarette smoke away from a disheveled head of hair, only for said head to look up. Eyes low and full of what Minghao can only place as lustful satisfaction, lips plump and coated in a thin layer of dark red lipstick.
You.
Choi Y/N, sister to Choi Seungcheol — sitting in an illegal speakeasy, smoking a thin cigarette and drinking from a sweating highball glass. You wore a glittering silver dress much too low cut for the general public; a wonderfully decorated neck mocks him, fine jewelry sparkling against your skin and perfect amount of décolletage pulling the look together. The strap of your dress has fallen off your shoulder, but you use it to your advantage as you messily slide all your chips to the center of the table.
He can't hear you, but he can see the way your lips curl around the words — I'm all in…
Before your eyes flicker up, and Minghao feels almost entranced as you lock them with his. You raise a brow, blowing the smoke out of the corner of your lips before tossing your cards onto the table. A resounding groan from all the men around your table makes him blink, and he quickly turns back to Junhui — who is snorting inwardly.
"She's cute, huh?" Junhui's drying a glass with a clean rag, sliding it under the bar as all your chips and more are slid back to you. Minghao shrugs, "sure."
"Sure?"
"Yes. She is."
"She's single, you know." Junhui's voice has a lilt to it, and Minghao rolls his eyes with a scoff. He's not looking for a relationship, and certainly not with someone so influential and well-known. He's looking for a job, something to pay his rent and keep him well fed.
…Minghao's never been the type to have someone warm his bed just because. He likes commitment. He likes something serious, something worthwhile — he knows better than to think everyone is the same way.
Not that you're not. Or, not that he thinks you wouldn't be. He has just convinced himself that he doesn't feel like taking that chance; he doesn't feel like being the guppy that bites at the first hook that shows him a juicy, wriggling worm.
No matter how rewarding it may be.
"I'm not lookin'," Minghao mumbles, barely able to meet Junhui's knowing eyes. The bartender shrugs, "might wanna let her know, because she's not easy to reel in, either."
"Hey, Jun," your voice is smooth, almost sultry in Minghao's ear. A waft of something expensive fills his nose — your skin littered with notes of jasmine and sandalwood, even a hint of sweet vanilla. You're not close to him, almost a foot of distance between your hip and his knee. Junhui plucks the cigarette from between your lips, a sly smile spreading on them as he takes a quick drag and puts it back in your hand, "can I get something nice and spicy?"
"Nice and spicy, eh?" He snickers, grabbing a glass and turning to the wall of liquor. You seemingly take the chance to twist at the waist, your eyes trailing him shamelessly. They flick back up to his face, and you sidle up to him, leaving a few inches of space between your lower belly and his thigh as your fingers curl around the back of his stool. He lets his breath hitch in his throat as you let your eyes narrow, carefully moving his hair out of his eyes before backing up and leaning on your elbows against the bar. He allows himself to peek at you through his lashes, your dress much shorter than what he's used to seeing, barely reaching your mid-thigh as you point your cigarette at him.
"Hm…you're somebody's sweetheart, aren't you?" You tilt your head, earrings swinging with the movement. He watches them, mouth opening to reply but no words come out as you put your cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar, "cute thing like you is never alone in a place like this, baby."
"I'm nobody's anything." He mumbles, your lips forming an o-shape as you nod. You hum, shaking your hair off your shoulders, his eyes once more catching the fallen strap. "I'm just here for work."
"Ah, yeah. Heard there was a pretty young thing sniffing around. You're…Tzuyu's boy, right? From Seattle?" You don't turn as Junhui slides the drink to your side, your hand absently grabbing it as Junhui's lithe fingers pull your dress strap back into place. He snaps it playfully, making you scowl and swat at his hand.
Minghao forces his eyes away from the press of your breasts against the cut of your dress.
"You could say that…but I have a name."
"Minghao. Xu Minghao, I know."
He flushes something furious as you coo, "I know everything about everyone. I'm the first to know when someone new steps into this city. You couldn't hide from me if you tried."
You tilt your drink at him, before bringing it to your lips and knocking it back in one go. You rap your knuckles on the bar, sliding your glass back onto it before giving Minghao a quick smile — one that made his knees feel weak, enticing, kissable lips stretched over a perfect set of teeth.
Teeth he suddenly wanted to run his tongue over, feel nip at his skin, tug at his earlobes.
He felt oddly warm, letting a finger tug at his collar as you gave him another glance over, "nobody's anything, huh?"
"Nobody's anything."
"Could be mine."
You wink, smoothly swiping your hair over your shoulder and walking away. There's a swing in your hips, the click of your low heels enough to catch his attention — his eyes dragging up perfect calves, plush thighs bitten by the hem of your dress…all of it says so much but only one thing stands out.
You always get what you want.
And Minghao averts his gaze once more, flickering back up to the men surrounding the table — only to see four familiar faces staring back at him with knowing smiles tugging at their lips.
Jihoon, Seungkwan and Hansol — holding your purse, your fan, your wad of cash and your cigarettes. Jihoon doesn't break eye contact with Minghao as he slips another cigarette between your lips, and Seungkwan only smirks inwardly as he lights it for you. Hansol gives him a shrug of his shoulders, running a hand through his hair as you sit down in front of him; his hand quickly grabbing your hip to steady you.
Minghao has never known jealousy.
He thinks he's met it in New York City.
— 03 AUGUST 1923.
Work has still been rocky.
In the last three weeks, he's gotten three days of work — enough to pay his rent, enough to chip in for groceries…but not enough that Soonyoung stops slipping him cash at breakfast. He has the decency to do it once everyone else has left, sparing Minghao the humiliation of their roommates knowing he's struggling.
"There is nothing humiliating about asking for help," Soonyoung scolds him as he slides a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Minghao sighs, but Soonyoung continues as he carefully slices a banana into the beige mush, "what's humiliating is letting yourself fall short when people are trying to help you."
The man is unfortunately right. Minghao is glum as he rests his cheek in his palm, eyeing the small wad of cash Soonyoung has clipped for him. Minghao doesn't ask questions, he knows Soonyoung will just brush him off — he doesn't need to know where the money comes from, just that it's his to spend.
He does let him know that it's not dirty. It's hard-earned cash, covered in sweat and grime from hours of work — from who is the question.
"I have a job for you," Soonyoung says as he slides into the chair next to Minghao. The only other person in the house is Jihoon, upstairs and taking his time getting dressed. Minghao has confirmed that the two are at least canoodling — he's witnessed their quiet arguing and had to hold his pillow over his ears twice.
Seungkwan jests that it's his karma for choosing the room right next to Soonyoung's, Hansol teases that it's a sign that Minghao needs to get out of the house.
However, out of the house costs money. Money Minghao doesn't have and he doesn't have the heart to take up Tzuyu on a night out. She insists she can foot their bill, that she can pay for drinks while he gets on his feet but something about it is just so embarrassing.
"Is it emasculating or something?" Tzuyu had asked him once, her lips pouted and eyes wide as Minghao shook his head.
"It's just embarrassing. I've always taken care of myself, and I'm not used to not being able to. My savings are just that, savings. I can't touch those right now and…I love you, I just can't use it for a night out. Maybe next time."
Tzuyu understands.
Tzuyu always understands Minghao.
Which is why Minghao wants to talk to her about seeing you in the speakeasy, but he doesn't.
A part of him thinks it's because he wants to keep that first interaction to himself. All sultry eyes and hushed words, warm skin and he can't get your lips out of his head. Soft and plump and painted dark red, easily staining the skin below. He wonders if you nibble at them, chew on your cheek if you're nervous. He wonders if you like to kiss.
He wonders if you'd like to kiss him, but he lets the thought slip away once he's out of his bedroom for the day. Only those four walls know the pathetic way Minghao recollects the hem of your dress, tight against those thighs he can't stop thinking about being wrapped around his head. Only those four walls know the way he's already fisted his cock twice under the covers at the thought of just what might be under that little dress; full breasts, the delicious dip of your hips that fit his hands just right…
A perfect pussy. Eager to be touched, filled, overwhelmed, by him. He wonders how you like it; do you like to be on top, taking control of the situation? Do you like to submit fully, hips up with your face in the pillow, lithe fingers circling your clit?
Do you like it nice and romantic, kissing the entire time? Raking those pretty nails down warm skin, marking whoever it is up as yours, even if just for the night?
Do you whine? Whimper? Moan?
Do you bite?
He feels a bit perverted.
No, he is. He is perverted — he's thinking about you, a woman he's met once and knows near nothing about, sprawled out under him. He'll take and enjoy anything you give him, but that's how he likes it, you know? Those beautiful thighs spread wide, presenting everything you have for him…ideal view of your pretty face, jewelry fallen over breasts cupped by his hands…and those lips. And it's just for him, isn't it?
At least, for the night.
He's not sure if he could handle it for any longer. Not because you're too much, not at all — but because you're certainly just enough. You've caught his attention, perhaps in the worst way possible for his naive heart.
He forces the idea out of his mind, anyway. No use fantasizing over…oatmeal and coffee.
"What job is it?" Minghao picks at his breakfast, letting his spoon clatter against the bowl as he reaches for his cup of coffee. He's not a fan of it, it's too bitter…but he doesn't like wasting Soonyoung's effort, and opts to drop in a couple of sugar cubes. "And when?"
"Seungcheol is having a birthday in a few days," Soonyoung states as he opens the newspaper, chewing on his lip. He scours the Business section, before looking back up, "we need help. We've got entertainment covered, unfortunately, but you can always slide one of the ladies onto the dance floor if they want a partner."
"What do you need, Soonyoung? I'll do it."
"Waiters, a bartender. Someone to deal cards, you can deal cards, right?"
"Yeah," Minghao nods, moving his oatmeal around once more when he hears the clamber of Jihoon's shoes against the wooden stairs. Soonyoung bites back his smile as he leans back in his chair, watching the younger man turn into the kitchen, "but…there is another job that I think might be more important."
"Good morning," Jihoon says cautiously, white shirt crisp and pressed as he fumbles around for a mug. Minghao gives him a curt nod, before Jihoon's eyes widen and he reaches into his pocket, "Minghao, actually. I've got something for you, from Jeonghan."
Minghao sits up rigidly as Jihoon pulls an envelope out of his pocket, "he caught me last night on the way home from…"
Jihoon trails off, and Soonyoung quirks a brow. Jihoon clears his throat, "uh, he told me to give you this. Said it was an advance for something."
"An advance? For what?" Minghao's brow furrows as he takes the envelope, using the butter knife on the table to peel the flap back. Soonyoung's eyes are suspicious as Jihoon moves back to the kitchen, jaw tight as Minghao peeks into the envelope.
A hefty amount of cash stares back at him. More than Minghao's seen in the last few months, and potentially more than he's ever held in one time — twenty hundred dollar bills, and a note on a piece of yellow legal paper.
Job on Aug 8. Soonyoung'll tell you where to go. Be there. — S.C.
"S.C.?" He mumbles to himself, flipping the paper over to see another scrawled note in what he knows to be Jeonghan's handwriting.
Birthday boy has a job for you. Come talk to me when Jihoon gives you this. — YJH.
Minghao glances up to see Soonyoung eyeing Jihoon, the younger man averting his gaze as Minghao cleared his throat, "Uh, Soonyoung?"
"Y/N doesn't like to be bothered at these types of things." Soonyoung's voice cuts through the air suddenly, his shoulders still stiff with tension as he turns back to Minghao. "Seungcheol typically hires someone to ensure that she doesn't, because Seungcheol's birthday is a sore spot for both of them."
"Sore spot?"
"Their parents died eight years ago. Their mother on his birthday, their father on hers. A handful of months apart."
Minghao's jaw drops, and Jihoon's hand manually closes his mouth as he slides into the seat on the other side of him.
"Don't do that in front of them," Jihoon says sternly, cupping his mug with both hands. "They're quiet about it and it's still a gaping wound. You'll see their parents in their habits, though."
"Y/N smokes cigarettes because of their father."
"Seungcheol drinks because of their mother."
"Both bad things," Minghao mumbles, thumbing through the cash. Jihoon and Soonyoung share a snort, before Jihoon shakes his head; long tresses falling into his eyes before he runs a hand through them.
"Y/N designs all her own dresses and jewelry because of their mother."
"Seungcheol sings and plays piano because of their father."
"Both good things," Minghao shrugs, before looking up at the pair. "They're okay?"
"They're okay," Soonyoung nods, sighing as he runs a finger around the rim of his mug before picking it up, "Seungcheol and Y/N are strong people. Resilient, but you know it gets tiresome. They only celebrate because in life, their parents were huge on birthdays. Lots of food, music, dancing, all of it…they said a day in which life is created is worth celebrating."
"Mrs. Choi died in a quiet way," Jihoon shrugs, "she was here one day, sick the next, and gone by nightfall. Unsurprisingly, Y/N was the one holding them all together. Without her, Mr. Choi and Seungcheol would've drowned in grief. She smiled, she gave the eulogy, she brought everyone together to celebrate and she never once cried. Even when we were alone, her and her closest friends, she just shook her head and closed her eyes. They never got to be too close; Y/N was a bit of a smart mouth and her mother was always busy."
Minghao feels his heart sink in his chest.
He hasn't seen you since July, in Seokmin's speakeasy. He'd learned from Junhui that you liked to bounce around — Cherry Jubilee because you'd get to bump into your brother and tease him about Jeonghan, Guilty Pleasure to get your drinks from Junhui and know that you'd win a few rounds of drunk poker. Sometimes you stayed in, sometimes you went to Tzuyu's…it was just whichever way the wind blew that decided. You were free, fast and hard to catch.
So wonderfully human, and Minghao really, really liked it.
"Mr. Choi died of a heart attack." Soonyoung speaks slowly, and Minghao drops the envelope onto the table. "The doctor blamed the cigarettes, Seungcheol blames heartache to this day."
"Mr. and Mrs. Choi were incredibly in love," Jihoon adds, nodding as he tapped the side of his mug. "They'd been together for, what, twenty years?"
"Twenty five."
"Twenty five years. Seungcheol was twenty when they died."
"And Y/N?" Minghao stabs his oatmeal once more, mashing the banana slices aimlessly, "she was a teenager?"
"She was a mess, is what she was. Not even Seungcheol could get her out of bed when Mr. Choi died." Soonyoung murmurs, stirring his coffee as he sucks his teeth. "She was eighteen, turned nineteen the day he died. Seungcheol had just started taking over the business, I had just started working for them, things were in transition but I guess Mr. Choi just couldn't handle it. Y/N felt it the hardest because, well, she was truly her father's daughter. That was her rock, she was his little girl."
Minghao doesn't let himself think too much about you in a spot of your life without that smile on your lips. It's been burned into his memory since he saw it the first time — wide and flirty and brilliant.
He's obsessed.
"We didn't see Y/N for a year. She locked herself in her room, cut her own hair in a need for control. She got all her meals sent to her with one of the kitchen staff, and they sat with her while she ate. She also picked up smoking from one of the guards, Seungcheol fired him." Jihoon shrugs, "she came out on Christmas Eve that year, and she came out in a bathrobe. She sat right next to Seungcheol and let him serve her dinner."
"She ate in complete silence." Soonyoung sighs, "finished everything on her plate before asking our friend Chan to fix her hair. It was cute, he gave her a little bob and she asked us to go out. We went out. All of us — Seungcheol was willing to do anything if it meant she left the house. She moved out of the big house afterward, said the room felt heavy. Maybe cursed. Hasn't stepped foot in there since."
"Would she feel okay if she knew you were telling me all of this?" Minghao pipes up suddenly, his fingers tight around his spoon as Soonyoung smiles inwardly. Jihoon snorts, taking a sip of his coffee.
"It was Y/N that asked us to tell you. That's why you're going to be at the Choi residence on Seungcheol's birthday. You're going to keep her company." Jihoon taps the envelope, "he doesn't shell out two grand for just anybody."
"Unless you're Jeonghan." Soonyoung laughs, and Jihoon bites back his smile, "special case scenario."
"Why me?" He asks, not able to take his eyes off the bowl of oatmeal in front of him. "I don't know her."
"That's exactly why. Y/N wants to know who you are, and something to note about her is that she always gets what she wants. She asked, we deliver." Soonyoung comments, making Jihoon smirk across the table.
"She's just never gone this route. You must've left an impression on her."
"Enough vague speak, if you were at the speakeasy with Y/N you can just tell me."
"If I tell you, you get bitter because you can't come! It's not my fault you can't handle the late nights."
Minghao lets the two men bicker amongst themselves as he glances at the envelope. Two thousand dollars that ensure his company.
Two thousand dollars from a woman he does not know, who he had an inexplicable urge to kiss. Two thousand dollars from a woman he does not know, who made his teeth ache with the desire for the first time in what he thinks has been three or four years. Two thousand dollars from a women he does not know, who only spoke a handful of words to him in the middle of an illegal speakeasy while her dress called to him the way a coin buried in the sand does a bird.
Could be mine.
"Minghao is nice!" Tzuyu exclaims, and you try not to laugh as you move around the kitchen. Seungcheol's birthday is looming its head, and you can tell he's not very excited about it either — his brows are too fixed, his shoulders too tense, he's spent all his time cooped up in the study over the last few days…not even Jeonghan can get him out.
You can't get him out.
"And I believe you, I just don't know if this is in my best interest." You snicker, briskly whisking a concoction of sugar and egg whites in a large bowl. "Two grand for a distraction seems like a lot."
"Seungcheol was willing to pay."
"Seungcheol should want me at his birthday celebration."
"Seungcheol knows it's not your favorite day, though." Mingyu suddenly appears in the doorway, yielding sacks of flour and his black button-up covered in the powder itself. He's pouting as Tzuyu rolls her eyes, sliding off the counter and grabbing the sacks. "What are we talking about, anyway?"
"How Seungcheol dished out two grand so I'd have a companion," your eyes are pointed as you look at Mingyu, who is dusting his shirt of flour before whipping it back on. He quirks a brow, "Seungcheol dished out two grand? On who? The Pope?"
"Maybe then we wouldn't be so cursed," you let your arms slump, your hand loose around the whisk, "I mean, both our parents kicking the bucket within months of each other and on our birthdays? Isn't that cursed to you?"
"What's cursed is that dress you've got on. What happened to the low cuts? It's like you're wearing a blue sack of potatoes," Tzuyu changes the subject swiftly, pinching the fabric around your waist; you can't help but roll your eyes as she pulls the material taut against your body. Mingyu leans against the counter, shrugging, "sometimes a girl wants to cover up. Y/N is certainly not one of those girls, though…so what's with the curtain dress?"
"If you must know, this is my at-home dress. I have my regular clothes under it," you turn your nose up as Tzuyu takes the bowl and whisk from you, opting to churn in your stead. "Seungcheol doesn't like that I wear the low cuts. He says we're a formal family, we need to keep up appearances, we need to be classy, blah, blah, blah. I don't know what's not classy about me looking like a million bucks and having a little bit of the girls out, but hey!"
"Probably the girls out part," Tzuyu laughs, dipping her pinky finger into the mixture before sliding the bowl off to Mingyu. "Great taste, bad texture. Stiff peaks, would you?"
The boyfriend juts his lip out in a pout, grabbing the bowl anyway and opting to walk around the kitchen as he whisks.
"Like I was saying, Minghao is nice. He'll not talk much at first, but he'll get used to you."
"I don't want to pay someone to hang out with me. I get enough with Jihoon, Seungkwan and Hansol trailing me like they're my bodyguard entourage."
"He won't treat it that way, I promise. Minghao is nice, a cherry." Tzuyu shrugs, and you still, turning your head slowly. A smirk tugs at the corner of your lip as you scoff out a skeptical laugh.
"He's a what?"
"A cherry?"
"A virgin?"
"Oh, God, I don't know all that!" Tzuyu flushes something awful, holding her hands up defensively. "A cherry, like, sweet. He's a sweet guy, you know? Like…like he's the berries. Berries, cherries…ugh, shut up!"
You bite back your smile at her flustered state, pinching her cheek between your knuckles, "you're too cute. I've gotta see if I can get Seungcheol out of the study. He's going to drive a hole into his desk if he's in there any longer. Make sure Mingyu gets those peaks, would ya? No funny business in my kitchen."
"What's the point in doing this if there's no funny business in your kitchen as a reward!" He whines from the far left corner, the bowl boasting mildly stiffening peaks as you snicker. Tzuyu bats your hand away, "go, sinister sister."
You only laugh as Tzuyu and Mingyu begin bickering, your cheeks warm at the loving undertones.
Admittedly, you're not good at feelings. Any of them — excitement you tend to swallow, grief you tend to lash out against. It doesn't quite work out when something else, that little seed of yearning, starts to try and blossom into something you don't understand.
It happened once, but it fizzled out faster than you expected. Lee Seokmin had been your only boyfriend to date — your first kiss, your first date, first boyfriend…the reason you weren't a cherry.
And then things changed. Your mother died, and he doted on you hand and foot — despite you insisting you didn't need to be coddled and to channel all his energy into Seungcheol. Then your father died, and you pushed him away. Brutally, one might add — you broke up with him the night of your birthday, merely hours after your father's death because you couldn't handle how everyone was trying to handle you with the utmost care.
You'd been very harsh to him, you admit it, and it didn't help that you holed yourself away for all of an entire year. You'd nearly lost your mind; scissors easily gripped in your hand chopped at tresses of your hair in any attempt to regain emotional control. You essentially rotted into the mattress of your bed, darkness engulfing you as your brother tried to coax you out of it.
It never worked, and Seokmin tried his best to help. He talked to you through the door for months, helped the staff make your favorite meals, even brought you a slice of his birthday cake. He tried, for months, to get you back out of the vignette of grief that was threatening to succeed in swallowing you whole.
The two of you tried to work it out after you managed to get out of there. Quite a few long conversations, and many, many tears later…it didn't happen. You kissed here and there, went on a few dates, tried to ease the spark back into your banters and shared shy looks — until you introduced him to Minseo at a dinner hosted by your brother for what you want to remember as Easter.
Neither of you were religious, so it wasn't like it mattered to you what it was for.
The very Minseo he was now married to, a friend of yours from Chicago that made her way to New York City after being your pen-pal for years. You'd gotten her a good job at the bank, invited her to a bunch of places, introduced her to all your friends and people that were worth networking with…
And lured her right into the loving arms of the man that soon realized Minseo was the love of his life.
Not you.
Not anymore, at least.
You didn't take it too personally. Things between you and Seokmin were rocky, and you doubted they'd ever return back to the smooth, easygoing way they were before everything collapsed around you. You egged him on to ask her out, to take her to dinner, to propose.
They married within six months, and you smiled. You laughed. You did your hair as best as you could with the length you had left and wore a soft pink dress that didn't scream bitter ex-girlfriend.
You even designed her wedding dress. You helped plan their wedding. You paid for the catering, you did everything you could to make it as easy as possible for them.
And when your brother asked why, you were honest.
You felt like you owed it to Seokmin. He'd been understanding, sweet, gentle — and you'd done everything and anything to get him out of your life. You didn't want his help, you didn't want to be coddled and babied, and a part of you later realized that was exactly what you needed. You felt like you owed it to the version of you that had been hopelessly in love with Seokmin, the version of you that thought you'd found forever in the way your parents had with one another — to make sure he ended up where he needed to be, and happily at that.
You think you'll spend the rest of your life searching for it, forever. A part of you doesn't think you'll find it in New York, but a bigger part of you would never, ever leave Seungcheol alone in this city. You knew better.
And because you knew better, because you know better — you've stopped searching. Stopped looking, stopped caring.
Stopped yearning.
You haven't messed around much, either. You're not good for it, you know your heart to be fragile and get too attached. Aside from Seokmin, there was only ever Junhui. It happened a few times, but neither of you wanted a relationship — eventually, the moonlight romance fizzling out and you went back to your regularly scheduled programming. He made your drinks, fixed the straps of your dress, stole your cigarettes right out of your mouth…and walked you home. Sometimes you kissed on the stoop, sometimes you guided his hands to wander. Sometimes he obliged.
But, it wasn't love and you both knew that.
Seungcheol is proof that the love your parents found in each other still exists and he has found it, too. Granted, he's kept it under wraps…a man loving another man wasn't exactly society's idea of the picture-perfect family. You don't understand why it matters so much, but you mind your business and you hope people mind theirs, because your brother is nothing if not kind and loving to the people of his city — and you're not afraid to get into a tussle over him and his honor.
Choi Seungcheol basically runs this city, and he runs it well — even if it means that you're his second in command. You're not out there shaking hands and kissing babies like the Princess Helena or anything, not at all; you're the brains behind his operation. You set things up, you move things around, you're financially responsible for every single thing that happens behind the scenes. You're the reason Soonyoung has a job, you're the reason the Bank hasn't taken his house.
You're the reason Minseo has her bakery, Seokmin has his speakeasy, Mingyu has Tzuyu.
You're the reason Minghao has a third of a down-payment for a house in his pocket right now.
"Knock knock," you sing, poking your head through the propped door of the study. Jeonghan is perched on the edge of the desk, running his fingers through Seungcheol's hair as your brother slumps in the chair. Jeonghan meets your eyes, shaking his head silently as you sighed.
Just as hard as your birthday was for you, Seungcheol's was for him.
He was a lot closer to your mother than you'd ever been. Complete Mama's Boy, glued to her hip and absolutely her favorite. There was no contest about it — he was everything your mother had raised him to be and proudly. Sweet, responsible, observant…loved. Loved, loving, lover.
His voice rang in every corner of your mind when you replayed your memories — Y/N, watch out. Y/N, don't do that. Y/N, sit with me. Y/N, be careful; Y/N, it's okay; Y/N, are you hurt?
His relationship with your father was much more tumultuous. They bickered, Seungcheol bristled under your father's authoritative tone and bowed his head only at your mother's command. He'd had trouble connecting with your father in a way you didn't — the way anyone saw it, you were your father's carbon copy, and Seungcheol's was your mother's.
Even if you looked like her, and he looked like him…on the inside?
You were guarded. Angrily so, even — but you were easily warm to everyone around you. You were flirty, fun, and you did everything in your power to be kind to those around you. You tried not to take things personally, but you held grudges here and there; and you were easily argumentative.
Seungcheol was the opposite — he was soft, despite his outward demeanor, expressive face and almost threatening stature. Soft hearted, nervous, but confident. He easily caved to tears and sweet talk unless it was about business, and he loved taking part in the quieter side of things, domestic things — even if he wasn't particularly good at them. He took things in stride and cried about them later; he was just as defensive and argumentative as you were, but instantly wary of any and everything new to him.
Except Jeonghan.
Jeonghan was the one thing, person, entity that Seungcheol immediately bent at the knee for. He called, Seungcheol went. He said jump, Seungcheol asked how high? Seungcheol may run a city, may run dozens of workers, facilities, manufacturers, even you when you felt like obeying — but Jeonghan?
Jeonghan owned him. Seungcheol's commanding attitude melted away in Jeonghan's presence. He still spoke firmly, but there was a thick tone in the back of his throat. Almost begging, almost pleading — for what, you weren't too sure but it was beautiful.
It was beautiful, to see him absolutely in love, enamored, drunk on it…and still, kept on a short leash with his head on straight. Jeonghan ran a tight ship, and everyone knew it.
"Hard day?" You ask, slipping into the study as Jeonghan gives you a shrug of his shoulders that says somewhat. "If it's of any consolation, I've got Mingyu whisking meringue."
"Leave that boy alone," Seungcheol barely lifts his head to speak, his voice muffled as he turns to face you. You snicker as Jeonghan's fingers run over the shell of your brother's ear, "what's with you, lover boy? Jeonghan bugging you?"
"You're bugging me."
"I just got here."
"I felt your annoying presence from a mile away."
"That's no way to speak to your sister, Seungcheol." Jeonghan flicks his ear, and you watch as your brother lazily swats at his lover's hand, akin to a fat cat on a Sunday afternoon. You smirk, "yeah, Seungcheol! Be nice to me!"
"I don't even feel like arguing right now," he closes his eyes, "I have a headache. Are you staying for dinner, oh behated and annoying sister?"
Jeonghan scowls, pinching Seungcheol's cheek between his knuckles. You shrug, leaning against the desk as you touch the back of your fingers to his temple, "you're not warm."
"Yeah, I'm just stressed. Not sick."
"Stressed about the party?"
"Stressed about Mom."
You grimace, ruffling his hair before finally greeting Jeonghan with a one-armed hug.
"What about Mom, Cheol?" You move to fiddle around with the papers on his desk, reading the sporadic notes. Need to call manufacturer. Meet with Soonyoung @ 9. Be at docks by 10AM Fri. "She's already gone."
"I guess I'm just overthinking," he mumbles, and you stack the papers carefully, aligning the edges with the desk. "I want her to be proud of me."
"She is."
"We don't know that."
"She said it in life, she'd say it in death. Don't doubt her."
He nods limply, and Jeonghan gives you a pointed look, "how are you feeling? Ready for the party?"
"It's a party on a Wednesday, I don't think it'll bother me too much," you shrug, arranging Seungcheol's pens back into the mug on the corner. You feel Jeonghan's gaze heavy, "stop staring at me."
"You're hiding something."
"What are you, a witch?"
"You wish I was, don't you?"
"Yeah, then you could turn me into one and I'd have everything I've ever wanted," you tease back, scrunching your nose as his fingers mess up your hair. You swat at him, earning a chuckle as you lean on the cabinet behind the desk, arms crossed as a lie slips from your lips, "I would like to know who the hell Minghao is, though."
Seungcheol's shoulders stiffen, enough that Jeonghan rolls his eyes and smacks the middle of his back. He jolts, easily shoving Jeonghan's hip, "don't do that!"
"Minghao is a guy looking for work," Jeonghan speaks flatly, eyeing your dress before clicking his tongue. "He knows who you are, and you'll know who he is come Wednesday. And why are you wearing this grocery bag dress?"
"So, he's a babysitter," you roll your eyes, sighing, "I'm not a child."
"You're also not going to be anywhere in Seungcheol's vicinity for this. We need someone to keep an eye on you."
"It was Seokmin for so many years, what changes now?" Your tone is slightly bitter, and Seungcheol catches it as he glances over his shoulder at you. You tongue your cheek, "don't."
"He's married."
"Happily, and with a baby on the way. I know."
Seungcheol sits up, "it's dangerous for you to be alone, you know that. We never know what lurks in the shadows."
"Cheol, will you quit acting like someone is out to get me? I'm a Choi, the Choi, if you will. Everyone in this city loves me."
"Love can quickly turn to obsession, and to resentment." Jeonghan adds tenderly, sighing as your brother rests his head on his hip, "we're just looking out for you. Minghao is a good kid. He's shacked up at Soonyoung's, he's working with Junhui, I might have something for him, too…he's good. And he's friends with Tzuyu, that should say a lot about his character."
"Tzuyu did call him a cherry," you snort, making Jeonghan snicker, "you mean she called him the berries."
"She said cherry, specifically. Who knows—"
"Y/N, I don't need to hear this!" Seungcheol groans, his fingers digging into Jeonghan's thigh as you both shared a wicked grin. Jeonghan may be the love of your brother's life, but he's easily your partner in crime. "Don't plot on that boy, he's new here."
"Mmh, I love new," you wiggled your brows, squealing as you dodged a swat of Seungcheol's hand.
"I mean it, Y/N! I've got enough on my plate than to have to think about this!"
"You act like I'm gonna marry the guy!"
Seungcheol looks up, thick brows pinched in the middle the way they always are when he's considering something. Jeonghan gives a defeated sigh, "now you've done it, kid. Get outta here."
"You are old enough to get married," Seungcheol starts, rising from his chair to pace. You grimace, "ew."
"Go, you little brat." Jeonghan can't hide his smile as he waves you off, "lest you get married off and I never get to see you again."
You only smile back, waving as you catch the tail end of your brother's muttering.
"…people love her. There's bound to be a Forever in that."
— 06 AUGUST 1923.
Minghao has managed to score a night at Cherry Jubilee, courtesy of one very gracious Yoon Jeonghan.
A Yoon Jeonghan he hasn't seen since Seungcheol stormed into the speakeasy earlier that night, grabbing the man by his elbow and tugging him into the back room. Nothing was heard through the door, but Minghao only assumes Seungcheol needed him.
In what way that was, was none of Minghao's business.
Despite not involving himself in the sudden disappearance of the two lovers, Minghao was now shrouded with more lovers, making him slightly bitter as dawn creeps in and he tugs at his already loose tie — a few women perched in laps of male patrons, a single couple of men canoodling by the pool table in the back, two ladies twirling strands of hair and gingerly touching revealing necklines with ease in their shoulders.
Minghao wasn't a lover.
Okay, that's not true.
Minghao had the capacity and the nature to be a lover.
He simply wasn't one, by circumstance. By situation.
He'd left everything behind when he left Seattle, and later, Los Angeles. His apartment there had been fully furnished and everything stayed, including the memories of hot skin on skin, searing kisses shared with the rush of we shouldn't be doing this.
Minghao had fallen prey to the pretty claws of one of his dance partners. She was older by two years, her eyes sparkled something mischievous and her plump lips whispered sweet nothings that made his ears burn. She had never had ill intentions; she told Minghao she just liked the way he blushed. Her flirtatious comments were enough to make his heart beat just a bit faster, to make him nervous…to turn him on. She knew, he knew that she knew…and things snowballed.
He wasn't in love with her. He knew that; she told him not to fall in love with her, and he listened.
But Minghao likes commitment. He likes something serious — this was just proof that he was weak to desire. Not always, but…easily, if caught at the right time.
He learned everything he knows from her. He learned how to kiss a woman, how to caress one, how to fuck one. She bared herself to him, far more nude than the eye could see — and gave him everything. Touched herself for him, moaned, whimpered, cried. She let him worship her like a goddess, his teeth marking his path along her skin, his tongue working her over time and time again.
Then she left Los Angeles, abruptly. She coined a lover — clearly not Minghao — and disappeared up north. He heard she landed somewhere in Seattle, and it made him bite back a laugh.
He doesn't think about her anymore, not really — but he remembers her every now and again. Sometimes, on his lonely nights, he'll think about it. What it felt like to be touched, to feel wet kisses along the column of his throat…
What it made him feel to have his face buried in the safe haven of a dripping pussy, coating his lips and tongue.
He left that high in Los Angeles, too. He'd found other partners, of course — he'd chased that feeling and always found it. He just didn't think it would be healthy to want it so much, and to pair the idea of it with someone that he would love…it made him crazy.
Minghao felt crazy at the idea of making love to someone for the rest of his life.
Minghao felt crazy at the idea of falling in love with someone for the first time, and subsequently…the rest of his life.
Maybe it's just the idea of it — commitment, something serious — that he likes. The manifestation of it all…it could scare him.
"Working hard or hardly working, sweetness?"
Your voice jolts him out of his trance, his fingers tight around a glass as he catches his breath, "shit. You scared me."
"I see that," your grin is wide, the same damn haunting red on your lips. He wonders what they feel like. Soft? Against his neck? His mouth?
The dip of his stomach—
"Minghao, focus," your voice is teasing as you wave your hand in his face, earning a scowl as he puts the glass down. "Easy, kitty. Put the claws away."
"What can I get for you? Something spicy?" He recalls the words you said to Junhui, and you laugh softly before sinking your teeth into your lower lip. You tilt your head at him, eyeing him slowly as you lean in closer, "something sweet, this time. You can do that, can't you, pretty?"
He doesn't respond verbally, his shoulders tight at the attention you're insistent on giving him.
He can't lie, it stirs something in him.
Something primal.
…Something destitute, but not for the feeling of skin on skin. Not lustfully, anyway.
"No babysitters today?" He asks, not seeing any of his roommates in tow. You snort, "only babysitter tonight is you. I didn't know it took two grand for you to spend a night with me, baby."
He swallows the blush threatening to crawl up his neck and coat his ears.
"They said you asked for me."
"Funny, because my brother said they just asked you to do it. I never asked for anything."
"Maybe they know something we don't," Minghao shrugs, desperate to keep you talking. Something about the sound of your voice makes his skin prickle, "they're here, the lovers. If you're wondering."
"I never wonder about my brother's whereabouts, I know who he calls home." You shrug, and Minghao's eyes avert to you, stilling. He leans back slightly, shamelessly running his eyes over you.
Black dress, exact copy of the dress he met you in — but both straps are intact, albeit loose against your frame. Your skin is sparkly under the dim lights, the haze of cigarette smoke doing nothing to stop the twinkle in your eyes as you swipe your hair off your shoulders.
"Nice dress."
"I know."
"Good."
He glances at your chest, the cleavage now bare aside from a single necklace — an obsidian pendant nestled between your ample breasts. He watches you shift, pressing them together more; clearly okay with his ogling before he flickers his eyes back up.
"Something sweet, you said?"
"Or…you can walk me home."
Minghao checks the clock — it's nearing four in the morning. The patrons have trickled out enough that it's just you and him, the croupiers, and Joshua lounging at the door. You follow his gaze, matching earrings swinging from your lobes before you scrunch your nose.
"I have to wait until everyone is gone," Minghao doesn't know where the confidence in his words is coming from, but he feels his teeth continue to ache as the strap of your dress falls as you shrug, "not many people left in this place."
"Jeonghan—"
"We can leave a note. We'll tell Joshua."
Minghao opens his mouth, but the back room opens and the sound lighter catches his attention. Jeonghan is ducking out, looking disheveled as he slots a cigarette between his lips. Your eyes widen at the man, who glances up at the heat of eyes and winces.
"…Hey."
"Shameless," you wrinkle your nose, mouth dropping at the bruised and bitten skin of his neck, "ew! God, Jeonghan!"
"You know," Jeonghan snorts, holding the flame of his lighter to the end of his cigarette, "that's what he said."
"Shut the fuck up, shut up, shut up." You cover your eyes, and Minghao lets his eyes jump to your manicured nails. Fingers don several rings, and he wonders how they'd feel dragging down his back. Clawing at his shoulders, tugging at his hair…
If they're soft, in his own hand. In his palm, thumb tracing circles into his skin.
"Nice to see that the two of you have met, though. Why don't you have Hao walk you home? I'll clean up here," Jeonghan suggests, and Minghao can see the way you scrunch your nose despite your hands. "Oh, come on. It's not like you thought we were just holding hands. I'm sure you've done your own damage on some poor, unsuspecting soul."
"I don't need to know what you and my brother get up to," you rip your hands away from your eyes, "and what I do with my poor, unsuspecting souls is my business."
"Make Hao one of them," Jeonghan chides, and Minghao tongues his cheek as he shoves Jeonghan's shoulder. The older man giggles, digging a hand in his pocket for Minghao's cut. He shoves a wad of bills into Minghao's hand, "that ought to do it. You want more?"
"What I want is a job," Minghao says pointedly, not bothering to count the cash. He knows Jeonghan's good for it, "but it seems all I've got is an exhibitionist as a temporary boss, and a pretty thing to walk home."
"Careful," Seungcheol's voice is heard, and you bare your teeth in disgust, quickly turning in your seat. Minghao catches Seungcheol's messy hair, his shirt buttons missing and pale skin littered with nips and nail marks. His eyes widen, and Seungcheol steals the cigarette from between Jeonghan's lips, "get her home safe. No flirting."
"You're not my dad, Seungcheol."
"I'd hate to be, a spoiled brat like you."
"You love me anyway!"
You saunter off, and Minghao forces himself to look away from the way Seungcheol's hands grip Jeonghan's hips and pull him back. He clears his throat, "thank you for…I'll just see you later."
"Bye, Hao." Jeonghan chuckles, letting Seungcheol pull him back into the back room. Minghao lets out a choppy laugh of disbelief, covering his mouth before running that same hand up through his hair. You're chatting with Joshua, who tiredly engages your conversation as you open your reticule and push it into his space. He snorts, thick fingers fishing out a wrapped lollipop from the candy shop upstairs.
"You'll get in trouble if you keep taking these, pipsqueak," Joshua hums, popping the candy into his cheek anyway as Minghao approaches. He gives Minghao a tired smile, unlocking the door and moving to hold it open, "walking home?"
"Then I'm off to see what else I can get into," Minghao rolls his eyes, a playful smile on his lips as Joshua laughs. "I'll see you, Shua."
"See you. Be safe, you two."
It's only once you're both outside and Joshua has huddled back into the speakeasy that he realizes — you're holding your shoes.
"Why—"
"It just rained. The ground feels nice."
You hold your shoes out and he takes them, gingerly holding them to his side as you smile up at him and turn on your heel. Minghao raises a brow, shoving his money into his pocket before you begin walking in front of him. He lets his eyes wander once more — the same ache settling in his molars as the hem of your dress bites into your thighs, the soft flesh begging to be marred by his teeth.
The soft flesh begging to be kissed gently, kneaded between his fingers…draped over his lap as he listens to you talk for hours.
Wishful thinking.
"You're chipper." He lets the words fall as you both wander onto the street, the sky still dark that fatigue settles in his shoulders but light enough that he feels the need to stay awake. You hum, spinning in a circle, "it's dawn, and I've not a single drop of alcohol in me. I've got a bag full of stolen lollipops, I'm walking home with my shoes off. Life is good."
He bites back his smile, holding up the shoes, "you mean the shoes you're making me hold—"
"Oh, please. You'd kiss me if I asked, that's how willing you are to bend at the knee for me." You peer at him through your peripheral, "stranger or not, you think I'm pretty."
"Pretty annoying," He says, "and I'm hoping to get paid."
"Paid and laid do rhyme, yes."
He doesn't respond, tonguing his cheek as you slow your pace, your arms up in the air as you turn to look at him. You continue walking backwards, easily maneuvering around without tripping, "you're not subtle."
He quirks a brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You stare. Like a virgin." You give the last word emphasis, tilting your head. Your hair falls over your shoulder like a curtain, your eyes flickering all over him as he keeps his face neutral, "are you?"
"Am I what?"
"A virgin."
"No," he snorts, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. His fingers still tightly hold the straps of your heels, the imported leather digging into the dips of his knuckles. You hum, nodding your head as if oddly impressed. "What's it to you if I am or not?"
You smirk, obviously realizing you've struck something of interest, "I'm sure you've heard enough out of me tonight, hm?"
You turn freely, facing the street once more as your bare feet seemingly guide you home. He averts his eyes from the swing of your hips, "what's it to you, puppy?"
Your laughter is smooth, honey down his throat, "oh, I like that one. And I'm just wondering, you know."
"For what?"
"Why not? Don't you wonder, ever?"
"I don't care enough to wonder."
Your body turns once more, and you ignore the fallen strap of your dress as he catches up to you. He stands in front of you as you fold your hands behind your back, the fabric straining against your chest. He glances down, only to meet your eyes as you tilt your head innocently.
Quite like a puppy.
Eager, too. Almost enticingly so.
"Is that why you keep staring at my chest? Nothing to wonder about?" Your voice is light, but there's a hint of something in the back of it. Sultry, hot. Wanton.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Hardly."
You shrug, the other strap falling and Minghao feels almost insane, like he's never seen skin, shoulders. He's seen shoulders. Bare ones, beautiful ones, littered with freckles and speckled with moles. This is nothing new.
You step forward slightly, your fingers toying with the neckline, "you wanna see?"
His throat goes dry.
"Y/N, focus. It's late, you have to get home and I'm tired." He's lying, and he can tell that you know he is with the way you hum, "I've seen tired. You're not tired."
"Then what am I."
"Giddy."
"You're very annoying, you know that?" Minghao huffs, but his words can't hold any venom as he has to run a hand over his face to stop the smile from tugging at his lips. You snicker knowingly, your finger tugging at his belt loop brazenly.
"You know what else I know?"
"What, puppy? What else do you know?"
"You want me. So. Bad."
You pull away as Minghao replies, "yeah? Bullshit."
He watches the way you continue to spin through the street, before leaning against a lamp post a few feet away. You rake your eyes over him, "I dunno. You're kind of gripping my shoes like your life depends on it."
He is. He is, he can feel the leather digging into his fingers deeper than it had at the beginning of the walk. He tongues his cheek as he inches closer, "I value belongings."
"You don't belong to anyone," you sing as he sidles up to you, repeating the same words from that first night. He doesn't reply, leaning against the post himself as he scans your features, taking in the wide eyes and sharp canines, "but you could."
"Enough."
You shrug, lithe fingers flicking his tie, "I'm not tired, either."
"I can see that."
"Can I ask you something?"
"You're going to, anyway."
"That's right," you chide, giggling as you thumb at the end of his tie. He feels his cheeks start to heat up, and he wonders if he's a born-again virgin — itching to be touched, to be smothered by the spicy scent of your perfume, by you, you.
Aching to be held tightly and wrapped in the warmth of your body, to bury his face in your neck, to feel your pulse against his lips and your hair tickling his skin.
To dance with you, slow and mellow, with no music.
"Hurry up."
"Don't rush me," you pout, peering up at him through your lashes as you tug on his tie to pull him closer, "not as fun when you rush me. Like most things…"
"You're really—"
"Funny? Pretty? Enticing?" You raise a brow, wrapping the tie around your hand and tugging again, "stroke my ego, c'mon."
You've pulled him close enough that he can feel your breath on his skin, the scent sweet and fruity. A pout is laced on your lips, making his fingers flex as your brows fix in the middle, "cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"
"Are you always this forward?"
"Mhm."
"Does it get you anywhere?"
"You're blushing and you're about to kiss me, I'd say yes." Your voice is softer, and he shakes his head, feeling the lie coat his tongue — and you smirk like you know it's coming.
"I'm not going to kiss you."
"Aw, but don't you wanna? Kiss me stupid? Shut me up, even?" The tip of your nose brushes his, and he feels the faintest tickle of your lower lip against his. He sinks his teeth into his own, sucking on it briefly before letting it spring free.
"Shut you up, huh?"
You nod, daring to inch even closer. Your lips are practically on his as you whisper, "don't you wanna kiss me so much that you know I touch myself to the thought of your lips on mine?"
"You're playing a dangerous game here, puppy."
"You wouldn't hurt me. Not in any way I wouldn't like."
He can't help but lean back a bit, your hands untangling from his tie to hook around the loops of his belt.
Minghao is a lot of things. Patient. Calm. Resilient, so resilient.
Minghao is also a man. With needs, desires…eyes.
A man, in front of a woman who is presenting herself to be just that — desired. Needed.
Begging for her skin to be slick with sweat and his tongue in her mouth. Maybe in other places, too.
"'Not in any way I wouldn't like.' Hm. Masochist."
"Maybe, if you want it. If you like it. So, what does that make you?"
He hums, your fingers dancing across his hips as you glance up at him, "what does that make you, sir?"
"A willing participant, if we get out of the street."
Minghao's sure he's never seen anyone walk faster than you in this present moment. Your hand is gripping his, pulling him up the street and into an apartment complex, your bodies slipping past a heavy iron gate before you slow to a stop in front of a bright blue door. You're too smooth, too eased as you fish your keys out of your bag with one hand…almost like you've done this, brought someone home, a thousand times over.
He doesn't really care if that's the case. You're a grown woman, you can do what you please…he just wonders — despite saying he doesn't care enough to wonder — what you're good at. What you enjoy the most. What you want from him, and if it's to be held. If you'll let him hold you close, kiss along your hairline.
If you'll let him kiss you breathless, and everywhere.
If you'll use him the way he wants, and…keep him.
Make him your sweetheart.
He raises a brow, "you live here?"
"I bought this place with my inheritance, so I can be as loud as I want."
"As loud as you want, eh?"
"As loud as you want, too." You assure him, the lock clicking and you push the door open. You flick on a lamp, "welcome in. Take your shoes off, and…anything else you don't want to have on."
"Easy, girl," he snorts, letting you lead him into the dim apartment. He does as you ask, toeing his shoes off before closing the door behind him with his foot. There's art all over the walls, even some propped up against the furniture — but the corner of your living room boasts a dress form, draped with heavy green fabric. The table behind it has sketches on all sorts of paper, pencils held in a cracked glass cup and a bunch of tomato-shaped pincushions. There's a photo, too — aged, in a thick gold frame.
Four people; your family. You're sat on a stool, your mother and father on either side of you and Seungcheol with his chin rested atop your head. You're all smiling, almost like the photo had been taken as someone said a joke. Seungcheol's eyebrows are sloped, teeth on full display as your nose is scrunched. If he looks around, he'll see your expression matches your mother's, and Seungcheol's matches your father's.
And yet, he's reminded you were not close with her.
"Feel free to peruse," your voice is slightly distant, and he looks back to see you walking away — your hands pulling your dress over your body. He forces himself to look away at the sliver of bare skin he manages to catch, squeezing his eyes shut and he doesn't question it. He hears you duck into another room and the splutter of a faucet, the soft jingle of jewelry being slipped off. He sets your shoes down near the door, aligning them with his before he locks your front door.
Everything about your space screams your name. The couch is soft, long cushions in chocolate brown fabric; paired with a matching empire sofa along the far wall, right next to a piano. The bench is worn, as are the keys, and there is a picture of you and Seungcheol far more recently sat atop it. You're both grinning, but Seungcheol's smile is gummy in a way that makes his heart warm — and he's looking at you, like you'd made him laugh.
You're funny. He can figure that much, because more photos line the walls and more smiling faces are surrounding you. You're not serious in a single one, and no one around you seems to be, either; everyone is familiar. You've got photos with Junhui, Soonyoung, Jihoon, Hansol and Seungkwan — all of them looking at you as a smug smirk tugs on your lips. There's Tzuyu and Mingyu, hip to hip with you and boasting huge grins. There's a photo with Seokmin and Minseo, seemingly at a wedding — they're both in the middle of laughing as you hide your simper with a glass of something. More pictures of you and Seungcheol, more of you and your family…and a single shot of you alone.
In the newspaper, the article clipped and framed, dated July 1917 — Beauty & Brains: Choi Y/N crowned Miss New York 1917!
He peers over his shoulder, still hearing the water running as he inches closer. He rests his knee against the empire sofa as he reads the article, written by Jeon Wonwoo — the same journalist that writes articles about Seungcheol. Minghao learned through Tzuyu that Wonwoo was close with the family, always painting them in a positive light to the general public; only for his claims to be proven by you and your brother's seemingly endless kindness and generosity.
That same smile is still present in the shot, the sash boasting Miss New York draped across your chest. Your hands are perched on your hips, a small tiara atop your head, and a soft look in your eyes that he can't quite pinpoint. Your hair is shorter than it is now, and based on the date, he knows why.
Choi Y/N is a beloved daughter, friend, and an absolute live wire. She's recently graduated from College of the Sacred Heart at the top of her class, being the first female valedictorian in the school's history! Shortly after being crowned Miss New York, Miss Choi made a hefty donation of $15,000 to the Association for the Prevention and Relief of Heart Disease after her father, a quiet steel businessman known to most of the city as Father Choi, died of a heart attack on December 22nd, 1915. It was her birthday.
Miss Choi plans to continue her philanthropic activities, and has long been the talk of the city in terms of taking over her mother's design business while her brother, Choi Seungcheol, manages the family steel front. We'll stay tuned to see how these two take New York by storm, and congratulations!
"Reading up?"
He doesn't jump this time, easing his way off the sofa and turning to see you wrapped in a thick towel. Your hair isn't wet; he watches the way it falls from the pink shower cap as you peer at him, "Minghao?"
"Yes."
"Anything interesting?"
"Just that you're loaded and graduated college."
You snort, shaking your head as you disappear into another room, "I am not loaded. My brother is, my parents were, but not me."
"Really?" He calls back, letting his fingers dance across the piano keys. He presses down on the G note, "interesting discovery."
"You wouldn't want me for my money, anyway." You're closer again, and he glances up to see you now donning a nightgown. It's nothing of a nightgown, really — the hem barely falling to your mid-thigh, much like the two dresses he's now seen you prance around in. Your face is wonderfully bare, freshly washed and smooth — and yet, still a surprisingly small pair of earrings are looped through your lobes. You tilt your head at him, "would you?"
"No," he shakes his head honestly, "more money brings more problems. I have a feeling you're trouble enough."
"Mmh, you think so?"
"I know so."
"Ye of little faith, my good man," you're next to him, tapping the piano with your nail, "you play?"
"Not much. Do you?"
"Seungcheol does. He and Jihoon tried to teach me, I'm just no good."
Minghao huffs out a laugh, and you swat at his arm gently, "not funny."
He grabs your hand with the intent of pushing it away, but finds himself interlacing your fingers with his. Your hands are devoid of the rings you were wearing earlier, his own gently digging into your skin as he pulls you into him, "what was it you said about me stroking your ego?"
"That you should," you shrug, and he trills his tongue slightly, his free hand tracing the lacy hem of your nightgown. You keep your eyes on him, head still tilted as he runs a single fingertip under the edge. Your skin is soft, warm to the touch, "cash or check?"
You hum, "depends. What if I say check?"
"I'll play nice," he shrugs, edging you both into walking backwards. His voice is low, his arm wrapping around your waist, "I'll sit pretty for you, let you tell me why you're worth more than two grand when I already know and I already believe you, let you make the first move. Give you a semblance of feeling like you're in charge…when we both know you're not."
You nod, an impressed frown on your now bare lips as you toy with the buttons of his shirt, "and if I say cash?"
"It's dirty, kissing a man you don't know, you know. And you're not wearing lipstick," he eases you onto the couch, laying you down and pinning your interlaced hands next to your head as he settles himself between your thighs. His other hand is cupping the back of your knee, thumb tracing circles into the side of it as he uses the leverage to keep your legs spread just enough. He peers down at you, shrugging one shoulder, "shame, nothing to mess up."
He feels any words die in his throat as you stare back at him, your fingers easily plucking at the buttons and running a single knuckle at the slowly exposed skin of his chest. You tug on his tie, "isn't it equally as dirty to kiss a woman you don't know?"
"Twice as fun."
"And am I just fun, Minghao?"
Your fingers undo the knot of his tie, but you don't pull it off as you wrap it around your hand again, tugging him barely closer. He glances at your lips, leaning forward just enough to brush his own with them as you speak, "am I? Just a fun little notch on your bedpost, daddy?"
"God, I'd hope not," he can't find it within himself to even pretend to be embarrassed at the desperation in his voice. You let a giggle slip, and Minghao can't help but bury his face in your neck, his cheeks hot as he nuzzles his nose against the skin, "you always get what you want?"
"Mmh," you shrug, tilting your head enough to brush your lips to his neck, "yeah. Never been told no before…gonna break that streak?"
"I'd be an idiot to, wouldn't I?" He shivers as he feels your knees tighten around his hips, your lips just as soft against his skin as he'd imagined. His hand on your knee pushes it away from his body, pulling away from your eager mouth and slipping his hand out of yours to sit up on his knees. His hands knead into your thighs eyes raking over your frame as you sit up on your elbows — that damn strap falling off your shoulder in its classic ill-timed fashion.
He wants to kiss you.
"If I kiss you…" he speaks slowly, "I lose, right? This game you're playing, cat and mouse?"
You nod, tilting your head with a soft smile, "but you win…this. Me."
"For how long?"
"We've only just met."
"I know what I want and like, forgive me."
You raise a brow, nodding as you move to sit up. He lets you push him back, straddling him as you make him lie down across the couch. Your nightgown is high on your thighs, digging into your skin as you lean over him, using the arm rest to hold yourself up. Your lashes are thick, kissing your cheeks with every blink, "cash or check, Minghao."
"Cash," he doesn't hesitate to kiss you, your lips warm and sweet against his. You easily melted into him, his hands finding home on your waist; your nightgown bunched under his fingers as one of your hands rakes through his hair and tugs. He groans into your mouth, your tongue licking into it with precision…like you'd done this before. Like you'd kissed him a hundred times, a thousand times, and you like it.
Like you like him.
He can't pull away from your mouth, sucking on the tip of your tongue as you slowly pull the two of you into an upright position. His arms have wrapped around your body, holding you as close as possible; one hand on your hip, the other gingerly wrapped around the back of your neck. Your own have wrapped around his shoulders, one arm dangling off the back of the couch as the other holds his hair, tugging when he gets too eager.
Minghao has never been too eager.
It must be you.
"Relax," you mutter, lips swollen and slick with spit as you speak between chaste kisses. "I'm not going anywhere."
He trails his lips up your jaw, savoring the soapy smell of your skin as he drags his mouth down the column of your throat. You shiver against him, your body littering with goosebumps as he nips at your collarbone, "can I—"
"Whatever you want," you breathe back, your hips twitching at the nip of his teeth against you. His tongue works over the spot, his hands tentatively wandering around your body until you huff, reaching back and sliding one of them over your ass, "whatever you want, Minghao."
"Don't rush me," he bites back, earning a squeak from your throat as his hand lands a sharp smack to the side of your thigh, "not as fun when you rush me."
"You always remember everything I say?"
"You talk too much, you know that?"
"You can always…" your fingers tug at his belt, "shut me up."
He rolls his eyes, sliding his hands under your nightgown.
"Yeah," he mutters against your lips, feeling you smile as he bunches the fabric around his hands, "I will."
— 08 AUGUST 1923.
Minghao is nervous.
His stomach is in knots as he lingers behind his roommates, who are huddled around the front door. Soonyoung had knocked twice already, an impatient furrow on his brows as he checked his watch.
"You have a key, man," Hansol reminds him with a grit in his tone, but Minghao hopes Soonyoung doesn't care to use it. It's for emergencies, he hopes. It's not proper.
The truth is, he's a coward.
And he feels a little pathetic to have realized that he is in love with you over one night.
It wasn't just sex.
It wasn't, and he hates that he knew it wouldn't be from the moment he kissed you. He knew, even if he didn't care to fucking acknowledge it and now he's in a predicament because you feel the same. He knows you do.
But he knows there's a chance you'd let him be just that — another notch on your bedpost — if it meant that you didn't have to admit you're scared of being loved, and loving. Being a lover and not having to do anything but exist to deserve it…doesn't seem like it's something you're okay with.
It's only been sixty-something hours since he had you on that couch in your living room, since he laid in your bed with you afterwards. He'd stupidly stayed there well into the early afternoon, asleep in your arms and basking in the feeling of your sleepy mouthing along his neck. He…felt wanted, laying under the covers with you with your limbs sprawled all over him, your voice reminding him that he could touch you anywhere he wanted.
Minghao wasn't one not to take opportunities presented to him.
However…he's nervous. He's nervous to see you again, because he spent the rest of the day on Monday feeling out of his mind. His fingers smoothed over his lips constantly, missing the weight of yours, the nips of your teeth. He couldn't even leave his room longer than needed for meals, and he knew Soonyoung noticed how skittish he was when he sat amongst the group for dinner. He kept a hand over his bruised collarbone, victim to your greedy mouth staking your claim.
Not that anyone knew.
Until Soonyoung knocked softly on his door and asked him, flat out — did you sleep with Y/N?
He almost choked. He didn't admit it, pulling a face of confusion as the older man let skepticism settle in his eyes as Minghao shook his head. He lied, right to his face; said he hadn't seen you since he dropped you off at your apartment as a favor to Jeonghan.
He felt guilty, too; not just lying to Soonyoung, but about the why behind it all.
Like he hadn't walked you there because he wanted to, or because you asked him. Like you were just a task, a chore, something that got him paid.
Like you hadn't made him feel needed, desired, like a man.
Like he was yours.
God, you made him feel so fucking alive.
"This is ridiculous," Soonyoung muttered, reaching into his pocket to fish out the key when the door flung open, showcasing a flustered Jeonghan. He had an apologetic look on his face, "sorry, fellas. Dealing with lots of stuff, come on in. Uh, Minghao—"
"I've got him," your voice is behind him, slightly hoarse as you peer out the door. He peeks through the cluster of men, seeing the whites of your eyes slightly pink and your face puffy. You offer smiles to your friends, letting them pull you into warm embraces as they file into the house at ten past eight. They smooth your hair, wipe your cheeks gently, kiss your hairline before Minghao gets a chance to step into the house.
"Hey," you murmur, crossing your arms on your chest as he gives Jeonghan a quick wave. He doesn't know how to greet you, your body language a bit stand-offish as you tongue your cheek. You clear your throat, "fancy a drink? A smoke?"
He tilts his head at you, taking a careful look at your frame. Your neck and chest are covered in rows of layered pearls, your dress a soft pink and nothing like the ones he's seen you don before. It's almost shapeless, falling below your knees; your hair is still cascading past your shoulders, stray curls glowing with a slight sheen of pomade as you shifted under his gaze. Long earrings swung from your lobes as you nibbled on your lip, before you spoke with a curious tone.
"You're…staring."
"You look different."
"Not exactly appropriate to wear a sexy little number on a day like today, is it?" You chuckle softly, tilting your head as you let your own eyes fall over him. Seungcheol had made Soonyoung take Minghao to get fitted on his dime; securing Minghao a slim-fitting black suit with gold buttons. His jacket was open, his hands tucked into his pockets and showing the gold accents on his vest. You blink up at him, "…is it bad different?"
"No," he shakes his head, seeing a smile try to twitch onto your lips. He grins, "you look really nice. It's just different…can't see your legs. No shoulders, not even your neck. Never bad, just different. Still…beautiful."
You nod, lips pressed together as he inches a little closer, eyes scouring the expanse of your large entryway. You clasp your hands behind your back, "yeah, Seungcheol…I usually cover up a bit for this. What with the…meaning and all."
"Right."
"Do you want—"
"I want a tour. Show me the place."
You smile wide, and he notes the softer shade of red on your lips. He leans in almost instinctively, before straightening and giving you a curt nod, "lead the way, Miss Choi."
"Please, call me Y/N," you scrunch your nose, before turning on your heel and gesturing at the house, "welcome to my humble abode, Mr. Xu. I am your gracious host, Choi Y/N, sister to New York City's one and only Choi Seungcheol—"
"An annoying sister, too!" Seungcheol's voice is heard from above, and Minghao bites back his laughter as you scowl, looking up to the second floor landing. Your brother is leaning over the railing, drink in his hand as he smiles down, "good to see you, Minghao. I expect you to take good care of my sister."
"You're so irritating," you scoff, reaching back blindly and grabbing Minghao's wrist to pull him along. Minghao gives Seungcheol a soft smile, earning a wink from the older man as he pushes off the railing and disappears somewhere else on the upper landing.
Your hand is loose around his wrist, but he braves the uncertainty and interlaces his fingers with yours. Your shoulders ease as his thumb traces the skin of your hand, and you clear your throat as you gesture around, "so, I grew up here. Well, grew up but they got this house when I was about to turn six. Before that, we lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Williamsburg. Then my mom started as a seamstress and my dad built the business, and we moved in here when I was two weeks out from turning seven. I got my own room, and I moved schools so I made a bunch of new friends. It was great, and my friends were always here and hanging out!"
He listens intently as you pull him through the busy house; waiters and musicians smiling at your animated voice echoing through the rooms and halls as you greeted them sweetly, insisting they help themselves to anything in the kitchen. You tug him up the stairs, easily avoiding people that are starting to trickle in for the party; you go on and on about growing up in the house, how close you were with Seungcheol, your favorite nanny that made the best peach Jell-O, how in love your parents were…
"I'm pretty sure he died of a broken heart, if that's possible." You nodded as you both stood in front of a portrait of your parents together. Your mother was a carbon copy of you — soft eyes, full lips with a devilish edge. Your father had the serious brows your brother does, a hint of a smile on his lips as he peers at your mother in the portrait. They're tangled together on an empire sofa, your mother's long legs covered in dark stockings and splayed boyishly across your father's lap, her fingers holding a thin cigarette.
They're in love. They were in love.
"My parents are still home in Seattle," he says softly, scanning the expanse of your mother's shoulders. They're covered by a thin robe, almost like they'd rolled out of bed just for this, "I'm the only one they have. Children, I mean. It's just me."
"Is it lonely?"
"It's all I've ever known. My cousin lives in Oregon, she comes up every so often. Or, she did, when I lived there."
"What made you move to New York?" You ask, your eyes still glued to the portrait. Your fingers are gently tracing the slope of your mother's face, your thumb stroking it before you let your hand fall to your side, "don't you miss home?"
"Home shouldn't feel like something is missing," he shakes his head, "in Seattle, there wasn't many opportunities for what I wanted. So I left, went to Los Angeles, got some pretty good gigs. But…it felt, empty. The money and the prestige…none of it is really anything without the passion of life, you know? Love, even. Nothing of it means anything without passion, it's what keeps us going."
He shrugs, and you're nodding slowly as you keep moving him down the hall — the walls are covered in accolades, framed newspaper clippings, pictures of you and Seungcheol. His eyes stop on one of him and Jeonghan; the date on the corner making them no older than twenty.
"They've always been together, hm?" He asks, tapping his knuckle to the frame. You glance over your shoulder, a smile spreading on your lips almost instantly as you nod, "yeah. It's always been Jeonghan and Seungcheol. They met in high school? I think. Jeonghan lived over in Ridgewood, and his girlfriend lived here in Manhattan. Seungcheol's girlfriend was her friend, but they broke up within a few months of one another and they stayed friends. They met when the girls set up a double date, and they started dating the year before our parents died. Been together ever since, almost ten years."
Minghao thumbs at the frame, "very cute."
"They are, yeah. But don't tell them I said that," you keep pulling him, and he follows diligently. You seemingly slow in front of a baby blue door, but try to move past it when he plants his feet. There is a white hand print near the bottom, small enough to be a child's. He looks at the door, before glancing up at you, "is this—"
"That's my old bedroom."
"…Can I see?"
You rock on your heels a bit, "I haven't been in there since my dad died."
He nods, looking around before using his hold on your hand to pull you into him. He wraps his arms around your shoulders gingerly as your own tentatively snake around his waist. He coos, swiping stray tendrils from your face before pinching your cheek between his knuckles, "Soonyoung asked me if we slept together."
Your eyes are wide as they flicker up at him, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he bites back the urge to lean into your parted lips, "what did you tell him?"
"I said no." He shrugged, your brows relaxing at the answer, "it's not his business."
"Agreed," you mutter, but there's a waver to your voice. Uncertainty in the back of your eyes as you run your fingertips up and down his sides carefully, his hands slipping down to cup the sides of your neck as he leans down a bit, "something tells me you don't want to agree."
"…You're hearing things."
"You want them to know."
"No, I don't. It's not their business who I sleep with."
"Hm," he hums carefully, tugging gently at one of your earrings. "So I am just a little notch on your bedpost, huh?"
"No," you say quickly, almost too quickly. "That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant."
"No, it isn't. I just…"
He untangles himself from you, bending slightly at the knee to peer at your face closely as your hands fall to your sides, "you just what, Y/N?"
You tongue your cheek, and he lets a small smile tug at his lips as his heart sinks in his chest, "so can I see this bedroom or not?"
You don't respond verbally, merely stepping away from him and turning the knob. You let the door fall open, the room barely illuminated by the sun setting behind the drawn curtains. The room is pristine, the large bed made with tucked corners and fluffed pillows. The furniture is dusted, almost like the staff slips in to keep it clean rather than make it look lived in.
He steps inside, hands tucked in his pockets as he makes his way to the curtains. He draws them, illuminating the room in orange sunlight. He takes hold of the balcony doors, opening them and letting even more light in as you shift your weight from foot to foot in the doorway. You seemingly swallow hard as he looks over his shoulder, and he slips his hands back into his pockets as he looks around the now lit room. Your bedsheets are that same baby blue color as the door…
And the same baby blue as the bedsheets in your apartment.
"You like this color." He states, tapping the sheet as he walks around the bed. You don't say anything, just watching him walk; there's another dress form, covered in what seems to be an abandoned project. There's a photo of your mother amongst all the scraps and sketches, the fabric of her dress matching the one draped across the dress form. There's pins everywhere, scissors, needles and thread and a singular note with measurements scrawled on it.
"It was for her, the…dress." You speak almost like it pains you, and he nods quietly, leaning against the nightstand as you gesture vaguely. "She…the day before she got sick, she went on a date with my dad and she had wanted to wear that dress. I'd taken it a week before and let a friend borrow it, and it was ruined so I figured I'd remake it. She died before I could finish it, so I just left it. Then…yeah. Whatever."
He tilts his head at you as you take a tentative step into the room, your fingers curling around the door to close it behind you. You let the doorjamb click as he beckons you closer with his hand, "uh, this was my first dress form. I left everything here when I moved out, so…there's clothes and stuff. All my little trinkets from when I was growing up. I can't really have them with me, I feel like it might be bad luck."
"Keeping bad memories associated with a thing, person or a place with ensure you are never really happy again," he says gently, letting his hands curl around the sides of the nightstand. He eyes you carefully, "this room holds more good memories than bad ones. You said sleepovers, losing teeth with Seungcheol, discovering things you were good at. You said you designed your first dress in here, when we were walking around."
"I did."
"This is your home. You're allowed to be sad in here, and wallow. You're allowed to grow flowers in the darkest parts of you. Doesn't make them any less worthy, you know."
You nod slowly, staring out into the open balcony. You're merely a foot in front of him, your hand absently reaching for him as more and more people flowed through the gardens of your home, rising chatter filling your ears. He takes your hand gingerly, running his thumb over the rings decorating your hand, "so go. Enjoy the party, enjoy your life, your brother's life. Be free, be yourself."
You eye him, before moving in front of him carefully. There's a gap no bigger than a coin between your faces as you glance at his lips, "I don't dance. I've never danced, because to dance with someone means something."
"Really? Interesting."
"Dance with me. Downstairs."
"In front of everyone? What'll they think?" He feigns shock, sliding a smooth arm around your waist, his fingers barely resting on your hip as he gives it a soft squeeze.
"That I'm sleeping with you, and I am." You let your gaze flicker back up, eyes wet and wide as you scanned his face. "That I want you, because I do."
"Can't undo that notch, pretty."
"So give me another. And another, and keep going until you get sick of me."
Your fingers are now tucked in his belt loops, your skin glowing in the setting sunlight as he peers down at you, "sick of you, huh? Not even a month ago, you told me I could be yours. And you made it pretty clear you'd make it your mission to achieve that."
"Did I?"
"I don't do casual. I don't do…notches."
"I'm not good at feelings," you blurt, wincing as you look up at him, "clearly. The…grief, and how I let it swallow me, and how easily I fall prey to temptation, and how—"
"And how you've been crawling out of your skin since I kissed you," his hands move to your hips, gripping the loose fabric in his palms. Your breath is fanning against his lips, "how you can't get me out of your head, and how you want me so bad, it makes you look stupid."
"Minghao, I—"
"No, you want me. You said I could be yours, and I knew I would be. I knew, from the moment I saw you in that fucking speakeasy, I knew I was done for. You, your dress, your lips and your something spicy, I was a goner, and I knew it, you knew it. Even the guys knew it, they were looking at me like I'd bitten the line at first cast." He pulls you flush to him, your hands splayed on his chest as a pout full of ache, longing settles on your lips. "Don't do this. Don't give me a taste and never feed me again, please."
It's all confusing.
It's all confusing — three times, he's seen you. Three times, he's heard you speak, he's been touched by you. Three times is seemingly all it takes for him to lose all sense of self except the one thing he does know: Xu Minghao likes commitment.
It's all confusing, how easily he's fallen into your trap. Not even a trap, you have no ill intent; your hands. He's easily fallen into your hands, his strings carefully strung across your fingers and he could be your puppet at first jolt. He'd do anything you wanted him to, at any time, in any way.
He'd do Forever with you.
"You want me to hold your hand," he speaks against your mouth, pressing a chaste kiss against your bottom lip. "You want me to show you off, take you on dates, say you're mine and I'm yours…"
He slots his lips with yours, spinning you both so you're against the nightstand. You perch on it, his hands lifting your hips to push you further onto it before sliding down your thighs with a firm squeeze and breaking the kiss, "you want me right between these gorgeous thighs at moment's notice. You want me to kiss you, touch you…"
He pulls you closer, hands hooked around your knees, "you want me to make you cum on my tongue and fuck you until you get your fill. You want me, all of me, all the time."
His fingers brush past the hem of your dress as he slides them up your legs, peering at you through his lashes as he reaches your waist. He gives a soft squeeze, "You want me, so bad, and that makes you mine. Ask me again if I'm somebody's sweetheart. You'll want the answer."
You blink at him, your fingers popping the buttons of his vest before tugging at the end of his tie.
"Ask me."
You kiss him, gently, almost angelically, "come dance with me, puppy."
2:34 AM.
You're tipsy, just a bit.
Minghao isn't, he's just watching you spin through your backyard's gardens. Most of the guests have retreated back to their homes, and they'd been surprised to even see you amongst them during the party. Seungcheol's smile never wavered, watching you from all corners as you mingled with guests, ate with them, knocked back a few flutes of champagne and…danced with Minghao.
You've lost your shoes at some point, and your hair is frizzy at the humidity, but Minghao fares no better. He's lost his blazer somewhere in the gardens, his tie loose and sleeves rolled to his elbows…
And a stamp of your lipstick on his collar that neither of you have noticed.
"Thank you," Seungcheol's voice startles him, a hand flying to his chest as Minghao stands abruptly. The tall rose bushes hide you momentarily as he turns to your brother, "sorry?"
"Y/N doesn't dance," he shakes his head, hands in his pockets. His tie is loosened, cheeks covered in different shades of lipstick from aunties giving him celebratory kisses. A faded bruise lies under his collar, Jeonghan's claim.
"Ah, yeah. She mentioned that."
"Y/N hasn't mingled at one of these parties since our parents died."
"…Yes, she mentioned that, too."
"So…what did you do?" Seungcheol steps closer, and you're swaying back and forth in the moonlight. Jeonghan appears, giggles cutting through the air as you grab his hands and wiggle him around. Minghao glances at Seungcheol, his hand in his pocket covering the two grand he'd been given. He brushes his thumb over it, before pulling it out. He clicks his tongue, easily sliding the money into Seungcheol's shirt pocket, "nothing."
"I don't buy that."
"Good thing it's not for sale."
Seungcheol smiles, watching as you and Jeonghan hop around the fountain in the middle of the gardens. Minghao could hear the clinking of your pearls as Jeonghan spun you over and over, your laughter louder and louder as you both moved closer to him and Seungcheol.
"I think…" Minghao murmurs, and Seungcheol leans in slightly, "you think…?"
"What a party, huh!?" You and Jeonghan nearly topple over each other as you reach Minghao and Seungcheol, your eyes all sparkles and your lips, your perfect lips, spread into a gleaming grin. Seungcheol chuckles, and Jeonghan wraps his arms around his shoulders, swaying him back and forth. "I should throw on like this for my birthday."
"Yeah," Seungcheol nods, choppy laughter cutting through his words as he reaches back to stop Jeonghan from rocking him around, "you should. We will, we'll plan soon."
"Cheollie, have I ever told you you're my favorite brother?"
"I'm your only brother, you little brat."
"And just like that, you're not my favorite anymore."
Minghao bites back his grin as you look back at him, tilting your head before your fingers come to tug at his tie, "dance with me, babysitter."
He snorts, looking over his shoulder at Seungcheol, who waves him off before turning. Jeonghan is pouty, begging for a kiss with his eyes when Minghao looks away. He doesn't react to the soft sound of lips touching, only looking down at you with a small smile tugging at his lips, "there's no music."
You don't seem convinced, and Minghao hears the two lovers behind him whispering. He can't quite hear it all, but he doesn't really care because your voice is more important. Your demands are more important.
"So? Didn't you dance back in Los Angeles? Dance with me!"
You spin off alone back into the gardens, and Minghao just bites down on his lip, running a hand through his hair as he follows suit.
"…he loves her, Jeonghan."
"There's bound to be a Forever in that."
5:53 AM.
"This bed is nice," he mumbles, limbs sore as he settles in next to you. His roommates are likely all home, while he's cuddled up to you. You're freshly showered, your hair damp as you splay a nude leg over his hips. His fingers instinctively slide up your thigh, squeezing the plush flesh as you mouth at his neck.
"You know what else is nice?"
"Mmh, what?"
"Being somebody's sweetheart," you murmur, and he can feel you smiling against his skin as he scoffs. You laugh as he swats at your thigh, before pulling yourself up off the mattress and settling in his lap. He tries not to shiver at the sight of you on top of him, opting to run his hands up your bare hips. Your elbows settle on either side of his head as you hold yourself up on your hands, your nipples brushing his naked chest as he tongues his cheek, "yeah?"
"Yeah. Are you anyone's sweetheart, Xu Minghao?"
"Could be yours, Choi Y/N."
You give him a lopsided smirk, brushing your lips to his. He lets you kiss him; once, twice…three times before your teeth sink into his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it bounce back.
"Yeah." You nod slowly, "you could. So eager, huh? Just like…a puppy."
"Make me yours."
"Don't rush me."
"It's not as fun if you rush me," he mumbles back, wrapping his arms around you gently. You hum, your thumb brushing along his eyebrows as he scrunches his nose at you, "but you will, right?"
— synopsis: reuniting with an rare two-night stand on the mound was not something you ever thought would happen — but it’s not like he remembered who you were, anyway…right?
– genre: open-ended, not so strangers to lovers au / baseball au ; only a little angsty, smut, fluff. they're stupid.
— pairing: model!xu minghao x fem!pitcher!reader
– word count: 11.6k
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, honestly very vague, the smut is the star of the show here and not even all that well. that being said: smut warnings: oral (f.rec), masturbation/clit play, fingering (f.rec), body worship (f.rec), biting, nipple play (f.rec), unprotected sex (that's a no no) multiple orgasms, creampie.
— what to listen to: heartburn - sunmi ; diamond days - seventeen ; atm - jihyo ; 四月的漂流 - the8.
– author's note: i'll easily admit this is not my best work. i've been burnt out for a few months and i'm trying my best to get myself back in order. forgive me for the vagueness of it all, but i know all of you are incredibly imaginative and creative enough to fill in the gaps and also...leave room to wonder. thank you to hali @sailorsoons for allowing me to be part of this collaboration & being so patient with me. thank you to @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr for these star dividers. no beta, we die like men.
MINGHAO IS STARING AT THE E-MAIL ON HIS AGENT’S CELLPHONE.
“You’re joking.”
“I can assure you, I am not. Come on, Hao! It’s just a first pitch, and you don’t even have to stay for the game!” Lee Seokmin smiles brightly, and Minghao tongues his cheek as he gives the cheerful man a deadpan look.
“You will want to stay for the game.”
“I will! But it’s up to you, superstar.”
“You’re buttering me up and you know it,” Minghao sighs, leaning his head back against the wall of the studio. He’s surrounded by racks of clothing he’ll wear once for the camera, and shrugs his shoulders as Seokmin juts his lip in a pout. He gets in Minghao’s face, batting his eyelashes as Minghao scrunches his nose, pushing him back slightly and sticking his tongue out at him like a toddler.
“Fine. One pitch.”
“We’ll have to work on your technique! Don’t wanna embarrass yourself out there, you know. They’re a co-ed team.”
“They have those?” Minghao yawns, stretching his arms over his head as Seokmin types on his phone, nodding. “I don’t keep up with baseball like that, sorry.”
“No worries, I’m actually good friends with the captain of their team. Choi Seungcheol, I’ve introduced you, right? We’ve had dinner at his a couple times.”
“I know who Seungcheol is. Great brows on that guy, I’ll say.” Minghao rolls his shoulders back, adjusting in his seat.
“Great butt, too.” Seokmin nods again, and Minghao gives him an amused look as he reaches for his phone across the couch, “sure, Seok. Whatever you say.”
“It is! Have you seen it? Phenomenal, I see why the Diamonds are so big on social media.”
“Or...they could just be good.”
“They are, but he’s also a cutie.”
“You’re so funny,” Minghao chuckles, unlocking his phone to see two new messages from his manager, Boo Seungkwan, following up on the e-mail about throwing the first pitch at the last game of the season for the Daegu Diamonds. Tonguing his cheek, Minghao just shoots back a short response in the affirmative, before feeling Seokmin pat his knee.
“Alright, I’ve confirmed. We’re going to be down there tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll book the flights and send your ticket over before noon today. Pack light, we’ll only be there three days before we’re in Japan for Tokyo Collection. You’re walking for the Cherry Jubilee spring launch, and we’re having dinner with Seungkwan and Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan, the designer.” Seokmin looks at Minghao pointedly, who only glances up at him with boredom.
“Yes, I know who Jeonghan is. We’re friends.” He lolls his head back, and Seokmin shrugs, “you know so many people, Hao. I can only take the initiative and ensure that you remember them.”
Seokmin shoves his phone in his pocket, grabbing his jacket off the chair with a click of his tongue, “I’m gonna go on a quick coffee run, but they want you in the red set first. If you need help, Seungkwan is down the hall talking to the creative director. Do you want anything? Tea? Something to nibble on? Lunch is in an hour.”
“I’m good. You go ahead, I’ll be out of here in a bit.”
Seokmin nods, slipping out of the room whistling something that sounds a lot like Death of a Strawberry by Dance Gavin Dance. Minghao waits until the door shuts behind him to melt into the grooves of the couch, letting the soreness of the already-long day seep into his muscles as he drums his fingertips against his phone. He stares at a water spot in the ceiling tiles, his chest heavy as he opens his phone and scrolls down through his messages. Lots of old friends from back home, a few of his fellow modeling peers, a couple designers...
An unsaved number, with messages dating back two years.
He can’t bring himself to delete it.
He doesn’t remember your full name, either, and it bothers him – only remembering your face, and that you liked the Daegu Diamonds. If he scrolls up high enough, he’ll see the exchange of nude photos and videos, and his face will grow hot before he clicks off the message thread and chooses to ignore it for exactly ten minutes...
Before going back in and staring at the thumbnail of the singular video of you together, taken on his phone on the second and last night you ever saw each other. A week after meeting at a hole-in-the-wall bar, you’d gotten a non-disclosure agreement sent to him and he’d filled it out within ten minutes – sending it back with a ticket to meet him in Osaka the next weekend. He was him, and you were you – he'd said something about not having enough time, you admitted to commitment issues...and you both settled on two nights in Japan – away from the cameras, away from any friends or family.
Just you.
It had been fun. Of course, it was fun – as fun as risky, messy sex with a girl he didn’t know and didn’t have to know could be. You didn’t care to know him, either – only heading straight to business the moment you both crossed the threshold of the hotel room he’d gotten for the weekend. He had a pair of white panties in his apartment from that night, pulled off you with his teeth and shoved into the pocket of his True Religion jeans – never to meet the inside of your duffel bag again – but it wasn’t enough.
Unfortunately, you lingered in his mind at the most inopportune moments. He could be half naked in someone else’s bed and about to get down to business; when your body will flash by his eyes, enough to knock him off his game, even if just for a moment. He’ll be in meetings, and he’ll feel his skin prickle as if he can still feel the ghost of your blood red fingernails dragging down his back. He’ll be sitting at dinner, his eyes trained on the food in front of him as he sips his drink but all he can taste is you.
It feels cynical. Like a slow form of torture, to look at those messages and know that he’s drawn a line he cannot cross. To know that if he just presses play, even just once – he'll hear every single sound he drew from you in just those fifteen minutes. He’ll see the way your body was flush against him, the way you sighed at the feeling of his lips against your burning skin.
He’ll remember the taste of your sweat as he dragged his tongue up the slope of your neck before sinking his teeth into you – marking you for the weekend. Never to be in his arms again.
He hasn’t watched it since the night he sent it. The temptation is there. It’s always there, just like the photos of you that he can’t bring himself to look at.
Message From: +82 010-2015-0526
Best of luck, Minghao! See you around. (Delivered)
Message To: +82 010-2015-0526
You too, sweetheart. (Read: 4:32 AM)
Minghao barely unlocks the door of his condo when the warmth of the heater hits his face. He shivers, locking the door behind him and resting his forehead against the cold steel. He lets out a deep breath, shrugging his coat off as his phone buzzes in his pocket, arguably another message from Seokmin or Seungkwan, or even the most hidden person on his team — Soonyoung. A cheery, bright-eyed publicist with a knack for persuasion, carefully navigating Minghao into the oddest of situations that have skyrocketed his career. It's because of Soonyoung that Minghao is the face of so many brands, plastered all over in countries he's never even been to.
At least, not yet.
Minghao hangs his coat with no urgency, smoothing the lapels before closing the front closet door and easing his way into his home. He toes his shoes off, sliding them onto the shelf in the foyer before stretching his arms over his head and walking into his empty living room.
Empty living room with a single lamp on, waiting for him to come home. Empty kitchen, with food packed neatly in the fridge waiting to be eaten. An empty bathroom, empty bedroom.
Empty bed.
He can never get too comfortable. His condo in Shanghai is the closest he gets to feeling at home – even if his apartment in Seoul has seen him the most, and his studio in Osaka is bare bones aside from a few art pieces on the walls and a singular photo of him and his parents on a desk in the corner.
Maybe that’s loneliness. Having so much and wanting so little, but to be rich in love...he yearns for that.
He reaches into his pocket as he sits on the edge of his recliner, tonguing his cheek as he reads the message across his screen.
Group Message From: Unnamed Group (4 Members)
Choi Seungcheol (DD): Hey, guys! Heard from our head of SNS that you’d be coming down for a game. Are you throwing the first pitch, Minghao? We’d love to get a team photo with you! Let us know.
Lee Seokmin (Work): You’re so cute. Yeah, we’re gonna be down there this weekend, we’re flying in from Shanghai in the morning. Should we expect to drop by the Choi residence for dinner? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )
+82 010-2015-0526: Shit, hey Seok. I asked Cheol to make the group because I broke my phone a few months ago and lost your number. I have gossip, call me when you can. Good luck this weekend!
Minghao stills, his brows furrowing as he looks at the number again. He exits the group, quickly scrolling down his message threads before seeing the number right there. Seungcheol replies in the groupchat as he stares at the conversation between you and him – his skin prickling as he enters and exits the thread almost anxiously.
“Shit,” he runs a hand over his face, tossing his phone onto the recliner as he gets up. He beelines for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water out of his refrigerator when he hears his phone continue to ping with messages. He brings the bottle to his lips, taking a poor excuse for a sip before setting it down on his countertop.
The cold of it hurts his stomach.
He moves back to the recliner, quickly unlocking his phone and reading through new messages. Seungcheol, Seokmin, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Seokmin again...
It’s not like Minghao to particularly care about the past, but he doesn’t remember your name. Surely, if you’re affiliated with Seungcheol, you could be very well affiliated with the Daegu Diamonds.
He nibbles on his lip for a moment as the chat bubble on your end pops up and disappears repeatedly before it dawns on him – Seokmin said that the Diamonds were a co-ed team.
He doesn’t reply to your texts, opting to go onto the official site for the Daegu Diamonds and scour through the roster. Many faces are familiar – Lee ‘Woozi’ Jihoon, Park Jihyo, Lee ‘Dino’ Chan...
Y/N Kim. A pitcher for the Daegu Diamonds, repping #08 on the mound. Your height, your weight, your birthday, your social media – it's all there, in color on his screen.
He, against his better judgment, presses the Instagram icon beneath your debut date – November 9th, 2015.
His phone redirects him to your profile. You’ve amassed millions of followers, your profile plain of any introduction aside from a cheeky photo booth strip as your profile photo and ‘#08 DD’ in your biography. You have Fire by 2NE1 linked to your profile, and there is a neat array of posts filling the screen.
Your profile is purely...you.
Not just pictures of you, but…the embodiment of you as an art. Your style. Everything he would've assumed a curated profile surrounding you would look like.
Candid photos, photos of you and friends at dinner or simply hanging out together. He spots several shots of his own colleagues and friends – Hansol 'Vernon' Chwe, a music producer he’d met in passing at a Cherry Jubilee show six years ago; Chou Tzuyu, a designer for Lazy Baby and Kim Mingyu, a fellow model and the face of Calvin Klein (and abs, and arms, that man is beautiful.)
Also Tzuyu’s fiancé.
Not that anyone knew that.
He scrolls further and further – before seeing an Osaka carousel from two years ago. The song over the post is Heart Burn by Sunmi, and he scrolls past several pictures only to stop on the second to last.
Him.
Well, not him.
His jacket, the corner of one of your photos. The Osaka skyline from the hotel room is the focus, but he can see the letters on the back of his monogrammed jacket – XU MIN visible before the photo crops the rest of it out. His watch is on the windowsill, and a sliver of his back is visible on the bed. The window was behind the bed frame, and you had to have been standing by the vanity to get that angle.
He chews on his lip anxiously, scrolling to the next photo before seeing your fingers holding a ring up to the light at the airport. A signet ring, his signet ring with an orchid stamped in the center – one he’d lost after that trip. He clears his throat, glancing at the caption before his eyes widen.
diamonddazed: i hope we find time for more than osaka someday.
His tongue runs behind his teeth as he closes the app, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he lets out a sigh. His phone continues to buzz and ping in his hand, but he ignores everyone else to move to your thread with him.
NEW! 2 Messages from: Y/N
[9:34 PM] I hope this...history doesn’t hinder your ability to come see the guys this weekend. They talk about you and Seokmin all the time.
[9:34 PM] But, it would be nice to see you. Maybe we can get drinks. LMK (:
Minghao taps his foot as he opens and closes his keyboard. He tries typing a few letters, erasing them. Tries again, deletes them.
He opens his email instead, typing your name into the search box before seeing a copy of the non-disclosure agreement he signed. He opens it, reading along the lines of when the contract ends. Maybe he can get out of this, state personal differences. Maybe say it wasn’t good for his brand to be tied to so many things plus baseball.
Two weeks from today.
“That’s not soon enough,” he murmurs, closing out of the application and moving back to messages. Seokmin has texted him six times, but he doesn’t care to reply as he opens your thread again.
Message to: Y/N
[9:39 PM] Are you in Seoul right now?
He presses his thumb to his lips, and he can almost imagine the smile spreading on your lips as his phone shows that you’ve read the message. His knee bounces as you type, only to stop when your message comes through.
NEW! 2 Message from: Y/N
[9:42 PM] [1 Attachment]
[9:42 PM] Shanghai. Fly out for the game tomorrow afternoon.
His stomach drops as he sees the Shanghai skyline fill his screen, and he can barely see the subtle reflection of you in the window – wrapped in a white towel, the glisten of your red nails bouncing off the fabric. He glances around the photo, trying to see anything else in the reflection before another message bounces in.
NEW! 1 Message from: Y/N
[9:43 PM] I’m alone if you want to swing by. Room 1107 @ the Conrad Shanghai.
Minghao feels stupid as he nearly falls out of his recliner, shoving his phone in his pocket as he moves back to his foyer. He shoves his shoes on, cheeks hot as he grabs his coat and pulls it on haphazardly. He barrels out his front door, not bothering to check that it has shut behind him as he beelines for the stairs.
He feels a rush course through him as he pulls his phone back out of his pocket, stopping at the top of the stairs to type a quick message.
Message To: Y/N
[9:47 PM] Lose the towel.
Getting past the lobby proves to be far too easy. He flashes a few quick smiles, signs a few slips of paper before he calmly steps into an elevator, knowing the Conrad like the back of his hand as he presses your floor button. He fiddles with his coat's buttons, flapping it open, before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He trills his lips, leaning against the wall of the elevator as he watches the floor counter go up. The elevator seems to sense his urgency, and it jolts to a stop on your floor.
He slides out between the barely open doors, his eyes scanning the doors for your room number – finding it at the very end of the hall. He knocks twice, softly – adrenaline making his hands shake as he shoves them back into his pocket.
The door opens slightly, but you’re behind the door as your hand beckons him inside. He tongues his cheek, slinking in through the gap to see you wrapped in a robe. He raises a brow at it, his fingers pinching the tie and tugging lightly.
“Room service,” your voice is soft, “can’t be indecent, you know.”
“Doesn’t look like room service is here, though.” He responds, nerves making his tongue feel larger than it is as you glance at his fingers still holding the tie. He rolls his eyes, wrapping it around his hand and using it to pull you closer, “you sleep with anyone else here?”
“No.” You shake your head, your hair still slightly damp as your hands splay on his chest. His jaw is tense as he runs his eyes down the slope of your neck, across your clavicle to the small chain snug at the base of your throat. He glances up at your face, your lips smooth with lip balm and your cheeks still soft, still as supple as he remembers them.
“Are you lying?”
“No, Minghao. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I had.”
“So, I’m just a quick fuck before you fly home?”
You don’t reply, rolling your eyes as you press your lips to his. Your hands on your chest slide around his slender waist, pulling him closer as his hand loosens around the tie of your robe. He kisses you back carefully, pulling at the knot of the tie as your tongue slips into his mouth. The same taste that’s sat at the back of his throat for the last two years coats your tongue as he sucks on it gently, your robe falling open as he pulls away. The back of his head hits the wall lightly, making him wince as your hand immediately cards through his hair and rubs at the spot.
“Can I touch?” He murmurs, his hands ghosting over the warmth of your skin as you nod. You move further into his space, your fingers pulling at the buckle of his belt and undoing it quickly. His hands are cautious as they shove your robe off your shoulders, the same small tattoo he'd bitten two years ago peering back at him as you pull his belt off and toss it to the side before kissing him again. Your lips are so soft against his, your hands proving desperate as you unbutton his jeans and shove his shirt out of the way to reveal the waistband of his boxers.
“Why are you so fucking dressed up?” You mutter against his lips as your fingertips slither under his shirt, and he smiles as one of his own find the lace of your panties snug to your hips, “you don’t need all these clothes to fuck me.”
“Believe it or not, I work, too.” He speaks between kisses, nipping at your lip with a soft growl in the back of his throat, “why do you taste like that? Did you touch yourself before I got here?”
“I always touch myself when I think of you,” you’re breathless as your fingers curl around his waistband, tugging uselessly. You pout as he laughs, “it’s true! I'm already halfway to getting in your pants, no need to lie. We’re all friends here.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends at all, actually.” He refutes, sliding his fingers under the fabric of your panties to cup a handful of your ass. His lips press open mouthed kisses to your neck, earning him those soft, soft groans he’s had daydreams about for the last two years as he scrapes his teeth against your skin. “I don’t typically fuck my friends, much less make them sign NDAs about it. And if we were friends...”
“You’d fuck me in your bed?” You interject, your fingertips pulling at his zipper and cupping his half-hard cock. He tries not to keen as you run a finger against him over the thin fabric, "you’d fuck me in your bed, right? Mark me up? Make me yours?”
“Wouldn’t be my friend if you were mine.” He tugs at the ends of your hair, a quipped gasp falling from your lips as he gives your ass a gentle squeeze. “You hear me?”
“Uh huh,” your fingertips are teasing at the waistband of his boxers, but he pulls your hand away, sliding his own back out from under your panties. He kisses the shell of your ear, your lips pouted as he squeezes your hips, “Minghao.”
“Show me how you touched yourself,” he whispers, your lips parting slightly as he physically turns you around. “Then maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“Cynical,” you huff, squealing as his fingertips land a soft smack against your ass. Your hands cover it as you scurry away, and he picks up his belt and follows, with a grin threatening to breach his lips. He doesn’t remember talking to you this much the first time (or even at the bar you met him at) but...the sound of your voice has something in it. Something...addictive. Erotic, even.
He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care to figure it out right now.
He pulls his coat off his shoulders as you pull your robe off fully, a tattoo across the dip of your spine new to his eyes and stark against the lace of your underwear. He stops what he’s doing, his eyes running over it as you glance over your shoulder at him.
Lucky.
“It’s new.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his shirt over his head, toeing his shoes off as you move to sit on the bed. He watches the way your demeanor shifts slightly, a bit shy as your thumbs hook on the waistband of your underwear. He shakes his head, motioning for you to get on the bed, “all fours.”
“But I—”
“Just wanna see that new tattoo, sweetheart. All fours, please.”
You oblige, carefully sprawling yourself on the bed as he asks. He moves closer, his fingers wrapping around your ankles and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. You move easily, your back smooth in the low lighting of your hotel room as he slides his hand up it, curling his fingers around the back of your neck. Your skin litters in goosebumps as you push your hips back, meeting his lightly as he bends slightly, pressing his lips to your hip. You shiver as his teeth scrape the skin of your hip, pulling gently at the fabric of your panties and sliding them down your thighs.
“I’m keeping these,” he says as he pulls them off entirely, shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans as you scoff.
“Pervert.”
“You smell good. Show me.”
He peers down between your thighs, the swell of your ass covered by his hands as he spreads the cheeks carefully. Your hand covers you immediately, the sheen of arousal spread between your inner thighs as he smirks inwardly, “I haven’t even touched you.”
“You know I’m sensitive, shut up.” Your breathing is shaky as you drag your fingertips through your folds, spreading them lightly and circling your puffy clit. He sucks in a breath, his cock twitching beneath his boxers as your thighs slightly weaken at the stimulation. You bury your face in a pillow as you rub your clit in tight circles for him, shuddered whimpers wracking your body before you tease your hole with a finger. He leans forward slightly, enough that you can feel his breath as he drops a wad of spit on your pussy. You jolt as he presses a kiss to the curve of your ass, “come on, pretty. Make yourself cum for me.”
Your whine rings in his ears, making him bite down on his lip as he runs his hands up and down the back of your thighs, “so pretty when you’re touching yourself, huh? Like putting on a show for me?”
“Minghao...” your voice trails off as he watches you slip a finger in and then another, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips as he kneels behind you. He kisses the side of your foot, trailing his lips up your ankle as he watches your juices coat your fingers. He kisses up your calf, dragging his lips up your thigh as they shake.
“So close already? Tsk,” he mocks you as he presses a kiss to the curve of your ass, then another. He switches to the other side, watching your hand still as if to stave it off before he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “can’t do it yourself?”
“Hao,” you’re whining, your fingers slipping out to spread your pussy for him to see. He smiles inwardly as your hole clenches around nothing, begging for something in it as he sinks his teeth into the meat of your ass. You only groan, pushing your hips back as he laps his tongue over the marks of his teeth before your fingers find your clit again, tracing slow circles into it as he kisses them. He takes them into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the taste of you coats his tongue. He presses a kiss to your fingertips before pushing your hand away, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling your cunt to his face.
“Please, please...” your hips are pushing back, and he can’t deny you anything as he presses a tentative kiss to your clit, covering his lips in your arousal. He flattens his tongue against it, licking long, languid strokes through your folds to taste you entirely. His lips wrap around your clit carefully, sucking it into his mouth as your hand reaches back and finds his hair. Your thighs are a shaking mess as he holds onto you tighter, his cock painfully hard against his boxers and aching for release – threatening to come undone at the mere taste of you paired with your soft thank you, thank you, thank you.
He pulls away abruptly, using his strength to flip you onto your back before diving back in. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut around his head, but he doesn’t care as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers as he brings you closer to the edge. Your voice is barely audible with the flesh of your thighs pressed against his ears, your fingers tangled in his hair once more as you come undone on his tongue.
He keeps his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out gently as your thighs fall apart, trembling as he works you over with his tongue again.
“H-Hao—”
“You can give me another. Just one more, then I’ll fuck you. Yeah?”
Your legs must feel like jelly the way you spread them limply for him, your cunt covered in his spit and your cum as he slips his fingers out to smear your juices around. A soft gasp falls as he slides them back in with a coo, his lips pressing a kiss to your clit.
“Messy,” he murmurs, biting his lip at the wet squelching sound you make around his lithe fingers. He can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or not, your hips grinding against his hand lazily as he peppers kisses across your hips. He nips at the skin, sucking soft marks as your whimpers fill the air, “greedy, too. Just taking everything I give you, huh? Such a good girl for me.”
Your reply is too quiet for him to hear, and he pushes off his knees, trailing kisses up your soft belly as your fingers rake through his hair. He plants his free hand next to your head as he feels himself press against your inner thigh, before his tongue slides in the valley of your breasts. He kisses the flesh carefully, open-mouthed as he makes his way up your throat. Your breathing is all soft pants and bitten moans as your swollen lips are shiny with spit. Your face is flushed as he kisses up your jaw, biting your earlobe lightly and making your eyes open slightly. They’re hazy, watery as your lashes are coated with tears of pleasure as he kisses the side of your face, your pussy clamping around his fingers as his lips ghost over yours.
“Tell me you missed me.” His mouth brushes yours as you nod silently, “nah, not like that. Tell me. Tell me you missed my cock inside you.”
He knows it’s not the same thing, but it’s all he’s got in the moment as your eyes widen, his thumb pressing against your clit as a choked sound falls from your lips. You cant your hips up, but he stills his fingers as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, “say it.”
“Missed your cock inside me,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him. He lets you, slotting his lips with yours chastely as you wrap one leg around his hip, “missed feeling you. Haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
The admission, fake or not, makes his fingers start moving again, your eyes rolling slightly before you shut them. You kiss him again, your hand gripping the ends of his hair between your fingers as if to keep yourself grounded. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, a groan from your lips as you taste yourself all over him, your pussy clamping around his fingers at it. He smirks into your kiss, gently rutting his cock against your thigh as you coat his fingers again with a shuddered whine.
Your hand shoves his fingers away as they circle your clit, shaking your head as you snap the waistband of his underwear against his hip, “take them off. Wanna feel you.”
You pull his fingers into your mouth, slipping your tongue between them and collecting your juices off his skin. His eyes are glued to your lips, swollen and bitten from his teeth as his other hand cups your breast, running his thumb over your nipple and smiling inwardly at the way your back arches off the mattress lightly. Your ankle kicks his hip lightly as you pull off his fingers with a pop, and he pushes off the mattress to reach into his pocket for his wallet.
Not a single condom in sight.
“Shit,” he mutters, and you sit up, pointing at something on the nightstand. He glances at it – a pink pill case. Slots reading Monday through Sunday...
“You’re clean, yeah?” You lean back on your elbows, your chest heaving slightly and your skin shiny with a layer of sweat. He nods, and you gesture at his jeans with your foot, the French tip pedicure glossy in the low light, “so take it off.”
He wastes no time shucking off his pants and underwear in one go, hissing softly as his underwear brushes over his leaking cock. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as he wraps his hand around himself, a soft laugh slipping out as he slots himself between your legs.
“What’s so funny?” He asks as he spreads beads of his precum through your folds, a soft breath falling from your lips as you feel his tip bump your clit. You shake your head, “nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“...Just nice to see you so worked up over going down on me.”
“That’s the way it should be,” he scoffs, forcing himself to focus as he grinds his cock against you, slick and messy with you all over his shaft. “God, missed this pussy.”
“Just her?” Your voice is airy as he pulls you to the edge of the mattress, your leg resting against his body and your foot against his cheek. He presses a kiss to the side of it, his other hand spreading your thighs apart to peer at your bare cunt against him.
“Gotta miss you to miss this, you know. One plus one.” He grinds down against you harder, brushing his lips against your ankle as he feels your hole clench around nothing, empty and wanting for him.
“Not always the case.”
“You’ve plagued me for the last two years, shut up.”
His voice is lacking confidence as he feels himself grow close just from the feeling of you against him, feeling his limbs slightly fuzzy as he takes his cock in his hand, his tip circling your hole carefully.
“I won’t last very long,” he admits softly, and you tilt your hips up, his tip barely dipping inside you. He sinks in fully, his hips flush to yours as you clamp around him like a vice. A whine gets caught in his throat, annoyed at himself for being so close at the feeling of you – so wet and warm and delicious. “Shit.”
“Fuck me,” you mewl, his hands moving to wrap around your thighs and pin you in place. He gives a roll of his hips, muffling his groan by sinking his teeth into your calf. You’re trying to move against him, but he gives a harsh thrust, hitting that spongy spot inside you and making your back arch up off the bed. Your hands trail up your body, cupping the bottom of your breasts before running your fingers over your hardened nipples. He watches you through hooded eyes, fucking his cock into you at a menacing pace that makes you whimper his name sinfully. He rests his head against your leg, kissing the skin of it as you continue to touch yourself, rolling your nipple through your fingers as his lips ache to be wrapped around them.
He splays his hands on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart as he bends at the waist, dragging his tongue up from your navel and between your breasts before your hand finds home in his hair as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, shivering at how hard you clench around him, your walls fluttering as your moans fill his head. He feels like it’s swimming, intoxicated with the smell and taste of you all over him as he switches sides, scraping the neglected bud lightly with his teeth and earning a tug of your fingers in his hair, his groan covering your skin as he laps at the peak gently.
“Want you to cum inside me,” you breathe out, “fill me up. Please.”
He doesn’t respond, trying to stave himself off as his hips threaten to stutter. Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down slightly and he has to force himself to rip them away and pin them next to your head. He finds your lips, “can’t use your pretty nails. Have a show next week, baby.”
You pout against his lips, kissing him slowly as he sinks lower against you, your chest flush to his. His hand slips out of yours, running between your bodies and curling around your hip as he sinks into your kiss. It’s slow and sensual, your legs wrapping around his hips and locking your ankles at the dip of his spine as his cock twitches inside you.
“Feel so good,” his face is buried in your neck, his hand on your hip slipping between your thighs to circle your clit and make you finish before him. You’re a whining mess under him, his eyes squeezing shut as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, feeling the rush of your orgasm dripping down his thighs and soaking the mattress as he spills inside you. Your chest is heaving in tandem with his as he rocks his hips into you, working you into overstimulation as your moans grow weak.
“S’too much,” you’re barely speaking above a whisper, and he covers your mouth with his as he stops, his hips flush to yours as he kisses you softly. You try to keep up, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close as his hands circle your knees, pushing them to your chest before carefully pulling out. He pulls away from your lips with a chaste kiss, his eyes glancing at the mess of you and him between your thighs.
He feels his cheeks hot as he looks back up at you, an embarrassed look glazing your eyes as you clear your throat.
“...I didn’t even say hello when I walked in.” He says suddenly, and you cover your mouth with your hand as you bite back a sound akin to a snort. He presses your knees together, “hi.”
“Hey,” you laugh, running your hand through your hair. “It’s...nice to see you.”
“Cut the shit,” he scoffs, and you only laugh harder as your arms cover your chest. He smiles inwardly, pressing his forehead to your knees, “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Me either, but I’m not mad about it.” You wipe at your eyes, before scrunching your nose, “I’m gonna have to ask to get the sheets changed and they’re gonna know I got laid.”
You cover your face with a pillow, letting out a groan of embarrassment as he laughs, “you’re an adult and you had a visitor. I’m sure they didn’t think we were just going to talk.”
“Speaking of, you got here fast. Desperate to see me?” You lift the pillow just enough to show him the wiggle of your brows, only for him to tongue his lip and land a soft smack on your ass. You squeal, swatting his hand away as he turns his nose up, “I was taught never to keep a lady waiting.”
“And you sure didn’t,” you tease, making him stick his tongue out at you as his hands slide down your thighs. He gives them a soft squeeze as you toss the pillow aside, stretching your arms over your head. You’re still covered with his spit and blooming nips of his teeth, “kind of a funny reunion, huh?”
“The NDA is up in two weeks, otherwise I would’ve used it to get out of throwing that damn first pitch.” He admits, looking around before spotting a towel on the vanity. You snicker as he grabs it, carefully wiping you down. You wince here and there, before sitting up on your elbows, “there’s more towels in the bathroom, if you want to...shower before you go.”
“I can’t promise it won’t get frisky if we’re both in there,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knee.
“Who said I was joining you?”
“The fact that you probably can’t even stand up on your own.”
“Damn, got me there.” You sigh, his fingers massaging into the flesh of your thighs instinctively. A silence settles over you both, your eyes meeting as he smooths his palms against your skin. He squeezes carefully, "should we skip the small talk?"
You don't respond, merely spreading your knees with a quirk of your brow. He rolls his eyes, pinching your thigh gently and making you suck in a breath, "use words."
"I don't know what we are or what we're doing, if that's what you want to know," you say pointedly as he kneels back on the bed, his hands holding your knees apart as he scans your face. "I don't even know why I came to Shanghai. I don't plan ahead, I don't think twice. I just do it. I just go."
"So, you're reckless."
"I'm spontaneous."
"You're full of shit," he snorts, making you smirk as you shrug, opting to lay back against the bed with your arms crossed behind your head. His hands slid up your thighs, squeezing the soft dip of your hips carefully. You shrug again, hooking a finger around the dangling silver chain and giving it a soft tug.
"I'd say I'm a spontaneous young woman with a promising career and good taste in sexual deviants," you nod slowly, and he has to bite back the smile threatening to spread on his lips as he hovers over you. He presses his lips to yours chastely, feeling the warmth flushing on your cheeks as he cups your face gently.
"Sexual deviant, huh?"
"Sorry, do you prefer fuck buddy?"
"Shut up," he mutters against your lips, slotting them with his and swallowing the limp attempt at a chuckle from your throat. You card your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots as you kiss him eagerly. You're just as smooth with your tongue as you were then, carefully licking into his mouth as his hand wandered down between your bodies, wrapping around his cock. You spread your thighs further for him without breaking the kiss, and he smiles against your parted lips as he slides the tip of his cock through your slick folds. "Give me one for the road."
"Let me get on top."
"Whatever you want, baby."
MINGHAO DIDN'T END UP LEAVING YOUR HOTEL ROOM UNTIL AN HOUR BEFORE YOU DID.
He'd spent the entire night and most of the next day between your thighs, if not holding you flush to him in the shower and washing your hair for you. Conversations were fulfilling though limited, often interrupted by a pair of lips kissing some expanse of skin — he ignores the coil in his stomach when he thinks about the sweet taste of your lip balm fading as the night went on.
Another Monday night of parting felt…laughable, honestly. He snorted at himself as he shoved himself into the black taxi he ordered, letting you kiss him goodbye one too many times for it to just be casual. Your scent lingered on his lips, his skin, and he felt exactly the same way he did when he left Osaka before you did — six hours earlier, pressing a lingering kiss to your soft mouth and wishing you a safe flight.
He'd done the same then, but he let you get carried away. He let you pull him in again, he almost let you take his pants off again but managed to get himself together before you could. You were almost too tempting, and it made his skin prickle as you watched from your door as he walked down the hall to the elevator. He stepped into it, thankful that there wasn't an awkward wait before waving again. He heard your laugh ring out before the doors closed, and he closed his eyes, gripping the railing and taking a deep breath.
This doesn't mean anything.
Just two people blowing off steam with someone that knows what the other likes.
He knows you prefer receiving oral, you know he prefers giving it. He knows that you're not into edging, rather overstimulation, he knows that you like to be held closely afterwards. He knows you like to be kissed breathless, that you like to be bitten, nipped at, suckled on…
That you would rather be on top and control the narrative — but you know he craves that same control, grappling at the ends of his sanity the same way you do.
The spotlight is something you both share, and though in different lights…you understand each other. Flashing cameras, winded magazine articles, online criticism forums — neither of you discuss your professional lives in depth. He knows you like to dabble in drinking with friends or long nights out to distract from the giant baseball career weighing on your back, you know he disappears completely into EDM parties and recording sessions to duck out of the blinding runway lights.
There is an unspoken comfort, an unvoiced observance that gives you both the answers you seek about one another.
And yet, he still rolls his eyes when he finds himself wanting to hear your voice.
He hasn't seen you since that Monday in Shanghai. It's been a total of four days, and he made a pit-stop in Seoul before Seokmin, Seungkwan and Soonyoung hauled him to Daegu in the back of an unmarked SUV that felt suspiciously like a kidnapping — he eyed them with more suspicion as they whispered on and on within themselves before flashing him falsely reassuring smiles.
Your schedule was packed; you'd done a handful of interviews, a few features in magazines and updated your Instagram profile since. In which he saw himself, once more, riddled in the crevices of your photos. The same Shanghai skyline photo you'd taken, a few snapshots of beautifully plated dishes, you in fitting rooms and hanging out with blurred friends…
And a singular photo of you in the steamy bathroom mirror right after he'd washed your hair — clad in a loose pair of blueberry-print pajamas and a blur of his (accidentally) scratched back. You apologized for the nail marks, he just shook his head and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your apologies and pressing you into the tile. He winced when the hot water hit his skin, your fingers squeezing his hip gently before you lathered gentle soap over the expanse of the lean muscle.
You had taken it after he kissed you for an hour until the water ran cool, wandering hands spreading soapy suds all over each other. After he'd grimaced at the bruising of his teeth littered on your skin, a mark sucked deep on your inner thigh. After he'd brushed his teeth next to you — the second toothbrush and his collection of jewelry glistening in the corner of the photo. The carousel has a soft song over top — Heart Burn by Sunmi, again.
diamonddazed: i hope i'll be home to you someday, even if shanghai is the closest i'll ever get to it.
You posted it just after he landed in Seoul at two-something in the morning, and was clambered into the SUV by his team. He stared at the photo for fifteen minutes, sat in the back of the van before closing his eyes and shamelessly double tapping the screen. He turned his phone off right after, sliding it into the cup holder and settling his neck into the travel pillow Seungkwan had slid over his shoulders.
They'd been far too awake for two in the morning.
The team kept the curtains drawn, but he couldn't sleep — opting to stare out the sunroof as dawn crept in, his eyes burning with fatigue. Seokmin typed away on his laptop next to Minghao, eyes low as they peered at the screen's low brightness. He clicked around, rubbing his face once or twice before Minghao reached over and blindly closed the laptop. Seokmin sighed, settling his rigid shoulders into the stiff leather seats.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," he says softly, and Minghao peels an eye open as far as he can with a shrug, "I have a pit in my stomach."
"Tomorrow is a short day, don't worry. We'll have all day to rest up today."
"When does the game happen?"
"Six, but we'll be there by four to get you situated with everyone. Take some pictures, get some refreshments, maybe have one of the players help on your form. You might not care about baseball, but it's important you leave a good impression."
"I assume this was all said in that groupchat with Seungcheol?" He murmurs back, lolling his head against the seat as Seokmin nods, "and Y/N."
"I'm sorry?"
"Y/N Kim. The pitcher? She's in the group."
Minghao feigns confusion, shrugging before closing his eyes. He feels his cheeks warm at the memory of your lips on his, your fingers carding through his hair with a rough tug that made him sink his teeth into the column of your throat.
"Right. Is she nice?"
"Yes, very. She'll be at dinner with Seungcheol with us, but she won't be staying there like we will."
"Cool, cool…anyone else I should know about?"
"Sure," he shrugs, crossing his arms on his chest. He eyes Minghao hard enough that the younger man can feel it, prompting him to look over, "mhm?"
"Jeonghan flew in." Seokmin raises a brow, and Minghao snorts, "Jeonghan? What for? We have a show."
"Because Seungcheol asked him to."
"You'd think those two would have tied the knot by now."
"Someone's dragging their feet and it's not Jeonghan."
"Ooh, messy," Minghao chuckles, shaking his head, "I forget they're dating at times."
"Don't we all," Seokmin stretches his legs as best as he can, wincing as soreness creeps up his thighs from the cramped seat. "I'm just hoping they'll do it sooner rather than later. Jeonghan's impatient and Seungcheol keeps pushing it back with things happening in their careers. I wouldn't be surprised if Seungcheol flew to Tokyo with us at this point."
"The more the merrier."
The rest of the ride is splattered with small talk — the weather, what does Minghao want to wear, is he comfortable staying at Seungcheol's house instead of a hotel…but none of it really registers. Minghao gives half-assed answers, bunching his blanket high on his lap when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Seokmin has dozed off, his cheek mushed against his own travel pillow as Minghao digs his phone out of his pocket.
NEW! 3 Messages from: Y/N
[5:29 AM] Hiii
[5:29 AM] Cheollie told me you're staying with him? Is that true?
[5:29 AM] I miss you.
He bites back his smile, tonguing his lip as he quickly types a few responses out. He sends them off, pressing his thumb to his lips as he watches the read receipt pop up almost immediately.
Message To: Y/N
[5:30 AM] Five in the morning, shouldn't you be in bed?
[5:30 AM] Yes, we're staying with Seungcheol. I don't know why but I'm not complaining, either.
[5:30 AM] And to say you miss me…feels like a lie, hm?
NEW! 3 Messages from: Y/N
[5:30 AM] I am in bed, Mr. Xu. Just checking in 👀
[5:30 AM] Seungcheol invited me to dinner tomorrow after the game but I haven't given him an answer in case you don't want me there.
[5:30 AM] Maybe I'm a little tipsy but I still mean it. Come see me if you want…I'd love to see you.
He can picture you sprawled on your bedsheets in those soft pajamas you like. Freshly washed hair, with the taste of soju on the tip of your tongue — he'd seen you in Mingyu's Instagram story earlier that night with Jihyo and Tzuyu, huddled over a steaming hot pot and clinking shot glasses together.
You'd looked pretty. The strap of your dress had fallen down your shoulder, and you were squished against Jihyo's smiling face with all your teeth gleaming in the flash of the camera, plump lips slick with gloss and those very same nails that dragged down his back.
Message To: Y/N
[5:32 AM] And I'd love to come see you but I'm on zero sleep. I'd be of no use to your needs.
[5:33 AM] But…come to dinner. Wear something pretty.
Your message comes in almost instantly.
NEW! 2 Messages From: Y/N
[5:33 AM] Come see me anyway. I only live down the block from Seungcheol, you can lie and say you're getting breakfast at the convenience store across from me.
[5:33 AM] Please.
Minghao chews on his lip — glancing up to the dashboard and seeing that he'll be in Seungcheol's neighborhood in less than three minutes. He doesn't think about it too much; silently transferring a shirt and pair of sleep pants into his backpack as Seokmin snores softly.
He'll make up an excuse later.
Getting out of Seungcheol's house is a lot easier than anticipated. His team was far too tired to question why he was so awake, and he helped them all settle in Seungcheol's spare rooms. Seungcheol and Jeonghan were getting tipsy on the back deck, and Minghao let them know he'd be slipping out for a second. Seungcheol glanced at him, eyes glassy as he gave him a soft smile.
"Y/N's gate code is 1-1-0-9." He sang quietly, and Minghao only feigned amusement, ruffling the older man's hair before ducking out the enormous front doors. He shoved his hands in his pockets, thankful for the chilly air that kept him alert as he made his way down to your house. You'd been telling him you'd fall asleep if he didn't get there soon — and he wonders if you've fallen asleep when he stands in front of the heavy steel gates of your home. He glances around, nibbling on his lip before flipping the gate pad open and typing in the numbers Seungcheol had teased him with.
The gates unlock with a clunk, and he slips in and shuts it with his foot. He makes sure the lock has moved back in place before glancing up, seeing you standing at the open glass doors. Your pajamas are rumpled and you're squinting in the morning sun, your hand covering your eyebrows as he makes his way up the mosaic path made of colorful stones.
"You're unbelievable," he greets, fighting back a smile as you grin brightly. You're still clearly tipsy, the sway in your stance amusing as he steadies you carefully when you reach your arms out to him. He reaches one hand back to close and lock your front door; the other carding through your hair as you hum in satisfaction, resting your chin on his chest as you wrap your arms around his waist. "Still tipsy?"
"Oh, I got hammered. I can't tell you how I'm standing right now."
"On your legs."
"You're really annoying."
"Yet, you begged me to come over." Minghao chides, his fingers settling on the back of your neck as you give him a deadpan look, "begged is hyperbole, Mr. Xu. Take your shoes off."
"Hyperbole, understatement…it's whatever you say, sweetheart." He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, and you do the same, puckering your lips cutely. He rolls his eyes, craning his neck to press a chaste kiss to them; the minty scent of toothpaste wafting off. You twist out of his hold, sliding your fingers in his and tugging him towards the back of the house.
The common areas say more about you than he could've ever figured — dozens, if not hundreds of photos and memories scatter the baby blue walls from crown molding to baseboards. Huge art pieces are tastefully hung around the living room, gorgeous Tiffany lamps on glossy side tables, a beautiful deep sapphire sofa set with soft throw blankets. A pair of cream pillows with golden stitching are strewn on the recliner in the corner, the coffee table exhibiting an open book with highlighter and annotations next to a journal with blue ink scrawled across the lined pages.
"This is my humble abode, you can get a tour later." You hoot, pulling him through a dimmer hallway. The walls are painted a deep cherry red behind the quilted sapele shelves of vinyls, a player atop a barely open matching credenza. If he peeked inside, he'd see even more vinyls — retired ones you no longer played until you remember that one good song, what was it? I think I have the record!
Your bedroom is nothing like what he'd expect from you. The walls are forest green, the curtains dark brown and the blinds drawn. Your bed is in the middle of the room, surrounded by stunning zebrano furniture. Your ceiling boasts a massive fan, the blades shaped like moth wings and spinning slowly. The walls are covered with baseball paraphernalia, rock music posters, a Catwoman poster next to your closet and another vinyl — Hold The Girl by Rina Sawayama, hung directly above another player.
"Do you like?" You ask, your hair still in disarray as you tilt your head. He nods slowly, "very cool. Earthy…a little dark."
"I'm gonna have a massive hangover. Gotta keep it dark for now."
"Oh, no doubt babe."
"Not your babe."
"True," he says pointedly, glancing down at you. You're pouting, and he coos; lithe fingers tucking your hair behind your ears. He toys with the earrings speckled about the shells, a gold hoop catching his attention as he fiddles with it, "what's with the face?"
"You didn't call."
"Ahh…did you want me to?"
"…Maybe. I don't know."
You shrug, toying with the strings of his sweatpants. He hums, smoothing his hand over your hair before pressing his lips to your forehead, "we can talk about this later, yeah? When you're not tipsy and I'm not about to pass out."
"We could, yeah." You agree quietly, dropping your hands from his clothes and gesturing towards the bathroom, "that way. You can change or shower, too, I set some stuff out in case you did."
"Can barely stand but is a good host. Very redeeming."
"Careful, you'll fall in love with me and I don't quite feel like cleaning up that mess."
He chuckles, pinching your cheek as you swat at his hip. He makes his way to the bathroom, the door ajar as he slips in. He hears you shuffling around, likely making yourself comfortable as he flicks the light on — a soft yellow light illuminates a stone shower with a smooth bench and golden fixtures. There's a fluffy white towel on the sink, a new toothbrush laid out next to it with a small array of travel toiletries. He tongues his cheek, glancing at himself in the mirror — more pictures of you and your friends. Polaroids taken in that very bathroom tucked neatly into the corners of the mirror's frame. Mingyu, Tzuyu, Hansol, Jihyo. A bunch of other people he's met in passing — Yoo Jeongyeon (a singer-songwriter), Jeon Wonwoo (a photographer for Cherry Jubilee)…
Wen Junhui, his life-long best friend and an actor — also a model on his limited free time for Cherry Jubilee and the face of Tzuyu's Lazy Baby menswear. He raises a brow, filing the photo away in his mind as he strips to get in the shower.
He doesn't let himself think much as he goes through the motions of his routine, opting to get in quick and get out quicker. He brushes his teeth, opting to towel dry his hair so as to not wake you if you're already asleep. He glances at the pictures once more, his eyes lingering on Junhui's squished cheek with yours before flicking the light off and ducking back out.
You're curled into a ball, facing away from the bathroom but the duvet is pulled back where he assumes you want him to lay down. You stir slightly, your hand blindly reaching behind you as he slips onto the mattress. Your fingers brush his shirt, quickly bunching it in your hand as you pull him down. He bites back his smile, sinking into the bed behind you and pulling the duvet over his hips. Your hand grabs his, interlacing your fingers and holding them to your chest.
"Can I ask you something?" He murmurs, and you hum, nodding as he curls himself around you, holding himself up on his elbow. He peers down at you, biting back his smile at the way your lashes kiss your cheeks. "What's your walk-up song?"
You snort, letting out a tired laugh as you peel an eye open, raking it over his face as he leans over you. He presses his lips to your cheek, the warmth of your skin flushing against his, "it's When I Grow Up by The Pussycat Dolls."
"You've always known you'd be a big deal, huh?"
"I was made for this. Now, sleep. Hold me."
He snickers, planting a kiss to your temple as you hum. Your hand is tight around his, high on your chest as he buries your face in the back of your neck, a thin necklace brushing his lips. Your skin smells of pears and lilies, an underlying powder scent filling his nose as he sighs, letting his body sag into the mattress.
He doesn't bother thinking about how he could fall in love with you.
And maybe, already has.
THE BALL PARK IS MASSIVE — MINGHAO CAN'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME HE'D SEEN SOMETHING SO ARTIFICIALLY GREEN.
He's still peeking out through one of the hallways, basking in the chill of the air conditioning that will disappear the moment he steps onto the field. There's people sitting in the stands that aren't exactly customers. There's managers, photographers, even interviews happening right on the turf. Some players are dressed fully, caps set backwards and casualness drifting off their set-back shoulders — and then there's you, in black shorts and a Daegu Diamonds Training Camp t-shirt and standing at the mound.
A woman in standing in front of you but he knows its you — red nails, now trimmed short, digging into your arms as you cross them on your chest. She's got you looking up, passing a fluffy brush under your eyes before allowing you to step back from her. Your lips have that same gloss carefully glimmering under the lights, and your hair is slicked back with a sheen of gel — but he can't focus on just you as more people surround you. A taller man hands you a ball of many in his bag and a permanent marker, making you talk about one thing or another as you're scribbling your autograph on the composite leather.
"That's Y/N Kim." Seokmin's voice is suddenly in his ear, as is the slosh of the ice in a drink. Minghao glances down, seeing Seokmin holding a Daegu Diamonds Collectible cup filled to the brim with lemonade and covered with a clear lid — and a jersey draped over his arm with a matching one resting on his shoulders.
"Guess you're having the time of your life, huh?" Minghao chuckles, and Seokmin shrugs as he holds the jersey out to him. It's a crisp white with the signature powder blue and navy grey details of the Daegu Diamonds logo, and it's not sporting any of the autographs that Seokmin's is. "You earn those stripes?"
"You know it," Seokmin sips his drink, before gesturing around the park. "I spent my weekends growing up driving all around the country with my parents to see the Diamonds play. Got the shirt big so it'd fit forever. Look at me now, close with the players and with season tickets! Oh…and bringing you along!"
"Aww, you're sweet," Minghao chuckles as he rolls his eyes, carefully taking the jersey and pulling it over his shirt. He doesn't bother buttoning it, opting to look around the park from his spot in the hall, "we'll be in the audience during the game?"
"And we're having dinner with Seungcheol and Y/N before we fly out tomorrow at noon. The other teammates have plans, and a few are actually going out to Japan to see you strut your stuff," Seokmin bumps Minghao's hip with his, before the crunch of cleats and your voice traveling catches his attention.
"It was incredible! Shanghai never disappoints me," your laugh is soft as you're suddenly in front of him and Seokmin. Your eyes are wide as you feign surprise, extending your hand to him, "you must be…Minghao. I heard I was going to meet you today."
"Xu Minghao, yes. He's throwing your first pitch today!" Seokmin beams beside him, as Minghao carefully takes your hand as though he hadn't pinned it by your head only a week earlier. You gave his a soft squeeze, "you're even more ethereal in person."
"Haven't heard that one yet." Minghao smiles gently, making you roll your eyes. "Y/N Kim. I've heard a lot about…you."
"You don't know a thing about baseball."
"Not nearly as much as I know about soccer."
"Zero times zero is still zero, Mr. Xu."
"Sense of humor, I like her," Minghao looks over his shoulder at Seokmin. He's got that twinkle in his eye that Minghao has learned to recognize when he wants to say something he shouldn't. "Whatever you're thinking—"
"I'm not thinking anything! Y/N, beloved, teach this guy a thing or two." Seokmin pats Minghao's shoulder, before his eyes catch your hand still holding his. "You can't hold hands, rumors will fly."
"Not a baseball player and a model, what would the people say?" You pretend to be scandalized, but effectively drop Minghao's hand to hold your own to his chest. "Xu Minghao steps into the Diamond Life…pretty catchy headline."
"I'll leave you two to this…odd mating dance," Seokmin turns on his heel, and Minghao almost turns to face you before Seokmin turns once more, "oh, don't let me forget…I'll ask why you're both wrapped up in an NDA dated back two years after the game."
Your face reads like a book — and Seokmin only smiles before holding his phone up.
"Don't CC me next time!" He beams, walking backwards before turning around and calling Seungcheol's name, the captain whipping his head over to see him bounding over. Minghao gingerly reaches over and closes your mouth, his knuckle tapping your chin as a sheepish smile spreads on his lips.
"I may or may not have forgotten that my email is automatically set to do that." He says softly, and you cross your arms with what he can't discern is playful or serious disappointment. He matches your expression easily, "hey, it's no better than you soft-launching us on your Instagram! My back, my jewelry, my jacket—"
"You don't even follow me on there! How could you possibly—"
"You're involved in so many people's lives that are important to me. It's only common sense that you'd eventually make that team, too." He states firmly, and you make no move to hide the way a soft smile is spreading on your lips. "Stop."
"Aw, I'm important to you?"
"Y/N."
"Invite me to your show in Tokyo."
You're almost too close, your hands clasped behind your back as you bat your lashes at him. He scoffs out a laugh, cheeks warming at the proximity as he realizes people around you give absolutely zero fucks about either of you.
He could kiss you and no one would care.
He wants to. And he wants them to care and he wants to brag.
"Don't you have to go practice or something?" Minghao's voice is much less confident with you in his face, his eyes flickering down to your lips as you pout. His knees feel slightly weak, "don't do that."
"Invite me to your show, Minghao."
"I already know that Jeonghan gave you a ticket on my behalf."
"True…but I want to hear it from you."
He rolls his eyes, his hands finding home on your hips and pulling you slightly closer. You easily drape your arms over his shoulders, peering at him through your lashes with a shy smile, "I missed you."
"You saw me yesterday. In your bed, mind you."
"Mmh…but you didn't kiss me before you left."
"Didn't know our NDA required goodbye kisses."
You press your lips to his gently, his arms tightening around your waist as he nips at your lower lip, "come to my show."
"Say please and I might even let you—"
"We're in public. Please come to my show and tell me I look pretty."
You only smile against his lips, "can I soft launch on Instagram again?"
"If that's what you need to do to ease me into the Diamond Life."
"Come on, loser. I can't have my NDA partner embarrassing himself on the mound. Today, pitcher. Tomorrow…supermodel. What a life you live."
Minghao hadn't bothered to hide the way your thigh was thrown over his at dinner, and neither of you explained anything to Seokmin — it was easy to figure out. Seungcheol and Jeonghan had fun dissecting your vague Instagram posts, finding details of Minghao in almost any and every post — including the orchid-stamped signet ring that was in almost every single one of your posts. Minghao doesn't know how he missed it, but all he knows is that he'd really missed you.
It's been three days since the show.
You'd sat quietly, dressed in a beautiful red dress from Tzuyu's unreleased Lazy Baby Spring collection — and that same dress was featured hanging in the back of one of the photos in Minghao's latest Instagram post. Along with a snapshot (courtesy of Jeonghan) of your hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans while the two of you roamed Tokyo, a cropped picture of your friends all crowded together in a too-small booth for a delicious dinner…
And a picture of your hands interlaced, with a new, matching orchid-stamped signet ring on his finger — all of it set to Heartburn by Sunmi.
xuminghao_o: home, no matter where we are.
↳ 💬 diamonddazed: welcome to the diamond life, lover ♡
synopsis: your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you.
genre: college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes.
pairing: football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader
word count: 15.3k
rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking (weed), mentions of food and eating. mutual pining, vernon is a plot device (because i love him.) mentions of infidelity and situationships. vernon calls reader bunny. mingyu and y/n are fucking stupid. mentions of omegas (i had to do it.) kissing, petnames (baby, honey, pretty, etc.) brief dry humping, making out.
what to listen to: what do i call you? - taeyeon ; run for the hills - tate mcrae ; number one girl - rosé ; rain - swv ; hooked on your love - en vogue ; cherish the day - sade ; call me baby - exo.
author's note: happiest birthday to my dear @tomodachiii ♡ i hope you forgive me for having been so ominous in the chat, and know that i love you so dearly. also, i was going to write the smut but i chickened out, mingyu is just too sexy for my brain. please eat well and stay healthy. also, thank you to both @100vern & @wonuwoe for giving me their journalism insight, as i am unfortunately a woman in stem that knows nothing about it.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRITING THE COLUMN ABOUT ME?"
You roll your eyes, sighing as your fingers rub your temples. Your best friend is currently seated not even five feet away, his lower lip jutted out in a pout as the steam from his oxtail bone soup wafts in his face. You'd been attempting to soothe his woes about the stupid column piece for the last thirty minutes, even bribing him by saying you'd spend your last twenty dollars on dessert if he dropped the topic.
While nothing can get in the way of Mingyu and his food, his best friend writing a column about a sport he plays, giving one player spotlight, and not choosing him was something he simply could not let go. "Y/N, that's not fair."
"Except it is, Gyu. All the features I've written this season have been about you. One more and people might think I'm in love with you." You huff, forcing your lips into a smile as the waitress slides your order of soft tofu stew in front of you. You thank her quietly, and she simply nods her head curtly before going about her way. Mingyu eyes your bowl, the pout on his lips only deepening as you sigh, sliding your bowl over for him to dip his spoon into.
"I just think you should care about me more." He sniffs, blowing softly on the spoonful of broth from your stew. You quirk a brow as he brings the spoon to his mouth, your own lips twitching slightly at the roll of his eyes from the perfect balance of flavors on his tongue. You loved watching him eat, it was one of your favorite past times.
Not that he needed to know that.
"Mingyu, I do care about you. The newspaper has given me six columns this season alone, and I've interviewed you every single time. Let someone else have a chance." You take your bowl back, but not before he spears the jiggly tofu with his spoon, making you snicker as he burns his tongue on it.
"Why would I do that when you're my best friend? Are you saying you want to give someone else that chance? Like who, Chan? You know he smells like macaroni, right? And he bites." Mingyu breathes around the hot piece of tofu in his mouth, and you only laugh as you slide his bowl of rice closer to you. You take a bit on your spoon, dipping it into your stew before shrugging your shoulders.
"Mingyu, everyone knows you're a star, okay? You've scored sixty-two out of sixty-seven touchdowns so far, and that's just this season. You're the only quarterback in Hawk history that hasn't blown out his shoulder, which is insane. You're one of the best players in terms of field time and academics. That thing you made for your Architectural Design course? Your Apartment of a Lonely Soul model? You got displayed at the Museum of Arts for that two fucking weeks ago, and I put you in the paper for that. The people love Kim Mingyu, I think it's only fair that I give someone else a smidge of the spotlight."
He rolls his eyes, but you see the faint blush creeping on his cheeks and ears as he takes a sip of his water.
Whether you care to admit it or not, you know that the people you speak of, also refer to you.
You know that the way you write about Mingyu in your columns is the way a proud friend does, someone who cares, someone who loves him – and you know it shows bias. You know that if anyone watched your relationship with Mingyu from afar, they could tell how much you care about him, how much he means to you, how much you love him.
And you're worried that one day, someone might look too close and realize that your love for him is nothing even remotely close to platonic.
It hasn't been for the last six years of your life-long friendship.
If someone asks you, you're honest. You tell them Mingyu has been your best friend for years. You tell them that you've soothed his broken heart time and time again, that he's held your hair while you've thrown up and he's scared off shitty guys constantly. You tell them that when he's drunk, he sends you ramblings on Snapchat and eventually makes his way to your apartment to crash on your couch. You tell them that you feed him before he crashes, and make him hydrate before he goes down.
You tell them that your mom loves Mingyu, and how helpful he is when he goes home with you every so often. You tell them that he makes the best short rib soup and you've never seen someone so willing to build a bookshelf with your father. You tell them that Mingyu gets along well with your siblings, even going as far as going home with you one summer to coach your little brother's flag football team with your dad.
And then, like always – they tell you that there's no man that does that for anyone he sees as just his friend.
You choose to ignore it.
You continue to write your pieces about him, long-winded and full of purple prose in order to talk him up. You're of the idea that everyone who is capable of loving, should love Mingyu. They do, everyone on campus adores the gentle giant that he is – everyone includes girl after girl after girl.
Mingyu has had three girlfriends in the twenty years that you've been his friend. He's definitely the kind of guy that likes to commit – each one lasted anywhere from a year to three. His last one, Sowon, lasted a year and a half – before he found out that she was hooking up with a guy (read: your ex-boyfriend, Daewon) on the baseball team while he was at practice.
He didn't even need her to confirm it, because he walked in on it in the men's locker room. He'd been twenty minutes late to practice, opting to drive you to a game tech convention on the other side of town. You'd practically begged him to, saying that you wanted to write a report about it for your Digital Media course and he just couldn't say no.
He doesn't remember exactly what he said to her, her eyes full of guilt and regret as she quickly dressed herself and pushed past him. However, he does remember the odd feeling in his chest, and the way he tried to figure it out as he skipped practice and drove all the way back to the other side of town to pick you up.
He remembers the look on your face when you came out of the convention with your phone in hand to get a rideshare, only to see him parked front and center waiting for you against the grill of his old pick-up truck. He didn't want to talk about it, but essentially told you things between them were over as he drove the two of you to the very same diner the two of you are sitting at now, ordering all of his favorites and scarfing them down while he asked you to tell him everything about the convention. It was the most dejected you'd ever seen him look, but you also knew Mingyu well.
There was a hint of relief behind the glaze of hurt.
That was a year ago. Now, the two of you are sitting on the impending doom of graduation. You're awaiting a call back from an internship you applied to last year, and Mingyu was awaiting a letter from a Masters' program. You were both single, your last situationship ending shortly after starting because the guy was convinced you and Mingyu had a thing – simply because he came over (uninvited, unannounced) on a night where Mingyu insisted you watch the entirety of Park Chanwook's Vengeance trilogy. You didn't care too much – not when the two of you were nervous wrecks, doing everything and anything to fill your racing minds and not think about your futures.
Much like sitting in this diner and sharing a meal, your foot resting on the side of his thigh as he sits on the opposite side of the booth.
"You're too far away." He pouts, before sliding his bowl across the table and standing up, slipping next to you in the cracked vinyl booth. You worm slightly closer to the window, pretending the sudden wave of his spicy cologne doesn't make your head spin. It settled so well with the powdery scent of his detergent, the softer smell that reminded you of laying on a blanket with him, stargazing out on the football field during spring midterms.
You can't hide the way your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your spoon, but Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing.
"You cold? You're shaking like a leaf." He eyes you with a raised brow, and doesn't allow you to respond before you feel him tug his hefty letterman jacket off. The black leather sleeves brush your sweater, and you find yourself being cocooned in the warmth that now filled the jacket, radiating off your best friend's body with ease.
"You're a human furnace, Mingyu." You mutter to yourself, feeling him ruffle your hair as he moves his water closer to him, opting to rearrange all the side dishes as you carefully inched away from him. You could be caught staring and Mingyu wouldn't tease you about it, you knew that much – but to be caught tensing at the brushing of your thigh with his, your arm with his, your hand with his…would be much more embarrassing.
"So I've been told. Don't think you're gonna butter me up into forgetting about the fact that you hate me, Y/N." He gives you a pointed look as he stirs his soup, your jaw dropping slightly to gape up at him.
"Oh my God, Mingyu! I don't hate you, you're making this a bigger deal than it is!" You whine, but don't miss the way he smiles around his straw, his broad shoulders taking up way too much of your space as he shrugs.
"I mean, six pieces on me in one season, but you won't make your last piece about me? And it's to spotlight a player? You've been giving me the spotlight all season! You can't take it away from me, I'll get withdrawals."
"Mingyu, there has gotta be something I can do to get you to get over this. I already offered to pay for dessert, and I'm letting you pick. What else do you want from me?" Your voice is exasperated, but you don't like the glint of mischief in Mingyu's eyes as he looks down at you. He traces your features, before a soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
"What are you doing Friday night?"
"Mingyu."
"You're not doing me, sweetheart. I need you to focus."
You gape inwardly, scoffing out a laugh and running your hand through your hair as you tilt slightly to face him. He's already looking at you, his tongue running over his lower lip as you meet his eyes.
"I mean…unless you want to."
"You are so fucking irritating." You scoff, shoving his shoulder as he giggles. Mingyu rarely made comments like that, but when he did, it was like he was the master of timing. He loved to catch you off guard, even going as far as pinching your cheek or sidling up to you really close to emphasize his point. He'd give you that cheeky smile, he'd look at you like you put the stars in the sky and sometimes, just sometimes, those eyes would dart down to your lips before flickering away and ending the bit.
All in good fun, you always thought.
Of course you'd thought about it, about him. About what being a lover to him would be like, about what he was like as a boyfriend. You saw it, the way he treated his girlfriends – with the utmost care, the biggest gentleman you'd ever met. He held doors open, he carried them over puddles, he retired his jackets and hoodies to their shoulders if the air even had a hint of a chill in it.
But, he cooked for you. He cleaned for you, he helped you with your projects and asked for your opinion on his. He held you close, no matter who was in his life – and it became a point of contention in his relationships. So much so that any girl that he began talking to had to meet you first – and he'd observe quietly. He'd watch you try to befriend them, how your animated personality often dwindled in their presence. He'd notice the way your smile would softly fade, often replaced with a furrow in your brows before you glanced at him, as if to say, next.
You approved of Sowon, because she was sweet. She was nice to you, and she was nice to Mingyu, until she wasn't.
You approved of his longest girlfriend, Soyoung, because she tried her hardest to get along with you and even invited you to her own social gatherings – regardless of if Mingyu would be in attendance or not. The two ended when Soyoung decided she wasn't built for sharing Mingyu's attention, and he let her go without so much as a second thought.
You approved of his first girlfriend, Sohee, because you were all idiots in high school and you didn't think it would matter that much to Mingyu – and you'd told him so.
You also did it because it was year two of you dealing with your newfound romantic feelings for Mingyu, and you figured if he had a girlfriend – he wouldn't notice the way you drifted from him. If it meant keeping your friendship and dissolving your romantic feelings for the puppy-eyed man, you would take the leap of being distant.
However, return to the abovementioned point: Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing. He broke things off with Sohee after a year, noticeably missing your presence and seeking you out so much your mother asked you if you were dating. You remember the look of pity in her eyes when you'd answered in the negative.
"What, Miss Y/N, are you doing on Friday night?"
You try to ignore the smile on his lips as he leans slightly closer, closing your eyes as you sigh.
"Nothing, Mingyu. I'm not doing anything."
"Now you are."
"I'm broke, Gyu."
"Pretty girls never pay, hm?" He gives you a pointed look, and you sink slightly into his jacket, sliding a bit down the booth as your cheeks burn. He only laughs, his warm fingers pinching the fat of your cheek before you swat him away. "God, you'd think I've never complimented you. We've been friends our entire lives, what's your deal?"
"Nothing! You're just a twerp who doesn't mean it." You stick your tongue out at him, before feeling the tips of his fingers graze your jaw. He tilts your head up to face him, a quizzical look in his eyes.
"What makes you say that? You think I say things just to make you feel better?"
You raise a brow as his fingers squish your cheeks together, your lips puckering slightly as you reply, "I mean…don't you?"
"No, Y/N. I don't. I think you're pretty, why would I lie about that?" He scoffs, before tilting his head in the direction of your stew. "Eat."
The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence, your cheeks remaining hot under his soft gaze and gentle gestures. He drove the two of you to get dessert across town, his card hitting the reader before you could even fish out your wallet to spend your last twenty dollars as promised. He wiped your face of stray cookie crumbs as you ate in his car with the heat blasting, your own hand swatting him away constantly.
He walked you up to your apartment, biting back his laugh as your roommate, Hansol, nearly fell on his ass trying to pry open the living room window to air out the smell of weed. He smiled hazily at Mingyu, before Mingyu's best friend appeared out of your bathroom, stoned out of his mind.
"Sol, you said you wouldn't hotbox the living room again." You groan, setting your purse down on the foyer table. He winces, before pointing at Wonwoo.
"His idea."
"Your apartment, idiot." Wonwoo rolls his bloodshot eyes, and Mingyu only grimaces as he quietly offers to let you spend the night at his place. You decline it almost immediately, not wanting a repeat of the first (and last) time you ever spent the night at Mingyu's apartment. Yours had flooded, and Hansol had found solace in his girlfriend's arms (and apartment) while you were left to fend for yourself.
Not really. Not if Mingyu had any say in it – and he did.
That night was like a scene out of a movie, the way he literally slammed into you fresh out of the shower. You remember the perfect way the moonlight lit him up through the cracked window, the drops of water on his abdomen burned into your brain. You also remember sleeping on the very edge of his bed that night, so much so that he eventually moved to the floor to let you get a good night's rest. You left the next day to invade Hansol and his girlfriend, Saerom, for the next two days while your apartment was fixed.
Neither of you spoke about it since, and you thanked your lucky stars that it was never brought up.
You let Wonwoo and Hansol bicker on your ratty couch, rolling your eyes as you held the door for Mingyu. He leaned against the doorway slightly, smiling down at you through perfectly bitten pink lips.
"I'll see you around, Gyu." You offer softly, rolling your eyes and tilting your head towards the two stoners now fighting over the remote to watch movies on your Amazon Prime account.
"Friday." He corrects, and you suddenly realize how easily he stares at you like he knows something about you. You clear your throat, your cheeks growing even hotter as he tilts your chin up to look at him. "Say it. Say you'll see me on Friday. I'll pick you up from the office."
"I'll see you on Friday." You murmur, earning a wink from him.
"See you, pretty."
He spins on his heel, tucking his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket as he barrels down the stairs of your apartment complex. You watch over the railing as he gets to his car, waving as he looks up. He waves back, opening his car door and almost instantly pulling out of the parking lot.
What you don't know is how he settles into the way your citrus perfume is now infused with his on the material of his jacket. His cheeks are warm at the idea of your flustered state in the diner earlier, and when you were sitting in his car eating your cookies. How your shy smile was only ever present around him, immediately disappearing if someone else joined your conversations or if you were around literally anyone else.
Like he made you nervous, something he'd noticed almost a decade ago. The way he could listen to you, talk to you, look at you all day – and you just brushed it off like it was nothing but you couldn't hide the twinge of fluster in your voice around him. The way you constantly talked about him if you thought he wasn't listening.
How you wrote all your pieces about him, and how all his friends teased him about how in love you sounded. How enamored you sounded when you wrote about him, how passionate you were about sharing him and his success with the world to appreciate. He could date these pieces back to the first semester of your freshman year together, but he's liked you far longer than that.
Mingyu knew a lot of things, but he knew you best. You hadn't ever cared about someone the way you had him, and you made it very obvious. He crossed all his fingers, hoping the feeling in his chest when you brushed against him was something you felt, too. Hoping that you also settled in your bed and your only thoughts before closing your eyes were of him as his were of you.
Hoping that you liked him, in the same way. Hoping that you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours, what it would feel like to slot your fingers together in more than just a platonic way. He wondered if you'd let him kiss you breathless, he wondered if your eyes lingered on him that night because you liked what you saw.
Yeah, Mingyu likes you. He likes you a lot.
"NO CAN DO, Y/N. YOU ALREADY SAID YOU'D INTERVIEW LEE CHAN."
Hansol was sitting on the edge of his desk with a lollipop between his lips, looking over the rough drafts of your fellow journalists. How all of you at the Hawk Review ended up under Hansol Chwe was beyond you, but you weren't complaining. He was smart and calculated, creative, and he figured out a way to redirect some of the funding to better snacks and a Keurig for the Hawk Review Committee.
And you can't lie, either – he was a very just and fair editor. He didn't let just anyone onto the committee, often going through rigorous interviewing processes (for virtually no reason except vibes) and even going as far as making you his second in command – so long as you agreed that what happened at the HRC, stayed at the HRC.
As your editor, he was more than willing to listen to you drone on and on about literally anything having to do with any of your columns or articles. As your roommate, Hansol did not want to talk about the committee at all – he preferred throwing popcorn at you while you bickered over who was dumber in How I Met Your Mother. You both agreed it was definitely Ted for the majority of the show.
"I'm gonna have to pull a veto on that, Chwe. I need to write about Mingyu." You sigh frustratedly, running a hand through your hair as you stuff your laptop into your tote. Hansol eyes you, before sliding the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing it at you.
"You are down atrociously for that guy, you know that? The dating rumors that I've had to deny for you are driving me towards the brink of insanity."
You scoff in offense, your mouth attempting to form around words but only resulting in odd noises before you cover your face with your hands.
"Hansol!"
"Y/N!"
"I am not down anything for Mingyu, okay? I just know that if as a journalist, consistency is key, is it not? If I have put my best foot forward towards a project, in this case, interviewing Mingyu regularly for my columns…wouldn't it be just and fair, as a journalist with a semi-Mingyu-based following, to give him Spotlight of The Season? Wouldn't it be, oh wise one, something just and fair to have him be the topic of my last column as your second-in-command, Editor Chwe?"
Hansol only smiles, shaking his head before sighing. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/N."
"So I've been told. Please, Sol. Mingyu will kill me if I don't do my last piece on him." You clasp your hands in front of you, jutting your lips out in a pout as you bat your lashes at him. He only snorts, tossing his unfinished lollipop into the trash can. He slides into the chair behind the heavy mahogany desk, a glint of mischief in his eyes that you can't quite place as he opens his laptop. He types away as you cross your arms across your chest, bearing your weight on one foot, tapping the other nervously.
"Well, let's see. You've written six columns on Mingyu this year alone, and one of them had nothing to do with football. Your column about his exhibit at the Museum of Arts last month was actually a great piece." He peers at you over the top of his laptop, and you tilt your head. "The Museum emailed our coordinator, you know. Said that your piece brought their ticket sales up by five percent."
Your jaw drops slightly, "You're kidding."
"I'm not." He shrugs, returning his line of vision to the laptop in front of him. You can see the way his cheeks move slightly, as if he's suppressing a smile, "You know, the coordinator who writes the recommendation letters for our internships. Mrs. Lee."
"Hansol, if you're kidding, please shut up right now." Your voice is whiny as he smiles softly. You'd only ever seen him smile that way when he's going to deliver good news, as if to soften the blow, lessen the shock value. A smile that screams you deserve this, and everything good that comes your way.
"Mrs. Lee asked me what I thought of you, Y/N." He leaned back in his chair, pulling the drawer open and taking out yet another lollipop. He offers you one, and you take the green apple, unwrapping it as you lean on the desk. "She also asked me if I'd be willing to write your recommendation letter."
Your eyes widen, "Hansol, please–"
"Don't beg me. I hate it when you beg." He rolls his eyes, turning his laptop to face you. It's open to Y/N LETTER - DRAFT 2 OF 6. You can feel your nose burn as tears sting your eyes, and he closes the laptop before speaking.
"It will still go through Mrs. Lee for review, and for her to add her own notes. I think your dedication to the Hawk Review Committee has been absolutely insane. You've never failed to deliver, and everyone always loves your pieces, whether they're about Mingyu's abilities as a quarterback, Mingyu's talent for architecture and eye for what looks good. I think you're right, consistency as a journalist is key." He nods, giving you a knowing look.
"I'm sensing a but, here."
"But, I won't submit something that goes against what is true. I wrote in here that I think you're a brave individual who takes on any challenge life gives you. Submitting that when I know it's simply not true is a violation of ethics, giving false information and whatnot." He taps the metal of his laptop, and your brows furrow.
"What?"
"I'm not submitting this until you tell Mingyu that you're in love with him. That gives you…" He checks his phone, "Three days. Three days to confess, so I can submit this to Mrs. Lee and she can get it in at your internship before the deadline closes and you're inevitably out of an opportunity at your own volition."
Your jaw drops fully, "You're kidding."
"I can assure you, Miss Y/N, I am not." He smiles lazily, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. You scoff, but nothing tells you he's serious more than the way he opens his phone and sets a timer for seventy-two hours. "Three. Days. Hop to, bunny."
"Hansol."
"Oh, and I need your Spotlight of the Season column by then, too. Gotta skim through to make sure you don't say he's the love of your life in paragraph three again."
"Oh, fuck you! That was one time!" You pout, "Don't do this to me, Vern. I literally helped you get that date with Saerom last year!"
"And look at me now, Y/N!" He holds up his phone, a picture of him and Saerom filling the screen. "Just because you don't have balls, doesn't mean you can't have balls, you know?"
"Wise words from Hansol Vernon Chwe." You hear Mingyu's voice fill the room, making you jump as Hansol smiles. He winks at you, before making a shooing motion with his hand.
"Get outta here, Y/N. And I want that damn column on the desk before Monday at six, you hear me?" He points the new lollipop at you, and you ignore the way your cheeks heat as Mingyu's arm drapes around your shoulders and he bids Hansol goodbye. You flip Hansol the bird as he makes kissing faces at you, Mingyu pulling you towards the door of the office.
"How was your day?" He asks as the door closes behind you, the chill of the November air piercing through your thin cardigan and making you regret the short skirt you chose earlier that day. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to tell him to cut it out with the small talk – when his fingers pluck the lollipop out from between your lips and plant it straight onto his tongue.
"Mingyu! You're so gross!" You gape at him, swatting his side as he giggles around the hard candy, scooting away from you. His arm that was around your shoulder falls to his side, before you notice the way he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, making you hold your hands out in protest. "No. Keep it, it's cold."
"You're shivering." He says matter-of-factly, and you try to ignore the forming green tint on his lips from your lollipop, your eyes flickering up to his with a feigned look of confidence.
"I'm in the presence of a collegiate football superstar and future architect of the coolest buildings in our city, forgive me for being a little excited." You huff dramatically as you feel his warm jacket being draped over your shoulders. A defeated sigh escapes from your lips as his hands rest on your shoulders, guiding you out of the Literature building and towards his old pick-up.
You remember when he got it, the powder blue paint job with white detailing being a choice from his father before he passed it down to Mingyu. It was a 1992 GMC Sierra 1500, and he was definitely too big to fit in the cab but he loved that old thing more than anything in this world. He learned how to drive in it when he was sixteen, and his father finally gifted it to him on his eighteenth birthday – you remember being half-awake, toothbrush still in your mouth when you started getting shaken like maraca when he came to pick you up for school the next morning. Your mom did not trust Mingyu to drive you both to school, but with Mingyu's puppy eyes comes a certain brand of begging that no one can say no to.
Granted, he almost crashed from excitement but you both made it safe and sound.
"Where are you taking me?" You ask suddenly, remembering nothing had been discussed the night he brought it up. He shrugged, opening the passenger side door and helping you into the bench seat.
"Just relax, okay? It's, like, a twenty-minute drive."
You struggle not to roll your eyes, settling into the felt cushion and sliding your tote onto the dash. You pop open his glove box, his collection of cassettes messily thrown in. You pluck out a random one, hearing him pry open his door and settle in his seat, the rickety door definitely needing a good wipedown with WD-40.
"Only you would have a cassette collection." You hold up his November Rain cassingle by Guns N' Roses, and he snorts inwardly. It was a senseless dig, because cassettes were all his car radio could read. It was either the cassettes or the staticky sound of the FM radio…so, pass.
"You're judging me, but I went out and found that En Vogue Funky Divas cassette for you. Remember, bidding on eBay is not good for you, sweetheart." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the still-wrapped cassette tape you'd fought some fifty-year-old woman for on eBay weeks prior. Your eyes widen, a huge grin spreading on your lips as you pluck it from his fingers, holding it to your chest.
"Oh, you love me, Kim Mingyu!" You squeal, and he rolls his eyes, reaching over you to buckle you in. You allow it, carefully peeling back the plastic wrap. Listen, you're a twenty-something in the twenty-first century, it's not that serious. (It is that serious, what did you fight that woman for if it wasn't to just keep it as a collector's item?)
"Hooked on Your Love should be side B." He says softly, shoving his key into the ignition as you crack open the plastic case. You nod, your smile still wide as you slip the cassette into the player, his hand moving to rest on your headrest as he backs out of his parking spot.
You ignore the flutter in your stomach, before the sound of It Ain't Over 'Til The Fat Lady Sings fills the cab. You nod your head along to it, before glancing over at Mingyu and seeing a small bandage across his cheekbone. Your hand instinctively floats up to it, your fingers stroking his skin gently as he pulls up to a red light.
"What happened here, Gyu?"
He looks at it in the rearview, his lip jutted in a pout. "Kiss it better and I'll tell."
You snort, "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious! I'm injured, oh, I'm so hurt." He feigns distress, clutching his chest just as the light turns green. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to face forward. The sun is setting, the light hitting Mingyu's skin just right as you will your eyes away.
"Seriously, Gyu. Did you get hurt?"
"Nah. It was Media Day, the stylist wanted something rugged. I didn't personally get it and she didn't explain how a singular bandage would convey that, but it's also not my expertise. I just let her do what she wanted." He shrugs, and you hum in response as he peels it off.
The silence between you, again, is comfortable.
But the growing knot in your stomach at his proximity, the smell of his cologne on his jacket surrounding you, the way the sun is making him look borderline fucking angelic – it's suffocating. You sigh inwardly, leaning your arm on the door and resting your head against your palm. You nod along to the music, your eyes scanning all the streets to see if you can figure out where Mingyu is taking you. He wasn't a secretive guy, but you couldn't ignore the roaring butterflies in your stomach at the idea that maybe he…had something planned.
Mingyu loved to plan things for the two of you to do. However, with your dedication to journalism, his practice and games and his studies – everything was far more sporadic and spontaneous. You didn't mind, you loved spending time with him in any way – but you were both sentimental people in the way that planning things you both knew you'd like was far more enjoyable.
You feel your cheeks burn at the realization that people weren't exactly wrong in assuming the two of you were a couple. You hated to admit it to yourself, because it was like giving into false hope and delusion. Sure, you were never going to think that you weren't enough for Mingyu – you were. At the end of the day, he is just a man. A man who picks his nose, probably.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
Mingyu's voice tears you from your thoughts, ones so clouding that you didn't even realize the car had stopped moving, the ending notes of Hooked On Your Love playing through the cab. You pouted, before looking up at him and seeing the old arcade you used to frequent during freshman year. Your eyes widen, noticing that you're parked under the same old tree you always parked beneath.
"Gyu, we haven't been here since freshman year."
"I know. I figured we could just have a good time because I'm not sure if I'll have time after the semifinals. Everyone's super pessimistic about the championships this year." He shrugs, killing the engine. You only nod along, clearing your throat as you realize how empty the parking lot is. For a Friday evening, that's unusual.
"Kind of empty, isn't it?" You mumble as he unlocks the door, not missing his smile in the side mirror as he slides out of his seat. You move to open your door, but he's already yanking it open, offering his hand to help you step down. Tugging your tote over your shoulder, you climb down and reluctantly pull your hand out of his as you shut the door.
"Did you know that museums pay you for displaying your work in their galleries?" He starts, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. You suck in a breath, a little too loud for your taste as you cough.
"Really? That's great, Gyu. I assume they shelled out a few hundred bucks, huh? I know I would for Apartment of a Lonely Soul. I'd display the shit out of that at my place." You scoff, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist. He hums, his fingers twirling in loose strands of your hair as you glance up at him. He has a mischievous smile playing on his lips as you both near the doors of the arcade. It's empty inside, making you dig your heels into the pavement.
"Gyu, maybe it's closed." You frown, but he raps his knuckles against the glass door in a pattern that reminds you of Hot for Teacher by Van Halen. You wait quietly, seeing your good friend Soonyoung turning the corner of the cashier's booth inside. He grins widely at you through the glass door, unlocking it quickly.
"Mingyu. Y/N." He greets, and you can't help but narrow your eyes as Mingyu pushes you forward through the threshold. He takes your bag off your shoulder and hands it to Soonyoung, who drapes it over his own shoulder before holding his hand out.
"You two…what did you do?" Your suspicion only makes Mingyu laugh, and you see him slide something, presumably money, into Soonyoung's hand before he turns his attention back to you. Soonyoung flips the sign to say CLOSED, the click of the lock making your eyes flit up to him. He only smiles, pocketing the money and strolling away, whistling the melody of Galaxy by Taeyeon.
"What do you wanna do first? Skeeball? Air hockey? Bowling?" Mingyu's hands on your shoulders are reassuring, the pads of his thumbs working soft circles into your trap muscles. You nibble on your lip, turning your head to look over your shoulder back at him.
"Did you rent this place out with the money the museum gave you?" You ask softly, trying to hide the subtle hint of disappointment in your voice. You had a horrible habit of insisting that Mingyu not spend money on you, something he brushed off time and time again. He peers down at you, a quirk in his brow as he smiles.
"Just pick a game, sweetheart."
You try not to show your increasing suspicion, your gut feeling telling you he's buttering you up for something as he guides you towards the bowling alley. The music playing in the arcade is louder than normal, and you try to focus on the sound of By Your Side by Sade playing through the speakers.
"Have they always played Sade? Last time we were here, I swear they were playing, like, Cascada and Keri Hilson." You look up at Mingyu, who just rolls his eyes as he makes you sit down on a bench in front of the bowling alley, kneeling in front of you and yanking your shoes off.
"You always focus this much on things that are so minuscule? We're at an arcade, alone. No lines, no screaming, no odd Dorito-Eating, Mountain-Dew drinking, Piña-Colada-Vaping gamers fighting us for our spot in the Galaga queue." He makes it all sound so magical, like the two of you didn't get a bunch of sixteen year olds kicked out several times the last few times you visited the arcade.
"Gyu–"
"Just chill, okay? And if I have to guilt trip you, I will. I'm not above it." He says pointedly, slipping the bowling shoes over your socked feet as you huff. You cross your arms as he ties the laces, before his warm hands splay across your knees. He smiles as your legs jerk at the sudden contact, before giving them a gentle squeeze.
"Now, beat me in two frames and I'll get us tickets to that furry convention that I know you're going to want to write a piece about." He stands, tugging you up from the bench and towards one of the alleys.
And it's easy. It's so easy to forget everything when you're with Mingyu, watching the way his shoulders tense under the tight black t-shirt he's wearing as he swings his ball back perfectly. The way his thick thighs are hugged by the slim fitting jeans he was wearing, the black watch on his wrist distracting you from the way his fingers slid easily into the bowling ball…
You don't manage to beat him in two frames, or three. Or four.
You don't win a single game, your brain entirely too distracted by just how couple-y this all seemed. How boyfriend-like Mingyu was acting, as he took you all over the arcade. He didn't ever go easy on you, beating you in game after game – air hockey, three games of Street Fighter II. He even managed to scam you out of the few coins you managed to get out of the coin pusher, before pulling you over to the Skee-ball machines.
"If you lose, you're buying dinner." He says pointedly, gathering the wooden balls in his hand as you gape up at him.
"This is so fucking unfair, Mingyu! You literally play football!"
You stomp your foot like a petulant child, only making him laugh softly.
"But if I offer to go easy on you, you'll complain. So which is it? Do you want me to have a filling dinner or do you want to win the weasel way?" He tilts his head at you, brow cocked high on his face as you scoff, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and shoving it into his chest, grabbing the balls from his hands. He slides the jacket on with a grin, watching the way you count the balls with your eyes. 7..8..9…Before looking up, your lip jutted out in a pout.
"No way you just called me a weasel, Kim Mingyu."
"Yes way. What're you gonna do about it, weasel?" He flicks the tip of your nose, making your brows furrow as you push past him to stand in front of the lane. He leans on Mrs. Pac-Man, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he watches you carefully. Your shoulders are too tense as you land a ball in the 40 zone, your elbows too stiff as another gracefully slips off the edge of 30 into the 10 when you turn around.
"Stop staring at me, I can feel the heat of your eyes on my back."
"Wasn't looking at your back, sweetheart." He chides, making you scoff and turn back around, rotating your wrist as you assume position. He steps forward slightly, sliding his arm around your waist and tilting you forward a bit. He feels your back stiffen as you suck in a breath, almost like he scared you.
"Mingyu!"
Almost.
"You're too tense. This is a game of grace, Y/N. Just relax." He murmurs, his other hand wrapping loosely around your wrist. You can feel his hips pressed against you, but it's fully innocent – aside from where your mind goes. He swings your arm back before pushing it forward and you let the ball slip from your fingers. You're grimacing as you watch it, feeling your lips twitch as it falls perfectly into the 100 zone.
"You just got lucky." You mutter, feeling his chest move against your back as he laughs.
"Yeah? Just luck, huh?"
Your breath hitches as his hits the back of your neck, and you curse yourself internally as he drums his fingers on the expanse of your belly. Swatting his hand away, you push him back but he doesn't move away. In fact, his arm around you tightens, pulling you slightly closer as you twist your head to look up at him.
"Then those hundred points should count in my favor, shouldn't they?"
You gape up at him, his smile all too warm and inviting as he winks at you, his finger coming to your chin and manually closing your mouth. "Focus, sweetheart."
He turns your face back to the lane, and you huff out a breath. "This feels like that meme of a broke guy holding onto his girlfriend while she pays for his shit."
"I hold you all the time, it's never bothered you before." He shrugs behind you, and you feel him settle his chin on your shoulder as his other arm wraps around you, linking his fingers above your navel. You can't help but roll your eyes, the action the only thing keeping you grounded as you reluctantly swing the rest of the balls in. 50, 40, 40, 30, 10.
"Last one." He whispers, his fingers lightly squeezing the softness of your belly between them. You squirm, elbowing his ribs lightly.
"Get away from me! I'm going to lose if you keep doing this." You whine, and he only giggles as he slides his arms away from around you. Huffing, you smooth your shirt and shake yourself off, assuming your position in front of the lane and swinging your arm back in the perfect slope for a 100…
…When you feel Mingyu's fingers poke at your sides, making you squeal and the ball goes barreling into the 30 zone.
"Mingyu!" You push his arm lightly as he laughs, grabbing your wrist to stop you from landing a smack to his shoulder. He pulls you into him, and you feel your stomach flip as you slap his chest. "You've been hanging out with Jeonghan, haven't you? And you have the nerve to call me a weasel?!"
"You would've lost anyway, sweetheart. You've got 350 points on the roster, there's no way you're not buying dinner." He taunts you, his nose mere centimeters from yours as he smiles. You're silent, the proximity far too much to even let out a breath when you feel your lips twitch into a scowl.
"You're not playing fair, Gyu."
"You're cute, honey. Now watch this."
He lets you slip from his grasp, slipping another quarter into the game and receiving his share of the wooden balls. And you, like an idiot – watch him. You watch him land 100 after 100, only once landing in the 50 zone. 850 points, 950 if you count the ones he got for you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes peering down at you with a glint you can't place as you cross your arms.
"I think I'd like to try that new place on Sixth Street." He says proudly, making you scoff in disbelief as he throws his arm over your shoulders. You shove him away lamely, only feeling his fingers pinch your cheek as he cooed. "Don't be such a sore sport, Y/N. Skeeball is not your forte."
"Neither are any of these other games, apparently." You grumble as he leads you through the arcade, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth on your jaw. He hums, pulling you into him impossibly closer.
"You wanna win something?" He asks gently, and you shake your head. You can almost hear him smiling, because you're not looking up at him, no fucking way – when he tilts your jaw up to face him. "C'mon. What do you want to play? Pac-Man?"
"No."
"Space Invaders?"
"No."
"Oooh, Sunset Riders?"
"Mingyu." You rolled your eyes as he leaned against one of the air hockey tables, keeping you close. Your lip was jutted in a pout, making him laugh softly as he enveloped you in a hug. Your hands pushed against his torso in an attempt to push him away. He sucks his teeth, looking down at you. Your eyes look guilty, and you can feel it sinking into your stomach as he analyzes you.
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but you know the words that come out aren't what he's thinking.
"Tell you what, we can take pictures in the photobooth and I'll buy dinner."
You hate how you instantly light up, your hands now fisting the fabric of his shirt as he rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile. "See? How aren't you a weasel when you make me feel bad and now I'm the one paying for dinner?"
"You said it yourself, pretty girls never pay." You reply smugly, your lips stretching into a smile as he scoffs. However, it seems like the world stills as he smooths your hair down, thumbing at your earrings – a pair he got you ages ago for your birthday – and mumbling.
"I did say that, didn't I?" He nods, before seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in and pushing off the air hockey table. You stumble back a bit, but your grip on his shirt is enough to keep you upright as his arm tightens around your waist. "Easy, pretty. Need you in one piece for these photos."
"And dinner!" You manage to stutter out, making him shake his head as he pulls you near the booth. The two of you see Soonyoung and his coworkers lounging around the cashier's booth, casually chattering while passing around a baby blue dab pen. Neither you nor Mingyu say anything, but neither does Soonyoung as he catches your eye – and he makes kissing faces at you.
Enough that you stick your tongue out at him, the feeling of Mingyu's fingers sliding between yours is the only thing that brings you back to reality.
The photobooth had been much bigger the last time you came here – or maybe Mingyu had been much smaller? He takes up over ¾ of the bench inside, and you scoff.
"Where am I supposed to sit?"
Mingyu glances up at you, shrugging as he pats his thigh. "Hop to."
"Yeah right, Gyu. Make yourself smaller."
"I'd make the booth bigger if I could, Y/N. Just not possible." He speaks as if he really cares that the two of you have outgrown the photobooth meant for children, shrugging his shoulders before patting his leg again. "C'mon, pretty."
You sigh, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder at Soonyoung. He just smiles, wiggling his brows as he takes a rip from the pen before handing it to Minghao. Mingyu holds his hand out, and you take it to steady yourself before pulling the curtain closed (much to Soonyoung's dismay.) You barely perch on his leg, smoothing your skirt slightly when he snakes his arm around you and pulls you down on his thigh fully, scooting you up higher.
"Act like you know me, will you?" He teases, before his hand comes to sweep the hair out of your eyes. "Ready? Need lip gloss?"
You grimace, crossing your arms as he tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "Did you just call me crusty?"
"No, but I did find your lipgloss in my car. It's in my pocket, the MyMelody one?" He shrugs, pushing your hair back over your shoulder and looking into the camera. You hesitate, before holding your hand out.
"Give it here."
"Is that how you ask?"
"Can I please have my lipgloss that I bought with my six dollars at Daiso? Pretty please, Kim Mingyu, football superstar and future architect of my home because I'm your best friend and you love me?" Your monotone voice makes him bite back his laughter, his hand sliding into his jean pocket with ease before pulling out your lip gloss. You eagerly snatch it out of his hand, screwing the top open and pressing the applicator to your lips in the camera.
If you looked just an inch to the left, you would've seen Mingyu admiring you.
"Ready now, Miss Diva?" He squeezes your hip lightly, and you smack your lips together before shoving the lipgloss in his jacket pocket and nodding.
"Yep! What pose? Smile first?" You press the camera button quickly, and he nods. You lean back a bit, your head pressed to his slightly as you both smile. The camera counts down from eight, and takes the picture as you feel your cheeks start to hurt.
"Remember that photo your mom has of us? Where you're winking and I'm holding up a peace sign over your eye?" He reminisces fondly as the camera begins counting down, and you snort before nodding, humming an alright.
The two of you pose for the camera again, your chest warming at his kissy-face on the screen. The camera flashes, and you look back at him, only to see him already holding up half a heart sign with his hand. You meet it, smiling in the camera again – only to see him smiling up at you.
"Mingyu, look at the camera." You say through gritted teeth, and he does so almost reluctantly, resting his temple on your shoulder as he smiles softly. The camera flashes for the last time, and you hear the strips print on the outside. You uncross your legs, pulling the curtain open to see Minghao sweeping in front of the cashier's booth as Soonyoung crunches numbers over the calculator, a pencil in his hand quickly scribbling on his yellow legal pad.
You duck out, grabbing the strips as Mingyu follows suit. You hold one up to him as you analyze yours, your heart slightly sinking at how much of a couple you guys look like. Tonguing your cheek, you run your thumb over Mingyu's face, before glancing up and seeing him looking down at you.
"Don't like them, huh?" He says defeatedly, and you shake your head quickly.
"No, no! I love them." You say softly, before shrugging your shoulders a bit. "I guess it's just odd that we look so much like a couple. No wonder people think we're dating."
He nods inwardly, tucking his strip into his back pocket before stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. "Is that bad? To look like a couple, I mean?"
"Considering that we've been best friends since I shoved you on the playground twenty something years ago? I'd say so." You state, and he snorts. You miss the way he tongues his cheek as he leads you over to Soonyoung and Minghao, who both smile slightly at you.
"So? How was it, to have the entire arcade to yourself?" Minghao leans against the cashier's booth, his eyes slightly red from the dab pen. You roll your eyes with a smile as Soonyoung lifts your tote bag over the counter.
"Glad you guys got paid to stand here. Kind of nice and calm when someone rents out the entire place, huh?" You wiggle your brows, tugging your tote over your shoulder and slipping your photo strip into it.
Soonyoung nods, "It's nice to watch two idiots play a bunch of games that are rigged and somehow still win. I still have no idea how you understand those coin pushers."
"Elementary, my dear boy!" You smile widely, and Mingyu taps the counter with a small smile.
"Thanks, guys. I owe you one." He says softly, and both of the men behind the counter return the smile. Minghao follows closely behind as you both say your goodbyes, unlocking the door to a bunch of teenagers who are impatiently waiting with skateboards in their hands.
"Sorry, guys. We're closed." Minghao says as Mingyu instinctively grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him. You both worm out of the door as one of the teenagers scoffs.
"So dude and his girlfriend here can go in but we can't? Come on, we've been waiting for two hours!" The kid sneers, the group behind him making noises of agreement as you laugh inwardly. Minghao rolls his eyes, sighing as he calls over his shoulder for Soonyoung.
"You guys have a good night, okay?" He waves you off as Soonyoung pops up behind him, the two of you walking towards Mingyu's truck in the moonlight. Your shoes crunch a few leaves as you hear the gaggle of teenagers slip into the arcade, Soonyoung flicking the sign over to say OPEN as you make it to the car.
"Thanks for tonight, Gyu. Even if I was a sore loser, I missed spending time with you like this." You admit softly as you both round the passenger side of the truck, his hand reaching for the handle with a shrug.
"No big deal. I love hanging out with you, it's like number two on my hierarchy of needs. Second only to the absolute need to beat you at every game ever." He jerks the door open, offering his hand for support as you climb in. He smiles at you, "Still up for dinner? I really do want to try that new place, they have a drive-thru and we can stargaze or something."
"Yeah, I'm down. I'll pay my share with the two coins you didn't scam me out of earlier." You roll your eyes as he only grins wider, shutting the door and rounding the car. You open the glove compartment again, fishing out Sade's Love Deluxe cassette as he jumps into his seat. He cranks the ignition without another word, buckling his seatbelt in as you trade the cassettes out.
The ride is once more filled with comfortable silence aside from Sade's comforting voice seeping through the speakers. You find yourself sitting slightly closer to Mingyu than you had on the ride to the arcade, but it seems neither of you really care as he swiftly maneuvers the streets, pulling into the drive-thru for the new burger place everyone in your town had been raving about.
"What do they have?" You ask softly, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over Mingyu's lap. The attendant blinks at you, the warm smile on her face only deepening as Mingyu's hand hovers over your waist.
"We have a really good swiss and mushroom burger if you'd like to try it? It comes with caramelized onions and the bun has garlic butter brushed on top! It can get super messy but it's borderline orgasmic." She nods her head, and you glance up at Mingyu, who is biting back his laughter at her animated persona. You roll your eyes, your hand resting on his knee as you shake your head.
"You still got those mints in the glove box?" You ask, making him snort as he looks over at the attendant.
"Can we get two of those? Are your fries any good? Be honest." His hand splays across your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your skirt as you continue leaning into him. The attendant assures him that yes, our fries are great!
"Care to add a milkshake? We often get couples like you guys asking for one to share, it's adorable." She beams, and you open your mouth to speak before Mingyu talks over you.
"Do you want one?" His fingers squeeze your hip, and you can't find any words so you just nod dumbly, the attendant rattling off flavors when Mingyu speaks again. "Vanilla is fine, she's one of those people that dips her fries in it."
"You guys are so cute!"
You can't bring yourself to say anything, and you feel your cheeks heat as Mingyu clears his throat and mumbles a thank you before fishing his wallet out to pay the girl. She bids the two of you a good night before sending you down the drive-thru, and you can't move from your spot damn near on top of Mingyu.
"I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable by saying that." He murmurs, and you shake your head slightly, squeezing his knee.
"Nah, don't worry about it. It was kinda cute, she seemed really excited about it." You force a laugh, before feeling Mingyu pat your hip.
"It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to pretend like you're okay with it. We're friends, yeah? That's all we'll ever be."
You don't know why your chest tightens at the words that fall from his lips, but you only hum in response as you slink away from him. His hand on your hip brushes across your back as you make it to the window, another attendant smiling brightly as she hands your food out. "You guys are so cute! Date night?"
"Ah, we're not together." Mingyu replies quickly, and you nod as the girl gives you a glance. A hint of something, maybe pity, in her eyes. It makes your stomach turn as you take the bag of hot food from Mingyu.
"You should be." She hands Mingyu the milkshake for you, and you take it from him as you give her a sad smile in return. She bids you both a good night, and Mingyu repeats it as you steal a fry from the bag and wave. He drives back into the street as you sneak another, before he glances at you.
"Yah! If you're going to sneak fries, at least do it with your seatbelt on!" He swats at you, crumpling the bag shut as you reach for the seatbelt and tug it on. You reach for the bag again as you click it in place, offering him one as he makes a left turn. He takes it between his teeth, the music playing softly as he speaks again.
"There's a cliff that oversees the city. It's lowkey haunted but I like it a lot. Wonwoo found it sophomore year when he and Hansol got too high, he called me telling me he felt like he was going to fall off the Earth."
You laugh, nodding along. "I remember, because you practically banged my door down trying to get Hansol inside when you've always had a key."
"I couldn't find it! And it was three in the morning after the semi-finals, I was so tired I'm not even sure how I drove around for so long looking for them." He shakes his head, taking another turn before the road becomes carved dirt and gravel. He does a u-turn, parking on the cliff so the bed of the truck is facing the overview of the city. You snag one last fry before Mingyu rolls his eyes, turning the truck off with a sigh, before glancing over at you.
"C'mon, let's go sit."
The two of you climb out of his side of the car, his hands carefully grasping your hips to help you down. He grabs the milkshake for you as you plop the bag of food into the bed of the truck, before climbing into it by nestling your foot on the tire and swinging your leg over the wheel arch panel. You stretch as he does the same, when you hear the thwip of him shaking off the blanket the two of you kept back here for nights like this. You fluff one of the odd cushions thrown in from random thrift store stops, waiting as Mingyu spreads the blanket across the metal of the bed before throwing the cushion down.
"Sit." He says, popping his old cooler and fishing out a bottle of water. "In case you choke."
"You wish I would, don't you? You'd get all my belongings." You roll your eyes, taking the lid off the milkshake and resting it on the wheel arch panel. The two of you dig through the bag in silence, and you unwrap the wax paper from the thickest, greasiest burger you'd ever seen. You inhale deeply, your head lightly hitting the rear window as you sink your teeth into it.
"Holy shit." You groan, your eyes fluttering shut as you chew around thick mushroom bits, the sweetness of the onions coating your tongue as you look over at Mingyu – who is just shaking his head with a grin as he unwraps his own.
"Good?"
"Fucking amazing, Gyu."
He seemingly agrees, a noise similar to a moan erupting from his throat as he sinks his teeth into the burger. You smile to yourself, fishing a fry out of the bag as he crosses his ankles. Neither of you say anything as you eat, and you wind up moving the milkshake between the two of you when he gestures one of his fries towards it, the last bite of his burger stuffed into his cheek.
"I have a question." He speaks and you grimace.
"Swallow that first."
He rolls his eyes, doing as you say before turning back to face you. You reach out to his face with a napkin in your hand, wiping at the corner of his lip before shoveling the last of your burger into your mouth.
"Why not me?" He asks, resting his head on the rearview window, and you stop chewing almost abruptly. You cough around your food, forcing yourself to swallow and take a sip of the water bottle he gave you.
"What?"
"I mean, it would work, wouldn't it? We've been friends since we were kids. I've seen you in almost every stage of life. We hang out constantly, we're like chopsticks. I'm never seen without you, and vice versa. So, why not me?" He shrugs, and you gape slightly.
"Mingyu, I don't think you're thinking very straight right now. I mean, again, we've been friends our entire lives. Why would we risk ruining that?" You mumble, not looking at him as he sighs.
"Is it ruining it? Are you saying you've never thought about it? The comments don't get to you?"
You look up to see him already staring at you, a quizzical look on his features as he scans you. He seems…tired. Mingyu never looks tired.
"I…Mingyu, I don't know. I guess? I mean…it's weird, isn't it? You've literally held my hair when I've thrown up. You've seen me so drunk I've done cartwheels down the street barefoot." You run a hand through your hair, a humorless laugh slipping through his lips before he sighs.
"I've also seen you graduate high school with me. I've seen you grow up, every single birthday I've been right there. I've stuck by your side my entire life, and that's never been out of anything but love for you. Whether or not it remains platonic is up to you."
He looks away, looking up at the moon before clicking his tongue. "I've been in love with you for six years now."
You swear the entire world stops spinning at that moment. No cicadas chirping, no birds flying, hell, even you've stopped breathing. He keeps talking.
"It sounds like bullshit, especially when I've dated other girls. I guess a part of me thought that if I diverted from the feelings, if I ignored them and tried to redirect them, they'd go away. It was definitely a stupid thing to do, because I've hurt people along the way. I should've been honest from the beginning, maybe your direct rejection would've made getting over you easier and things would be different now." He shrugs, and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. He glances at you, "You should take that."
You pull it out, seeing Hansol's contact flashing across the screen. Groaning, you answer it and put it on speaker.
"What, Sol?"
"Damn, my bad. I heard from a little bird that you went on a date with Mingyu."
Your eyes widen, and Mingyu runs his tongue over his teeth as he shakes his head. He scoffs, and you open your mouth to speak when your roommate pipes up again.
"Have you told him you're in love with him yet?"
His head snaps up, and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut when Hansol speaks again.
"Hello? Did you tell him yet or not, Y/N?"
"You just did, Sol. Fuck, I'll see you later."
You don't wait for him to respond before you hang up, carelessly tossing the phone across the bed of the truck as you rub your face with your hands. You bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and leaning your head back against the window. He hums.
"How long?"
You sigh, nibbling on your lip as you peer at him through your lashes. He doesn't smile, doesn't offer you any comfort in his face as you rake your eyes over his features. Strong brows, soft eyes that have never held anything but support and love for you. Pink lips that spread over that perfect set of teeth every time he saw you, pink lips that mocked you and taunted you.
"Unless it's not true."
He shrugs, tossing the trash from dinner into the bag it came in. You don't say anything as he moves it from between the two of you, opting to turn to face you. He crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap.
"I think a part of me always knew." You mumble, and he nods. His eyes are patient, thumbs twiddling in his lap as you sigh. "Yeah. I always knew, I just didn't want to come to terms with it. That's why Daewon and I broke up, you know."
"Fuck that guy, he sucked anyway. And he's a ball hog, he can't fucking pass to save his life." Mingyu scoffs, making you smile inwardly.
"Yeah, he does suck. But he was there, and he was a good distraction. We're both guilty in that sense, you and I. Something about hurting people along the way." You pull at a loose thread in the blanket, and Mingyu hums.
"We don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to."
You peer at him through your lashes, tapping your foot lightly. "You don't?"
He sighs, shrugging his jacket off to stretch his arms over his head. You follow the movement, your eyes glued to the muscle of his arms being pulled taut under his t-shirt. He leans his head back on the rear window, and you will yourself to scoot closer.
He glances down at you, eyes full of defeat.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Touché." He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a mint. He holds it out to you, and you take it gently as he takes another out for himself. He doesn't say anything as he unwraps it, but you attempt to make a joke anyway.
"Telling me my breath stinks, aren't you?"
He snorts as you pop the mint into your mouth, and lean your head on his shoulder.
"So does mine, so I guess we're even. Plus, you asked if I still had mints."
You chuckle as he reaches for your water bottle, taking a sip before he sighs again.
"So, what now? We just live with it?"
You put your chin on his shoulder silently, looking at him as he turns to face you. You don't miss how his eyes flicker to your lips, before he speaks again. "What if it doesn't work? What if–"
"I don't plan for the negative parts of life." You interrupt, switching the mint from side to side. "And I don't know why you're even allowing it to seep in, that's not like you."
He scoffs as his cheeks turn pink, your hand reaching for his jacket. You pull it off his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders as you swing your leg over his thighs. His hands dart to your waist to steady you, and you sit comfortably on his lap. Resting your head on his chest, you hum.
"Why tonight?"
His hands wrap around you, pulling you slightly higher on his lap as he sighs. You look up at him, the blush on his cheeks only deepening as he looks away. "You have to promise me you won't laugh."
You snort, making him huff as you let the jacket slide down your shoulders, bunching around your hips. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you coo at the pout on his lips before nodding. "I promise."
"I was jealous." He mutters, and your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was jealous and it was impulsive but I don't regret it. I would blow any amount of money if it meant I get to spend time with you like this. I'd sell my soul if I had to."
"Jealous? Of what?"
He huffs, not meeting your eyes until you slide your hand onto his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently. "C'mon, Kim. Tell me."
"Don't call me that." He grumbles, and you can't bite back your smile as his eyes continue to avoid yours.
"What do I call you? Mingyu? Gyu? Baby?" You're taunting him, your hands holding his face in place as you brush your nose to his. "Mine?"
His eyes flicker up to yours, the pout deeper still. "Yeah. That one."
"Mine?"
"Yours."
"Maybe. Spill your beans, first." You pinch his cheek, making him roll his eyes.
"You said you were going to write the Spotlight of the Season for Chan." He murmurs into his chest, and you bite back the beginning of a laugh that starts to bubble up when he pouts. "I want you to spend time with me. You have to interview for hours for those pieces and that means he can make you laugh and smile and have your attention. I don't like it."
The laughter you once felt in your belly dissipates, Mingyu's arms tight around your waist as you cup his face in your hands. He looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly watery as you swipe your thumbs under them.
"Mingyu, I spend all of my free time with you."
"It's not enough. I need to live in your skin."
"That's terrifying?" You snorted, letting out a short laugh as Mingyu buried his face in your neck.
"You said you wouldn't laugh." He whines, his lips brushing against your skin. You try not to jolt in his lap, his arms only tightening around your waist. "Stop laughing!"
"I'm not, I'm not laughing! I promise." You pat his shoulder, before pulling his head back by his hair. "That's actually really cute. A little scary, the bit about living in my skin, but I understand."
His eyes scan your face, trying to find a hit of deceit. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Breath check."
"Y/N–"
"Nope, we've been doing this since we were teenagers. Does my breath stink?"
He rolls his eyes, "No, Y/N. It doesn't."
You nod, before brushing your lips against his. His eyes widen, and he's pulling your hips flush to his as you smile. "No, no, no. Please kiss me, please."
"So cute." You mumble, pressing your lips to his. He whimpers softly, the grip on your hips bruising as he kisses you back, his lips perfect and soft and addicting against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you nip at his lower lip, a low groan from his chest as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You melded together perfectly, his every breath matched yours, the taste of the mint coating your tongue mixed with something just so Mingyu.
His warmth, his attention to detail. The way he teases you so lovingly, the way his hands make you feel like you're on fire even with the most innocent of touches. His soft sounds pouring into your mouth like honey, the way you can feel how hard he's trying to hold himself back from melting into you until he's had his fill.
And you hope he never does get his fill.
"Wait, wait."
Mingyu fights himself to pull away from your lips, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest as he pushes you away. He looks a bit dazed, his thumb reaching to wipe the corner of your mouth from leftover lipgloss. You feel a bit of worry settle in your stomach, your hands moving to rest on his stomach as you nibble on your lip.
"Sorry, was that too much? I'm–"
"No, no. You're…you're perfect. I'm just…"
He trips over his words, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your chest.
"I don't want to ruin this before it's even started."
You actually laugh this time, running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from you. "Bro, you could never ruin this. I'll always want you, Gyu."
"First of all, don't call me bro ever again. I will cry." He furrows his brows, pushing your shoulder lightly. You stick your tongue out at him, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He pouts, bringing your face closer to his before kissing your lips gently, feeling you smile into it as you nip at his lip.
"Second of all?" You murmur, and he blinks, pushing you back slightly.
Mingyu huffs, his fingers dancing across your bare thighs before he yanks your skirt down slightly. "It's late. Hansol is probably wondering where you are."
"He's not my father, you know."
"He's your roommate, it's courtesy."
"So…you're not going to take me back to your apartment tonight?" Your voice is soft, and Mingyu's eyes widen as you tug at the collar of his shirt. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out as your fingers move to tug the hem of his shirt out from under his jeans. His cheeks flush in the moonlight as he allows you to untuck his shirt, your fingers slipping under the soft fabric and tugging at his belt.
"Y/N."
"Just wanna see. Wanna feel you."
He rolls his eyes, his cheeks beet red as he lets you slip your hands up his shirt. You don't miss the way he shudders lightly as your fingers ghost over his skin. Pushing the fabric up, your eyes take in the expanse of his softly chiseled stomach, the dip between his pecs. You lean forward slightly, pressing your lips to the warm skin above his heart, earning a soft groan from Mingyu's throat.
"You're quite the temptress, you know." He murmurs, his hand moving to swipe your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch as he holds your face softly, his thumb toying with your bottom lip. You kiss it chastely, before he leans forward, capturing your lips with his.
His arm wraps around your waist as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you how he likes – slow, passionate, sloppy as he pushes your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders again, absently rolling your hips against his. Mingyu whines right into your mouth, only fueling the fire in the pit of your belly.
"Y/N." He sighs against your lips, but it comes out more breathy than it usually would. You don't respond, kissing him as his fingers push the hem of your skirt up further and further up your thighs. You can feel your underwear start sticking to you uncomfortably as his hands circle your thighs, pushing you harder against his growing bulge before he suddenly pulls back from your lips.
"We're in public. We could get caught."
"Star football player caught fornicating with his girlfriend on Lovers' Peak. More at eleven."
Mingyu scoffs, pinching your thigh playfully. "Girlfriend, huh?"
"I don't kiss my friends, Mingyu." You say pointedly, before gesturing at his hands high on your thighs. "I also don't let my friends take my clothes off."
He sighs, "You could at least let me ask you. You're half naked on my lap and we're not even in the privacy of my bedroom."
"Then take me home, Mingyu." You roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt. "Take me home and we can figure this all out there."
He eyes you, making your own give him an expectant look.
"Will you spend the night?"
"Yes."
"Will I have to kick Wonwoo out?"
"Yes."
You huff, tapping the watch on your wrist. You move to get up, but his hands on your thighs move to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands grab his shoulders for balance, and he looks up at you with a shy smile on his lips.
"Will you be my girlfriend? Please?"
You grin, "Star Football player becomes an Omega on Lo-"
"Nevermind."
"No! Wait, please. I'll be your girlfriend, I will."
You kiss Mingyu before he can refute it, feeling his pout against your lips.
"Kiss me back, you twerp."
"You called me an omega."
"Would it be better if I said you're my omega?" You wiggle your eyebrows, and he scoffs, lightly smacking the outside of your thigh. From the blush on his cheeks, you can tell all is forgiven – but it doesn't stop you from kissing his cheek softly.
"Take me home, baby."
"Y/N, I SAID I WAS SORRY. CAN'T YOU TELL HOW SORRY I AM?"
"You outed me to the love of my life." You mutter as you stuff your laptop back into your tote.
The weekend had passed, and you and Mingyu didn't have to worry about kicking Wonwoo out of the apartment – he'd actually gone on a date that night and spent the weekend at her apartment. Hansol obviously didn't question when you got home the next afternoon, but had been surprised at the deep frown on your face and how you avoided him through Monday afternoon.
"You're telling me Mingyu didn't feel the same?" Hansol's jaw dropped as you tongued your cheek, even bringing forth some tears.
"No, Hansol." You grumbled, shoving your Spotlight of the Season paperwork into his hands. Hansol has a guilty look in his eyes as he groans.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
Hansol is pouting as you finish packing up your bag, trying your hardest to bite back your laughter. You glance over your shoulder to see him unwrapping a lollipop and shoving it in his mouth before opening his laptop. Smirking to yourself, you make your best attempt as a discontented sigh, shoving your bag over your shoulder.
“You’ll get my rec letter in, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll proofread my column by tonight?”
“That means taking this home, you know how I feel about that.” He mutters, tapping his fingers on the blank cover page of your paperwork. You give him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest.
“You take it home and do it, or I’m telling the landlord that it’s not actually our neighbor smoking all that weed.” You scoff, and he sighs.
“Bunny, I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know he’d react that way? I mean, the guy is practically all over you anyway!” Hansol huffs, and you’re opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone clear their throat in the doorway of the office.
Hansol winces, and you glance over your shoulder to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing a tight, white shirt and your favorite black jeans on him, with a watch you gave him a few years ago as a high school graduation gift. His letterman is flung over his shoulder and he’s spinning a football in his other hand.
He raises his brow at the silent scene, watching as you skirt around the desk and yank open the drawer, stealing two lollipops. Hansol doesn’t even argue, just sighs as he cowers behind his laptop.
“Should I be concerned?” Mingyu asks you as you near him, and you shake your head as you hold a lollipop out to him. Hansol is peering over the top of his laptop as a confused Mingyu presses a kiss to your hairline — but it’s not enough to make him suspicious about the weekend itinerary.
“I want my column reviewed by the time I get home, Hansol.”
“Y/N, this is agony. At this rate, you’ll be home before I am!”
“Now you know how I felt! Get to it!”
Mingyu snorts, shaking his head as you skirt out of the office. He bids a gentle goodbye to the younger man, who only sighs in response.
“You’re awful to that kid, you know.”
You smile as you wrap your hand around his bicep, unwrapping your lollipop as you shrug. “He taunted me with my recommendation letter! He said if I didn't confess to you in seventy-two hours, he wasn’t going to send my letter and I’d miss my opportunity at a great internship, Gyu.”
“So you should be thanking him, because technically you haven’t confessed shit.”
“I’m your girlfriend, I think that's enough of a confession.”
“Mmh.” He nods, biting back his smile as he slides his hand into yours, squeezing softly. “What do you wanna do? Practice was canceled, I have no upcoming projects. Wonwoo’s asleep on the couch at home, though, so my place is off the table.”
You glance up at him, huffing out a laugh as you shake your head.
“What makes you think I’m free?”
“It’s a Monday afternoon. You usually con me into buying you dinner, we eat in your bedroom. We watch movies before you kick me out because you say I snore.”
“Actually it’s because you sleep shirtless, and I was a wimp back then.”
Mingyu laughs heartily, letting go of your hand to ruffle your hair. You swat at his hand, scoffing as he wraps it around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on the side of his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up at him.
“My place is free.”
“Mmh, maybe you can read me the Spotlight of The Season column you wrote about that guy.”
“Oh, that guy? You mean Kim Mingyu? God, that guy is so cool. Did you know he has omega eyes?” You feign excitement as you taunt him, making him roll his eyes and pinch your cheek.
“Tell me you didn’t put that in the column.”
“Are you crazy? Why would I expose my hot, sexy, cool boyfriend for being a down-bad simp? That’s just not fair to me, they already want you.”
“Yeah, well.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as the parking lot comes into view, his old truck shining in the setting sun. “I only want you.”
You don’t respond, feeling your cheeks warm as you make your way to the parking lot. He opens your door as he usually does, but lingers as you climb up and put on your seatbelt. He gingerly takes the lollipop from your lips, making you roll your eyes as he silently asks for a kiss. You give in, you’re sure you always will give in to those puppy eyes and pouty lips — when he pulls away and steals your lollipop.
“Easy.” He smiles as he shuts your door, leaving you to sulk into your seat as he rounds the car. He hops into the driver’s seat, your green apple lollipop lodged between his lips as he cranks the ignition.
“Read the column, I want to know what you chose to put in.” He speaks again as he pulls out of his spot, and you snicker to yourself as you pull your phone out.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
You begin to read it calmly, ignoring the incessant buzzing of Hansol’s flooding messages.
NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽
[4:32PM] dude
[4:32PM] ur such a liar
[4:33PM] i would say i hate u but im happy for u bro
[4:34PM] i’m omw home tho
Msg To: Sol ☀️👽
[4:35PM] find somewhere else to go 🫶🏼
NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽
[4:36PM] bro
SPOTLIGHT OF THE SEASON — NO. 97, KIM MINGYU.
BY Y/N Y/L/N.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10.
8-MINUTE READ | UPDATED: 5:39PM.
Author’s Note: Typically, I reserve the interview questions and responses for myself. However, I’ve decided to share this snippet in order to settle some rumors and ruffle a few feathers. I have also made this column a bit more personal, with the permission of my editor.
No. 97 on the field but No.1 in my heart — I love you, Kim Mingyu.
——————————————————————————————————
— INTERVIEW #53 —
Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.53 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two.
KMG: Letting you know right now, I have to pee.
— INTERIM BREAK —
— INTERVIEW #54 —
Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.54 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two.
KMG: [laughter]
Y: Hello, Kim Mingyu. Welcome back to the Hawk Review Committee.
KMG: Has the interview part always been this awkward?
Y: Suddenly I’m your girlfriend and you forget how to talk to me?
KMG: Babe, don’t put that in. We have to hard-launch before it gets published on Friday.
Y: Honey. I love you.
KMG: Okay, just a little snippet.
Y: [laughter] Okay. Can I at least make those cheesy puns football girlfriends make?
KMG: [laughter] Your world, baby. I’m just living in it. I love you.
KIM MINGYU has long been the subject of my articles. Long-winded columns full of my affections, hidden behind words far too long to be understood by the average mind. A lot of readers would call it hyperbole, would call it ‘purple prose’, but I consider my pieces about Mingyu to be the most authentic works I’ve ever written. There is something about enjoying the information I am spreading — to talk about somebody I care about, to air his successes and see other people enjoy who he is. To walk around campus and understand that though Mingyu may be my best friend, he is also a friend to others. He is a helping hand, he is smart and thoughtful.
In his college career, Kim Mingyu has made incredible Hawk history. He is the only quarterback to not be injured during a single game, and he and the Seoul Hawks are taking home the championship trophy come Saturday night. Be sure to buy your tickets from Jimin and Jungkook!
Kim Mingyu has been an inspiration to many, including myself. Take Apartment of A Lonely Soul: being displayed at the Museum of Arts, his piece has contributed to ending the stigma of allowing self-doubt to wallow in the mind and finding comfort in being alone and making decisions that may not seem feasible. I remember when I nervously asked him if he had submitted it to be displayed in the gallery — without a second thought, he replied: Why wouldn't I?
Kim Mingyu's unshakeable confidence has always brought comfort to others. He has time and time again shown that he is reliable, a pillar in our community. He has shown up for me countless of times — whether it is to soothe my damaged ego or celebrate my milestones, he is always there for those he cares about.
His mistakes are also something he takes in stride. He can admit when he is wrong and when he needs help — he’s come to my apartment for study nights that have left his head spinning. He called me when his car battery died on him last spring, and I walked six miles with our friends and jumper cables to wave down some random on the road. I remember how he made our friends sit in the bed of the truck, but sat me right next to him in the cab.
In tune with confidence, he wears his intelligence and care with pride. A true team player, a student that sets the standard and wonderful friend: there will never be another Kim Mingyu.
— synopsis: your field of expertise is physics, not psychology and definitely not the misery of breakups...but kim mingyu's field of expertise? you, you, always you — and the art of context clues.
– genre: exes to ??? ; angst, fluff, slightly suggestive.
— pairing: psychology major!kim mingyu x physics major!fem!reader
– word count: 10k
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: swearing, mentions of food and eating, breakups. hardly suggestive but a mention of non-descriptive oral.
— what to listen to: something in the way - jorja smith ; something in the orange - zach bryan ; when you're gone - avril lavigne ; dear my light - dawn.
– author’s note: [special thanks to @/saradika here on tumblr for these lovely snowflake dividers!] welcome back to haologram! this is a special segment i’ve created to give a quick thank you to all of my friends this holiday season, and this one is for @kmgswrld! yuasa, you came to me at a very odd point in my life that i was not expecting, but i have grown very fond of interacting with you. i hope you know that you are very loved and very important, and i dedicate my last mingyu fic of 2025 to you! happy haolidays, yuasa! i love you!
"SURELY, YOU MUST BE JOKING."
Your professor seems unimpressed as she looks at you with a raised brow. You're holding a mandatory tutoring form in your hand, the paper still warm from the printer. Her eyes are serious as she taps it with the end of her pen, "Mingyu is available Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's your best bet, Miss Y/N."
"I'd rather drop the damn class," you blurt, frustration festering in your stomach as you run your hand through your hair, squeezing your eyes shut, "I don't mean that, I'm sorry. I'm very grateful you let me take a spot in your classroom."
"Y/N, it's tutoring and it's only for Chapter 12. It's not the end of the world, and you need a little help. It happens, nothing to be embarrassed by." She speaks gently, before holding a card out to you between her fingers. Mingyu's name and phone number is printed across it in navy blue ink, stark against the white card stock.
"The tutoring isn't the problem," you mumble inwardly as you take the card, but you don't need it. You've had Mingyu's phone number memorized since you were teenagers, and it's still saved in your phone all these years later.
And six months after your breakup.
You don't even know why you did it. You don't know why you pulled the plug, you just remember the shit excuses falling from your lips as the burning summer sun beat down on your back. You left for vacation with your family the next day, crying your eyes out the entire time and holing yourself up in the hotel room for hours until it was time to go back home.
And there was no Mingyu to run to.
It's too serious, you had said. We're moving too fast, you argued.
You'd been together for nearly three years. You'd been good friends since you were kids, and he was the very first person that wasn't your family that got your phone number when you got your first phone back in freshman year of high school. He was the first everything — first love, first kiss, first boyfriend.
You had intended for him to be the last, too. The only, even.
Kim Mingyu is The One.
Or was, rather.
You don't know what he's up to these days. You sit awkwardly in the back of the lecture hall, sandwiched between two of the soccer players and hoping they'll hide you. They never have paper and are always taking your pens, but you'd rather that than ever make eye contact with Mingyu again.
Because you know you're weak. You're weak when it comes to him, you'll fold like a house of cards and break down right in front of him. You'd apologize over and over and it would be of no use because, well, you have pride…even if he's worn it thin with his gentle affection, showing you that you don't need to deprive yourself of things you want or love for the sake of holding your head too high.
Him included, but that's the past, now.
What's worse is that you know he's exactly the same, if not weaker. He's just as soft hearted, just as easy to break as you are — but he's Mingyu. He knows you, and he knows that somewhere, in the depths of you, there is that fear. Fear of being seen as just his girlfriend, fear of being perceived as something you're not — weak, docile, whatever makes you feel less than a person.
Mingyu himself has never made you feel that way, and he's swiftly turned his back on anyone in his life that has tried to do that to you. He held you in high standards, higher regards — you were smart and capable, studious and working on a strict schedule to keep your life working smoothly. No dates during the week. No distractions. You were a person, a daughter, a student before you were his girlfriend.
You were his friend before you were his girlfriend.
And now, you're nothing.
Well, not nothing. Nothing besides two people who once knew each other, almost at a molecular level — that now sit fifty feet away from one another every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from two to four since the beginning of the semester.
Mentor and mentee, apparently. Tutor and student, Jedi and Padawan.
"Thanks, Dr. Lee. I'll…be sure to reach out to Mingyu by the end of the week."
"No need, I've emailed him already. He'll be reaching out to you shortly to discuss your schedules. Have a good day, Y/N. Keep working hard."
You smile tightly, the paper crumpling slightly under your fingers as you nod before turning on your heel and making your way out of the lecture hall. You can feel your throat tight, tears starting to sting your eyes, but you blink them back as they try to blur your vision. You skirt around groups of people, couples walking together, wanting to feel the chill of the fall air settling into your your bones as the tears start dripping down your cheeks.
You're grateful you don't feel the buzz of your phone in your pocket as you barrel down the steps of the front hall.
NEW! 2 Messages From: Mingyu 💘
[4:32 PM] Dr. Lee emailed me. 6-8 on Thursday works @ your place or mine. If mine, don't be late.
[4:32 PM] And…you should've told me first. I would've helped you without her interference.
Mingyu's apartment is warm when you arrive the following Thursday. Seokmin opens the door; being yet another counterpart of Mingyu's that you'd befriended during high school and one of his roommates, he knew all about your history. He shook his head silently, giving you a one-armed hug as he let you slip inside the living room. He took your coat as you toed your shoes off, he offered water that you declined, gesturing at the Yeti Rambler bottle in your hand…before pointing you in the direction of Mingyu's room.
"He got back maybe an hour ago. Good luck, rockstar." He ruffled your hair, before taking a seat on the couch and picking his laptop back up. You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as you rocked on your heels, closing your eyes and making your way down the hall. You hadn't been to this apartment yet, they'd moved when you left for vacation and were settled by the time you got back.
You're sure his bedroom walls have seen many tears since then.
Maybe a girl or two.
You hoped not.
You raise your hand to knock, only for your soft taps to push the door open. He doesn't look up, nibbling on his lip as he punches numbers into his calculator. He's surrounded by open books, notepads, pens that have long run dry. His room still smells faintly of his cologne from earlier in the morning, the scent permeated into the walls and everything within them.
He's still dressed from wherever he came from — jean jacket resting nicely on his shoulders, sunglasses perched on his head before he runs his hand through his hair and takes them off. He tosses them onto his bed, the honeyed slope of his neck illuminated by the lamp on his desk and you think you're going to throw up.
You knock harder, his eyes immediately moving to the door and spotting you.
"I didn't hear you the first time, sorry."
You press your lips into a thin line, nodding your head as you push the door open. Your grip on your bottle is tight as you step in silently, and he stands up, slotting bookmarks into his pages and closing the textbooks, sliding them elsewhere and clearing the space for you to fit into it. You swallow again, your throat unbearably dry as he moves past you, closing the door. His cologne floats up your nose as he grabs a folded stool from behind it, and you reach your hand out to take it.
He shakes his head, "take the chair. Better for your back."
"My back is fine," your voice is almost too soft for him to hear, but he only rolls his eyes as he rolls it closer to you, pointing at the seat like you're a child. You chew on your cheek as you tentatively pull the chair to you, sitting on the edge of it and pulling your backpack off. You settle your bottle between your legs as he keeps moving around, and you see the textbook that was currently weighing your bag down in his hand.
"She said you are having trouble with…." He scrolls on his laptop, clicking around before pulling up Dr. Lee's email containing your tutoring form, "chapter twelve."
He glances at you, a brow raised as you force yourself to stare at the jar of pens on his desk. A mason jar covered in Sanrio stickers — you'd given it to him for an anniversary. There was a special sticker you'd had custom made by someone on Etsy: Chococat and Badtz-Maru hugging, and a stamp of I love you, bug! in your handwriting pasted by the artist.
You and him.
"Chapter twelve." He repeats, and you nod silently, moving to pull your backpack off and pull out a new deck of flashcards. "It's just vocabulary. I know the material."
"If you don't know the vocabulary, you can't fully understand the material."
"Mingyu, I'm not stupid. The chapter is just about forming interpersonal relationships and attraction and love. It's not rocket science."
"First of all, I never said or insinuated that you're stupid, so watch your tone." He speaks lowly, and you feel your cheeks hot as he perches on the edge of the stool. He's almost too close to you, but not enough that you can justify scooting back. "Second of all, if it were rocket science, you wouldn't need my help. You would've figured it out."
"I don't need your help—"
"You're wasting time. Do you want to pass the chapter test or do you want to keep bickering?"
"What, you have plans?" You roll your eyes, your nail moving to break the plastic wrap around the deck of flashcards as he nods, "yes."
You feel your heart sink slightly, but you shrug as you tear into the deck and crumple the wrapper in your hand. You tuck it into the trash can under his desk before fishing a notebook out of your backpack. You glance at the jar of pens again, but opt to dig into your bag for one instead. You click the end, "where are we starting?"
He shrugs, "write down what you struggle with the most and give me the page. I'll have something for you next week. Focus on the chapter units rather than what's in them when you're doing most to least, and we'll talk about the contents in person."
"This could've been an email." You scoff, and he nods, "it could have, but it's not. So just write it down and I'll come up with a plan. Your test is next Friday, so we can do…"
He peers at the calender above his desk, humming as he drums his fingers against the page he's open to — Sternberg's Triangular Theory of Love.
"We can do Tuesday. We might be able to do Thursday but I'll have to see how the week progresses. If push comes to shove I can see you on…Wednesday, but it'll either be really late or really early and that's my last resort." He nods, and you glance at the calendar. He's got things marked off, a few birthdays scribbled in…
You look at the date — Thursday, the twenty-first. There's a diagonal line across it, with TA 6-8 on the top and S :) 8:30 on the bottom.
He's seeing someone else.
You know he is, because he used to mark off your dates that way, too. Well, yours usually had a scribbled heart, but you're sure it won't be long before a smile becomes a heart.
"I'll just text you." You mumble, shoving your things back into your backpack and hurriedly pulling it over your shoulder. Your stomach hurts as you glance at the jar of pens again, feeling your nose burn as you push out of the chair, and you hear him sigh as you grab his doorknob.
"Y/N, what is the problem?" He asks softly, and you let out a humorless laugh as you pull the door open.
"I'll see you later, Gyu." The nickname falls from your lips as you shake your head, a tear slipping down your face as you practically bolt down the hall. Seokmin is in the kitchen, and you call a stout goodbye before grabbing your shoes and slink out the front door.
You don't know that Mingyu immediately walks out of his bedroom with tears in his eyes, looking for Seokmin. He just sighs, pulling Mingyu into a hug as he holds your water bottle in his hand — a water bottle he had given you, now covered with more Chococat and Badtz-Maru stickers and a faded customer sticker of his name on the edge.
You only feel the stabbing pain of gravel digging into your socked feet as you hold your high tops in your hand, sprinting out of his apartment complex and down the road to yours. Your vision is blurry and your breathing is choppy but you don't care, and the buzz of your phone is once more unfelt in your pocket.
NEW! 2 Messages From: Mingyu 💘
[6:49 PM] You left your water bottle here. I'll leave it with Seokmin in case you come back to pick it up tonight.
[6:57 PM] And for the record, S is Seungcheol. See you on Tuesday.
THE WEEKEND FLEW BY, AND YOU ARE CURRENTLY SITTING ON THE STEPS OF MINGYU'S COMPLEX — TEN MINUTES BEFORE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO MEET HIM.
You had emailed him your list, and CC'd Dr. Lee so you could hold yourself accountable.
I was instructed to rank the Ch. 12 Social Psych subunits from most understood to least. I've CC'd Dr. Lee in case she would like to weigh in with any suggestions.
I spent the weekend reviewing key terms and am confident with the vocabulary, as well as most of the review questions in the back of the textbook. Thank you for your time.
Y/N L/N
Senior | Applied Physics
Department of Physics and Astronomy
010-0406-1997
Mingyu did not reply to your email, his Outlook status set as Offline.
You hadn't texted him back or bothered to return for your bottle of water either, despite the slight comfort of knowing that S wasn't a girl. You were too embarrassed, and now you were too early to knock and ask to be let in. You were too early to face him, and a part of you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You glanced at your watch, having set a timer for it to beep at five minutes to six — and you sigh, glumly resting your cheek in your palm and closing your eyes.
"Why are you down here? It's cold."
Mingyu's voice startles you, and you jump, your hand flying to your chest as you open your eyes wide to see him holding two bags of groceries. Seokmin is behind him, brows raised as you quickly stood up, careful not to stumble.
"Well, clearly neither of you were home."
"I texted you that we kept the spare under the doormat?"
You feel your cheeks hot, "yeah, well. It's your house, not mine."
He rolls his eyes, motioning for you to head up the stairs. You scramble up, making yourself useful and unlocking the door for them. You step out of their way, clearing your throat as they set everything down and Seokmin stops Mingyu from going back downstairs, a stern look in his eyes as he ducks out the front door.
"I…can go, if you guys are going to have dinner. Don't let me keep you." You blindly set their spare key on the table behind you, but Mingyu shakes his head as he unpacks things. Bread, eggs, a gallon of milk, "you can go get settled. I'll be right there, it's Seokmin's turn anyway."
Your hands clench at your sides as you toe your shoes off, carefully placing them on the rack before bowing your head and making your way to his bedroom. Your heart clenches as you slowly open his door, hearing Seokmin coming back up and asking whether you'd be staying for dinner just as you slide into the room.
"I'm not sure," Mingyu replies, and you close the door behind you.
More rustling is heard as you settle in the chair, setting the stool out for him and opening your textbook. You glance at his calendar, nothing else added but you…
And your anniversary, scratched out.
If you looked any closer, you would've seen the hearts doodled around your name in pink pen. Three year anniversary, gone. Like the wind.
You tongued your cheek, a pout threatening its way onto your lips as your throat started to burn. You cleared it, shakily digging your items out of your bag and splaying everything out. You opened your textbook, you carefully stacked your unfinished flashcards (because you attempted to spend the weekend studying, but every swirl of your pen reminded you of him.)
Him, him, every single time. Every click.
Everything.
"It's going to be fine," you murmured to yourself, pulling your journal out and flipping to a fresh page.
The mason jar of pens isn't where it was on Thursday.
In fact, it's nowhere to be seen.
You still, your thumb still clicking your pen as your eyes move around the room. Superman figurines despite your insistence that Mingyu could so be a Nightwing. Photo frames holding pictures of his sister and his family, of him and Seokmin, of him and Wonwoo and Seokmin…
One singular photo of you and him — seven years old, missing your front teeth and popsicles melting down your hands. His green, yours red, and the frame read the pet names you'd adopted for one another — bug and baby.
He was bug. At six feet, two inches...Kim Mingyu was your bug.
It was funny to think about.
You don't see any of the trinkets you'd gotten him over the years, but you see a small box tucked into the corner of his bedroom. The tape is peeled up, like he's opened and closed it — and it's hid under his bedside table. You glance at the door, hearing Mingyu and Seokmin banging around in the kitchen. Your phone buzzes on the desk, and you grab it as you slowly scoot the chair back, making room to stand up.
NEW! Message From: Mingyu 💘
[6:12 PM] I'll be right there, I'm just giving Seokmin instructions. Sorry for the wait.
You only give him a thumbs up, tossing your phone on the table quickly and making your way over to the box. You stay alert, only peeking in carefully and seeing everything.
Three small, thick photo albums detailing your relationship and some of your years growing up together. A small crate of figurines — another custom Chococat and Badtz-Maru, a handful of Smiskis you'd given him when you didn't get the one you wanted in your blind boxes, and a bunch of paper stars and miscellaneous origami you'd folded up and given him during your old study sessions. There's another box, covered in faded lipstick marks from you, the lid slightly off center and you know it holds all the love letters you'd given him over the years.
You know he still holds onto the very first one you'd ever given him, when you were both sixteen and juniors in high school. He'd had it framed in his last apartment, and kept it on his dresser. Said he read it every morning.
Kim Mingyu!
Today is our first day of school and I'm writing this in Econ (you're sitting three seats away because you were late, bug!) You look kinda cute…I guess.
Okay, not 'I guess.'
But it's always just been you and me, right? Us, together. Thank you for being my best friend and not making fun of me when I make mistakes. I also appreciate that you tell me I'm cool :) I hope you still think I'm super duper cool when you're marrying me in six years time.
Actually, no. I'd say…nine years. We'll be out of grad school by then, and who knows…I could be getting a doctorate. Dr. L/N-Kim, eh? Pretty cute, right?
Dr. Y/N L/N-Kim and Kim Mingyu, Esq.
We're gonna be soooo cool and our kids are gonna think we're soooo gross.
Anyway, I'm not yoinking your last name. I would've earned the degree, not you :P but…I love you. And I hope you're in my life even then, even if nothing moves further between us. I know you won't make it weird if you don't feel the same way, too, which makes it easier. You always make my life easier, but you don't let me win and that's the fun of it all, isn't it? A cushion that softens the blow of a still hard fall.
Anyway, I hope junior year rocks. And I hope you know you suck for being late and sitting so far away. Don't be late tomorrow! I can feel you staring at me (timestamp: 12:22PM.) I snuck my headphones in, and I'm listening to I'm Gonna Win by Foreigner because I promise you, you're not getting that valedictorian spot. It's mine, Kim.
I'll see you after school, bug. Don't read this around your friends! I mean it! >:(
Love you, bug. XOXO.
Y/N <3
P.S.: [✔︎] check here if you like me too. do a back flip if you don't :D
A blue pen had checked the box by the time the two of you were walking home together. It was a very nonchalant affair, because you both understood that dating was out of the question until you were both done with the little rivalry you had. Unfortunately, you were both tied — and your graduating class had two Valedictorians, and the very first tie in your high school's history. A picture of you both was displayed in the main hallway of that building now, with a school news article titled Best Friends take Number 1 Spot Together: Future Physicist Y/N L/N & Prospective Lawyer Kim Mingyu.
Mingyu wasn't studying law anymore, and the two of you started dating in August — and he officially made you his girlfriend in November of that year. He changed his major and was thriving in the Psychology department, barreling towards that doctorate — one you also swore you'd get, and you stand by it.
You just aren't sure if Mingyu still stands by you.
And you feel foolish to want to hope that he does, despite the six months of silence, distance and heartbreak — the only communication between the two of you being his purple pen grading your essays and in-class exams…much softer than the red pen he uses for everyone else.
Dr. Lee had to know there was something there.
She had to know.
You see more things in the box — the tie he wore to prom, the cuff links you'd given him for your first anniversary during your sophomore year of college. A tube of lipstick in his favorite shade that you used to keep at his apartment, a first-aid kit in a glittery pink case that was half-filled, a gold spoon you had bought at a market and gotten your names engraved into. You had a matching one, tucked in the silverware drawer of your kitchen that you didn't let anyone else touch, much less use.
The mason jar that once held his pens, now gently tucked into another corner of it. It's stuffed with a printed strip and pink yarn, and you see the comic peering at you through the glass — Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson.
It's the Valentine's strip, dated February 14th, 1986 — Susie calls Calvin a baloney brain, and it's the classic, cliché of two kids being mean to one another because they like the other, but you loved it. You'd referenced the comic strip in passing on your first Valentine's Day together, then wound up printing the strip for him, laminating it and gave it to him with his gifts. You'd punched a hole in it and looped a piece of yarn through it, once hot pink and now light, bleached from three years of sun.
You don't know you're holding your breath, tears wetting your lashes — until you hear Mingyu's footsteps approaching quietly, and you force yourself off the ground and back into the chair. You wipe haphazardly at your face, sniffling as he knocks gently, opening the door. You don't look at him, letting your eyes zero in on the pad of sticky notes. There's numbers scribbled around it, math you understood but couldn't pin to an origin.
Your stomach grumbles as he walks past you, and you curse yourself for running low on time and not being able to get anything for dinner.
"Snacks in the bottom cabinet." He taps the desk as he moves around, and you clear your throat as you nod, not moving. He holds his textbook in his hand as he turns back to you, furrowing his brow as he leans over and opens the cabinet, "get something."
"I'm good."
"Your stomach growled."
"I'm just uneasy."
"Cut the shit." He rolls his eyes, grabbing a bag of Goldfish and tossing it in your lap before closing it, "you can have dinner with me and Seok. He's going to make way too much, I know it."
"He always does."
"He means well."
"I know."
His eyes linger on your face, and if he notices your wet lashes, he doesn't say anything.
But you note the way his fingers flex at his side, the way he tongues his cheek and forces himself to look away.
"Let's start with 12.4, yeah? Compliance, Conformity and Obedience."
"No."
"Very funny."
"I seriously cannot believe you're trying to argue this. This isn't an argument!" Mingyu sighs as you pace his bedroom, and you gape at him as you run a hand through your hair.
Seokmin had come in forty minutes prior to the heated conversation with plates, and you and Mingyu ate in silence. Your plates sit on the desk, empty, as you pace his bedroom, your words falling from your mouth as you hit the back of your hand to your palm to emphasize your point.
"There is a difference in obedience brought forth by respect, and one brought forth by fear. It won't have the same connotations or the same results, it will only result in social discomfort."
"I'm not saying there isn't! I'm agreeing with you! But that's not the point!"
"Then what does social loafing have to do with obedience!?"
"Baby, you're taking this all out of context. You're trying to break it down like numbers and that's not how this works," he sighs, rubbing his face. "Social loafing is tied into obedience because it is a form of social influence. Compliance, conformity, all of it, it's influential. You want me to give you answers about who designates positions on power and what makes who an authority figure and I just don't have that context for you."
Your heart is in your throat at the pet name, your breath hitched as you look at him. He crosses his arms, eyes expectant as your own prick with tears. You blink them back, checking your watch to see it's half past eight.
"Okay, cool. Influence." You nod, grabbing your pen and scribbling it into your jumbled notes. You run a hand over your face, "it's late. I should get going."
"It's only eight-thirty."
"Yeah. I overstayed as it is."
He raises a brow as you pack up your journal, reaching for the flashcards you'd half-finished.
"What's this?"
"Key terminology."
"How many do you have left?"
"Uhm, I got halfway before I went to bed." You shrug as he flips through the cards, "vocab on the front, definition and example on the back. They're sectioned off by unit in color, but I jumped around to what I found more interesting and just started working my way around."
"Sternberg's Triangular Theory of Love," he nods, holding up the butter yellow flashcard. Your hand tightens around your beg as he flips the card over, his eyes scanning over the diagram you'd doodled with examples. "Companionate love is you and Seokmin?"
"Yes? He's my friend?" You roll your eyes as he nods, biting back his smile as he continues to scan over it.
"Do you agree with Sternberg's theory?" He asks, flicking the card as you nibble on your lip.
"It makes sense."
"It says that healthy relationships must all have commitment, intimacy and passion."
"That's true."
"Well, not when you take into consideration what else is said about the contributing factors. Passion and intimacy for romantic love, but commitment and intimacy for companionate. Do you think that your friendships could have passion, and your romantic relationships couldn't, and still be healthy?" He tilts his head at you, and you clear your throat as you open your mouth to dodge the question, "don't give me bullshit. Use your brain. Explain your thoughts."
You close your mouth, your fingernails digging into your backpack as you swallow hard.
"I think that…context is important." You admit, knowing that the shit-eating grin spreading on his lips will bring back the topic of obedience and your insistence for answers he couldn't give you. "I agree that healthy relationships must all have commitment, intimacy and passion because it's not always romantic. Context is important, because you can take into consideration all the verbiage used."
You step closer, taking the card out of his hand and pointing with your pinky finger, "empty love could be a dead marriage, or two parents who stay together for their kids, or a friendship that only remains because of the history rather than caring at all about each other's lives past what they've lived together."
"And companionate love?"
"Me and Seokmin, you and Seokmin. Our friendship is intimate, because we share vulnerabilities and we are interested in each other's lives. Our friendship is also commitment, because we hang out often and passion doesn't always have to mean…I guess, being hot for one another. It can just be passionate as a noun, passionate as…an adjective rather than a verb."
"What about you and me?" He asks, tilting his head when you realize how close you are to him. Your arm is brushing his shoulder and you're slid between his legs, the denim of his jeans stretched across thick thighs and brushing against the back of your own. You peer at him through your lashes, "what about you and me?"
"Where do we fall on this diagram? Where did we use to fall on this diagram, and where could we be in the future?"
"Is this an appropriate question?"
"Call it real-life application to scholarly subjects."
You tongue your cheek at his quick wit, and you glance at the card.
You were once companionate.
You were also once romantic, even consummate — intimate, passionate, committed.
"I don't think we fall into any of them." You admit slowly, flicking the card. "I think…maybe, at one point, we could've been consummate in a romantic style."
"John Lee has a theory about love, too. He came up with it in '76," he starts, and you peer at him through your lashes as he takes the card back, tracing your penmanship. "It's called the Color Wheel Model of Love, and it originated with three 'colors,' that were meant to be the primaries like red, blue and yellow. He presented Eros, for eroticism. Ludus, for non-committal, and Storge, for natural nurturing."
"Right."
"He later proposed that the primary colors could be combined to create a sort of secondary color. Eros and Ludus would make Mania, so obsession. Pragma was Ludus and Storge, representing realistic love, and Agape was Eros and Storge in the presentation of selfless love."
You raise a brow, "do you just have love theories memorized?"
"My favorite is Elaine Hatfield's, and I use it to argue Sternberg's."
"Let's hear it."
"Hatfield's 1988 theory states that there is two types of love. Compassionate, and passionate." He shrugs, clicking his tongue as he leans back slightly on the stool, "in my opinion, it disproves that all healthy relationships should have commitment, intimacy and passion. It's not passion that they should all have, but compassion. Passion as a noun, and adjective, what say you…it is inherently romantic. It's sexual, it's biological and intense. I can also add that Zick Rubin proposed in 1970 that romantic love is defined by three key characteristics, and one of those is feelings of exclusivity and absorption. So, no. Not all healthy relationships need to contain all three, but subgenres. It's not passion, it's compassion. It's not love, it's respect. It's….context."
You cheeks warm at how his words settle in your stomach, foolishly setting off a flutter and your eyes avoid his as you glance at the card.
"Then where would you put us? Past, present, future."
He whistles, "in all theories?"
"All theories."
"Past, present, or future?"
"Start with past."
"In Rubin's, love. In Lee '76, we were once Storge, and in '77, we became Pragma. In Sternberg, consummate. In Hazan and Shaver's Attachment Theory circa 1987, secure attachment. In Hatfield, compassionate when we were younger, and passionate when we got older." He nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line.
You hadn't talked about the break-up, and you've gotten confirmation that he hadn't, either — Seokmin had texted you over the weekend telling you so. You hadn't responded, hoping the idea of Mingyu being hurt would slip from your mind. You couldn't stand thinking of it, much less being the reason behind it.
"What about present?"
"Me or you?"
"…Well, you can't speak for me, can you?"
He chuckles, "true. I think…there is a tertiary color to Lee's theory. I've just made it up on my own, it's nothing set in stone and nothing to write home about…but it's there, somewhere."
"What color?"
"Solum."
You let your tongue peek out to wet your lips, "what secondaries?"
"Mania, and Agape. An obsession and yet, selfless. I've let you be."
"And what does solum mean?"
"It's Latin for lonely."
You tuck your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, and he trills his lips before sucking his teeth. "As for the future?"
"Uh huh?"
"I think Sternberg might have my ass in the bag."
"How so?"
"I think…empty love." He nods, "maybe fatuous love, if the passion was compassion…because you cannot have that passion without connection."
Your heart sinks in your chest, and he looks at you with a soft smile, "so you see how context is important?"
"You're a shithead."
"And you want to argue the fundamentals of the brain. Study law, not physics."
He shrugs, holding the card back out to you. You take it gingerly, biting your tongue as you tuck it back into the spot in the stack where it belonged, but you couldn't bring yourself to let it go.
"I disagree with you, actually." You say suddenly, "I don't think that all of this shit matters when it comes to you and me. The context around our lives is enough to show that none of it is true, anyway."
"Okay," he nods, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the stool as he tilts his head at you, "how so?"
"It's not about psychology, or 'theories', or prosocial whatever the fuck." You roll your eyes, and he snorts as you pace once more. Three steps away, turn, three steps back. "It's about context."
"That's what I said."
"Said, not proved."
"And you're going to prove it?"
You huff, rounding the edge of his bed and pulling the box of collectibles out from under his night table. His eyes widen, his shoulders stiff as you set the box on his bed, opening the cardboard flaps before reaching in and pulling out the mason jar.
"Exhibit A of Y/N's Context Theory." You hold it up, before your fingernail taps the Chococat and Badtz-Maru sticker. "I got this custom made for you. I chose all these stickers, I gave you this jar with pudding in it that I made out of love for you, consummate love, 'I want to get in your pants' love. In turn, you showed your appreciation by re-purposing the cup and putting your pens in it. Where are the pens? Why is it in the box?"
He shifts, "because I—"
"Because you don't love me anymore. So to use it would be to contribute to your ideation of empty love between us." You interrupt him, and set the jar on desk with a gentle clink. You pull out the cuff links and tie, "exhibit B. I had my initials embroidered into this tie for our prom night. I had these cuff links specially made, and now they're sitting in a box. If there's no one else, why aren't you wearing them?"
"Well, I—"
"Because you don't love me anymore."
His brows furrow, but you keep going — the Smiskis, the origami, the Calvin and Hobbes Valentine's Day comic strip, even flipping through the photo albums and detailing the context behind every photo that you randomly landed on…
And finally, you pull out the box of letters. It's heavy from all the folded papers, and you pull it open to display the different colored pages of stationery. Some Sanrio, some notebook paper, some even from his sketchbook from high school when he used to draw in his free time. You pull one out, "you hide these. There is years of history here, of emotion, of commitment, of passion. You used to have my first letter to you framed on your dresser."
"You left me." He says softly, his eyes scanning across almost all the memories he'd collected of you both throughout the years. He glances back up at you, "you left. Why would I frame it? To keep hurting myself? To miss you when I knew you weren't missing me?"
"Anyone else would've fought for me."
"Anyone else wouldn't know you the way I do."
He's standing now, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as as you huff, tears burning in the back of your eyes. He tilts his head at you, "you left."
"I know I did."
"Why?" His voice is gentle, leaning slightly closer. "And don't say things were moving too fast or that they were too serious. Don't say I was too much. Give me a real reason."
"That is a real reason." You grouse, running a hand over your face, "we're young. We're too young. Life is…fickle, at this age. You could find someone else. Want something new…yearn to explore."
He laughs humorlessly, sitting on the stool again as he shakes his head.
"I've been in love with you since I was six years old. Why would I suddenly up and decide you're not what I want?"
"You said you wanted to be a lawyer since you found out what it was, and now you're studying psychology. You can change your mind, so don't act coy."
"Not about you," he shakes his head, "never about you. It's always going to be you for me."
"How can you be so sure? Because of a love letter I wrote when I was sixteen?"
"Because you're the only person in my life that has ever had altruistic motives, and only when we were sixteen did you realize that it was always going to be you and me."
You blink as he shrugs, "everything you've ever done for me has made me who I am. You've molded me, guided me, helped me even when it didn't benefit you. You are the reason I am who I am, that I'm confident in my decisions, that I carry myself the way I do. You are everything I am, and this conversation is what we call central route persuasion. You want to say that I can change my mind about a career choice, and I can. You want to say that anyone else could've fought for you, and they could've. But I know you, and I know that you left because you were in your own head. And you don't want anyone in your way when you're like that, including me. You'll say things you don't mean and cut ties just to come right back and apologize later. Sometimes it's too late, sometimes it's too soon…"
He trails off, glancing at all the items you've taken out of the box. His eyes land on the custom figurine of Chococat and Badtz-Maru hugging, made of thick clay and glossed with resin — and he clicks his tongue.
"But it's always the right time with me. I know you. I know you're smart and capable and the sweetest person ever, and I know you didn't mean it. I never thought it would go that far, but like I said…it's you. I've known you my entire life. Even when I thought I'd be a lawyer and when you said you wanted to try for a doctorate. Even when you used to shove dirt in my face in preschool. Even when you try to argue things that are second nature to human beings like it can be avoided, when we're all different…but even then, you don't change. You don't change. You're always going to be Y/N and I'm always going to know your next move because I was made to love you. I don't know if there's psychology behind that but that's my life, my purpose. That's what I was born to do. If loving you, being yours completely…if being who I am meant to be in your life were a job, I'd be rich. But I already am, I always have been. The moment I met you, I had everything I could've ever wanted, needed, and you know that."
You don't realize you're crying until you sniffle, blowing a breath out through your lips. The photo albums are sprawled open on his bed, showing various pictures at different times in your life — junior prom in your matching pink dress and tie, your first date in your hometown's oldest ice cream parlor (where you accidentally spilled your milkshake and Mingyu gave you his, only to use what you now know as the foot-in-door technique to get a kiss out of it. You hadn't cared. It was sweet and cute and his lips were soft from years of stealing your lip balm.)
"So argue with me all you want, but that will never change." He shakes his head, gently gathering the things you'd taken out and putting some of them on his desk. He moves his pens back into the mason jar, he slots the photo albums between two bookends that held Women Who Run With The Wolves by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, All About Love by Bell Hooks…
A handmade journal you'd given him for his eighteenth birthday, made from recycled paper you'd dried yourself and an oil cloth cover, baby blue with a bird's eye pattern. The twine was dyed cobalt blue, staining your fingers for weeks but tied into cute bows and you'd written him yet another love letter — because it was before you knew whether or not you'd be going to the same universities.
You'd asked him to write down something for you every day. That you'd read them when you came home for breaks or for summer vacation, that you'd miss him if he went somewhere else but you hoped in your heart that you both got into SNU so you could 'keep loving him, even if you'd still love him with kilometers of distance between you.'
"What if—"
"No what ifs, Y/N."
He moves around, arranging things silently as you watch, letting the tears drip down your cheeks. He sets the Smiski figurines on his floating shelves, he moves his pictures around, displaying you and him closer to the front. He takes Chococat and Badtz-Maru and puts them on his night stand, he slides the box of love letters into his drawer and pulls out a picture frame — gold, oval-shaped, and holding your very first love letter to him. Folded over and over, creases wearing through your penmanship but standing the test of time.
The blue check mark mocks you as you glance at it.
"There's no what ifs with you and me." He says gently, taking the now empty box and carefully peeling the tape off the bottom. He crumples it, tossing it into his trash can and breaking the box down fully. He slots it along his recycling bin, before looking over at you. "And I know you know that."
You huff, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes and letting more hot tears coat your skin. They slip beneath the strap of your worn leather watch — a gift from Mingyu. They stream down the side of your face and drip onto your shirt — once Mingyu's. They slip down your neck, meeting the thin gold chain of the necklace that held a small initial — a letter M, and next to it, a gold signet ring he'd given you for your birthday many years ago. It didn't fit anymore, but it was yours. And it was his, and he was yours.
He is yours.
Always has been. Always will be.
"But what if—"
"Shut up." His hands are warm against your cheeks, squishing them gently as he swipes his thumbs under your eyes, "just shut up."
"I'm sor—"
"Shh."
He pulls you into his chest, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as you wrap your arms around him tightly. His hand is soothing on your back, sliding up and down as he rests his cheek on the top of your head. Your chest is warm as you let your eyes close, and Mingyu presses a tentative kiss on your hairline before pulling away.
"Just come back when you're ready. I'll be here." He whispers, squeezing the back of your neck lightly. "No apologies, no questions, just come home."
Seokmin ends up knocking on the door before you can say anything else, and offers you a lift home because Soonyoung asked him to go over and you both live in the same complex.
He doesn't question the embrace.
He knows. He has to know.
You quickly grab your stuff as Seokmin says he'll wait for you in the car, grabbing your empty plates off the desk and shutting the door behind him. Mingyu busies himself putting things away, clicking around his laptop and pulling a pen out of the mason jar and dragging it across the calendar.
"Thursday at six?" He asks over his shoulder, tapping the scratched out date. You barely glance up, "not for a study session, no."
"I can try for Wednesday, but I have a lab until seven-thirty."
"Didn't ask for Wednesday night."
"Y/N, work with me here."
You roll your eyes, pulling your bag over your shoulder and sidling up next to him. Tonguing your cheek, you tap the scratched square with your fingernail, "scratching it out doesn't make it go away."
"Easier not to see it."
"You always did like to plan ahead."
You take the pen from him, uncapping it and moving to the Notes at the bottom of the page.
Thurs. 28th: Y/N ♡ 5:30.
"I'll be here. I want you in the pink button up with the white pants you wore on your birthday last year." You mumble, shoving the pen back in the mason jar and making your way back to the door. He doesn't move, his eyes glued to the note. Your hand is wrapped around the doorknob, but you sigh, walking back to him and cupping his jaw gently. He spares you a glimpse, and you give him a pointed look, "pink button up—"
"White pants, I got it."
"Just making sure."
You pat his cheek, your own warming as he leans into it. His eyes are staring right into you, "not my jeans?"
"I'll kill you."
"What about the tan chinos? You love those."
"Do you hate me?"
He's closer now, carefully caging you in against his desk as he peers at you through his lashes, "you know I don't."
"You called me baby earlier."
"You called me a shithead."
You press your lips to his, the soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as he pulls you close, his arms wrapped around your waist as he kisses you back carefully. Your fingers slip down his face, gripping the collar of his SNU sweatshirt as he lets the kiss grow eager, licking into your mouth and sliding his hands to your hips, sitting you on the edge of his desk and wedging himself between your knees.
"I love you," you mutter into his mouth, earning a whine as he buried his face in your neck. His grip on your hips loosened, sliding down your thighs and squeezing almost painfully, "I love you, Mingyu."
"Again."
"I love you."
"One more."
"I love you, I love you, I love you," you press your lips to his cheek, his temple, his eyebrow. "I'll see you on Thursday. Pink shirt, white pants, okay?"
"Are you sure I can't sell you on the tan chinos?" He mumbles against your neck, kissing the skin faintly before he presses his forehead to yours. You shake your head, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips, "or the jeans, sorry."
"Lame," he mumbles, "I miss you. I love you."
"Even when I argue with the fundamentals of the brain?"
"Even when you snoop through my things."
"Box said my name."
"So does my heart, but you're not equipped to cut it out of my chest, are you?" He raises a brow, and you tongue your cheek as he grins, "are you, Dr. L/N?"
"Dr. L/N-Kim is not equipped, no. She's a physicist," you feign a grimace as you nod, patting his shoulder as his cheeks tinge pink, "not a medical doctor. Sorry if you thought cardiothoracic surgery was her specialty."
"Can't you stay?" He mumbles against your lips, and you shake your head, "if I say something cynical, how likely are you to be mad?"
"If you say some shit like distance makes the-"
"Distance does make the heart grow fonder."
"That's not even psychologically correct."
"No," you nip at his lower lip, earning a pout as you kiss the spot gently. "I don't hate you and it may not be psychologically proven, but…it is scientific theory that quantum entanglement exists. Particles, in this case, you and me…they interact, and their states are linked so much that you can't tell one apart from the other. Observing one means you automatically know the state of the other."
"You're so annoying."
"And yet, we are entangled."
He rolls his eyes, slotting his lips with yours momentarily before pressing his forehead against yours, "don't leave me again. I almost died and then you'd be shit out of luck for a cool boyfriend that loves you."
"Cool?"
"You broke my heart, you can cut me some slack and say I'm cool."
You grin, "Seokmin's waiting on me."
"Y/N."
"Don't like that one."
"Baby."
"Mmh, I love that one." You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips as he pulls at your belt loops. "Overall, I'm sorry. I do get kind of lost in my own head and I always think the solution is to be alone but it only really makes it worse. You'd think I'd stop doing it but it's…a bad habit. What does psychology say about that?"
"That humans are creatures of habit, and we fall into loops." His fingers tuck under your shirt, shaking his head as you give him a warning look. He settles them against your skin, rubbing circles into it, "and we break bad habits by actively engaging in the things that we're avoiding by using those bad habits. So instead of holing yourself away, next time…just talk to me."
"I'm very bad at that."
"I know, but I'll never shut you down. You know that."
"You love me, right? Even if I have bad habits and I won't take your last name?"
"I'll take yours," he shrugs, squeezing your hips under his hands. "I love you, you know that. I love you, I'm in love with you, I love hearing you talk about quantum mechanics like it's the easiest thing in the world."
"It is."
"Everything's easy for you."
"Including you?"
"Alright," he rolls his eyes, scoffing as his ears tinge pink, "Seokmin's waiting for you."
"You were just trying to get me to stay over!"
"No, I merely asked if you couldn't. And I never said we'd sleep together if you could."
You only smile, running your hands up his arms and squeezing his biceps, "I'll see you on Thursday."
"Can I make a request on wardrobe, too?"
"No," you press a kiss to his forehead, "I'll wear what I want and you'll tell me I look pretty before I talk your ear off about string theory over dinner."
"Wasn't it proven false?"
"Not yet, but it's theoretical physics. It's meant to be challenged."
"…Maybe I am easy for you."
"I love you," you pat his shoulders with a laugh, before he pouts. "I'll see you on Thursday, Mingyu."
"Bug."
"I'll see you on Thursday, bug."
"Don't be late, baby."
THURSDAY CAME AND WENT, AND SO DID YOUR CHAPTER TEST.
You weren't sure how you did. You didn't know how to ask Mingyu, either — watching him silently start grading your test after dismissing you with a polite smile on his lips.
Lips you'd kissed all Thursday night and well into Friday morning, lips that you apologized against for hours until those same lips that granted you forgiveness as he lowered his head between your thighs — making you talk about the significance of the amplituhedron in quantum physics through quipped breaths and whines.
It's Saturday, and you're sitting on his lap while he puts in grades. He didn't let you face the screen, because, in his words — it's already unfair that you're sucking face with the TA.
"Am I next?" You asked for the umpteenth time, your fingers tracing the waffle knit of his shirt. He laughed, his chest moving your head as you smacked his shoulder, "it's not funny! You can tell me! I'll act surprised when Dr. Lee pulls me aside and tells me I failed. A big, fat F in purple pen and maybe some pity points for my essay question."
"Mmh, why would she do that?"
"So I passed?"
"I can't tell you, baby."
You groaned as he chuckled again, his hand splaying across your back as you pouted into his shirt, "consummate love, my ass."
He pinches your hip, making you squeal as you bat his hand away. A kiss is planted on your hairline, "I'll tell you in exchange for a favor."
"Nice try, foot-in-door technique is not gonna work so well now, Mr. Kim."
"Dr. L/N-Kim, actually."
"Are you trying to turn me on right now?"
He hums, a smug smile on his lips as he continues putting in grades quietly. Your phone buzzes on the desk, but he slides it across the desk so you can't reach it before closing his laptop and giving you his full attention. His hands are snug around your thighs as he gives them a soft squeeze, "you have to stop thinking the worst. You're very smart."
"Obviously," you roll your eyes, "but what if—"
"You got a B." He interrupts, and your eyes widen before you throw your arms around his neck with a cheer. "I didn't grade it, so you can't call me biased."
"Dr. Lee graded it?" You try to mask the disappointment in your voice, but he smiles softly, "she had to grade it because of your essay question."
You peer at him through your lashes, playing with the buttons of his cardigan as you nibble on your lip.
"…Did you read it?"
"Of course I did."
He reaches behind you, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a rectangular frame — it matches the frame that holds your first love letter, and this one holds a scan of your essay question…including Dr. Lee's comment at the very top in swirled script and red pen under the Commentary section, and minus two points.
Commentary: Typically, I'd take five points off for going over the word limit. However, I think you and Mingyu will go very far…and it is clear I made an excellent choice picking him for your tutoring sessions. Congratulations, and good luck.
Q: Use what you learned from the text to describe what influences relationships to be formed, and use an example from your personal life — friendships, partnerships, etc., in 300 words or less. Opinions are welcomed.
A: Context is what sparks the formation and growth of a relationship. Perhaps not in terms of psychology, but also in it. In my case, I grew up with the TA for this course. I was his friend for eighteen years, and I unknowingly made him the man he's grown to be. Eventually, we progressed into a romantic relationship. I ended things, with no context and not a care of how it would affect him, or worse — me. Perhaps this is also a love letter to him, one of many he's received throughout the years…and an apology, one that he deserves and I'll forever proclaim.
Just as long as I've grown up with Mingyu, he's grown up with me. He's been a deciding factor of every part of my life, he's picked up on my cues, on my mannerisms, on every bad habit I have and has constantly called me to the carpet about them. He's helped me become a better person, both alone and by his side, and has never made me feel like an extension of him. The context of me — my need to be seen as an individual, my need to be taken seriously, my need to be understood as smart and capable and creative…he has respected it all. He has fed it all, he's worded every part of me that could ever be explained and he's done it properly without ever expecting anything in return. Altruistically, Mingyu has held me in high standards and praised me in even higher regards…and I could never be fully worthy of his compassion, but he makes that thought melt away easily.
When it comes to love…I used to say I agreed with Sternberg's Triangular Theory of Love. I disagree now. I think that all healthy relationships come with passion, intimacy, commitment…compassion and context. And all the context you need to know about me when it comes to relationships is that I love Kim Mingyu.
"You're a sap, you know that?" He murmurs against your hair, and you only smile as you feel him pepper his lips down the side of your face, "you, Dr. L/N-Kim, love Kim Mingyu."
"I do, bug."
"I know, baby. I love you."
"…So you're easy for me?"
"…Yeah. So easy."
↳ part of the winter with you collab!
synopsis: everything you've ever done, chan has been by your side - either egging you on or talking you off the ledge. after a rough year of studying, failed relationships and having chan be the insistent angel on your shoulder, the holidays roll around - and let's just say you're not too happy about it.
genre: holiday au. bffs to exes to lovers (what a doozy); angst, fluff, smut.
pairing: lee chan x fem!reader
word count: 40.4k (DON'T LOOK AT ME!)
rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
warnings: swearing, references to smoking weed, alcohol, food, use of sex as a general coping mechanism, jealousy. general exes who are still friends type of dynamics. mentions of misogynistic views, mentions of having kids, mentions of seasonal depression. chan is a bit of an asshole but redeems himself (and is overall just a good person but yk...) reader has a strained relationship with her mother. reader deflects a lot, chan cannot stop running his mouth. mingyu and sooyoung make several appearances. mutual pining. smut warnings: (let's take a deep breath for this one!) multiple scenes because they're fucking freaks (3 total!) alluded virginity loss (not depicted, backstory). teasing, frottage, heavy petting, bitiing, chan cums in his pants once. oral (m&f. rec.), face sitting, ab riding, subtle body worship (m&f. rec.), fingering (f.rec), pussy slapping (i know i know). nipple play (m&f. rec.), hair pulling, spitting, cumplay (just...okay?), switch!chan x switch!reader, chan likes it when she's mean, whiny!chan (can i get a hell yeah!?). slight strength kink, breeding kink, d*ddy kink (save me), love (?) kink (?). dirty talk (HELP. ME.), pet names (baby, princess, babe, etc.,) unprotected sex (don't do this), missionary (wouldn't be a haologram fic without missionary and body worship but i digress.) i think that's it!
what to listen to: meddle about - chase atlantic ; habit - seventeen ; to die for - sam smith ; wait - dino ; heart - dawn ; scared to live - the weeknd ; fantasy - bazzi ; don't leave me - intro ; kiss it better - rihanna ; all mine - plaza ; the party and the after party - the weeknd ; always - daniel caesar ; fade into you - mazzy star.
author's note: i fear i cannot shut the fuck up! yet another behemoth for caratblr, loverboy!chan save me please. special thanks to my dearest @diamonddaze01 for betaing this big ass fic an encouraging me to not give it up when i was truly losing my mind. thank you to @camandemstudios for allowing me to be in yet another collab of theirs. as always, dedicated to the most devoted dinonara i know, @bitchlessdino. snowflake dividers are by @/strangergraphics here on tumblr! enjoy the wild ride and happy holidays, everyone!
DECEMBER 22, 4:32PM.
Your car horn cannot take another beating, and you're not sure Chan's ears can take another annoyed, muttered string of expletives from your mouth – confirmed the moment he yells at you to pull over. You argue back that you're in the middle of the expressway and everyone around you is going over sixty miles an hour, but he doesn't care. You mumble profanities as you merge several lanes, pulling over only for him to tell you to stay inside and he'll get out.
"You've been driving me up the fucking wall since we left the apartment. What stick do you have up your ass that you're upset about everything!?" He practically slammed your car door as he got into the driver's seat, swatting your bare thigh as you climbed over the console to the passenger side. You scoff, batting his hand away from your legs as you plop into the seat.
"Nothing, Channie. I'm fine." You grit, yanking the seatbelt a little too hard for him to think you're fine. He sighs, resting his forehead against the steering wheel before he turns to look at you.
"Y/N, I've known you since we were in diapers. I know when something is bothering you, you're not weaseling your way out of this."
What was wrong with you? You're sitting in your old beater car with your life-long best friend, wearing his old cheer shorts and his t-shirt and probably his socks as well. You're on your way home during an unusually warm winter, hence the shorts, and you're nursing a cup of his infamous hot cocoa. The one with actual mini marshmallows, none of that Swiss Miss bullshit.
You'd had a great cheer practice before the break ended, with your coach telling you and Chan to please rest during the holidays – it wasn't exactly either of your fortes. She knew the two of you went home for the break together, and you'd likely be practicing stunts in your parents' basement – but you knew exactly why you were upset and it had nothing to do with cheer and everything to do with the fact that your best friend has had the best years of his entire life while you're being a sulky baby.
You cross your arms, the drawstrings of your hoodie yanked by the seat belt as Chan turns in his seat. "Everyone has bad days, Y/N."
"You don't." You mutter, crossing your legs at the knee before you feel Chan's fingers pinch your cheek. "Yes, I do. I don't know where you got this idea that I'm perfect. I'm flattered, but I'm just as human and clumsy as you are."
"Yeah, well…shut up." You huff, feeling Chan press his lips to your temple. "Don't be so sour. We're on vacation, let's enjoy it. It's our last one before we graduate, isn't that exciting?"
It's not. It makes existential dread weigh on your shoulders, and it's so stupid. It's stupid dread, rooted in misogyny and lies and comparison that is the thief of joy. It makes you hate him, knowing that Chan doesn't have to worry about any of this but you do simply because you have some stupid biological clock that works AGAINST you.
You know once university is over, your parents will start to ask about marriage and kids. You know that they'll bring up Chan, over and over until you tell them for the third year in a row that you and Chan tried it and it just didn't work.
Freshman year of college between you and Chan has to have been one of the strangest years yet. He had rushed a frat and you helped him move from his dorm into the house – and the brothers made eyes at you until Chan lied and said you were his girlfriend. None of them bought it, so much so that Chan had confessed about it and you were so wide eyed he was scared your eyes would fall out. Once the initial shock wore off, you shrugged and agreed you'd be his pretend girlfriend – that it would definitely get you out of some bullshit.
Simultaneously, it got you into some bullshit.
It was a few weeks before winter break, and you were both drunk at your first frat party. The two of you had been locked away in his room getting high earlier that day, and neither of you were in the condition to interact with anyone else or even go downstairs for more drinks – so you just laid in his bed and giggled about nonsense. He was propped up on his elbow, telling you about how the older brothers had made him pants the president of Alpha Phi and you were just staring off into space while you nodded along.
Until you looked at Chan a little too closely, your head on his pillow as he pushed your hair out of your eyes. He smiled down at you, his fingers tracing the shell of your ear as he continued talking when you sat up and anxiously pressed your fingers to your pulse point, having felt your heart rate spike at just the slope of his nose. Everything felt way too hot and intimate for two best friends.
He'd asked if you were okay, if you needed water – assuming you were too crossfaded to prevent the panic attack that seemed to creep on. You shook your head, screwing your eyes shut as you flopped back down and tucking yourself into his chest.
He'd assumed you wanted to be held, so he threw your leg over his waist and ran his fingers through your hair, murmuring subtle praises as you tried to regulate your breathing – but the smell of the weed and your best friend's cologne was just too much and you wound up pushing him away.
"Channie, get away from me!" You'd whined, shoving him back and attempting to pull your sweater over your head. You failed, and he laughed, yanking it over your head the rest of the way. "Are you hot? Should I open the window?"
"You should kiss me, you fucking idiot. How can you tell your entire fraternity I'm your girlfriend and you won't even kiss me?" You'd poked your finger into his chest, your t-shirt rumpled from the sheer force of your sweater coming off. He blinked at you, lip jutted out in a pout. "Well, how am I supposed to know you want me to kiss you when you literally just told me to get away from you?"
"I'm your fake girlfriend! I'm getting zero play from anyone else because they think we're a thing!"
"Aren't you a virgin?" He asked, sitting up as you smoothed your shirt over your belly, lying back down on your side, propped up by your elbow. "Aren't you? You're my best friend, it's not like we'd hump and dump each other. If we're bad, we can just learn."
Chan had been truly appalled at your words. The two of you had never crossed into this territory, despite knowing everything about each other. You'd been each other's first kiss back in high school, but that was fully a dare from your other friends and neither of you spoke about it again. He dated around with other girls and you had one boyfriend that was shitty, but it was always just the two of you at the end of the day.
"You want me to…"
"Only if you want to."
"Are you joking?"
You hadn't been, and you proved that by tugging Chan down by his collar and pressing your lips to his. He immediately reciprocated, pushing you onto your back and shoving your thighs apart to settle between them. He wasn't a bad kisser at all – a little too skilled for your shy touches, but you quickly caught on to his movements as you felt him grow hard.
"We don't have to do this at all. You know that, right?"
"Chan, I want you to."
He'd blushed slightly as you flipped the two of you over, letting him sit up with you in his lap and quickly pulled your top off. His hands were warm and nervous, but you kissed him again and it felt like everything fell into place.
The first round was slow and gentle – you were on top, and he kissed all over your chest and face as the two of you got into it. By the third time, you were covered in nips from his teeth and his saliva as he folded you in every position imaginable. He was a young guy with a Costco box of condoms and the girl of his dreams in his bed – he had to commit this to memory. The two of you went at it like starved, depraved lovers – it was nearing seven in the morning by the time he reached into his nightstand and the box of condoms was empty. You were both sober by then…and the reality of your decisions began to sink in as you let him sink into you, raw.
"Y/N…" He whimpered into your neck, entirely too sensitive for this to be happening but you only mewled in response. "Feels so good, Channie, please…"
You only spurred him on, clawing at his back and whining his name as your walls overstimulated him. Every single part of his body felt like it was on fire under your touch, and he relished in the way your teeth sunk into his shoulders and neck as he brought you over the edge repeatedly.
"Shit, b-baby…I'm gonna.."
You only wrapped your legs around him, pulling him into you deeper as you kissed the words off his tongue. He tried to kiss you back, he really did – but failed miserably as he came inside you, hips involuntarily working the two of you through your shared orgasm. You kissed him messily as he came down, feeling his hands on your cheeks as he slowed you down, before pulling away fully.
"We need to clean up." He muttered, resting his forehead against yours, your eyes closed as you nodded tiredly. "I don't think I can get up."
You hadn't been able to – Chan wound up carrying you into his bathroom and holding you between himself and the wall in order to help you shower. You were so tired your eyes remained closed for the majority of it all – something Chan was grateful for because he just couldn't stop roaming his eyes all over you.
Thankfully, it'd been a Saturday the day before – so there was no reason for you to leave his bedroom. He gave you the cheer shorts he usually wore, and tugged an old sweatshirt over your head while also stripping his bed of the sheets. He threw your clothes in with it in the wash – and returned to see you asleep. He had so many questions, just watching as you snuggled into his pillow as he sank onto his bed, reaching for his phone to order delivery – only for you to tug him back.
"We can eat later."
"When can we talk?"
You peeled your eyes open for that one, looking at him tiredly.
"You're my boyfriend, Chan. Couples have sex."
"But–"
"I love you. Now, hold me."
And he did. He laid down, and you draped yourself over his chest. His hand went under your sweatshirt, rubbing small circles into your back as the two of you fell asleep. But his mind never strayed from how confidently you said those three little words.
That was one of many nights between you and Chan. You were referring to each other as significant others, subconsciously going on dates, and fucking like there was no tomorrow. He'd get you flowers, tell you how pretty you looked. You'd fluster him with comments of how handsome he was, and you'd spend hours slow-dancing together in his bedroom if you weren't just basking in each other's presence.
Neither of you spoke about feelings, but rough whispers of I love you slipped out often during sex, softer ones when he dropped you off at your dorm (that you were hardly at because you spent all your time with him), teasing ones when he just felt like it. You found it harder to say after the first time – kissing him in response, feeling your cheeks grow hot as he looked at you with said love in his eyes. Sometimes you'd mumble it, only loud enough for him to hear.
You loved him too. You didn't know when it became romantic, you'd never been in love before. But, perhaps if you'd looked deeper – you would understand that feeling like you can hardly breathe from pure excitement when he's around is a tell-tale sign of being absolutely enamored.
Perhaps, you said I love you first – because you were scared that if you let it fester inside you, it'd become too overwhelming.
It did, anyway.
The two of you went home that holiday break and tried everything possible not to tell your parents anything. Chan's family owned the house next door and only used it when he was home – but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep separately after weeks of constant skinship. You tried for the first three days – only for Chan to sneak into your bedroom and stuff your panties in your mouth to keep you quiet.
Everything had been going smoothly until your parents found out – spotting a hickey on your collarbone that hadn't been there when you arrived. Your mother was the first to question you – her interrogation light over dinner with Chan and his parents.
"So…find any cute boys?" She asked as she poured you a glass of water, one you immediately reached for as you choked on your bread. Chan's eyes widened as they fell on you, spotting the bruised mark on your skin under your t-shirt from across the table. "Mom, what gives? That's so embarrassing."
"I sort of asked Chan the same question." Mrs. Lee shrugged, before her hand reached to tug on her son's sweater. "Then I saw this and got my answer."
Two hickies on his chest, and Chan's cheeks burned beet red as he wiggled away from his mother. "Can we not do this?" He asked through gritted teeth, and you only covered your face with your hands as your father snorted.
"We always figured the two of you would end up together. It's just the way it goes sometimes. Friends before lovers is a good way to start a beautiful relationship." He nods, patting your back gently to ease your discomfort. You gave Chan a glare through our fingers, only for him to gawk at you as if you were blaming him for the entire thing.
"We're glad it's you, Y/N, really. I was always worried my Chan would get his heart broken by someone ruthless." Mrs. Lee pinches her son's cheek, making him groan as he moves away. "This is so embarrassing, stop it!"
"We've only been together for a few weeks, so can we drop it?" You mumbled, stabbing your fork into a meatball as your mother glanced your way. "...Sure, honey."
Your parents didn't bring it up again for the rest of your vacation, but things felt a lot more breathable after. You and Chan went out on your own several times – dinner, stargazing, a few hikes. You kissed eagerly behind closed doors, but kept your touching to a minimum in front of siblings and parents. He held your hand as the New Year's ball dropped, and kissed you moments after when his parents looked away. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies at the tender touches, but started feeling antsy as days continued and you couldn't have sex.
He offered to take you on a drive after your parents went to bed, and you wound up fucking in the backseat of his car that night to the sound of Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. It was by far the most desperate you'd ever seen him, and the night you accidentally discovered a small kink of his – one the two of you swore not to speak of again after. Or rather, he asked you not to – but what kind of girlfriend and best friend are you if you don't tease him about his little ticks?
You both returned to campus a few days later, and Chan managed to get you naked in his bed before you even unpacked your things. You'd decided to forego buying condoms on the way home to avoid the temptation, but just looking at you was enough to get Chan going and he had no idea how to make you understand that.
Until the spring semester started and the two of you got slammed with essay after essay, lab after lab, pop quiz after pop quiz. It was February by the time the two of you got to spend more than an hour alone – and you had nothing to talk about. You just kissed quietly, feeling each other up for hours until your underwear was soaked through with your arousal and Chan was painfully hard.
"We should break up." You murmured against his lips, and he nodded. "We should. After this, though."
"After." You agreed, not knowing that Chan's chest had tightened at your words. Not knowing that he hoped just feeling you around him would mend that pain he felt, and not knowing he hoped he could get you to stay through the night – and break up in the morning. Not the night of his birthday, not the first night he gets to have you again after missing you for ages. Not the day that seems to have completely slipped your mind.
And, it worked. Yet another large box of assorted condoms and half a bottle of unnecessary lube later, you were tucked in his bed again. In his cheer shorts, in his shirt, and with dozens of love bites littered around your body. You kissed him as he slid into bed next to you, your arm draped over his chest as you began to talk.
"I'm sorry if it's sudden. You're my best friend and I don't want to lose you, but we just…don't have time." You had muttered, and Chan fought back tears as he nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I don't want to lose you, either. But if we break up…we have to stay friends, Y/N. We have to."
He meant it. Even if it meant he had to break his own heart by spending time with you and not being able to kiss you, caress you, love you, he meant it. You were all he knew – his first kiss, his first crush, his first fake-girlfriend. His first real girlfriend, despite having dated around. His first time having sex, making love, and everything in between. The first woman he'd learned inside and out, and the only woman he wanted to know that way.
If time was the issue, he'd wait.
But you didn't know that.
Shortly after your relationship ended, Chan found himself restless. His hand wasn't enough anymore, but neither was anything else he tried. He lost interest in porn easily and even wound up sneaking peeks at your Instagram for some sort of relief. He resorted to asking one of his frat brothers what he should do – and Wonwoo calmly looked up at him and said, "You fuck someone else."
Chan hadn't been sure what to do with that information. He wound up going to cheer practice early that day, only to find you doing stunts with Minghao, a fellow spotter and one of his frat brothers – his hands tightly gripping your waist as he threw you up in the air. He catches you swiftly, and Chan only feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment as you eagerly compliment Minghao on his skills, your hands gingerly wrapped around his biceps – your nails still the soft pink he chose not even a month before.
It was too much touching for Chan's taste, and he wound up turning right back around and skipping practice, sneaking out of the gym before either of you could see him. When Minghao arrived at the frat after practice and saw Chan in the kitchen, he asked him where he'd been – that you'd asked for him and wanted him to help Minghao with your stunts. Chan simply clicked his tongue and shrugged, "Was busy. She can figure it out."
Minghao had been a bit taken aback by his comment, but said nothing as Chan practically pushed past him. There was a party a few days after that, with both you and a bunch of random girls in attendance – mostly girls from the fraternity's sister sorority. Chan had one up in his bedroom within the hour, and another two hours later.
You went home after seeing him take the first one upstairs.
After that happened, and Minghao spoke to you about Chan's behavior about the entire stunt situation, you felt a shift in your friendship. Chan became a serial monogamist for a long time – none of his flings lasted longer than two weeks, and he kept them at arms' length. He never mixed business and pleasure – the cheer girls were strictly off limits, much to their dismay.
But you were the person he drunk texted. Saying he misses you and wants to hang out – and you'd hang out. You'd go pick him up and take him back to your dorm (later, your apartment) and watch movies, get drunk and fall asleep on your couch. He never made a move on you, and you never made a move on him because you were just friends.
So you shoved it all down. You watched him bag girl after girl, you watched him win trophy after trophy. You watched him make the Dean's list every semester, you watched him build unbreakable friendships, you watched everything he touched turn to gold and it made frustration fester inside you.
You struggled a lot after the breakup – from branching out and meeting new guys to your grades tanking just a bit – and it made you feel pathetic. You slept with one other guy, a guy from a different cheer team. You met him at a competition, and it was in the next city over, so you and your team had to get a hotel. You and Chan naturally roomed together…only for Chan to hit it off with a girl from another team, and it led to a heated argument between you and him to see who got the room for the night. He wound up storming out and staying with her, only to come back in the early morning to a locked door and the sound of you and the guy going at it.
Neither of you spoke about it. You didn't speak on the ride home, either – and you ignored him for a week until he texted you and asked if you wanted to get drinks. You agreed, and he apologized for his behavior. You only nursed your cosmopolitan, and accepted his apology with the condition that he buy you an appetizer.
An order of mozzarella sticks and a thing of marinara later, you forgave him. The two of you danced around conversations for a bit, before he offered you a lift home. You gracefully accepted, and he dropped you off at your apartment with a hug goodbye. A hug that lasted longer than any had since the breakup, and you felt…slightly put back together.
Things seemingly settled after that.
Fast forward to senior year – you and Chan are still inseparable. You're co-captains of your cheer team, he's the vice president of his fraternity and you find yourself there every weekend to help with events if the two of you aren't at a cheer competition. He holds your hair when you throw up and he helps you glue on your false lashes for competition nights. He drives you to places when you're too tired but still want to go out, he tutors you for Organic Chemistry and gives you gummy bears as rewards for getting questions right.
Chan is your best friend, and he makes sure everyone knows – including the girls he gets in his bed every few nights.
Your eyes still lingered on him at parties – the way he'd grind against girls, the way he'd never done with you because you weren't a stranger to him. He'd seduce them with his confidence and kiss them, but never in the way he kissed you. You could see it, how shallow it was to him, before he'd begin moving them towards his bedroom.
But, even now – you miss him. Lonely nights in your bedroom turned into lonely nights in your shared apartment with him, having been convinced to move into a two-bedroom with him as a reward for making it to senior year of university without any major fuck-ups. However, you felt like a major fuck-up – because now this meant he'd bring girls to the shared home.
He hasn't, yet. But, he will. You're sure of it.
It makes your stomach turn to think about it.
"See how much calmer things are when you're not the one driving?" Chan's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you scowl. "Shut up."
He only rolls his eyes, but you feel your thighs clench at the way he looks when he drives. You'd gotten used to this sight in many lights – Chan driving you home from an arcade night, Chan driving you home from getting drinks. Chan driving you home from the movies, Chan driving you home from cheer practice.
Chan driving you home after that night he fucked you senseless three years ago in his backseat, whispering how good you felt around him and how he couldn't imagine a life without you in it.
You sigh inwardly at the thought of it, opting to recline your seat and cover your face with your arms. You cross your legs before feeling Chan's hand squeeze your knee, making you jolt as you swat at him. "Stop touching me, I'm sensitive!"
"Your knee is sensitive?" He teases, fingers pinching it again as you groan. "You're pissing me off, Chan."
He only snickers, his fingers brushing up your thigh before you shove it away. "Quit."
"Alright, alright. At least put on some music, I need to hear something other than your whining." He holds up the aux cable, and you take it and plug it into your phone. You press shuffle on your Spotify, ignoring the way your cheeks heat the moment Meddle About by Chase Atlantic starts.
He only turns the volume up.
"You guys are home!" Mrs. Lee greets you by throwing her arms over you, and you nearly stiffen before Chan gives you a pointed look. You hug her back warmly, thanking her for being so excited to see the two of you. "How is school? Still doing well, I hope!"
"Doing great, Mrs. Lee. Chan's helping me quite a bit these days." You nod in the direction of her son, who is unloading everything as you shove a stick of gum into your mouth. His arms look great in that long sleeve…he should wear it more often…
"...And your mom made that brown sugar ham you love! Isn't that exciting!?" Mrs. Lee's voice brings you back as you nod quickly, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets as the wind picks up a bit. "Yes! I'm starving, you have no idea. We survived on jerky."
Your pout makes Mrs. Lee coo, her knuckles pinching your cheek as she beckons you to follow her into your house. Chan gives you a glare as he grabs your duffel, and you only blow a kiss at him as you follow his mother inside.
"Y/N!" Your little sister can be heard screaming from the top of the stairs, and you smile as you turn – seeing her practically fly down them, her arm in a pink cast as she wraps it around you. "Hey, babycakes! What happened to your arm?"
"Rosie took a tumble down the stairs last week, I keep telling her to slow down." Your mother appears out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she presses a kiss to your cheek. "Welcome home, darling."
Your sister begins to ramble about everything going on at school with her friends – that Katie has a crush on Hyunjin but Hyunjin likes Minseo and Minseo thinks Katie is too mean to join their coloring circle. All too much for you to process in one go, and definitely too much for her to get out in one breath because she stops the moment you hear Chan grunt, kicking the door open slightly to make his way inside.
"Chan!" She abandons you, and Chan lights up as she runs into him, spinning her around. "Hey, Rosie! It's been so long, oh! What happened to your arm?"
He kneels down to her height, and it makes your heart warm. Your parents definitely did not plan to have another child so late in life, but Rosie was the easiest kid ever. You remember when they brought her home – you were a junior in high school and you were ecstatic. You'd been staying with the Lees, and they all came over to meet her.
Chan was the only one who pulled you aside and asked how you were doing. You admitted you were a bit overwhelmed, and he wound up offering to stay the night and just talk. His parents allowed it and the two of you ordered takeout and spent the entire night just talking.
Rosie kept your parents young and on their toes – enough that they made friends with other couples in their neighborhood. Rosie was popular, she had lots of friends at school and around the neighborhood – loads of people came to her birthday parties and your home was the designated playdate house.
You zone back in to see Rosie offering Chan a marker, and you gasp. "No way you're letting him sign before me! I'm your sister!"
"But Channie's my best friend." She retorts as you walk over, squatting next to Chan, who sticks his tongue out at you. "That's what you get for not helping me unload the car."
"Oh, but you're so big and strong! You're supposed to do it!" You argue back childishly, only for your little sister to stomp her foot. "Sign it! I have things to do!"
Chan bites back his laughter as he signs it, before handing the marker over to you. "Do tell, Rosie. What things do you have to do?"
"Well, I have a tea party in ten minutes and I do not like to be late. The tea will get cold." She sniffs, and Chan pats her shoulder. "Have fun, pipsqueak."
She runs off, obviously over the excitement of her sister and her 'best friend's' arrival. Chan gives you a glance, "Feeling better after having to do nothing?"
You shrug, smiling at him. "I appreciate you, you know that."
"You have a funny way of showing it." He says pointedly, before tilting his head towards his duffel. "Mom said I have to stay with you this time, my cousins are in town for a few days and they're in my room. Is that cool?"
"Promise you'll wear socks to bed?" You hold your pinky out and he sighs, shaking his head as he links your pinky with his. "Fine, but that means you have to wear pants."
You smirk, winking at him. "It's my bed, Chan."
You stand up straight, shaking your legs out before walking away from him. He shakes his head again, tonguing his cheek as he follows suit. You wander into the kitchen, and your mother greets Chan with a hug. They start catching up about little things as you open the fridge, grabbing a wine cooler for yourself and a beer for Chan, shoving it into his chest and leaving. You hear your mother jokingly ask if Chan wanted the air mattress, and he only laughs before denying it, saying he should help you unpack and get comfortable. She agrees.
"Need help?" He moves to leave the beer on the table, your wine cooler tucked under your arm as you hoist your duffel over your shoulder.
"Nope." You smile, making your way to your bedroom. Yours is the only one downstairs, and it's in the furthest corner in the house as well. You practically begged your parents for it, insisting it was the warmest room in the house when the winters came about – and once Rosie came along, they let you move downstairs, saying the baby needed to be near them. You'd eagerly agreed and moved out happily.
Chan followed behind you quietly, his own bag over his shoulder as he took a sip of the beer you gave him. He wouldn't finish it, and the two of you would likely swap drinks before either of you had too much of it. As he reached your room, he saw you backflip onto your bed, a groan from your lips as you sank into the memory foam mattress.
"Fuck, this is gonna do wonders for my back." You moaned, eyes closed as you kicked your shoes off. He snorted, putting his beer next to your wine cooler on your dresser before doing the same. "Jesus, when did they get this for you? Your mattress has always sucked."
You know he's not referring to the time three years ago that he snuck in, but your cheeks heat anyway as you look at him. His eyes widen, and he clears his throat. "I didn't mean–"
"They got it for me last summer." You interrupt, and he nods quickly. "Sorry."
"For?" You try to act nonchalant, but you clear your throat one too many times for him to think it's fine. So…he makes it worse. "We never talk about those days, you know. It's not like…it's weird. Right?"
Not weird at all. I don't miss the way you felt inside me, nope. Not at all.
"Do you…want to?" You don't mean to sound so bitter, but Chan clicks his tongue. "I mean…it wasn't the worst thing ever. I…liked you a lot."
You grimace at the awkwardness, but try and shrug. "I mean…I hope so. We did say we loved each other. A lot, might I add."
"I said it a lot, you deflected." He corrects you, and you turn your head to look at him. "Are you doubting that I loved you?"
"You wanted to break up on my birthday, Y/N, not even a week before Valentine's Day. Forgive me for assuming." He rolls his eyes, and you sit up. "No, I didn't. Your birthday is on the 11th."
"Yeah. You came over on the 11th after we didn't see each other for weeks. We were kissing and you said that we should break up." He props himself up on his elbow, and your brow furrows as you think.
The two of you managed to sneak a glance or two in during cheer practices, but the days before blurred together because you pulled several all-nighters studying for your anatomy midterm. You remember checking the time before you left your dorm to go spend the night with him, it'd been five-thirty.
On February 11th.
"Shit, I'm sorry." You breathe, and he shakes his head. "What good is it now?" He shrugs, picking at a loose thread in your comforter.
"Chan, I'm sorry." Your hand finds his shoulder, and he gives you a soft smile. "It's fine. You finished the day with me anyway, that was all I'd wanted that year."
I'm sorry for breaking up with you, I wish I hadn't done that.
"I did love you. I still do, you're literally my best friend." You say gently, and Chan's eyes meet yours. They hold something you can't quite grasp, "It's different. Of course I love you, you're my best friend."
You feel like your stomach is about to fall out of your ass when Chan shrugs again, his shoulders constricted by the tightness of his top. Your eyes follow the curve of his waist, his sweatpants tied around his hips loosely.
"It's just different between you and me now, you know? It's not the same friendship it was before." He rolls onto his back, arms behind his head as he keeps talking. "Sometimes, I think it shouldn't have happened at all. I mean, let's be honest. Between you and me…things have always just been simple. We overcomplicated it by doing whatever it is that we thought would enhance our relationship."
You can feel your chest aching with every word, but you can't seem to stop listening. Your eyes burn with tears as you let him keep talking. We?
"I guess it was something of a dumpster fire. Everyone always assumed we'd be something, maybe it's good we got it out of our systems." He nods, before looking at you. His eyes widened, sitting up quickly as you covered your face with your hand. "Y/N–"
"You can be really, really coarse sometimes." You mumble, sliding off your bed and grabbing your wine cooler off the dresser. "I'm going to go find my dad, make yourself at home."
You tighten your sweater around yourself, flinging the door open and slipping into the bathroom. You refuse to let the tears fall, taking a deep breath before drinking half of your can. You press the cool metal to your cheeks before stepping out, walking out towards the garage to see your father tuning one of his many guitars.
"Oh, you're home! I've missed you!" He puts the bass guitar down, before he frowns. "What's wrong, honey? Are you okay?"
"M'fine. Hey." You shake your head, giving him a one-armed hug. He's not convinced, holding you closely. "You can talk to me, you know that."
"It's stupid. What are you doing here?" You set your drink down on his workbench, only to see your father's stern look staring down at you. You sigh, running your fingers over the strings of the guitar. "Chan and I broke up."
Confusion crosses his features as you take a seat on one of his cushioned bar stools. "I thought you broke up ages ago, sweetie."
"We did. That's the problem." You mumble, feeling a tear slip out of your eye and you brush it away quickly, but your father sighs carefully, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You bury your face into his ribcage, feeling sobs rack your body as he hums quietly. Your father had always been the person you went to when it came to Chan, because your mom was convinced you'd be the brute of the relationship – and insisted you were too harsh with your words at times.
"What'd he say this time?" He asks softly, and you wipe at your nose with your sweater sleeve, trying to form it in a way that doesn't expose your entire relationship. "He just mentioned that he felt like our friendship was different now that we'd involved feelings in the past, and that he thinks it's better that we 'got it out of our systems.' He said that he wishes it'd never happened sometimes, who says that?"
Your father nods, a frown on his lips as he sighs. "I'm sorry he said those things, honey. I assume he didn't know you still felt some type of way about him?"
"I don't." You lie through gritted teeth, but your father knows you far better than that. He pats your shoulder, glancing down at you. "Now, you and I both know that's not true. You called me crying about him a few weeks ago, didn't you?"
You had. You don't exactly remember what you'd said, but you remember it being three in the morning and your mother taking the phone and telling you to get a grip. It only made you cry harder, enough that your father stayed up for the next two hours soothing you over the phone. Chan walked into your bedroom a few hours later and asked if you were okay. You kicked him out of your room out of embarrassment.
"Why can't you be one of those dads that kicks the guy's ass for me?" You pout, swatting his arm as he lets out a full bellied laugh. "Because I have two wonderful daughters and a loving wife I need to provide for. If I beat up every guy that crosses you, I'd be sent away. I'd miss graduations, birthdays, anniversaries. Weddings, at some point. I'd hate to miss those beautiful moments."
You roll your eyes, and your father smiles lightly. "I also happen to know how to distinguish when my daughter is doing these things to herself. Chan might be saying things you don't exactly want to hear, but that's exactly what you're not doing. You're not talking to him about anything. He can't know how you feel if you're not telling him."
You huff, but you know he's right. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. There's nothing to tell him, and if he wants to act like we're better off being as distant as we are then I'm no one to beg for his presence."
"That pride of yours will get you in trouble. Knock it off." He says pointedly, before sitting on the stool next to you. "Now, listen to this. I think my tune is still off."
Dinner was always a nice, intimate affair between your family and Chan's. You gather around the large mahogany table your father made years ago, and talk about everything and anything under the Sun. They ask you and Chan about school, cheer, and dating. Rosie talks about her friends and her toys, your mother talks about her restaurant and your father about his music store. The Lees tell you about their dance company, and give you updates on Chan's younger brother, who would be spending the holidays stuck at work.
Dating spins the table once more, and your father gives you a look that says he'll change the topic if you say the word. Mrs. Lee starts by teasing her son, who flushes beet red and insists he's not looking for anything right now.
"I still never found out why you and Y/N broke up." Mr. Lee chimes in, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as you grip your fork. Rosie looks between the two of you, her nose crinkled. "Ew! You were boyfriend and girlfriend?!"
"No." You answer quickly, and your voice is far too nonchalant for Chan's taste, it seems. He gives you a confused look, and you shrug. "We just didn't work out. It wasn't good for us."
"Easy for you to say." He mutters, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. You grimace, and Mr. Lee shifts uncomfortably before you feel the words tumble from your mouth. "Yeah, well when you tell your girlfriend she doesn't love you, it's kind of hard to want to be together."
Mrs. Lee's eyes are wide, spluttering over her glass of water as Chan groans, pulling his cap over his eyes. "That's not what I said, Y/N, you're twisting my words."
"Am I?" You scoff, letting your fork clatter on the table as you push your chair back. "I mean, seriously, who fucking cares anymore? It's been three years."
"Language, Y/N." Your mother's voice is stern, gesturing to your little sister who looks increasingly bewildered. You sigh, closing your eyes as you scoot your chair back into the table. "We just broke up. It's fine. I'm sorry for swearing, Rosie. Bad girl Y/N." You apologize to your sister, who nods slowly.
Chan mumbles an apology to Rosie as well, and the tension is thick as Mr. Lee clears his throat. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."
"Not your fault, Mr. Lee. Sore subject." You shake your head, patting the left side of your chest, as if saying it pains you. He gives you a sorry smile, before Mrs. Lee speaks up. "Will you be fine to room together? I don't want you guys to fight this entire trip, we haven't seen you in so long."
"It's fine." You and Chan say in unison, eyes meeting in a glare over the table. "I know how to keep my mouth shut, it's no problem." You add, and Chan scoffs, mumbling something like ridiculous under his breath.
"Alright, that's enough. We haven't seen you guys in four months. We're going to sit here and enjoy this dinner, damnit!" Your mother speaks loudly next to you, making you jolt. Chan apologizes as he sits up in his chair, your little sister wide eyed as your mother shoves a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth. You elbow her lightly, and she coughs.
"Sorry, Rosie."
Your father makes the rest of the dinner go smoothly. He mentions his store, and tells a story about a guy who came in wanting to learn a few songs for his wife who was in the hospital. Everyone listens intently, and dinner is wrapped up within the hour. You offer to pick up, your mother's tired eyes thankful as she carefully hauls your now sleeping sister up the stairs to bed.
You tongue your cheek as you bid goodnight to the Lees, offering to wrap the cake your mom made in case they want to have a sweet midnight treat. They accept it and you watch them as they make the walk down the lawn to their house. You shut and lock the door, seeing Chan lingering at the bottom of the stairs speaking to your father. They both look apologetic, but Chan's cheeks are tinged pink as he rubs his neck, a habit he developed when feeling sheepish or admitting something.
You frown to yourself, turning back to the table. You gather all the plates, stacking them as you walk around the table. You'd pack the leftovers first, but you had to move everything out of the way properly.
"I'll wash." You hear Chan say, before he takes the plates from your hold. You don't reply, simply moving to gather all the cups and silverware. You dump any remaining drinks down the sink, ignoring the way he scrapes the plates over the garbage can. You move around in silence, quickly wrapping leftovers and moving them into containers, before sliding everything into the fridge and standing next to him as he washes the cups, moving onto the silverware quickly.
"I didn't think it would bother you." He begins, and your hand tightens around the glass in your hand, before you wipe it down with the rag in your other hand. He scrubs the silverware harshly as you mutter, "You assumed."
"Yeah, well, I thought we were best friends. I thought I could assume shit and be right." He huffs, and you carefully take the knives from him, swiping the rag over the blades with ease. "You are right."
"What?" He looks up from the soup bowl in his hand, and you shrug. "You are right. I guess I just didn't want to admit it earlier, but things are different between us now. It's whatever."
You're lying. You're absolutely lying and Chan's face tells you he knows.
"You've always been a bad liar, Y/N. Don't start trying now." He scoffs, and you don't say anything as you dry the forks and spoons, opening the drawer to put them away. He washes the rest of the bowls in silence, but sucks his teeth the moment he grabs a plate.
"Why?" He asks reluctantly, and you raise a brow at him. "Why, what?"
"Why are things different?"
You hum in response, drying a bowl as you think.
"For one, you've been inside me." You start, making him cough. "Be serious."
"I am serious! Did you not fuck me three ways to Sunday every time I slept over? Did I imagine that?" You snort, and you watch his cheeks flush as he tongues his left one. "Whatever. What else?"
"You stopped hanging out with me as much. I would call or text and you'd leave me on delivered for hours, and then get back to me once I was already ready for bed. Or you'd drunk dial me and come over. You used to properly spend time with me, but after that whole dumpster fire, you kind of just hung out with me when you wanted to."
You don't intend to sound so hurt as you say this, but Chan's hands slow under the running water. He nods, a soft look in his eyes as he glances at you. "I'm sorry."
"What good is it now?" You repeat his words to him, and he looks up at you. "Don't be like that."
"You also blatantly made moves on other girls in front of me. If the relationship meant nothing to you, you could've said that. It would've made moving on a lot easier." You say pointedly, before forcing out a humorless laugh. "God, your body count must be in the double digits now. Is it?"
He doesn't reply, but you nudge him with your elbow. "Is it?"
"Yes."
You shake your head, tonguing your cheek as you open the cabinet and slide the bowls in carefully.
"What's yours?"
"Two." You respond shortly, his eyes wide as he looks up at you again. "Two?"
"Problem?" Your brow is quirked as you reach for the first plate, and he shakes his head. "No. I just…"
"Assumed it would be higher? Yeah, you're doing a lot of that lately." You roll your eyes, and he scowls. "Can you stop? You had some fault there too, you have to admit that."
"I don't see how I'm to blame at all for you just assuming I didn't love you. I spent every waking moment by your side if I wasn't studying or showering, and even then it was like we were glued at the hip. I hardly had my own space, you literally snuck into my room after three days because you couldn't sleep without sticking your dick in me."
"Why do you keep talking like the sex was only good for me? Like you didn't enjoy yourself? Because I remember something very fucking different." He scrubs the plate in his hand with vigor, and you let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Maybe I don't remember it that way. Maybe it was only good because I loved you. The other guy was very different."
Chan tenses at your words, his hands still under the running water. "Was he?"
"Yeah." You nod, but the truth is, you didn't like it nearly as much. He made you cum, sure, but it was missing that…flair. That eagerness Chan always had, the passion he had, the stamina to keep up with you. It was missing the love you had for Chan, and you remember struggling not to ask this random hookup to hold your hand, or kiss you when you came, or to tell you he loved you.
All things Chan did without realizing.
"Mmh."
He doesn't speak again, handing you the dishes almost angrily before muttering something about a shower and leaving the kitchen. You wipe down the counter silently, your eyes welling with tears when you hear Chan rustle about. You assume he's moving into the bathroom when you feel a hand on the back of your head, carefully tangling in your hair as you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear.
"You do a really good job of pissing me off, but I won't ever deny that you're the best I've ever fucking had. No one feels like you and no one has made me feel like you have. No one."
He pushes you back lightly, storming back out of the kitchen with his shirt in his hand. You get a glimpse of his bare back, the muscles tense as he walks away. You feel your heart racing in your chest, your fingers coming to check your pulse as you take a deep breath.
Some vacation this is going to be.
DECEMBER 23, 7:22AM.
You thank God for the fact that everyone in your house is a deep sleeper, and can't hear how loud your heart is beating in your ears at this present moment.
Chan had taken the edge of the bed closest to the door, something he always did when the two of you shared a mattress. Or rather, the edge of the fucking mattress — he was practically hanging off. You curled into the corner closest to the wall, and stayed there the majority of the night. Chan left your TV on, knowing the white noise of whatever show he put on would lull you to sleep.
However, throughout the night, Chan migrated closer and closer to you – eventually opting to pull you into his chest. Your leg was draped over his hip and your face was nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his soft body wash and the baby powder deodorant he stole from you.
"Chan, get off me." You groaned, pushing the heel of your palm into his shoulder. He scrunched his nose, shoving your hand away before pulling you back in. "Just fucking hold me, will you?"
He rested his chin on your head, arms wrapped around you like a boa constrictor attempting to asphyxiate its prey. "Chan, I can't breathe." You're muffled against his ample chest, and he only slightly loosens his arms. You wiggle about, attempting to get comfortable at the very least, when his hand moves to grip your hip.
"Stop." His voice is hoarse as he pushes your hips away from him, which ends with you on your back and his arm over your waist. You sigh, reaching for your phone to check the time.
Seven-thirty-four. Your mother is likely either about to get up or making breakfast right now.
"I'm gonna get up." You mumble, wiping at your eyes when Chan is muttering under his breath. You lean closer to hear him, but he stops. "Speak up, I can't hear what you're saying."
"Nothing, go. Eat something." He turns his head away from you, buried into the pit of his arm and the pillow. You raise a brow, turning back on your side. "Why can't you just tell me? Have you always been this difficult?"
"Y/N, I'm hard as a rock right now. You can get out or you can watch me take care of it, I frankly don't give a flying fuck." He spits, and you feel your cheeks heat as you clear your throat. You move his arm from your waist, carefully peeling the blanket back to climb off the bed. He lets you slide over him, before his hand shoots out to grab your wrist, yanking you back onto the mattress. You yelp, your back hitting the comforter as he quickly moves to hover over you, his lips crashing onto yours. Your hands fist his shirt, your eyes fluttering shut as he carefully licks into your mouth.
You let him cup your face gently, his thumb softly caressing your cheek in tandem with the movement of his lips. He pulls away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips quickly before your eyes open and he's looking down at you intently.
Neither of you speak, but you both know what he wants. His eyes dart all over your face, and you feel your cheeks heat as your hand shakily moves to palm him through his sweats. His jaw clenches at the friction, his hips involuntarily rolling into your hand when he shudders.
"Only if you want to." He murmurs, and you nod slowly. "I want to. Take your pants off."
He pushes off you, sitting on the edge of the bed and you take the opportunity to kneel on your rug. It's nicely padded, but he scoffs as he grabs one of the pillows and makes you move onto it. He undoes the drawstring, but your impatient hands move to his hips and you pull the sweatpants down to his knees carefully. He hisses at the feeling against his cock, but says nothing as your hand wraps around it.
Your heart is racing as you stroke him a few times, his lip tucked between his teeth as he tries not to buck into your hand. "Don't tease me, please." He breathes, and you feel your lips twitch as you lean forward, spitting on the leaking head and spreading it carefully. You lick a stripe up the underside, following the thick vein with the tip of your tongue, working your hand at the base.
He groans, leaning back on his hands as you flatten your tongue against the head. You swirl it slowly, remembering how much he liked it the few times he let you go down on him. Chan, ever the giver.
"Fuck, baby, please." His hand moves to your head, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you take him into your mouth carefully, hollowing your cheeks as you let his tip hit the back of your throat. He sighs as you start to bob your head up and down, your tongue never stopping its laving as your throat constricts around his tip slightly. You push yourself to take him deeper, your nose slightly brushing his pelvis as he lets out a guttural groan.
“Can you shut up? My parents will hear you.” You pull off entirely, a frown on your spit-slick lips as he nods quickly, mumbling a breathy sorry. He sucks in a sharp breath as you sink back down on him, his hips involuntarily jerking into your mouth, making you gag slightly. "Shit, sorry–"
"Just keep doing that." Your voice is slightly raspy, his eyes wide as he swipes your hair away from your face. "A-Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you–"
"Do you want to finish or not? I can get up right now." You roll your eyes as you adjust yourself on the pillow, his hand still in your hair as he stands, tonguing his cheek. "Open your mouth."
You do as you're told, instinctively sticking your tongue out as he holds his shaft, a soft moan from his throat before he leans slightly. The hand in your hair moves to your jaw, before a wad of spit lands on your tongue. You feel your cheeks warm, eyes fluttering shut when you feel his tip drag across your bottom lip. His fingers gather your hair again, his voice gentle as it hits your ears.
"Let me know if I'm too rough."
That's all he says before you feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, hearing him let out a quiet hiss as his tip hits the back of your throat. He's slow with his movements, methodical thrusts into your mouth as your hands rest on his toned thighs, digging your nails into the sides. "Eyes open, baby. Wanna see you."
His voice is hoarse as it hits your ears, your eyes slightly watery as you peer up at him through thick lashes. His lips are bitten raw as he looks into your eyes – it proves to be too much for him as you whimper around his cock in your throat. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this."
You ignore the way your stomach flutters as he rolls his hips messily, thumb coming to wipe the corners of your mouth from the bubbles of spit. Your hands move up his thighs, shoving his shirt out of the way to watch the way his chiseled torso flexes as he fucks into your mouth. He whines at your touch, his grip on your hair tightening as you notice a faint tattoo on his hip. You file it to the back of your mind as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his release spilling onto your tongue with a whimper.
You move back slightly, his fingers carding through your hair as he softly massages your scalp. "You okay?" His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your tongue on his tip. He pushes you away slightly, before his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling you off your knees. "You're fucking insatiable, you know that?"
You shrug, "If you say so."
He stares into your eyes for a moment, his own glazed over with a mix of lust and something you can't decipher. He leans forward a bit, brushing his lips to yours. You let out a shaky breath as he nips at them, watching your lower lip bruise slightly. "Pretty. I've always loved your lips."
You roll your eyes, going to move away when he presses his lips to yours chastely. Once, twice, three times before his lips travel to your cheeks. He peppers kisses all over your face, making your nose scrunch as he pecks the tip of it.
"I'm sorry about everything yesterday." He murmurs, his hands moving to hold your cheeks. Your hands rest on either side of his hips, and you sigh. "It's whatever. Pull your pants up, what if someone comes in here?"
"It's not whatever, Y/N. I hurt your feelings, and it was shitty of me to say those things. Especially when I didn't mean any of it, I was just…"
"Angry?" You suggest, and he sighs as he moves to tug his sweatpants over his thighs. He ties the drawstring as he sits back down, your knees now settled on the pillow beneath you once more. "I don't know if I was angry. It's stupid, really. I shouldn't have spoken about it that way, is all. And I'm sorry."
"You made me feel like I was just the first notch on your bedpost. You could've told me that was all I was to you, but it wasn't necessary. Not with the way you just started sleeping with other girls so soon after our break-up."
The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and he gapes at you as you shift uncomfortably, opting to stand up. You pick the pillow up, fluffing it before tossing it onto the bed and drifting to your mirror. Your lips were a swollen mess, and you wiped at them with your hand before hearing a soft knock at the door.
You glance at Chan, who has a stoic look on his face before he stands up and answers the door. It's Rosie.
"Hey, babycakes." You call over Chan's shoulder, and he moves to the side as she waves. "Mommy told me to tell you it's time for breakfast!"
"We'll be right there, pipsqueak. Ten minutes, tops." Chan smiles, and she nods excitedly, before bolting back down the hallway, screaming your estimated time of arrival. You smile to yourself as you yank open your dresser drawer, fishing out a t-shirt.
Chan's hands are on your waist as you root around, and you peer over your shoulder to see a soft glaze of tears over his eyes. Your brows raise in concern, and you twist to face him, your hands cradling his cheeks. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Do you ever consider how you made me feel? Or how you make me feel when you say things like that?" His voice is thick, and you feel your eyes begin to sting as your lips part. You shake your head slowly, his arms wrapping around you tightly.
"Did you think about what I said last night?" He asks softly, and you avoid his eyes as you sigh, nodding your head. "You know that's not just about sex, right? That's about everything, ever. You're the only person who has ever made me feel that way."
"What way? Like you need to fill a void? I get it, I'm shitty for breaking up with you on your birthday." You mutter, and he tilts your chin up to look at him. His eyes are still glossed over but hold a stern look.
"In a way that I feel like I can't fucking breathe without you. Nothing means anything to me since we broke up, but just a crumb of your attention makes me feel fucking insane. I don't think you understand how much you and your moods and the way you talk affects me. Everything about you drives me up the wall with want and need and I need you to understand that."
Your voice is lost on you, your throat constricting as he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumbing at the small hoops he's never seen you without. "I look for you in every girl I've been with since. Every single one, and none of them compare. None of them are as stubborn as you are, none of them give me shit when I do something stupid. If you want to talk about sex, fine. I've never finished, not once. None of them feel the way you do, none of them kiss the way you do. Not a single one of them can I close my eyes and have their body burned in my mind, not the way I have yours. Not a single one has filled the spot you left, and I'd rather die an honest death and tell you that no one ever will if it's not you."
Your lip is quivering as you look away from him, and he rests his forehead on your shoulder as your arms drop to your sides.
"Please, please tell me you feel the same."
You can't. You want to, you feel the ache to fill his cup until it overflows deep, deep in your stomach. But you're scared this is just for the moment, the fact that the two of you are away from any available hook-ups within a ten-mile radius. You're afraid that this is something temporary, just like the first time – but this time, with the intent of ending.
You hadn't wanted to call it quits then. You hadn't but it was the right thing to do – no matter who chastises you for it. You'd known, in your heart, that Chan was the person you are destined to love forever – whether you knew it then, drunk and high that first night in his bedroom, or in the backseat of his car, or even that time under the bleachers at a national cheer competition…it doesn't matter. Whether you knew it'd be in this pathetic way, doesn't matter. You know now.
He's looking for a good time, you tell yourself. And you may be a good time, a great time, even – but you won't do that to yourself.
"It took me two years to move on." You don't recognize your own voice, thick with tears and a bitter taste in your mouth. "Two years, and you fucked Chaeyoung in your bed because you saw Minghao and I doing stunts together and got jealous for no reason. You fucked Chaeyoung and Seonmi, within an hour of each other. You didn't even wait a month."
He doesn't speak, nodding his head in silence against your shoulder as he pulls you impossibly closer. His chest is flush to yours, and you can feel his tears soak into your collar.
"All because you didn't want your fraternity brothers to flirt with me. All of this, years of pining after you, yearning for your touch, missing you in my fucking bed, because you're a jealous asshole who can't stand the idea of not being the only guy in my life. All of this, Chan, because you wanted to say that I didn't love you when I don't think I've ever been able to think of a future with a man that isn't you."
His hands grip your sides tightly, your own pushing against his shoulders as you let a choked sob fall from your lips. His eyes are just as red as yours, his cheeks just as tear-stained as yours. Heart, just as broken and empty of you as yours is of him.
"It's not fair to me. Not when I'm still hurt, not when I can still taste you in the back of my throat. Not when you ignored me for girls and drinks, not when I called my dad in the middle of the night because you weren't home and I'm worried that you're not answering my calls. Not when my mom thinks I'm the brute here, when it's you."
He nods, eyes closed as he squeezes you in his arms. He rests his forehead on yours, "They're waiting for us. Wash up quickly."
Your stomach sinks, but you feel your heart pick up a bit as he places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. "I love you."
You don't say it back.
Breakfast had been awkward, to say the least. You went to the kitchen after an hour, the two of you lying through your teeth to your parents about your red-rimmed eyes. Your father gave you a hard look, and you were set to clean the table after breakfast when Mrs. Lee offered to take you Christmas shopping.
"We can make a day of it, I miss my girl." She smiled sadly, and you'd only felt your cheeks warm as Rosie insisted she come along. Mrs. Lee agreed, and even roped Chan into coming, as well – his hesitance making your eyes gloss over with unshed tears.
He'd sat on your bed as you got ready, watching you tug on a nice sweater and a form fitting pair of winter pants. It'd begun snowing lightly during breakfast, and your father had suggested you layer up – though he was sure the snow wouldn't stick.
You and Chan hardly spoke as he watched you get dressed, his eyes trailing your naked body shamelessly. He helped you put on your winter coat, and carefully helped you put on your watch – a gift from his mother one year. He picked your rings, mumbling about which ones fit the aesthetic of your sweater the best. The casual intimacy of it all was eating away at you, only for Chan to run his hand through your hair and kiss your cheek.
A silent vow that he'd earn you back, you both understood.
Mrs. Lee was a chatterbox – she made Chan sit in the back with Rosie, playing with the Barbies she insisted on bringing as she updated you on everything going on at the dance company. You and Chan had been enrolled as kids, Chan becoming a far better dancer than you were – but the two of you excelled the same amount when it came to gymnastics. Chan begrudgingly abandoned dance to cheer with you in high school, but he quickly became enamored with the sport.
Rosie stomped her feet as you asked her to leave the Barbies in the car, only agreeing when Chan said it'd be a shame if she lost them. You rolled your eyes as she asked him to pick her up, but he did so anyway, her pink cast scratchy against his neck.
"Rosie, you know Channie's my best friend, right?" You teased her, earning a huff from the pouty six-year-old. She stuck her tongue out at you, earning a surprised laugh from Chan as he saw her in the reflection of a car window. The wind was biting, and you found yourself hovering behind Chan. As the four of you entered the mall, Rosie asked to be put down – only for Mrs. Lee to pull her close, holding her small hand within her ringed fingers as they wandered into a toy store.
"Cold?" He asked, snaking his arm around your waist. You shrugged, but your teeth chattered as you tried to speak. The two of you laughed in unison, Chan carefully swiping your hair out of your eyes as the two of you walked forward. You try not to let your face react as he interlaces your fingers.
"Did you get your mom's gift yet? I know your dad's is in the car, and Rosie's are all in my duffel."
"Shit, I knew I was forgetting one. I got your parents tickets to a cruise, I need to print those, too." You tap your temple, and Chan gasps. "I'm their son, you can't get them a better gift than me!"
"What did you get them? A picture of you in a frame from the thrift like you did in grade nine?" You roll your eyes, and he huffs, squeezing your hand. "No, I got my mom a few pieces of jewelry and my dad just wants a lawnmower."
He rolls his eyes, and you snicker. "What'd you get me?"
"My presence is your present."
"Pretty shitty present, Chan."
"Hey!"
The two of you continue to bicker as you make your way to a few different stores – you swipe your card far too many times for you to count. Chan carries all your bags as you skip ahead of him, holding a cup of hot chocolate for your little sister as you find Mrs. Lee filed away with her in the back of a jewelry store.
"What've we got here?" You squat down to Rosie's level, and she pulls her short hair back to show you her ears. "Mrs. Lee got me earrings like yours!"
A pair of thin gold hoops sit in your sister's ears, and you glance up at Mrs. Lee with a pout on your lips. "You didn't have to do that, Mrs. Lee. I would've bought them for her."
"Nonsense, it's the holiday season. I have her studs in my purse, don't let me forget to give them to your mother when we get back." She gives you a stern look, before glancing behind you, a smile on her lips. "Y/N's got you busy, huh?"
Chan feigns annoyance as he huffs, "You could say that. What's going on here?"
You turn to tell him when you see Rosie peeking into one of the bags before you cover her eyes. "No peeking! You'll see it on Christmas, babycakes."
"Just one! Please, please, please!" She holds your hand in her sticky one, likely from any snack Mrs. Lee would've bought her at one of the stands. You grimace, before sighing. "Okay, one. When we get home, okay?"
"But I'm sleepy." She pouts, and you ruffle her hair. "Then you take a little nap in the car. You can use my coat as a blanket, okay?"
The six-year-old reluctantly agrees, before reaching for the cup in your hand. Chan and Mrs. Lee prowl the store together, their eyes lingering amongst all the glittering jewelry and whispers between them as you get offered a chair by a saleswoman. You tug Rosie onto your lap and ask her about what she did – she sleepily tells you Mrs. Lee took her on the carousel ride at the children's court, then bought her a piece of honey cake at a pastry shop. She yawns as she talks about a few pairs of shoes Mrs. Lee bought her – high top Twinkle Toes and a pair of winter boots to wear as the weather changes. She doesn't manage to finish the hot chocolate as she rests her head on your shoulder, and you finish it off before managing to throw the cup into a trash bin a few feet away.
Chan and Mrs. Lee are speaking to a saleswoman at the register, her eyes a little too heart-shaped as Chan fends his mother off to swipe his card. You hold Rosie close, your eyes watching the exchange as Mrs. Lee huffs, a triumphant smile on Chan's lips as they approach you again.
"Any more places you wanna hit before we go? My fingers are about to fall off." He shows the lines from the bags across his fingers, and you shrug. "You offered, now deal with it."
He scoffs, but doesn't get a chance to retort as Mrs. Lee interrupts him.
"We should get going, actually. They did say it was going to storm pretty bad tonight." Mrs. Lee winces as the saleswoman walks up to Chan with a receipt, your eyes narrowing as he quickly tucks it in his pocket. Mrs. Lee speaks up again, "Kind of an odd thing to say, though, because it's been unusually warm."
"First snow always sneaks up on us on years like this." You sigh, shaking your head as the four of you walk out of the store. You pick Rosie up, holding her on your hip as Chan shifts all the bags to one hand to push your hair out of your eyes.
"You guys are so cute!" An older woman compliments you both, just as Mrs. Lee appears next to you, her eyes slightly wide as Chan tucks your hair behind your ear. His cheeks tinge pink as his mother gapes lightly, but she says nothing as you walk towards the exit. You pull Rosie's hood over her head as you reach the doors, and tug her scarf up to her eyes before bracing the cold air.
"Fuck, it's cold." You hear Chan mutter as Mrs. Lee shudders, her gloved fingers fumbling with the key fob as the car comes into view. You shiver as she pops the trunk, watching Chan carefully put everything in it as Mrs. Lee slides into the driver's seat, turning the heat on blast as she turns the engine on. You carefully slide Rosie into her carseat, trying not to wake her as you click her seatbelt in place. You slide your coat off, shivering immediately in the biting wind as you cover her lap with it before shutting the door quickly.
Chan's eyes are wide as he sees you crossing your arms over your chest, your scarf the only layer protecting your neck as he nearly rips his coat off and wraps it around you. "Are you insane? Do you want to get sick?"
He doesn't let you reply as he ushers you to the passenger side, nearly shoving you into the seat and all but slamming the door. He closes the trunk before getting into the backseat, his nose red from the cold. You glance at him through the rearview, watching him blow into his hands as he meets your eyes. He looks at you pointedly as Mrs. Lee pulls out of the parking spot.
You look away.
"So."
Because your mother is at her restaurant editing the holiday menus and Chan has taken the rest of the day to spend time with his cousins, you've asked Mrs. Lee to help you pick out your Christmas Eve dinner dress. She is sitting at your desk as you model options for her, the current cranberry red dress a bit too short for her taste. You frown as you change in the closet, "So, what? What's up?"
"When are you and Channie going to figure this out? I mean, it's been years." She sighs, and you hear her rustle through one of the shopping bags. You step out to see her holding the dress you bought for New Years' dinner, the black glitter mocking you as you sigh.
"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Lee." You smooth your hands over a forest green sweater dress with gold accents, before turning to her. "This one?"
"You know what I mean, honey. There is still something between the two of you, don't think I didn't see the way he practically tore his coat off earlier." She shakes her head at you, and you scoff. "That doesn't mean anything, he's just a gentleman."
"Yeah? Then what was last night's outburst about?"
You freeze, your hands fisting the dress as you go to pull it over your head. She peers at you through the full-body mirror, her eyes so reminiscent of Chan's. You purse your lips, looking away and at your socked feet as you slowly make your way over to her. You perch on the edge of your bed, "I don't want you to think less of me."
Her hands hold your cheeks gently as you feel a tear roll down your face, her eyes wide and worried as she shakes her head. "Honey, I could never. You're such a smart and wonderful young woman, and you've always treated my Chan so well. You've been his biggest hypewoman, I could never think anything but the best of you."
"I was the one who broke up with him, on his birthday." You say shakily, "I didn't remember it was his birthday, but that's on me. I just…I thought I was doing the right thing. I broke things off because I wanted us to focus on school. We were so busy after we went back from break that we didn't see each other unless we were at practice, and it was eating away at me."
You wipe your eyes, Mrs. Lee's hands now folded in her lap as she listens. "No one can be upset with you for doing what you felt was best, honey."
"Chan was." You scoff out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you sniffle. "He still is, I guess. We got home and we sat down in here for a bit, and we talked. He said that maybe it was better this way, that things had always been 'easy' between him and I, that involving feelings wasn't the best move. That our relationship was a dumpster fire, and that he's glad we got it out of our systems because he wishes it never happened sometimes. That he…felt like I didn't love him."
You trail off, feeling a surge of tears roll down your face as you wipe at your nose with your sweater sleeve. You glance at her, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tilts her head. "And he moved on. I didn't. So…I don't know if it's fixable. I'm sorry to disappoint you, if you thought Chan and I would be something of a forever as anything more than just friends."
You give her a sad smile, and she quietly sighs.
"He called me a few days after his birthday that year, you know." She nods, looking at her nails before she flicks her hair out of her face. Your eyes widen as you sit up slightly, "He did?"
"He was a mess." She laughed softly, running her hands down her jeans. "He cried and cried, I remember asking him if he wanted me to go up to the campus. I was so worried about him, until he told me that you two weren't seeing each other anymore. Just a boy needing his mother because the girl of his dreams broke his heart."
Her voice is slightly teasing, but your heart sinks. "What?"
"Oh yeah, honey. Channie's not very good at hiding his feelings, we knew he liked you since you were kids. We figured it would take him a bit to realize it, but once you two came home for the holidays that year, it was like he was a different person. He walked in with so much confidence, not that he needed anymore." She snorts, and you laugh softly. "He just seemed happier, a lot brighter. Like he does when he dances."
You feel your chest ache as you look away, her hands finding yours. "I know that in there, somewhere…there is a love waiting to be let loose again. I know maybe then, it was the right thing to do. I know you wouldn't have done it if you didn't think you had to, I've known your heart since you were a little girl. I know it's kind and strong and you're a good person, Y/N. Don't think about it too much, I know you've both felt that pain but trust me when I say, there is no life without pain. All I can tell you is to live without regrets."
She squeezes your hands, and you sigh shakily, your eyes still letting tears flow. "What if we break up again?"
"Then you can always say you tried." She shrugs, "You're Y/N, he's Chan. If I know anything, it's that you're both hard headed and you never give up on anything. Why make your relationship the first thing?"
She gives you a warm smile as you nod, and she glances at the sweater you have on. "Maybe not this one, either." She wrinkles her nose, and you scoff in mock offense. "I've tried everything on in my closet! Why don't you pick something for me, then?"
She grins as she gets up, skipping to your closet and rustling about. You check your phone, seeing a few missed messages from Chan.
Msg From: Chan 💗
[5:33PM] dude these guys SUCK
[5:34PM] come hang out with me :(
[5:34PM] i'm sick of this shit, soonyoung keeps making spitballs?? are we fucking thirteen??
You snort, watching as Mrs. Lee drapes a few options over her arm.
Msg To: Chan 💗
[5:55PM] can't, hanging out with ur mom
[5:56PM] do you want to take a drive later? i think the temp went back up a bit and it's not as windy
Msg From: Chan 💗
[5:57PM] oh so you hate me??? you get her tickets to a cruise AND you're hanging out with her? do you just wanna paint me as a bad son???
[5:57PM] i'd say yes but i don't think i'll be back until right before dinner :( but tomorrow after dinner at your mom's restaurant? maybe we can catch a late movie or something.
You don't get a chance to reply as Mrs. Lee whispers a small aha! She rustles around a bit more before coming out with only one dress, one you hadn't worn since you bought it because you never had an occasion. It was a long, champagne colored dress with a sarong skirt and long sleeves. The skirt was carefully ruched at the hip, before flaring out in an open slit. It had a sweetheart neckline littered with rhinestones, and you winced as you ran your fingers down the fabric.
"It's not too showy for dinner? We're just going to the restaurant." You sigh, thumbing the stitching. Mrs. Lee scoffed, "Your mother has worn far more extravagant things than this, do you remember when she wore a ball gown to New Year's last year?"
You snort, thinking back to the way you hide your face as you walked into the Lee home last year. Chan made a comment under his breath about how insane the baby blue dress was, but everyone was more or less a fan.
You also remember the way his hand slid a little too low on your back that year as rang in the new year with a hug.
Looking up at Mrs. Lee, she gives you a mischievous smile. "Go on, try it on! And we can do some hair and makeup stuff before we have to have dinner!"
Needless to say, your mother did a double take when she arrived home and saw that you were fully dolled up at the hands of Mrs. Lee. Her jaw dropped as she took in the wine red lipstick you stole from her bedroom and glittery eyeshadow, before a huge smile overtook her face and she rushed into your room to talk. It holed you away in the bedroom for another hour and a half before you graciously kicked both women out for just thirty minutes alone before dinner.
You stood in front of your vanity, dress hung back up your closet and a sigh filled the room as you reached for a makeup wipe. You peered at yourself, Mrs. Lee's words filled your mind as you ran your hands through your hair. Pursing your lips, you tie your hair back before hearing a knock at the door, and Chan opens it slightly.
"Hey. I'm home." He's not looking at you as he tugs his coat off, a sigh from his lips as you quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't sound very happy."
"I'm just tired, I don't remember what it was like to shoot the shit with those guys." He scoffs, throwing his jacket over the back of your desk chair before sitting in it. His eyes widen as he finally looks at you, "You look pretty."
"Thanks. Mothers." You shrug, before reaching for the makeup wipe you abandoned in order to tie your hair back. "Wait, wait, let me see." He reaches for your hand, pulling you towards him. You roll your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed, your other hand on your knee as he looks at your face.
"Why haven't you ever worn this lipstick before? It looks really nice." His thumb pulls at your lower lip, before you swat his hand away. "Stop that, someone could walk in."
"Then lock the door? I'm just looking at you." He rolls his eyes as he stretches, "Did you figure out what you're wearing tomorrow?"
"Barely. I'm still overthinking it, but the Moms said to go for it so…we're going for it." You shrug, and he raises a brow. "Do you want to show me? Maybe a third opinion could help settle it."
"Nope." You grin, before standing up to move back in front of the vanity. His hold on your hand pulls you back, his other hand snaking around your waist as he pulls you into his lap. You huff as he kisses your shoulder, "Chan. Seriously."
"I missed you." He pouts, leaning his cheek on your shoulder as you roll your eyes. "Yeah, well…"
You trail off, your cheeks heating as he smiles up at you. He's about to say something when you hear a knock at the door, making you jump in his hold. You rip yourself away from him, nearly stumbling as you rip the door open. It's Rosie.
"Ooh, you look pretty! Can I try?" She hops into your room, puckering her lips as she looks into your vanity. You snort, "Hello to you, too. Do you come with a message or just demands?"
"Dinner in ten minutes. Can I try now?" She jumps in front of the mirror, and you roll your eyes as you motion for Chan to hand you your makeup bag off the edge of the desk. He does, and you root around in it for the lipstick, pulling out a lip brush as well. You squat in front of her, "This is Mom's lipstick, okay? We can only use a little bit."
She nods, letting you carefully trace the brush around her lips. You turn her around in the mirror when you're done, lifting her up slightly. "You like?"
"I like!" She smacks her lips loudly, and you smile inwardly as you set her down. "Can I wear this tomorrow, too?"
"If you ask Mom and she says yes, we can talk about it." You shrug, and she nods quickly, before grinning at herself in the mirror one last time. "Okay, bye! Thank you!"
"Bye, babycakes." You laugh, closing the door as she runs out. You give Chan a glance, rolling your eyes as you reach for the makeup wipe. "Gotta love that kid."
"Don't take it off." He pouts, standing up to slide next to you in the mirror. You scoff, "Why? You're just gonna stare at me over dinner and everyone's gonna think something that isn't."
He huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder as you carefully wipe at your eyes. You peel one open, seeing him pouting in the mirror. You struggle not to roll your eyes as you turn your face to look at him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Stop pouting, it's not a good look on you."
His eyes are wide as you continue to wipe the makeup off, his hand coming to ghost over your jaw as he makes you face him. "I missed you." He repeats, before nuzzling his nose against yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as his lips brush yours, before he whispers against them.
"I love you."
And just like this morning, you let him. You let him slot your lips together in a tentative kiss, your heart beating wildly in your chest as he turns you around, pressing your back into the vanity. His hands move to hold your hips gently, his fingertips barely breaching the hem of your shirt as he pulls away. He doesn't move back much, brushing his lips against yours as he squeezes his fingers against you softly.
"Will you at least let me try to win you back?"
You feel your skin grow hot as you look away, and your heart flutters in your chest as he cradles your face softly in his warm hands. He presses a kiss to your forehead, "Please?"
You want to tell him there is nothing to win back, you'd always be there. If time was the issue, you'd wait – no problem. But there is that part of you that's hurt that wants him to fight for you. The part of you that wants him to beg for you back, the part of you that wants him to hold you tight and cry with you about how stupid he's been when you've been equally as stupid. Maybe in a different way, but you're both idiots in your mind.
You look into his eyes through thick lashes, the heat of his gaze making you want to melt into the ground. Chan, despite the history between you two and his bad habits, had always been both the angel and the devil on your shoulders. He could lead you down any path and you'd blindly follow, but you knew you were the same for him. The truth of it all was that your trust in Chan has never wavered, even when the pain of his actions settled into your bones.
"Okay."
"Promise?" His eyes are wide as he holds his pinky out, and you sigh, closing your eyes as you nod and link your fingers. "Promise."
You both kiss your thumbs and touch them to each other, before you wipe the stamped lipstick off his cheek. "Don't tell your parents anything or I'll get Soonyoung and Mingyu to put snow down your pants tomorrow."
He rolls his eyes, "You still haven't let me introduce you to them, so good luck. I wasn't going to tell them in the first place, anyway, because they'd make me go to my room after Dumb and Dumber go back into town tomorrow afternoon. I still can't believe they didn't ask for the holidays off."
You roll your eyes, moving the makeup wipe to your lips as he traces circles into the skin of your hip under your shirt. "Double pay, probably. My mom is shelling out double pay at the restaurant these next few weeks."
He hums in response, "Did my mom say anything I should know about?"
You snort, "Wouldn't you like to know."
"I would, thank you. Tell me."
"I have to wash my face, Chan."
You give him a pointed look as you push past him, moving to your bathroom as he sighs, trailing after you. "Okay, you can wash your face and speak."
"Chan, get out of my bathroom. They're probably waiting for you at the dinner table."
"If they're waiting for me, they're waiting for you." He reminds you, leaning against the doorframe. You huff, reaching for your face wash as you turn the faucet on. "Go. I'll be out in a minute."
He sighs, before pushing off the doorframe and leaving without a word. You feel your chest heavy with worry as you lather your face wash into your skin, but you force yourself to push all your rushing thoughts to the back of your mind. If Chan is making the moves to make things right, you have to at least give him his flowers for that. He wouldn't pull a fast one on you, he's not that kind of guy.
Right?
DECEMBER 24, 6:05AM.
Dinner between the two families had been rather entertaining. Your mother was enamored with the earrings Mrs. Lee got for Rosie, and the parents discussed carpooling groups for the Christmas Eve dinner at your mother's restaurant. You and Chan would be the only ones not lumped into your father's SUV, and you couldn't help the way you glanced at Chan with a wince. He had a slight grimace on his face as he agreed quietly, the two of you holding up the façade of your fight so as to not make anything obvious.
He snuck a few kisses to your lips as the two of you did the dishes, before the two of you turned in for the night. You showered and brushed your teeth, only to have to wait for Chan because you kicked him out of the bathroom before he could offer to save water by showering together. He'd pouted, but it didn't matter. There was a line you couldn't cross…and that's it, right?
Either way – Chan had pulled your back into his chest at some point throughout the night, not that you were complaining. Yesterday morning's shenanigans seemed to have continued – but this time, his hand was up your shirt as he grinded himself against your clothed cunt, nipping his teeth against the skin of your neck. You were about to turn over to kiss him when you heard the heavy knock of your father's hand on the door. You nearly shoved Chan off the bed with how quickly you sat up and jumped over him, answering the door with a flushed look.
"Dad, don't do that! I nearly shit myself." You hold your hand to your chest, and your father holds out two cups of coffee. "You have a shower, you'd survive."
"Don't be gross." You grimace, carefully taking the cups and setting them down on the dresser. Chan sits up, eyes squinted as he stretches his arms over his head. "Good morning, Chan."
"Good morning, sir." He mumbles, before running his hands over his face. Your father gives you a quizzical glance, seeing your eyes a bit low as he snorts. "You guys might want to wake up, the snow outside is insane and Rosie will want you guys to help her build a snowman."
"You can't help her? It's barely six." You rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms as your father smooths your hair down. "I'll give you an hour."
"Two hours." Chan groans from the bed, flopping back down and tugging the duvet over his shoulder. You snort, taking a quick sip from the steaming white mug. You crinkle your nose at the bitter taste, only to hear your father laugh softly. "Hour and a half. Deal?"
"Deal." You nod tiredly, and he nods as he moves to shut your door. "Set an alarm, or I'm coming in here with pots and pans."
You only nod again, holding the coffee cup to your lips as he shuts it tightly. Looking over your shoulder, you see Chan sitting up on his elbows, a scowl on his lips. "Seriously?"
"It's the holiday season and they haven't seen us all year, it's only normal that they want to spend time with us." You roll your eyes as you set down your cup, sliding back under the covers as he grunts. "They can't wait until the sun comes up for that? I love our families, but I don't wanna be outside in subzero temps."
"It's not even subzero, dumbass. It's like, seventeen degrees out." You rest your head on your pillow, looking up at him with tired eyes. "Subzero or seventeen, it's still the asscrack of dawn."
"Never too early to have your hand up my shirt though, is it?" You say pointedly, and he scoffs as you shift uncomfortably in your sticky shorts. "So if I pull your shorts down, you won't be wet? You weren't complaining."
"I never said that, but you're complaining about it being the asscrack of dawn yet you're feeling me up in your pretend sleep." You shake your finger in his face, making him sigh as he lays on his side. "Sometimes I just like touching you, okay? It doesn't always have to end in something, baby."
"You mean you like riling me up so I'll be the one to pounce. You're not slick, I know your tricks." You drape his arm over your waist as you face away from him, feeling his lips brush the shell of your ear. "So should I continue or are you going to play hard to get?"
"You know, you just reminded me to shove snow down your pants. Maybe then you'll calm down."
He scoffs, pressing a kiss just under your ear before pulling you closer to him. You nestle into his warmth, feeling his hand slip under your shirt. He doesn't move it, his thumb caressing just above your navel as his breathing slows. You close your eyes, but not feeling the thick veil of sleep creeping up on you. Huffing, you turn on your back, making Chan stir slightly but he says nothing.
You stare at the ceiling, the early morning sun barely peeking in through your blinds.
"You're thinking too loud."
Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you snort. "Sorry, did my thinking disturb you?"
"Go back to sleep, we're not going to get a chance to rest until after dinner." He sighs, before you roll onto your side to face him. "I can't."
He hums, opening his eyes with a sigh. "Better start trying, baby. It's been like twenty minutes since your dad left."
Rolling your eyes, you shift lower to press your face into his stomach. His hand cards through your hair gently, his fingertips grazing the skin of your neck as they dip below the collar of your shirt. "Comfortable?"
"It's alright." You retort, making him laugh quietly. "Just alright?"
"You don't need your head to grow any bigger, Lee."
"Humor me, will you?"
"Never." You huff, fisting the material of his sweatshirt. His breathing slows once more, but yours still can't match his. Frustration festers in your stomach, and you find yourself tracing circles into his sweatshirt before pushing it up slightly, bunching it around his ribcage. Your fingers make contact with his warm skin, drawing shapes into it with your dull fingernails when you feel him softly tug at your hair.
"Don't start something you can't finish, baby."
You scoff, your breath warm against his skin. "Shut up."
He only hums, your fingers continuing their tracing when you find yourself pressing your lips to his skin softly. Once, twice, three times as you move around his slim waist. He shifts slightly, a shaky sigh falling from his lips as you nip at the skin around his navel. Your palm pushes his hip down until he gets the hint, moving to lie on his back as you push his sweatshirt higher. Your thighs rest on his as you straddle him, and you feel the outline of his cock against the soaked fabric of your shorts.
You can feel his eyes on you as your tongue pokes out from between your lips, licking a stripe up his sternum before pressing a kiss between his pecs. You pepper kisses across his chest, feeling his breathing ragged beneath your wandering hands. Your thumb lightly ghosts over his right nipple, and you feel him jolt beneath you.
"Y/N, what are you doing?" He groans, making you smirk against his skin as you flick the tip of your tongue against his nipple, his hands flying to your hips to hold you steady. "Baby."
"Stare at the ceiling or something, stop interrupting me." You shrug, before pulling his sweatshirt higher. "Take this off."
He obliges, nearly ripping the piece of clothing over his head before sitting up slightly, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a searing kiss. You let out a squeak of surprise, his tongue snaking into your mouth at the opportunity. Your hand snakes up his torso, your fingers pinching lightly at one of his nipples. His hips jerk roughly against you, a moan spilling into your mouth as you pull away quickly, clamping your hand over his lips with a scowl.
"Shut the fuck up! Do you want them to hear you?"
He licks your palm, making you grimace as you wipe it on his shoulder, his hand on your neck pulling you back down to his lips. "I don't give a fuck who hears me as long as you're the one making me sound like this."
"Yeah, well I have shame. Shut your mouth before I put something in it." You snip, but his other hand snaps the waistband of your shorts against your hip. "Yeah? You'll shut me up?"
"You're a sick freak." You scoff, shoving yourself off him. "Go lock the door."
His eyes widened as you began to undo the drawstring of your shorts, your thumbs sliding under the waistband with a pointed look. "Hello? Lock the fucking door, Chan."
He nearly falls off the bed getting out of the sheets, making you snicker to yourself as you shove your shorts down your legs. You ignore the few strings of arousal connecting you to the ruined cotton and the way the cool air of your bedroom makes you wince, reaching for your phone as Chan slides back into the bed.
7:15am.
"We only have fifteen minutes." You flick your shorts to the side as you move back over Chan, his eyes wide as he glances at them. "Baby." He breathes, holding them up by the waistband.
"Shut up, I'm ovulating or something." You roll your eyes as a blush coats your cheeks, making him snort. "Or something? Just admit you like it when I feel you up in my 'pretend' sleep." He makes air quotes with his fingers, making you scowl as you take the shorts from his hand.
"Open your mouth, since you can't stop running it."
He sticks his tongue out at you, before happily opening his mouth. You stuff the crotch of the shorts into his mouth, ignoring the way his eyes flutter at the taste makes your core clench around nothing. You try not to look at him as you settle yourself onto his chiseled torso, the same faint tattoo mocking you as you try to figure it out. Biting your lip, you gently roll your hips against him, the feeling of the hard muscle against your clit enough to make your legs tremble slightly. He groans around the shorts, his hands moving up your thighs as you grind down against his stomach.
With every rut of your cunt against his lower stomach, you can feel his painfully hard cock poking the meat of your ass. You ignore the way he winces every time, moaning softly around the soaked shorts as his hands move higher on your thighs, his grip only making you whine. It's not long before his stomach is covered in your arousal, your whimpers filling his ears as he covers your mouth with his hand before taking the shorts out of his mouth.
"I can make you cum faster than this." He whines as your thumbs circle around his nipples, but you roll your eyes, "I like it this way."
"I know b-baby, but I'm two seconds from blowing in my pants." He sighs shakily as you move his hand from your mouth, pinning it above his head. Your lips brush against his as you lean forward, looking into his glossy eyes. "I'm not fucking you, you have to earn that."
"Sit on my face." He breathes against your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of them as you shake your head. "We won't have enough time–"
"Two minutes, you know me." He begs, weaseling his arm out of your grip to push you up his torso as you huff. "Chan, it's risky–"
"Everything about our entire relationship has been risky, why stop now?" He whispers, and you look at him to see a slightly dejected look in his eyes. He wants to please you, you know he does – and you want him to make it up to you. All those lonely nights missing his face between your thighs like a starved man, all the useless vibrators that got you nowhere near the orgasms he pulled out of you.
"Make it fast." You mutter, moving to kneel over his face. He nods silently, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you down, his nose bumping your clit and making you jerk. "Chan!"
"Shh, baby." He murmurs, nosing at your pussy like a dog after a bone. "You smell so fucking good, missed this."
You squirm as he places a kiss on your clit, your fingers holding onto the metal headboard for stability as he flicks his tongue against it teasingly. He moans into your wet heat, his pouty lips wrapping around your sensitive bud as you force yourself to swallow your whines, rocking your hips against his face, feeling your end coming embarrassingly fast.
"Chan." You breathe out, reaching down to pull at his hair as he furrows his brows, his tongue messily collecting your arousal with soft grunts. "Mmh?"
You don't say anything, hoping he just knows what you mean as you let a whine slip, your thighs tightening around his head. He forces them apart, using his strength to grind you against his tongue. You're a whimpering mess above him, your thighs trembling as you fall forward against the headboard. You're gripping the metal with your hands as you come undone with a whisper of his name, feeling your stomach cave in as he keeps licking at you.
A knock at the door makes him stop (and you jerk), his arms holding you firmly against him as he clears his throat. "Yes?"
"Are you guys up? Why is this door locked?" It's your mother, and she jiggles the doorknob as Chan laughs, lying on the spot. "I'm sorry, I'm changing! Y/N is about to get in the shower, she'll be out in twenty minutes, I promise."
"Tell Y/N to wear leggings under her pants, it's freezing out there." She's not suspicious, and Chan gives you a look of relief as he answers. "Will do! Thank you!"
"You're welcome!"
The two of you sit in silence as you wait a few moments, before you feel Chan's tongue snake through your folds. You try to push off his face, but your legs feel like jelly as he fucks the tip of his tongue into you. "S-Stop, we have to go."
"I bought us twenty minutes, gorgeous. Let me do what I gotta do." He mutters, practically making out with your clit as you squirm away. "Chan, we have to get up."
He sighs, his hands massaging your thighs. "Can never relax, hm?"
"Be so fucking serious." You scoff, mustering all your energy to get off his face. He watches as you lay on your stomach with a groan, "I can't even get up. Fuck you, man."
"Please do. I never want to cum in my pants again, this shit feels so gross." He grimaces, sitting up and running his hands over your thighs, digging his thumbs into the sore muscles. You peek at his pants, your fingers coming to lift the waistband when he swats your fingers.
"Come on, we have to shower or they won't buy it."
"Any time I've showered with you, you've tried to slide your dick between my asscheeks. I don't trust you." You snort, and he only lands a soft smack to your outer thigh. "It's a wonderful ass, can you blame me? But, for the sake of time and your so-called shame, I'll skip out on it."
"Ugh, fine."
Chan stays true to his word, the ten-minute shower consisting of nothing but soft kissing under the showerhead and soapy hands sliding around naked bodies. Him finishing in his pants isn't a lie, either – and you apologize by letting him tongue at your nipples for two minutes. Every touch landing where it's not supposed to, pulling soft whines from each other as tongues slipped from mouths to collarbones before he reminded you that you couldn't mark each other above the neck if you wanted to remain undiscovered.
Chan toweled his hair dry and got changed quickly to appease your awaiting parents, but didn't leave the bathroom without a kiss…or three, to your lips. He lingered a bit as you dried your hair, a warm smile on his face as he watched your scrunched face in the mirror – when you caught his eye. "What?"
"I love you."
He doesn't wait for you to respond, only tucking his coat under his arm as he exits your bedroom. You pretend it doesn't make your knees weak as you pull two pairs of leggings on, and your snow pants. You pretend it doesn't fill your stomach with butterflies as you tug on two pairs of socks and your heavy boots. You pretend it doesn't make your cheeks warm as you pull on one of his t-shirts under your sweater, and you pretend it doesn't make you tingle with excitement as you shove on your coat and tuck your scarf under your chin.
You slip out of your bedroom with your lip balm in your hand, only to see Mrs. Lee and your mother scolding Chan as he sits in one of the dining room chairs, your mother's hair dryer blowing hot air in his face. He's wincing as they let him have it, a pout on his lips as he sees you.
"Tell them you hogged the hairdryer!" He begs, making you smirk. "I'd be lying, wouldn't I?" You reach out to ruffle his hair, sticking your tongue out at him as you make your way to the kitchen. You see Rosie and your father holding hot packs to their faces, your little sister's nose red from the cold.
"Have fun out there, babycakes?" You ask, leaning on the island with a smile as she nods quickly. "Mingyu and Soonyoung helped me make a snowman! You and Channie have to help me, too. It has to be bigger!"
"You met Mingyu and Soonyoung already? I haven't even met them!" You feign offense as she nods, your father rolling his eyes. "If you had been up earlier, Chan could've given you a proper introduction."
"I was not going to be up at six in the morning to make a snowman, I'm sorry." You shrug, before checking your watch. "It's only eight, how are you guys so chipper?"
"We don't have to wash all the dishes after supper. So I guess you're off the hook for not being up earlier." Your mother snorts from the kitchen entrance, a red-cheeked Chan following behind her. He sticks his tongue out at you, making you snort. "Nice hair, man."
"Shut up." He rolls his eyes, and your mother sighs as she slides two plates of breakfast food in front of you. "Eat up, we've got a busy morning."
You and Chan glance at each other, knowing she means that the entire family has to work to tire Rosie out enough that she takes a nap sooner rather than later. If she goes down later, everyone will be late for Christmas Eve dinner.
Which will make your mother very upset, and God forbid you make your mother upset during the holiday season!
You and Chan practically scarf your breakfast down as Rosie excitedly recounts how Mingyu and Soonyoung kept fighting over what carrot would make the best nose for her snowman. She smiles cutely as she holds up a carrot your father was holding, "But I saved the best one for our snowman, guys!"
Your heart melts as she says that, your lip jutting out in a pout as you shovel the last of your waffles into your mouth. You take your plate and Chan's to the sink as she continues speaking, careful not to get your sleeves wet as you wash them quickly. Chan dries them as she gets to the part where Mingyu spit a raisin at Soonyoung, making you choke on your water. Rosie stops mid-story, tugging your father out of the kitchen – insisting she was all warmed up and ready to go back outside.
"Save me!" Your father mouths as he allows your little sister to drag him out, making you snicker to yourself. Chan slides the plate into the cupboard, running the rag around the sink basin as the kitchen grows quiet. You swallow the last of your water, only to feel Chan's fingers on your jaw.
"Just a quick one." He utters quietly, his eyes darting to the entryway as you roll your eyes, pecking a chaste kiss onto his lips. He can't help but hold you in place, kissing you again slowly when you hear the door open. You push him away, sliding your empty glass onto the island as Mr. Lee yells into the house. "Get out here!"
You both nearly trip over each other trying to exit the kitchen, Mr. Lee shoving two pairs of gloves in your hands as he shoves the two of you out. Chan shivers next to you, looping his arm with yours as you carefully make your way off your porch. You tug the gloves on, giving him the other pair as you brave the winter air.
"It's colder than a witch's tits." You hear someone say, and your head whips around to see two guys sitting in two folding chairs next to an abomination of a snowman, holding cups of coffee between ungloved fingers. Chan rolls his eyes as he tugs you towards them, their eyes averting to you and the one with blond hair nearly spits his coffee out.
"Don't be fucking weird, okay?" Chan says, and the blond one scoffs. "You didn't say she was a fucking bombshell, Chan!"
"Maybe because it's none of your business if she is or isn't! She'd never date you, anyway." Chan pulls you close suddenly, and you smile sheepishly at the two men.
"Hi, Y/N." The brunet smiles at you, his eyes trailing you a bit too long for Chan's liking. "Don't look at his teeth, that's how he gets you." Chan covers your eyes with his hand, making you scoff as you pull it down.
"Don't be a baby, Chan." You roll your eyes, before extending your gaze to the men. "It's nice to meet you guys. Who is who?"
"Mingyu." The blond one points at the brunet, who points back at him. "Soonyoung, resident idiot.'
"Hey!" Soonyoung shoves him, making Mingyu snort. "It's the truth, Rosie made him eat a disk of snow with raisins on it."
You laugh as Chan sulks, making you pinch his cheek and coo. "Don't be jealous, Channie. As long as neither of them is taller than you–"
"Suddenly, I need to stretch." Soonyoung says with a grin, and Mingyu rolls his eyes as Soonyoung tugs him up. Soonyoung is only two inches taller, but you find yourself whistling lowly at Mingyu's height.
"You're huge, dude." You look up at him, earning a huff from Chan. Mingyu smiles around the rim of his cup, shrugging as he takes a sip. "You're not the first to say that, but I can fit you in my schedule if you'd like to see what else is big."
"Dude, no fair. He doesn't wash his socks, you know." Soonyoung scowls, making you snort. "Yeah? What about you, Soonie?"
"Enough! We're out here to build a snowman that's better than your absolute monstrosity, not for you two to hit on my best friend until I vomit!" Chan stomps his foot like a toddler, and you laugh, patting his chest. "Chan, buddy, reign it in! Go get Rosie."
He looks hesitant as his cousins make eyes at you. There's a pout on his lips as you pinch his cheek again, whispering in his ear. "Be a good boy and fetch, yeah?"
He should be embarrassed at how quickly his cheeks tinge pink at your words, ignoring his cousins' teasing as he turns on his heel to find Rosie. He watches from his peripheral as they joke with you, how easily they make you laugh and how you fit right in with the duo. His heart warms a bit at the idea of his extended family liking you so quickly, but the idea quickly gets shoved aside as he remembers how flirtatious and greasy his cousins can be.
The next two hours are spent with Mingyu and Soonyoung calling you pretty and cute to bother Chan, and you instigating the compliments to get under his skin. Rosie got tired halfway through building the snowman, and made you promise you wouldn't finish it without her. She gave you the carrot for safekeeping, making you tuck it into your jacket pocket as your father hauled her into the house. Your mother and Mrs. Lee made a quick trip down to the restaurant, and your father and Mr. Lee opted to salt the driveways and sidewalks for the dinner trip later that day.
Chan? He's tonguing his cheek as he packs snow in his hand, hearing Mingyu call you gorgeous as you take a sip from his cup of coffee. He chucks it in his direction, hitting Mingyu square in the shoulder. Mingyu stops talking as he feels the impact, his jaw dropping as he sees the snow sliding off the leather of his thick jacket. He wipes the snow off his jacket with a boyish grin, and your eyes widen as Soonyoung quickly throws a snowball at Chan – who dodges it and lands one of his own on Soonyoung's chest.
You snort to yourself as the trio begin to throw snowballs of various sizes between each other, opting to settle in Mingyu's folding chair with your legs crossed. You hold his cup of coffee, before calling out to the men. "Whoever wins gets to help me pin Chan down and shove snow down his pants!"
Mingyu smirks, running his tongue over his teeth as he zeros in on Chan – who is gaping at you. "Oh, come on! That's not fucking fair!"
"Good luck!" You hold up Mingyu's cup, tilting it towards them as the two men begin to chase after Chan, who has a hefty head start as he hides behind your father's SUV before hopping the fence to your backyard. Your dad snorts as he salts the sidewalk you're sitting on, "You're awful to that boy, you know."
"A little snow down the pants never killed anyone." You retort, making him shake his head. "How're Mingyu and Soonyoung? Nice fellas, eh?"
"If you count them flirting with me to piss Chan off nice, I'd say so." You grin, and he rolls his eyes. "You're something else, honey. Just talk to the kid."
"I do talk to him, Dad. Trust me, I talk. He just doesn't listen." Rolling your eyes, you hear something reminiscent of a battle cry when you see Chan pelting Mingyu and Soonyoung with snowballs as he whizzes past you and your father, making you both double over in laughter as they round the corner into the next neighborhood. It fades to quiet for a moment, before you hear yet another shriek, followed by a fuck yeah!
You and your father look up to see Mingyu holding Chan over his shoulder, thrashing in order to free himself. Soonyoung throws his scarf around Mingyu's waist, effectively tying Chan's legs to the bigger man. Chan slumps against Mingyu, and you almost feel bad as your father shakes his head at you, "Not too much snow, Y/N. Be considerate."
"You got it, boss!" You call after him as he shuffles into the house, and Mingyu grins as he presents Chan to you, turning around to show you the defeated pout on his face. "You hate me, Y/N. You hate me and you're going to freeze my dick off with a chunk of snow."
"I could never hate you, Channie. But, I do want you to suffer just a bit." You smirk, and he sighs. "Put me down!"
"Will you run?" You take a sip of the cup, and Chan's eyes flash with jealousy. "No. But you can't use more than a snowball's worth of snow. Promise me." He holds his pinky out, and you wait until Soonyoung turns around to grab his coffee to peck his cheek. He flushes, but you can just barely tell under his wind-bitten skin.
"No promises, Channie."
Mingyu manages to wrestle his arms behind his back, Soonyoung just teasing Chan as they all watch you gather snow in your gloved hands. Chan whines pitifully in Mingyu's hold as you approach with a decent amount of snow in your hands and an evil smile on your face.
"Y/N, please. I'll beg, I will! Don't do this–" Your best friend squirms in Mingyu's arms, and you make kissy faces at him as your hand pulls at his waistband. The flannel lining is stark red against the white snow, and Chan braces himself as you press a shameless kiss to his forehead.
"Y/N, don't! I'll buy your breakfast for a month! I won't ever drop you during practice again, baby please–fuck!" Chan thrashes against Mingyu as the snow slides down his legs, having foolishly only worn the snow pants over his boxers. "Oh you fucking hate me, oh my God! Let me go!"
He frees himself from Mingyu, who can barely hold himself up from laughing as Chan shakes the snow out of his pants, jumping around like a frog to warm himself up. "Go get in the shower before you get frostbite on your balls!" Soonyoung calls after him as he races into your house, making you snort as you finish off the last of Mingyu's coffee.
"Love that guy, he's so easy to torture." You roll your eyes as you take Mingyu's chair once more, earning a warm look from Mingyu. "How long did you guys date back then? He only told us so much."
You shrug, "Couple months. A really good two months, but…just the two."
You toy with the cup, before Soonyoung sighs. "He's a good kid. Please don't break his heart again, I don't think he can take it." He rubs his neck, and Mingyu nods, kicking snow off his boot.
"It's funny that we've never met you until now, Chan has talked about you as long as he's been able to."
The statement makes you snort. "Yeah, well. Chan's a jealous guy, that's how we even started dating in the first place. He didn't like that his frat brothers were making eyes at me when I helped him move in, but I guess he just never understood that…"
You trail off, clearing your throat when Soonyoung finishes your sentence.
"Understood that he's the only one for you?" He tries, and you sigh, nodding. "Yeah."
"That's cute. Like, so cute. Adorable, even." Mingyu teases, and you lightly punch his shoulder. "Shut up."
"I always thought Chan would end up with you. The amount of times we'd have to kick him off the Playstation because he'd talk about you instead of playing his turn was insane." Soonyoung scoffs, taking a sip from his cup. "I think I've heard your favorite color at least eighty times in my lifetime, tell me it's still green."
"It is still green, ha." You smile shyly, and Mingyu lies down in the snow, staring at the sky. "Well, it's nice to know Chan has someone who clearly cares. I know you guys broke up because of school, right? Too busy and all that."
"I felt so overwhelmed. We broke up and he made the fucking Dean's list, I was crushed when I didn't. Then again, Chan's always been better at masking how he feels when it comes to…things between us." Shrugging, you feel the heat of Soonyoung's gaze.
"Finding out about all those girls must've gotten to you, huh? He was an idiot, I told him he was when he talked to me about it. He cried, too. Dumbass." Soonyoung rolls his eyes, and your own widen. "He cried? Why?"
"He told me two years ago, I think it was summer. I came up here, but you'd gone to a cheer camp for a few days and you came back the day that I left. We got drunk in the backyard and he cried his eyes out about you, and how none of the girls compared to you." He shrugs, and Mingyu pipes up.
"I was there, too. My best friend was apparently the one who told him to fuck other girls, I cannot tell you how big of a fight we got into when I confronted him about it. It was so ugly, and I was pissed for so long."
"Wonwoo is also one to fucking talk, he's been stuck on one of my friends for ages. Last time he visited, I swear he lost his mind seeing her in her bikini." Soonyoung scoffs, and you nod quietly, "Chan is a dumbass, you're right."
"How long did it take you to move on? Did you?" Mingyu asks, propping himself up on his elbows. You frown, shaking your head. "I slept with one other guy, a year ago. It was okay, but you know."
"It wasn't Chan." Soonyoung says softly, and you only slump in your chair. "I felt so pathetic. I still do, sometimes. It's hard not to think about those other girls when he's constantly just…there. He's both the angel and devil on my shoulder, he's consistently encouraging me but then he comes home for the holidays with me and he hurts my feelings."
Mingyu sits up fully, a furrow on his brow as he looks at you.
"What do you mean?"
"Ugh, it doesn't matter. It was stupid, and he apologized but now…now he's acting like he's in love with me, still. And I…don't know how to take it, or if I should believe him." You murmur, covering your face with your hands as Soonyoung hums. "Well, what did he say to make you think he's still in love with you?"
"He said it, verbatim. He says he loves me, he said he wanted to try to win me back. He said that nothing meant anything to him after we broke up, and that he's looked for me in every girl he's been with since." Your voice is slightly muffled by your gloves, and you miss the endeared glances Soonyoung and Mingyu share.
"Then there you have it, Y/N. Not much to question when he's so outright, is there?" Soonyoung speaks around his cup, and you sigh, pushing yourself off the chair. "I guess…I don't know. We're taking a drive after dinner tonight, we might talk then. When do you guys leave?"
"In about two hours. But, give us your contact information, you're funny." Mingyu holds his phone out, and you roll your eyes but quickly type in your information. Soonyoung hands you his as well, and they both send you a text to confirm their numbers. You give them each a hug goodbye, with Mingyu pinching your cheek and telling you to just go with the flow. Soonyoung ruffles your hair and tells you that at the end of the day, Chan is just a man and no matter how much you love him, you've got to put yourself first.
And you agree.
You don't get a chance to check in with Chan after saying goodbye to his cousins, because your father ropes you into waking Rosie up and helping her get dressed for dinner. You're holed away in her room, carefully curling her hair when she asks you about Chan.
"Do you hold hands with him?" She asks you suddenly, and you look at her in the mirror, the bathroom light making her dress glitter brighter. Hers was a soft ivory color, likely one to match your mother's. Your father had told you he'd get a champagne tie and pocket square so you'd all look cohesive, and you'd agreed as he left you to babysit Rosie – only for your mother to bang around in the kitchen moments after he left.
"With who, babycakes?"
"With Channie, Y/N!" She whines as you spray her hair, and you snort. "Sometimes. When we cross the street, or sometimes just because. He's my best friend, we can do stuff like that."
"Have you ever had a crush on him, Y/N?" She wiggles her eyebrows in the mirror, and you laugh, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "Yeah, I have. You can have crushes on your friends, it's very common. It's not always the best idea, though. It can be really hurtful if they don't like you back."
"So were you boyfriend and girlfriend or not? Because you say no but Mommy said yes." She got you, hook, line and sinker. You gape at her, and her eyes are pointed as you scoff. "Okay, fine. We were boyfriend and girlfriend for a little bit."
"A little bit!? Why not forever? Ugh!" She gripes, and you can only hold back your shock as you smear a little bit of sunscreen on her face. "Well, sometimes things just don't work out, babycakes. Plus, Channie and I will always be best friends."
"Daddy told me that he and Mommy were best friends and now they're married. Maybe you and Channie can get married, too!"
You feel your chest grow warm at the idea of marrying Chan, and the fact that Rosie liked him so much that she wanted that for you. You recall your father also telling you the story of how he and your mother met, and why he was so adamant that you and Chan would figure it out. He told you that story so many times over the years, you had it practically memorized.
"Maybe, Rosie." You grin, kissing her nose. "No promises."
"It's okay, Channie promised me." She shrugs, climbing out of her chair as you freeze. "What? What'd you say?"
"I said, Channie promised me. I asked him yesterday when we were playing Barbies in the car. But it's a secret, so don't tell him I told you." She says sternly, making you gape as she abandons you to find your mother downstairs. You take a deep breath, ignoring the way your stomach fills with fluttering as you make your way downstairs. You see Chan sitting at the dinner table, hair mussed from the wind outside as your mother serves him a cup of coffee. His eyes catch yours, and you quickly look away as you jump the rest of the stairs and dart into your bedroom.
You barely make it to your bedroom without the tears spilling down your face, and you lock the door behind you. You slide down the door, pulling your knees to your chest as you think back to all the moments between you and Chan. All the times he said he loved you, all the times he said he couldn't imagine a life without you.
The time in the backseat of his car, almost three years to the date – where he said both over and over again. Where he dragged his lips anywhere you'd let him, whispers of how perfect you were for him and how insane you made him feel. Where he made you cry as he touched you just right, biting at your shoulders and digging his dull nails into your hips.
Where he told you that you'd tattooed your name across his heart and it was yours forever.
Your body shook with ragged sobs, and you forced yourself to get up off the floor as regret only sank further in. You broke up with him. It was the right thing to do, for the sake of your friendship and the idea of any future together. It was the right thing to do.
"Fuck." You hold yourself over the sink of your bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and letting it drip into the basin. Your tears mixed with the water, and you hear a soft knock at your bedroom door, before the doorknob wiggles. "Y/N? Are you alright in there?"
It's your father. You quickly dry your face with a towel, tossing it into the sink before ripping the door open. "Hey, Dad. D'ya get your stuff?"
"Honey, are you alright?" His face is worried as his hand comes up to your cheek, and you quickly nod. "I'm good, I promise. I just had one of those moments, you know. Seasonal depresh and what not."
He quirks a brow at you, "Seasonal depresh?"
"Dad!" You whine, and he shrugs. "Yes, I got my pocket square. Can you check if it matches your dress? Oh, tell me you're gonna go for curls this year, because your mom is and she's mad that Rosie's are 'too tight.'"
He rolls his eyes at the same time you do, making you snort. "Yeah, I'll check. I'm gonna start getting ready now, can you let Chan know so he doesn't come barging in here?"
"He's at his house, he just left. He'll be driving you both, though, so you can be comfortable in your shoes." He nods, and you take the pocket square. "I'll get this to you when I'm done, okay?"
"For sure, honey. I'll be back later, don't rush." He nods, closing the door as he leaves. You toss the pocket square onto the vanity, before looking into it with a slightly defeated look. You grimace, before grabbing a towel out of one of your drawers.
It didn't take you too long to get ready – you got in and out of the shower, and did your hair within two hours. Your makeup was done an hour later, with Rosie barging into your room and demanding you put lipstick on her, too. You rolled your eyes at her, telling her to say please, telling her to say thank you – both of which she did after you swiped the wine red on her lips. She scampered out of your room as you slipped into your closet, your mother appearing in your doorway to offer her help with zipping you up.
"You look just like me sometimes." She murmurs as she zips the dress, her fingers nimbly hooking the clasp at the top. She runs her fingers through the large curls you'd given yourself, smiling at you in the mirror. You give her a weak one in return, when she sighs, her hands on your shoulders.
"I wanted to apologize, baby." Her eyes are worried as you glance at them through the mirror, your fingers fumbling with the jewelry box in front of you. "Apologize? For what?"
"A few years ago, I told you that I thought you were a little too harsh with your words around Chan. I think I went as far as calling you the brute of the relationship, didn't I?" She asks softly, and you look away as you tongue at your lower lip. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry. I spoke to Chan earlier after his cousins left, he came in for a cup of coffee before he went to go get ready for dinner. I asked him a few questions about you, and he told me what he said to you a few days ago." She tucks a stray curl behind your ear, thumbing at the hoops she'd given you so many years ago. "It was really shitty of him to speak to you that way, and I told him so. I also told him that if he thinks he has even a remote chance of fixing things with you, that he better get on it soon. You're too kind for your own good sometimes, darling."
"You think so?" You mumble, your eyes falling on a necklace Chan gave you for your birthday the year Rosie was born. You hadn't had a party that year, insisting Rosie was more important than anything else. He'd given it to you anyway, on the bus the morning of your birthday. You cried like a baby into his shoulder.
"I know so, honey. I know that somewhere in that heart of yours, you're waiting for him to make things right. Sometimes, I don't agree with it, but I also know you. I know you don't give anyone who doesn't deserve a second chance even a moment to speak to you. You're strong like that, just like your father."
You smile inwardly, her fingers lightly pinching your cheek. "I know you're good at taking care of yourself, but I also know Chan can take good care of you, too. I want you to be happy, and I know Chan makes you happier. You should've seen how you came into the house that year you were dating. You were smiling from ear to ear, like the Cheshire cat."
She leaves with a kiss to your cheek, careful not to smudge her own lipstick onto it. She closes the door quietly, but not before you hear the Lees greet your father warmly as they filed into your home. You thumb at the necklace, the simple heart-shaped locket opening to a picture of you and Chan as teenagers. You often wore it open, liking when people asked you questions about the picture. No bigger than a coin, the gold locket has always been something you carried with you even if you didn't wear it.
"Y/N, I'm here for my pocket square!" Your father knocks on the door, and you open the door, holding it out. "Here you go."
"Oh, honey! You look so pretty!" Your father covers his face as you spin, before he takes his pocket square. "Wow, you look so much like your mother sometimes."
"Funny, she said the same thing." You snort, and he uses the vanity in your bedroom to fix his pocket square carefully. "We discussed seating charts, you're sitting between Chan and Rosie. Is that okay, or should I switch one of them out?"
"That's fine. Can you actually send Chan in here? I need to talk to him." You nod, and your father glances at you in the mirror. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. Won't take long."
Your father leaves with a kiss to your hairline, and you fumble with the necklace until you hear footsteps outside your door. You lean carefully, hearing a deep breath before a knock. "Come in."
Chan slides through the door with closed eyes, almost like he's bracing himself for something. You snort, "What the hell is wrong with you? Open your eyes."
"Your dad said you need to talk to me, and if you're going to dump me again, I don't need you to look beautiful doing it." He rushes out, making you gape. "Chan."
"I'm serious. I haven't seen you yet but I know you look great. I mean, you always look amazing but I don't think I can handle you dumping me on Christmas Eve when you're in one of those pretty dresses you always wear." He can hardly breathe, and you can't help but laugh.
"Nobody's getting dumped, please relax. I just need your help putting my necklace on."
"I don't believe you, you could've asked your dad." He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut so tightly you're worried they might never open again. You walk over to him, running your fingers through his hair carefully, before thumbing at the small silver hoop in his ear. "You know we're not exactly together, right?"
"In my mind, we've been married since we were in second grade and Hyewon officiated it." He scoffs, and you quirk an eyebrow. "Is that why you promised my sister we'd get married?"
His eyes open wide, his lips parting slightly. "She told you?"
"Oh good, your eyes are open. Help me put this on." You turn around, grabbing the necklace off your vanity. You pinch the chain carefully, holding it out to him when you look up to see his hand covering his mouth. His eyes rake over you slowly, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as he walks around you. You shift uneasily as he makes it back in front of you, "Do I look okay?"
"Okay?" He whispers, making you look in the mirror. You run your hands down the bodice of the dress, "Is it too much?"
"Too much?" He's still whispering, his eyes still running up and down your frame as you grow nervous. "Chan! You're freaking me out!"
"Oh, baby." He murmurs, taking a few steps closer to you, taking your hand gently and making you spin for him. You feel nerves settle in your stomach, when he finally speaks. "You look so beautiful. I truly don't think words can express how absolutely angelic you look, are you real? Please tell me you're real, this would be a cruel dream."
His eyes are wide and slightly glossy as he turns around, and you hear a soft sniffle. You watch his hands move around his face from behind him, your eyes growing wide as he turns back around, teary-eyed as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "No, it's not too much. You're never too much. You look great. Are you ready?"
You gawk at him, "Chan, why are you crying?"
"Nevermind that." He shakes his head, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. Your brows are furrowed, and you hold out the necklace. "Help me put this on."
He glances at the necklace, his cheeks and ears burning a soft pink hue as you spin around, moving your hair to the front. He sighs shakily, carefully looping the locket around your neck and clipping it. You adjust the locket, your lips pursed as you open it.
"Wear it like that." He speaks behind you, his hand appearing on your hip in the reflection. You raise a brow, closing the locket only to hear a whine as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you open it, adjusting it to show the small photo of the two of you. "How was saying goodbye to your cousins? They had a lot to say about you."
"It was fine. We sent them off with your mom's leftover cake, and Soonyoung finished it in the car before they even drove off. Mingyu was pissed." He snorts, and you hum quietly, reaching for the jewelry box once more. You sifted through your rings, Chan pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.
"I missed you." He pouts, and you give him a half-smirk as you peer down at him. "Did you, now?"
"Stop talking to me like that, I'll get hard. You did it earlier too, but I was ashamed then, there were people around." He buries his face into your neck, and you snort out a laugh. "What are you talking about? I'm not talking to you in any sort of way."
"Oh, so telling me to fetch like a dog isn't talking down to me?" He scoffs, cheeks aflame as he meets your eyes in the mirror. You suck your teeth, sliding on one of your rings with a shake of your head. "You liked that? You're something else, Chan."
"I've literally always been like this, you just didn't notice before." Rolling his eyes, he wraps his arms around your waist. This is when you notice his suit jacket cuffed with silver cufflinks, a gift from your father years ago for graduation. You twist slightly, the top two buttons of his black shirt undone to show off a few layered chains. Some were gifts from you.
Your hand pushes him back slightly, his eyes never leaving your face as he lets you run yours all over him. Your fingers tug at his belt buckle, "You look really nice."
"You can do better than that." He chides, and you swallow a scoff but roll your eyes as you pull him to you by his belt loop. You press your lips to his lightly, "You take what you're given, or nothing at all."
He breathes out heavily against your lips, and you move your hand to rest on his stomach. "Are you ready? They're going to want to take pictures before we leave."
He can't reply, the two of you springing apart when you hear a knock at the door. You cough as Chan blinks, before opening it to reveal Rosie. "Hi, pipsqueak."
"Mommy said that if you're not in the living room, she's going to leave you both here." She relays with a roll of her eyes, and you hold back a snort. "Can't have that, can we?"
Rosie asks Chan to pick her up as you slide on one last ring, your fingers fumbling with the lights. Rosie's pink cast is around Chan's neck as he holds her on his hip, and you instinctively slot your fingers with his before remembering your parents will see you. He squeezes your fingers lightly, a sheepish smile on his lips as you let go.
"Wow!" Mrs. Lee is the first person you hear as you step into the living room, your cheeks burning as she clambers over. "Look at you, honey! Oh, you're so grown up." Her hands are tucking your hair behind your ears, the both of you missing the way Chan's eyes fill with adoration as he delivers Rosie to your father. He clears his throat inwardly, watching the way your parents move in front of your fireplace for photos. He can't keep his eyes off you the entire time, even as his parents shove the two of you together for a photo.
"Chan, don't act like you did on prom night. Act like you wanna be here." Your mother scolds him playfully, and you feel your heart flutter as you tug his arm around your waist. His fingers easily settle low on your hip, your own finding his shoulder and you rest your cheek on top. "Smile!"
Chan's fingers squeeze your hip as everyone turns away, sneakily pressing his lips to your temple as you begin to move away. Your eyes are wide as he walks away, grabbing your coat off your father's hands and helping you slide it on from behind. Everyone is trying to help Rosie, and he takes the opportunity to whisper in your ear.
"I'm so in love with you. I wish things were different right now." He sighs, carefully tucking your hair into the hood of your coat. You feel your cheeks heat as you turn so he can zip it up, wrapping your scarf loosely around your neck as he connects the zipper at the bottom.
"I know. Eventually, okay? Just give me some time." You mumble back, tucking the end of your scarf into the coat as he nods defeatedly. You resist the urge to caress his cheek, run your fingers through his hair, kiss him. A weak smile is all you can muster as he straightens fully, adjusting your scarf so the zipper won't snag.
Your parents are looking your way, your mother watching the way Chan carefully zips your coat up. Your father smiles as he makes your mother turn away, "Your keys are in Chan's coat. Lock the door, come on."
The two of you scramble behind your parents, Chan hastily shoving his coat on as you wrap his scarf around him as he walks forward. You tuck it into the coat as he zips himself up, his hand holding you steady in your heels as you step onto the porch. He locks the door quickly, trying the doorknob twice as your father helps your mother down the steps, and he offers his hand when he looks at your feet. "Y/N, why are your shoes open-toed? Are you out of your mind?"
"I didn't have any heels that matched! It'll be fine!" You huff, and he gestures at the snowy pathway leading to your car. "Your toes are going to freeze and then you're going to get sick and die. Do you want to get sick and die, Y/N?" He scoffs, and you feel your scream caught in your throat as he picks you up princess-style. "Chan! Put me down!"
He ignores you as he steps off the porch, carefully maneuvering his way to your car as you huff. Your lip is jutted out in a pout as he unlocks your car, bending at the knee to open your door and carefully set you down on the seat. He buckles your seatbelt in for you as your father pulls out of the driveway, giving you a honk as he turns out of your neighborhood. Chan shuts your door, rounding the front of the car to the driver's side.
"You didn't have to do that." You mutter as he slides in, sticking the keys into the ignition as he shivers. "Yes, I did. Don't be brat, just let me take care of you."
You don't reply, picking at your nails as he plugs his phone into the aux, handing it to you. Shuffling one of his playlists, the two of you freeze as you hear the opening notes of Meddle About by Chase Atlantic flow through the speakers. Chan purses his lips, single handedly unplugging his phone and tossing it into the backseat. "Nope. No music tonight, it seems."
"I thought you liked that song." You reach for his phone, grabbing it off the edge of the backseat and sliding it into the cupholder as he pulls out of the neighborhood. He has a tick in his jaw as he flicks on the turn signal, "I like it when we're in the backseat and you're on top of me, not when I'm driving you to dinner and not when you're in my clothes on the drive to your house."
Your jaw could very well be on the floor the way you're gaping at him, his fingers reaching over to close your mouth. "Chan."
"What? I think about that night all the time." He scoffs, turning onto the main street that makes the drive to your mother's restaurant five minutes longer. His hand floats down to your thigh, settling high on it through the slit of your dress. Tonguing your cheek, you stare out the window as your hand settles atop his.
"You mean the night that–"
"Shut up."
You snicker to yourself, sliding your fingers between his. "You know it's not the worst thing in the world, right? Tons of people have breeding kinks."
He winces as you say it, making a strangled noise of discomfort from his seat before glancing at you. "Y/N, I want you to take a really good look at me right now and tell me that it wasn't weird." He scoffs, and you shrug, facing him.
"It wasn't weird. I liked it." You admit, "I think the slightly weirder part was calling you daddy, but some things you do out of…you know."
You trail off, feeling your cheeks hot as you look out the window. Chan makes a noise of approval, his hand flipping beneath yours to interlace your fingers. He brings your knuckles to his lips, a chaste kiss pressed on top of your rings. "I know, babe."
The rest of the ride is silent, some shy glances shared before you pull into the parking lot where your father is waiting with Rosie. You smile, squeezing his hand in the shadow of the center console before letting go. Chan pulls around the building, looking for a parking spot. "We're still taking that drive later, right?"
"If you're not too tired, or drunk." He snorts, and you gasp, landing a soft smack to his arm. "I got drunk one time!"
"You called me daddy one time, I think that goes to show that you're game for anything at least once." He teases, and you sigh inwardly. "I guess that's true."
"I know it is, I know you like the back of my hand. I love you." He says, mostly to himself as he pulls into a spot just a few feet from the door. Killing the engine, he looks over the steering wheel at your father. "Can your dad see us from here?"
"I don't think so, he's entertaining Rosie. Why?" You unbuckle your seatbelt as he gets out, and you feel the door close as he rounds the car to open your door. You wait, before feeling the cold gust of winter air rush into the car. You shiver, grabbing Chan's phone out of the cupholder and taking his hand to step out. He pulls you close, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears as you look into his eyes. "Something wrong?"
"No." He shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips as he thumbs at your earlobes. You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"
"Don't drink tonight." He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you nod slowly. "Any special reason?"
He shrugs, before looping his arm with yours and pulling you towards the front of the restaurant. You can't help but look up at him with a shy smile as he guides you around piles of snow, before seeing the flash of a camera. You blink rapidly, before looking up to see your father holding Rosie on his hip, her hands holding a camera. Chan greets your father warmly, and Rosie shows him the photo.
"Can I see, too?" You ask, peering over Chan's shoulder when Rosie tilts it away. "No."
Your pout does nothing to sway your baby sister, making Chan snicker at you. The four of you walk into the restaurant, the warm air of the establishment like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. "I still can't believe your parents named both their businesses after you." Chan murmurs as you walk to the reserved room your mother arranges every year, and you snort.
"What can I say, they love me." You shrug, resting your head on his shoulder. Rosie looks over your father's shoulder, a crinkle in her nose as she sees the closeness between the two of you. "Are you sure you're not boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"We're sure, babycakes." You laugh softly, moving to pull yourself away from Chan but feeling his fingers interlace with yours before you can. You glance at him, only to see him sticking his tongue out at Rosie, who blows a raspberry at him. A pit of anxiety opens in your stomach as your father opens the door for you both, letting you slip by when you feel Chan's fingers let go of yours, and a murmur of Can I talk to you, sir?
Rosie enters with you, Chan and your father lingering at the door before they take a turn back outside. Your eyes widen as Rosie leads you to the table, your mother sharing the same quizzical look. "Y/N, where's Chan? Did you guys fight?"
"No, no. He's…he's with Dad." You reply absently, pulling your coat off as your mother helps Rosie out of hers. The table is set and covered entirely with food, the roast pig being the main attraction in the center of the table. You find your seat, pulling Rosie closer to you to fill the strange pit you feel. Chan and your father don't appear for another ten minutes, but they're both rather stoic as they enter – but you see a soft smile on his face as Chan takes his seat opposite your father.
"Everything okay?" Mrs. Lee asks gently, and Chan nods. "Don't worry, all good."
If anyone notices how quiet you are during dinner, they don't say anything. You feel the heat of Chan's gaze more than once, but everyone is too wrapped up in the food and the conversation – to even notice the fact that Rosie fell asleep into her mashed potatoes. You're the one who realizes she's fallen asleep, cooing as you carefully wipe her face and wrap her coat around her as her head lolls onto your arm. You scoot closer, lifting her onto your lap and resting her head on your chest.
"Did she fall asleep?" Your mother asks incredulously, making you snort. "Right into her mashed potatoes. Don't worry, I got it." You wrap your arms around her, leaning back in your chair.
"Your dinner, though?" Your mother points at your picked plate, and you shrug. "I'll take it home. No big deal, I'm not exactly hungry. I could fall asleep right now, too." You shake your head, running your fingers through your sister's hair. Your mother nods, beckoning one of her waitstaff to wrap the plate up for you. His name is Hansol, and he carefully takes your plate and disappears with it.
Dinner continues for a few more hours, and you reach over to Chan and tug on his sleeve. He gives you a glance, concern in his eyes before you tap your wrist. He checks his watch, flashing it to you. Midnight. You wince, looking over to your father to see him glancing at his own watch.
"Oh, man. It's really late, we should get going." He hisses, and your mother's eyes widen as she sees the time. "Shit, I told them we'd be out by eleven. Alright, up. Let's get going."
Your father takes Rosie from your lap, and your mother carefully pulls her coat over the pink cast. You watch tentatively, ready to step in at any moment when you feel Chan's hand on your shoulder. Jumping slightly, you feel the soft fabric of your coat. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Arms, please."
You don't look at him as he works around you, until Rosie is on your father's hip and Chan is wrapping your scarf around you. "You're distracted tonight. Everything okay?" Chan's voice is soft as he zips your coat up, his own already settled on his frame.
"What did you and my dad talk about?" You blurt, and he raises a brow as he follows the four parents out of the room, who are still chattering about everything and anything. He scans your face, concern weighing heavy on his brows before he smiles. "I didn't ask him to marry you, if that's what you're worried about. That's further down the line."
Seeing the way your shoulders settle, Chan loops his arm with yours. "Did you want me to ask him?"
You don't respond, letting him lead you out of the restaurant. Your parents are all still talking as your father buckles Rosie into her carseat, her eyes opening slightly as you pass by. You wave at her, only for her eyes to close again. Smiling to yourself, you wait for your parents to acknowledge you and Chan waiting by the front of your father's SUV.
"Going for a drive?" Your mother asks gently, and you nod. "Home soon, don't worry." You hold your pinky out, only for your father to clasp it with his own. "Take your time. Drive safe."
Your eyes search your father for answers, and he only smiles. "See you at home, honey."
Nodding slowly, you and Chan bid your parents goodnight, your mother's eyes lingering as Chan walks you back to the car. You can feel your chest a bit tight as he opens your door, but give him a strained smile as he gets into the driver's seat.
"Alright, what's eating you? Besides me." He jokes lightly, pulling out of the parking lot. You see your parents' car already at the stoplight in the street, the light turning green just as Chan pulls into the street. "Nothing."
"You're lying." He plugs his phone into the aux as the light turns red, a click of his tongue as he presses shuffle on yet another random playlist. The soft melody of Scared To Live by The Weekend pours out of your speakers as he takes the oh-so-familiar turn down the same road you've taken this drive on every year. It's scenic, it's always decked with Christmas lights and it leads you right to a random cliff that overlooks the entire city. You sigh as he holds his hand out for yours, interlacing your fingers and leaning back on the headrest. You recline your seat a bit, crossing your legs at the knee. He lets go of your hand and you cover your face with your arms, his fingers sliding up and down your exposed thigh.
"You can always talk to me, you know." He murmurs over the music, this time it's Fantasy by Bazzi. You nod silently, hearing a hum from him as he traces circles into your skin with his thumb. The drive is silent aside from the music, Chan's comfort seeping into your body via his hand and your shoulders losing their tension as he pulls into the deserted cliff. You'd found it years before you went to college, and enjoyed retreating there to get high together behind your parents' backs. You also exchanged one Christmas gift here every year, basking in the privacy and security of each other's warmth on the hood of whoever's car you took that time.
"So? What's going on?" He parks the car, lowering the music as he turns to look at you. You peek at him from beneath your arms, a pout on your lips. "Nothing, really. I'm good."
Chan moves your arms from your face, his fingers coming to poke at your cheeks with every word. 'You are such a bad liar, baby."
You groan, "It's stupid. It's so stupid because you're probably not going to have to deal with until you're in your fucking thirties but I've been dealing with it since I was in high school." Your pout makes Chan thumb at your lip, an understanding look in his eyes. "You mean that same conversation your parents keep having with you about having kids and getting married?"
"Yes! Ugh, that's why I was so quiet at dinner. And why I was so pissy on the way here from campus. I do not want to have this fucking conversation again this year, especially when I don't even know what's going to happen when we leave." You fall back into your seat, feeling Chan's hand cup your knee. "I'm so sick of being asked the same shit, I'll get married when I get married and I'll have kids when I have kids. What about my career? No one but you and my dad ask about what I want to do after college. What if I want a master's degree? What if I want a doctorate?"
Chan listens intently, his eyes flowing between worried and understanding. "Well, what if? Do you want to do that? What do you want to do after we graduate? Do you want to move back here, do you want to move somewhere else, do you want to pursue something more? Do you want to work full-time?"
"What does it matter what I want? You want to get married, Chan." You sigh, and he shakes his head. "It matters because you're your own person, not an extension of me. I don't want to get married if you don't want to, and definitely not if we're not well established. Stable present makes for a stable future, and I want things to be just as easy as they always have been between you and me. You call my name, I come. If time is the issue, I'll wait. I waited my entire life before freshman year, and I've waited three years since then."
You peer up at him, "So you're serious about marrying me? You weren't kidding?"
"Respectfully, I don't think you've ever sounded more insane than you do right now." He scoffs, sitting up and pulling you with him. Your lip is jutted out in a slight pout as you thumb the seam of your dress, Chan's fingers grazing your jaw as he makes you look at him.
"I love you, Y/N. I'd wait an eternity for you, as long as you're happy. I want you to feel fulfilled, and I know that you're not going to if I try to tie you down with bullshit. Yes, I want to get married. Yes, I want to marry you. You've seen me through every stage of my life and as painful as it may have been for you because I've been an absolute douche, you stuck by me. I don't know how else to make you understand that you're important to me, and that includes embracing who you are as an individual. Even if you say no to anything I offer, the house, the ring, the kids, the fucking pursuit of happiness by my side…none of it matters as long as I know that you're happy with yourself."
You don't realize you're crying until his thumbs wipe at your cheeks, his fingers tucking your hair behind your ears. "I love you, endlessly. I'll always be here, and I know maybe that's not what you need to hear to be comforted but I need you to know that."
You sniffle slightly, "What if my mother pressures me enough that I make a rash decision? What if she manages to get to me just like she always has?"
"She won't. Even if she did, I know you in ways she doesn't. I know every side of your heart, I know how kind and forgiving it can be and I know how cold and cruel it can be. I know you're strong and independent and you don't need me to ever speak up on your behalf, but if ever your voice is lost on you, I can. I have, and I will continue to do so. Your honor is mine, even if mine isn't yours."
You rest your forehead on his shoulder, wanting the conversation to end. "I forgot your gift at the house. I'm sorry."
"That's alright. I still have yours, if you want to go sit while I get the blanket." He presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, allowing you to change the subject. "I feel bad, though."
"Go sit for me." He nips at your ear, making you jolt as you shove him. He smirks as you scoff, wiping at your face carefully as you open the door and step out. You shudder as the cold hits your feet, but you hoist yourself onto the hood of your car as Chan pulls the thick blanket you brought from your apartment out of your trunk. The metal is still warm before you feel him kill the engine, the motor dying under you as he shuts the door, shoving your keys into his pocket. He drapes the blanket over your face as you feel him grab your ankle. Jolting, you push the blanket off, seeing a pair of socks clenched between his teeth as he undoes the strap of your shoe.
"Where the fuck did you find those?" You let him slide the black sock over your foot, and he shrugs. "Your cheer bag is still in the trunk. I know these are new, though, because I put them in there before we left for practice last week." He shrugs, slipping off the other shoe and putting the sock on, covering you with the blanket once more as he rounds the car to throw the shoes into the backseat. You stare at the clear sky as he slides onto the hood next to you, a soft sigh from his lips as you drape the blanket over his leg.
"I didn't ask your dad to marry you, I promise. I just talked to him about how I felt and what he thinks I should do." You hear him say softly, and you turn to see him looking at you already. Your brow raises, and he holds up a white box. It's from the jewelry store you found Rosie and Mrs. Lee in when you went to the mall, the silver logo stamped on the top. "He said I should be honest and tell you what I want, and listen to what you have to say. So, uhm…this is more for you and I than anyone else, but I…I understand if you don't want it."
He pops it open, a slim gold band slotted into the cushion with a thicker one, presumably for him. The rings are studded with stones, emeralds and sapphires with smaller white diamonds scattered about. You look at him, a certain softness to your gaze that has only ever been present for him.
"A promise ring?"
He shifts under your gaze, cheeks tinging pink as he sits up, sliding off the hood of the car. He paces slightly, "I know it's so…ugh, it's so high school. And we're not even together, and I'm willing to wait–"
"I'm not." You interrupt, "I'm tired of waiting, Chan."
His eyes are wide as you shrug, holding your hand out for the box. "Can I see?"
He hands it to you, your fingers pinching the delicate band and holding it up to your eyes. "Is this what you bought when you were fighting your mom at the register?"
"It's also why your class ring went missing last month, but that's neither here nor there." He admits sheepishly, making you gape. "You took it! You little rat, I knew you had something to do with it."
"I needed it for the sizing! And I got it back! Do you…do you like it?" He asks shyly, resting his hands on either side of your legs as he leans closer to you. You nod, "I love it, it's beautiful. Good eye, I guess."
"Can't you just give me a compliment without making it sound so forced?" He rolls his eyes as you replace the ring, holding the box in your hand. You shake your head, "I'll have a lifetime to do that. Do I get to put yours on for you?"
"You're taking it? You're saying yes, I mean?" His eyes are wide as he scans your face, and you scoff. "Obviously? We still have a lot of growing to do, but I don't take the steps to make a decision unless I know it's the right thing to do. You know that."
"Including breaking up with me on my birthday?"
"Including saying yes when you ask me to be your girlfriend in about two minutes. I should make you wait, but I'm impatient."
He rolls his eyes, leaning slightly closer. You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his, feeling your cheeks heat as he brushes his lips to yours. "I love you."
"You're right, I do deflect a lot."
He laughs, peppering kisses around your face as you scrunch your nose. "Be my girlfriend, please. I'd be nothing of a man without you."
"I mean, I guess if you want me that bad–"
"Respond properly or I'm taking your socks off."
"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend." You roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his lips. He kisses you back softly, his hands moving to hold your face carefully. "You know the ring means you'll also say yes to being my fiancée and then my wife, right?" He speaks against your lips, kissing you between words.
"Mhm." You hum in response, before taking the thicker ring out of the box in your hand. "Let me put this on you. You can't take it off, like, ever."
"Wait, you first." He pulls away, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it into his coat pocket. He takes your hand in his carefully, "I think I'm gonna cry."
"That's okay. I've seen you cry before. I've seen you throw up and I still think you're a pretty okay guy." You joke to ease him, noting the way his fingers tremble slightly as they slide the ring down your finger. It fits snugly, and he runs his thumb over it a few times before looking up at you. "Are you sure?"
"Are you?" You hold up his ring, and he nods slowly. "If I'm not sure of anything else in this life, I have the comfort of knowing I'll always be sure of you."
"When did you become so profound?" You tease, slipping the ring down his finger. He scoffs, "What part of you deflect and I don't did you forget? I've always been this way! You've just gotten good at ignoring me because you don't like to admit my compliments make you feel some type of way."
"You just make me nervous." You confess quietly, tugging on the lapel of his coat. "You think you don't make me nervous? I can't talk to you sometimes without getting my tongue twisted."
"Your tongue does better things than talk, Chan."
"I thought we were having a wholesome moment here." He flicks your forehead, your hand moving up to swat his hand away. He grabs it midair, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. "Are we still keeping this under wraps?"
Your eyes widen, "Shit, are we?"
"I mean…my mom knows I got these." He winces, and you click your tongue. "Your mom also told me you're a crybaby who called her and said I broke your heart."
"I may be a crybaby but at least I can tell someone when I love them." He scoffs, making you furrow your brows. "You wanna play that game? Because I have so much shit from Soonyoung and Mingyu, too."
"Tell me you love me!" He whines, and you roll your eyes. "I'm your girlfriend, not your puppet. I'll tell you when I'm good and damn ready."
"Great, I'm ending the year with a girlfriend that hates me." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sucking his teeth. "I did this to myself."
"If you get me out of the cold within the next twenty seconds, I'll let you go down on me when we get home." You offer, before a shriek rips through you as he throws you over his shoulder.
"As you wish, girlfriend."
DECEMBER 31, 9:42PM.
Chan in fact, did go down on you when you got home. Twice on your bed without even taking your dress off, and once in the shower. Your legs could barely hold you up, but that doesn't really matter when your boyfriend forgets his own strength while pinning you against the bath tile.
Christmas Day was rather uneventful aside from unwrapping gifts, with Rosie screaming excitedly about the extensive sets of Legos and Barbie dolls you and Chan got for her. Your parents gifted you and Chan a vacation to Bali, set for after your graduation, as well as a new pair of earrings. The Lees gave you a rush of nostalgia as they gave you yet another locket, this one with a picture of you and Chan as babies.
Chan watched the exchanges quietly, and the night concluded with you and him falling asleep watching a movie in your bed. His parents never did make him move to his bedroom after Mingyu and Soonyoung left, and your parents didn't mind him staying so long as you were fine with it. You still didn't fuck him, but he was perfectly content with waiting – so long as you didn't mind his tongue between your thighs in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn.
You spent the next few days simply existing within your families. You got your nails done with Mrs. Lee, and took Rosie along with you. Rosie got her cast off and cried when the physician cut through your signature, tears only stopped by a scoop of chocolate almond ice cream on a waffle cone. You spent a bit of time with your mother at the restaurant, tasting a few of her new recipes and coming home to sleep in Chan's arms with a stomach ache from all the food. Per usual, Chan continued his whispered sweet nothings and you shied away from him often, only for him to pull you back into his embrace and kiss you until you couldn't breathe, followed by murmurs of I love you.
The days were quiet, and your families were slowly growing used to having you and Chan around – something that always backfired on them, because the two of you usually left a day or two after ringing in the New Year together. It helped you beat the traffic back, and it helped you decompress from spending so much time with Chan.
Not that you'd need to do that this time…because, well. You know.
"Do I look okay?" You ask your mother for the billionth time, smoothing your hands over the front of your dress. She rolls her eyes as she sprays a bit of perfume in the middle of your back, making you flinch at the sensation. "You look lovely, darling. Please, get a grip! This is just the same people we've rung the New Year in with every year. Nothing new, nothing to be nervous about."
Your mother sprays perfume on her wrists, before dabbing them on her neck. "Go downstairs, check on Rosie. I'm going to be so upset if your father let her have anything that could stain that dress, it was too expensive to ruin."
You sigh shakily, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror your mother had in her bedroom. Your dress was black and glittery, ending at your mid-thigh with an open back that left little to the imagination as it stopped just at the dip of your spine. It had straps that sat off your shoulders with a low-cut neckline, and you only wore a necklace that Chan had bought to play off the rings he'd gotten you. It sat nicely at the base of your throat, the only gift he gave you in front of your parents.
"Y/N!" Rosie called from the bottom of the stairs as you reached the first one, and you smiled down at her as you made your way down. "Babycakes! You look so pretty in your dress!"
"Thank you!" She beams up at you, holding a pink lollipop in her hand. Your father is sitting on the couch, eyes closed as you walk up behind him. "Catching up on sleep, old man?"
"You know it. I love having you kids here, but I'm exhausted from all the socializing. I only have so many things to say." He sighs, and you snort. "Don't worry, just a few more days. Chan and I are leaving on the third, I think."
It's not long before your mother comes downstairs, her dress a sparkly burgundy this year. Her lipstick matches it, and your father presses a kiss to her temple as he helps her tug her coat on. Rosie is settled on your hip, her head resting on your shoulder as the four of you walk over to the Lees, and you already regret the thin coat you chose to layer over your dress. You shiver as you walk up the steps to the porch, Rosie fighting sleep as you bounce her around.
"Don't sleep, Rosie! It's just a little party!" You wiggle her around, her giggle tired as your mother knocks on the front door. Chan appears as he throws it open, ushering everyone inside. His eyes meet yours, widening at the necklace sitting on your skin. You feel your cheeks heat as you walk past him, setting Rosie down and tugging her coat off as he closes the door.
You lower to her height, "Don't fall asleep, okay? You feel sleepy, come find me." You tap her cheeks, and she nods as she trails off to find your mother, who is greeting Mrs. Lee with the bottle of wine you brought over.
Chan helps you stand upright, a soft smile on his face as he pulls you into a hug. "I haven't seen you since this morning. I missed you, gorgeous." He mumbles into your ear, and you roll your eyes as you weasel out of his embrace. "You always miss me. I'm literally across the lawn."
You tug your scarf off, and he takes it, his hand awaiting for your coat. "What did your dad make this year?" You nod in the direction of the kitchen, the rich smell of lemongrass and garlic filling the house. He opens his mouth to respond, only for his words to get caught in his throat as you slide your coat off, his eyes landing on the expanse of your back. It's speckled with glitter, courtesy of your mother, and you swing your hair behind you as you hand him your coat.
"What? Are you okay?" Your voice is concerned as you glance at him, your hands moving to smooth the front of your dress. He blinks, before his mother's voice cuts through the air. "Y/N! Oh my, let me see your dress! Give me a spin!"
She sets her wine glass down on the table, and you give her a warm hug before she spins you around. "You look stunning! Come, we have to take your picture."
You give Chan a glance over your shoulder, his ears red as he snaps out of his daze, hanging your coat on the door as Mrs. Lee pulls you into the living room with your parents. She poses you all in front of her Christmas tree, before it's just you and Rosie. Rosie yawns as Mrs. Lee takes the photo, and you tell her it's best to just let the kid take a nap.
"You can put her down in the guest bedroom, but can I get a picture with you and Channie first?" She nods, and you open your mouth to protest but she calls him over before you can say anything. He looks a bit bewildered as he walks over, clearing his throat as he stands next to you. You feel an awkward air floating off of him as he makes no move to touch you, and Mrs. Lee huffs.
You quickly wrap his arm around your waist like you did on Christmas Eve, expecting his hand to fall in the same low spot on your hip – but you feel it ghosting over your back as you resume the same position. You don't say anything, just smiling as Mrs. Lee snaps your photo. She thanks you, turning away with the permission to drop Rosie in the guest bedroom.
"Wanna tell me what your problem is?" You mutter to Chan, who sucks his teeth. "Wanna tell me why you wore this dress?"
"Oh, so I'm the problem? Good to know." You grit, before you pick Rosie up off the couch, hoisting her over your shoulder as you make your way to the guest bedroom. Chan follows closely behind you without you realizing, and is leaning in the door frame as you tuck Rosie into the bed, carefully covering her with the blanket so as to not be blamed for creases in her dress. You kiss her forehead, walking out of the bedroom only to bump into Chan, who grabs your arm and pulls you into his bedroom with a quick tug.
"Bro." You're frustrated, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pull your arm out of his grasp, only for him to pull you into him by your waist. "Don't call me bro, I literally made you cum on my tongue this morning." He scoffs, his grip is bruising against your skin.
"Who's the insatiable one now? Over a dress? Really?" You roll your eyes, but it seems your boyfriend has no time for your goading as he pushes you against his door, lips pressed against yours in a searing kiss. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he slides his hands down your back. He pulls away with a nip to your lip, leaving you to pout as you chase after him. "Not just a dress, you in this fucking dress. What were you thinking?"
"Wanted you to see me in it." You confess quietly, your eyes glued to his lips, now slightly stained with your red lipstick. He sighs, "Don't act cute. I can't be mad when you do that."
"Don't be mad at me. Don't you think I look pretty?" Your eyes feign innocence, blinking up at him as he groans in lust-fueled frustration. "Not mad at you, baby. Never mad at you." He rests his forehead against yours, "I want you so fucking bad, it's pathetic."
"Have me." You murmur, nosing at him as he shakes his head. "I can't, not right now. Certainly not in my parents' house."
"Oh, but when it's my parents' house, it's fine??" You snort, making him laugh softly, brushing a kiss against your lips. "For old time's sake, I'll say yes. Keeping up with traditions and whatnot."
"They're gonna wonder where we are." You sigh, before feeling his hands travel further south. You swat them away, "If you're not gonna fuck me, you can't feel me up and leave me all needy. It's not fair."
"I like it when you're needy." He kisses your jaw, and you scowl, pinching his nipple through his shirt. Of course, the rat bastard only leans into your touch, eliciting soft whine from his throat. "You're such a fucking freak!"
"You're literally the reason I'm this way. You're the blueprint." He rolls his eyes, before he turns you over, pushing your chest against the door as he presses his hips into you. Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh falling from your lips as he grinds against you. His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, shoving it up slightly when you hear a gasp from his lips.
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me."
He moves away entirely, and you feel him sink to his knees behind you. He pushes your dress up, the fabric bunching around your hips to expose your bare ass. You'd forgone underwear in hopes of things going this direction tonight, but certainly not this early in the night. But by all means, you're willing to let bygones be bygones as long as Chan keeps touching you.
You can almost hear his internal battle as he pushes you forward a bit, spreading your thighs with his hands. "You're gonna kill me one day, aren't you? In cold blood. I'll be dead because you can't behave."
He's fighting himself as you glance over your shoulder, a look feigning disinterest on your face as you shrug. "Take it or leave it."
He chooses to leave it, but not before sinking his teeth into your thigh, pinning your arm to your back when you reach to swat at him. "Chan!"
"Shut up, they'll hear you." He rolls his eyes as he stands, using his free hand to massage the bitten area. "You can wait, right? It's only two hours."
"I don't want to." You pout, pushing back against him. He lands a quick slap to the meat of your ass, your cheeks flushed as he whispers in your ear. "You're gonna have to, baby. Be a good girl for me, yeah?"
You huff, squirming against him when you feel his hand slip between your thighs. His fingertips drag slowly through your wet folds, just barely breaching your entrance when he pulls them away. "Open your mouth."
You turn to see him licking his fingers clean, your heart beating wildly in your chest as he repeats himself. "Open. Don't make me do it for you."
"Kiss me first."
He does as you ask, tugging the fabric of your dress back down as he snakes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands fist at the lapels of his suit jacket, whining into his mouth before he pulls away. Your lips jut out in a pout, a soft chuckle from Chan before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Open up."
You do as you're told, sticking your tongue out for him to spit onto. Your eyes flutter shut the moment you feel it, his hand on your jaw pulling you forward to kiss him. Your legs feel like jelly at his touch, feeling him mumble those three little words against your lips.
"I love you. Don't act up and I won't, either." He holds his pinky out, and you reluctantly link yours with it. He wipes the corners of your lips, "Go. I have to…calm down."
"Tell me you love me again." You look up at him, making him roll his eyes as he bites back a smile. "If I tell you again, will you get out?"
"Maybe." You smile back, making him physically turn you, his hands on your shoulders as you turn the doorknob to his room. "I love you, baby. Now, go."
You slink out of his bedroom, shutting the door behind you as you slip into the bathroom. Your skin feels hot as you look in the mirror, your lipstick only slightly smudged – a blessing, truly. You pat your fingers over your swollen lips, before checking the hem of your dress. You tug it lower, making sure it covers everything before ruffling your hair and taking a deep breath.
Two hours. Easy.
Not easy.
It's been an hour and forty-five minutes, and you can feel your patience wearing thin as Chan acts like nothing happened.
He's standing across the room, talking to your mother with a soft smile on his face – just like he has been for the last thirty minutes. His wine is the same color as her dress, listening to her drone on and on about the benefits of turmeric in cooking as well as body products. Your cheek is resting on the heel of your palm, your other hand holding your second flute of champagne as you stare at your boyfriend without a care in the world – when you see a little head start floating your way, a frumpled blue dress catching your eye.
"Y/N?" She calls tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she looks around for you. "Babycakes! I'm over here, come sit with me!" You pat your lap, setting your champagne on the table as she makes her way over to you. She climbs into your lap and you smooth her hair down as she rests her head on your shoulder.
"How was your nap? Any good dreams?" You ask, twirling a piece of her hair in your fingers. She shakes her head, "No dreams. Just sleep." She shrugs, yawning as she buries her face into your neck. You wrap your arms around her, rocking back and forth and humming quietly.
It's not even five minutes when she falls limp with sleep in your arms, and you rest your cheek atop her head as Mrs. Lee makes way to you, her silver dress stunning as she extends her hands. "Do me a favor, honey. Go steal Chan from your mother, we're going to start the countdown soon and I'm sure you want to spend a few moments with him.”
Her eyes twinkle like she knows something, taking Rosie from your lap. You nod sheepishly, standing up and tugging your dress down slightly. You grab your flute of champagne, smiling inwardly as you make your way across the living room to Chan's side. You squeeze your mother's shoulder lightly to get her attention, her voice stopping in the middle of a rosemary and thyme soap recipe she's reciting.
"Yes, darling?"
"Rosie's up. Might wanna check on her, I can't gauge if she'll sleep tonight." You wince, and your mother nods, putting her wine glass down on the coffee table. She walks away, your father joining her in the kitchen when you feel Chan's hand on your lower back.
"Hey." He pulls you into his side, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You try not to lean into the touch, a soft smile on your lips. "Hey. Tired?"
"Exhausted, actually. I do not want to be here right now." He sighs, and you open your mouth to reply when you see Mr. Lee turn the television on to the New Year's Eve countdown from the Lotte World Tower. You smile to yourself as Chan shuffles you both behind the couch, his hand keeping skin-on-skin contact the entire time. You miss the glance your father gives you as you lean your head on Chan's shoulder, the way Chan's fingers run up and down your side.
You miss the way your mother joins him in looking at the two of you, the way Chan's looks at you adoringly. The way your arm wraps around his waist, and your fingers trace circles into his side, the glint of the ring he gave you mocking her in the light. Your mother gives your father a look, one that screams is that what I think it is?
Your father only shrugs, draping his own arm around her shoulders and making her face the television. The reporter is excitedly moving around the prepared stage, talking a mile a minute about all the musical achievements by artists in a rapid fire attempt to fill the last two minutes to the countdown.
Mrs. Lee slots her fingers with her husband, and you find yourself finding Rosie's sleepy eyes on your father's shoulder. She smiles, giving you a thumbs up and you scrunch your nose at her, giving one back. She points at Chan, and you tap him to get his attention for her. He looks up, meeting her eyes and receiving the same reaction. He gives her one back, and she closes her eyes, turning the other way.
"She's adorable." He murmurs as you look up at him, "She is."
The reporter smiles widely as the large number 10 splays on the television. Your parents break into chatter, Chan's parents drifting over to yours slowly. You tug at Chan's sleeve, earning a hum as he looks at you once more.
"Do you ever think about what our kids will look like?" You whisper, and he nods. "Sometimes."
9…
"Do you have names?"
"A few."
8…
"Do you think about our wedding?"
"All the time. I'm going to cry like a fucking baby."
7…
"How do you feel about a summer wedding?"
"Whatever you want, baby. I'd get married in the woods if you wanted."
6…
"Like in Breaking Dawn?"
"That wedding was beautiful. I cried, remember?"
5…
"I do. You cry a lot, you know?"
"Emotional vulnerability is sexy, is it not?"
4…
"You think so?"
"I know so."
3…
"Hey, Chan?"
"Yes, Y/N?"
2…
"Are you gonna kiss me?"
"Yeah, babe. I'm gonna kiss you."
1…
"I love you." You mumble, pressing your lips to his as the reporter boasts a Happy New Year from Lotte World Tower!
His hand is low on your back as he kisses you deeply, your own holding his cheek as your parents cheer and congratulate each other. You hear a soft voice above it all, "Channie and Y/N are kissing."
You pull back from Chan to see your parents gaping at you, and Rosie smiling before she lays her cheek back on your father's shoulder. "I told you they were boyfriend and girlfriend. You owe me fifty bucks, Mommy."
You gawk at her, Chan coughing awkwardly as your mother covers her face. "You bet on us?"
"I assume the two of you managed to talk things out." Your father's voice is level, a warm smile on his face as Chan clears his throat. "Yes, sir."
"And everything is okay…now?" Mr. Lee chimes in, your face growing warm as you nod, "Yes, sir."
"And you're…together? Officially?" Mrs. Lee asks calmly, a grin fighting its way onto her lips as you and Chan flush embarrassedly. "Yes." You say in unison, and Mrs. Lee smiles from ear to ear, holding her hand out to your mother.
"You owe me a hundred bucks."
"Wanna take a drive? I don't want to see money exchange hands." Chan scoffs, and the parents start arguing within themselves – mostly your mother defending herself and your father rolling his eyes as he fishes his wallet out, eager to pay your mother's debts.
"We're outta here." You announce, grabbing your coat off the rack. Your father gives you a nod, "We'll be here a while, it seems. Be safe, honey."
You nod, placing a kiss on Rosie's head before you leave. "Thanks, babycakes."
"You're welcome, sissy." She smiles tiredly, closing her eyes as you ruffle her hair. You slip out, Chan closing the door behind you as you tug your coat on. "We're not actually going on a drive, you know that, right?"
His gaze is pointed, and you roll your eyes as you pull him off his porch, the cold winter air nothing in comparison to the heat on your skin as you fumble for your keys. He keeps his hands off you as you both make your way to your house, your fingers trembling in excitement as you stick the key in the lock and turn it. You push the door open carefully, and he slides in behind you, shutting it with his foot and locking it behind him.
You peel your coat off, handing it to him to hang on the rack by the door. He's oddly quiet as he does the same, before silently taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom. He lets you walk in first, locking the door behind him as you step out of your heels.
You feel his hands on your bare waist, pulling your back to him as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. You close your eyes, feeling his lips trail up your shoulder, before his teeth tug on the necklace he gave you. "Can we keep this on?"
"Yeah."
He hums softly, pressing a kiss behind your ear. His hands move to your arms, "Can we take this off? Is that okay?"
You nod silently, letting him slip the straps of your dress down your arms, the fabric pooling around your hips as he sighs, keeping his hands on your sides as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your spine, breathing you in like you're the only oxygen he knows. His teeth tug at the hem of your dress, pulling it over the swell of your ass with ease. The flimsy fabric falls to your feet, his teeth nipping at your hip before you feel him stand, his hands on your waist turning you around.
"I love you." He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed as yours open. You look at him in the moonlight, every eyelash, every tired line, everything that is the Lee Chan you love illuminated before you. Your hands move to his shirt, "Is this where I say it, too?"
Your comment makes him smile inwardly, "If you'd like. I heard you, when you kissed me. You don't have to, I know you do."
You feel so vulnerable under him like this, but you know him. You know he's just as vulnerable as you are, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and untucking it from his belt. Your voice feels lost, but you clear your throat as you push his shirt down over his shoulders, revealing toned arms and the same muscular chest you loved to lay your head upon on sleepless nights.
"I love you, endlessly." You say softly, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He nods silently, pressing a kiss to your forehead as your hands move to his belt, carefully tugging the leather strap from the silver buckle. You pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the ground as Chan's hands come to your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently as your hands unbutton his slacks, carefully tugging the zipper down as you brush a kiss to his jaw.
He stops you from pushing his pants down, his lips finding yours with a gentle insanity one can only describe as love. He swipes your hair back over your shoulders as he lets your hands rest on his waist, his lips pouring every single word into your mouth with a passion you'd only ever felt with him. This is the kiss you missed for three years, the soft grip of his hand in your hair as he guides his tongue against yours fluidly. This is the man you longed for unknowingly for your entire life, so loving and soft and sensual as he sucks on your tongue with a quiet moan.
This is the love you'd patiently waited to return to you, the way you felt the cool metal of his matching ring against the warm skin of your thigh as he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms draped over his shoulders. This is the love you'd wantonly waited for, the way he eased you onto your bed, not letting you untangle yourself from him as he continued to kiss you so agonizingly slow, you could feel your arousal slightly soak into the waistband of his slacks.
This is the love you'd yearned for, where he remembers every single one of your buttons. How he doesn't stop kissing you because he knows you love the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his hand only slides from your thigh to your dripping core because he knows you hate when he's not touching you constantly. How he steadies himself above you by pinning one hand above your head, interlacing your fingers as his other hand spreads your thighs for him.
"I love you." He whispers against your lips, not giving you a chance to respond as he carefully glides two of his fingers through your slick folds, earning a shiver as he traces your clit slowly. You mewl in his ear, his skin prickling with goosebumps at how wet you are for him. He presses a kiss to your jaw, "My gorgeous girl. So perfect for me."
You bite back a whimper as his hand lands a rather wet slap to your clit, your body jolting into his as he chuckles. "Still like that?" He does it again, your thighs flinching around his hips as a broken moan leaves you.
He kisses your lips, swallowing any sounds you could've let out as he stops teasing you, his fingers carefully curling into your entrance. You shudder against him, a high-pitched whine from you making him laugh against your mouth. "Feel good, baby?"
His thumb circles your clit as his fingers scissor you open, the pads of his digits brushing that spongy spot inside you that makes your breathing shaky. Your walls are impossibly tight around his fingers and it makes him dizzy, feeling you clench around his hand every time he reaches that spot he knows can make you cum within minutes.
"Faster, please…" You run your hand through his hair, pulling him back down to your lips. He kisses you messily, bullying his fingers into you faster and feeling you pant yes, just like that softly against his lips. "Just like that? Like it fast, baby?" He mocks you, loving the way you nod dumbly.
"Love it, love you, Channie.." Your eyes are teary as he brings you to the edge, his stomach fluttering at your soft whines. You made him feel like he was on fire, overstimulating his every sense with your whimpered begging for more as he nipped at your chest, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he mimics you, "Yeah, love me? How much, princess?"
"So m-much, think about you all day. Want you all the time, f-fuck…" Your thighs tighten around his hips, "Want me all the time? You're so cute. So needy for me, huh?"
You can only nod, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes as your nails dig into his shoulder, a tell-tale sign you're going to cum if he keeps going. He pulls a guttural moan from you, his favorite of them all as you coat his hand and wrist with your orgasm. "That's it, baby. Let go for me." He works you through it, your thighs trembling just like the first night the two of you slept together, your moans becoming nothing but soft whines against his lips.
"S'too much, too much.." You push his hand away with a whimper, your eyes barely open as you watch him lick his fingers clean like he did earlier. You shift under him, blinking your eyes as wide as you can, watching the way his tongue slid between his fingers. "See something you like?" He purrs against your lips, his wet fingers flicking your lower lip as you nod your head.
"You." Your voice is soft, and you see his eyes soften slightly as he smiles shyly. You wrap your legs around him, running a hand through his hair again, tugging slightly. "Want you."
"You have me, baby." He kisses you chastely, relishing in the way you chase after his lips, huffing. "Kiss me like you mean it."
You pull him closer, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth as he connects your mouths. The kiss is wet and messy, and you can feel him rolling his hips into you, the tip of his clothed cock rutting against your clit deliciously. But, you want it off.
"Take your pants off. Wanna feel you." You bite at his lips, and he moans, rutting against you like he can't stop. You whimper, your hips moving in tandem with his as you reach down and snap his waistband against his skin. "Fuck." Chan breathes against your jaw, shoving his pants and underwear down with one hand before he lets go of your hand, pulling them off fully with a hiss.
He moves back up to kiss you, your nails digging into his back as you hold him close, your legs tight around his hips as he grinds his heavy cock against your wet heat. You're messy but that's how he likes it – your thighs twitch with overstimulation as he ruts his cock against you, leaning up to watch the way he leaks beads of precum onto your skin. "So fucking pretty." His thumb finds your clit, smirking at the way your thighs close slightly.
"So wet, too. Messy, messy girl." He grunts in your ear, "Can I put it in? Can you take it?"
"Please." You breathe out, making him meet your eyes. "Please what, baby?"
You scoff at his teasing smile, but you don't miss the adoration in his eyes as he plants a kiss to your lips. "Use your words."
You don't respond as you pout slightly, his lips brushing against yours. Your eyes are shy as he tries to find your gaze, a hiss from behind his teeth as your fingers reach between you to wrap around his shaft, his hands fisting the sheets around your head as you align him with your entrance.
"Please? Want you." Your eyes are wide and watery, too much for him to handle.
He caves, moving your hand out of the way to sink into you – his tip barely breaching your walls when you hear a whimper from Chan, his eyes glued to your glistening folds. Your head falls back with a groan as he slides in deeper, a whispered chant of fuck, fuck, fuck from his lips as you clench around him. You whine, digging your nails into his bicep as you push his hips down the rest of the way with your legs, hearing him groan at the way you swallow him perfectly.
"D-Don't, don't move. Just…wait." Your eyes are screwed shut, Chan's running all over your body. A singular bead of sweat runs down your neck, his fingers instinctively reaching to wipe it. You lean into his touch, your eyes still closed as you take his hand in yours, kissing his fingertips. "I love you."
"I love you too, baby." He murmurs, and you shake your head as you lean your forehead to his, holding his hand to your chest. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, "This is how I feel every time I see you. There has never been a minute of my life that I haven't been so pathetically in love with you."
He doesn't respond, his eyes glazed with unshed tears as yours open. You blink at him silently, your arms moving to wrap around his neck as you press a kiss to his nose, then his cheeks. "Obsessed with you." You mumble against his skin, feeling his hands wrap around your thighs with a shaky breath.
"Missed you, my baby." Your admission is followed by a kiss to his lips, Chan's eyes fluttering shut as you drag your lips down his jaw. "I missed you, my love." He whispers in your ear, the pet name one he only used during your relationship. His teeth graze on your earlobe, before he plants a kiss on your neck as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him to your lips. You slot your lips with his carefully, swallowing a whimper as you feel his hands push your thighs apart more.
"Ready? Want me to go slow?" His voice is shaky, making you run a hand through his hair. "Whatever you want, baby."
He nods, giving an experimental roll of his hips – his chest swelling with pride as your eyes roll back with a soft groan. You let him set the pace, the delicious drag of his cock making your hands fist the sheets as your head falls back against the mattress. His fingers are bruising around your thighs, his eyes glued to your face, biting back his moans as you whine pathetically.
"Feel good?" He murmurs as he thrusts into you a little harder, before letting go of your thighs and pinning your hand above your head, interlacing your fingers. Your eyes are closed and you can barely feel your head nodding as your limbs buzz with lust, a moan meeting his neck as you mouth at it. "Need words, baby." He leans to nip at your lips, feeling your other hand tug at his hair.
"Feels s'good, daddy, fuck.." Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and Chan swears his brain short-circuits as he buries his face in your neck. He feels dizzy as he breathes in your perfume, hearing you whimper as he bullies his cock into you faster.
“So. Fucking. Wet.” He groans, his teeth biting at any surface of your skin as he grips your hips bruisingly. "Missed you so much, baby. W-Wanna fill you up, shit. Make you mine f-forever." His ramblings are only slightly incoherent, your cheeks warming as if you're not both naked right now, the only thing remaining is your jewelry – all of which he's given you.
"Y-Yeah? Want it, want you to fill me up..." You rasp, tightening your legs around his waist as he whimpers loudly. Your fingers rake through his hair, pulling his head away from your neck and meeting his eyes. They're full of a certain craze you've only ever seen during your relationship, a dark look of lust that swirls from the depths of the brown in his irises that makes you shiver as you press your lips to his. It's messy and rough, his hand circling the base of your neck to steady himself. Your own wrap around his wrist, sliding your tongue into his mouth with practised ease.
He sucks on your tongue messily, whining as you clamp down around him. You feel his hand loosen around your neck, sliding up to cup your face softly, your own moving to his back. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he thrusts into you, the tip of his cock brushing you just right that you moan into his mouth.
"Right there? There?" He pulls back, pistoning his hips into you as you nod frantically, your eyes filling with tears as your nails drag down his back. He tries not to close his eyes at the sensation, loving the way you bite down on your lip when his thumb pulls it out from under your teeth. "Wanna hear you, baby. Wanna know who's making you feel good."
You can hardly speak through your whines, his vision going blurry as your nails dig into his hips. His lips find the shell of your ear, "Come on, baby. Tell daddy who's making you this wet."
Your cheeks heat as you whimper into his skin, your lower lip dragging against his sweatslick cheek. You tug at the small silver hoop in his ear, "Y-You are. Always m-make me feel s'good, daddy. W-Wanna cum for you..."
You trail off as his teeth nip at your neck, your voice reduced to breathy whines as he bites down on your chest. His tongue quickly licks over the indents of his teeth, as his hands move to your thighs, pushing them apart as he towers over you. Your eyes open only enough to see the wad of spit drip from his lips, your hips jolting as it slides down your clit.
"Don't need it. Just like seeing you squirm, baby." He murmurs, pushing your knees to your chest as he continues to fuck into you. Your eyes fall on the ruddy blush on his cheeks, his own glued to the way your cunt swallows him perfectly. His fingers tighten around your legs, his lip tucked under his teeth as he screws his eyes shut, but you can't stop looking at him.
The slope of his neck, littered with nips from your teeth that'll disappear by morning. His broad shoulders, slick with sweat and covered in deep, red marks from your nails. His chest, littered with faded love bites from the past few mornings waking up by his side. His forearms, flexing with every push of his hips, similar to the way they do when he holds you up against the shower wall. The sheen of your arousal on his fingers, the gold ring on his left hand that matches yours covered in a mix of spit and your cum. It's overwhelming, the way your insides feel fuzzy and the way your vision zeroes in on his ring, the glint in the moonlight mocking you.
"I can't wait to marry you." You mumble, covering your face with your arms as Chan jerks to a stop. You can still see him through a crevice in your arms, and you watch the way he swallows carefully. "W-What?"
"I said, I can't wait to marry you." You repeat slightly louder, your eyes widening as you feel him twitch inside you. He scoffs quietly, "Babe, you can't say that." His eyes close, and you hear him take a deep breath as you sit up on your elbows.
"Why? I want to marry you." You huff, your mouth opening to say more when a sudden thrust from Chan's hips knocks the wind out of you. His whimper fills the room as he spreads your thighs out of habit, "I w-won't last if you say t-that."
You can barely speak with the way he's drilling his cock into you, his thumb working tight circles into your clit as your head falls back against the sheets with pleasure. You manage to string your words together, your stomach filling with that familiar heat as you speak, "W-We have the rest of o-our lives, b-baby…"
He whines loudly as his hips are flush to yours, shuddering slightly as he fills you with his release. He has a pout on his lips as he overstimulates himself through his orgasm, leaning into your soft whines, brushing his lips against yours. "I love you." He whispers as you clench around him, the band in your lower belly snapping as you whine pitifully as his hand slides in yours.
The air around you settles, Chan reaching to brush your hair out of your eyes and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you, baby."
You nod loosely, a mumble of I love you tumbling against his clavicle. You feel him pull out slowly, a hiss from the both of you filling the silence. Wincing lightly, you go to sit up but his hand on your chest stops you. "Lie down."
You don't question him as he slides one of your pillows under your head – but your brows are furrowed as he kisses down your body, sinking to his knees as he reaches the edge of your bed. You sit up slightly, "Chan, are you–"
He doesn't reply, looking you in the eyes as he flattens his tongue against your sloppy cunt. Your eyes widen as he looks away, his arms wrapping around your thighs carefully. You're far too sensitive for this, but you can't seem to look away as he sucks your clit between his pouty lips. "You're fucking f-filthy, Lee Chan."
"Open your mouth." He shrugs as he speaks into your skin, and you scoff out a laugh. He raises a brow as he looks up at you, making your cheeks flush. You sit up on your elbows, his arms pulling you closer to his face before fucking the wet muscle of his tongue into your spent hole. Your gasp is almost unnoticeable, your eyes starry as you watch him collect the mix of your releases in his mouth.
Your thighs tremble in his hands, your mind fuzzy with overstimulation as you whine softly. He pulls away, rising off his knees and sliding his thigh between yours as his hand finds your cheek. You instinctively open your mouth as he looks into your eyes, his thumb pulling at your lower lip as he spits his release onto your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut at the taste, feeling him snake his tongue into your mouth in a wet kiss. He pushes you back against the pillow slowly, his hand moving from your cheek to interlace your fingers as his lips trail down your jaw.
"I think your parents are home." He murmurs, and you try your best to zero in on any sounds that could allude to such. He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, "Do you want to stop?"
You don't respond, hearing the jingle of the doorknob as Chan tugs on your earlobe with his teeth. You cover your mouth as a breathy moan slips out, feeling Chan smile against your skin. "We can stop, baby."
You shake your head frantically as you hear your mother sigh and the creak of the stairs under their footsteps. Your father's footsteps are heavy behind your mother's light ones, and you hear the door to their bedroom open, the hinges desperately in need of an oiling. It closes, and you breathe out carefully.
"I have so many questions but I can ask them later. Can you go again?" You mutter, feeling him scoff against your skin. "Is that how you're going to ask me?"
"I can always just ride you until you cry like I did in the back of your car three years ago." You huff, feeling Chan pinch your hip. "Can you even hold yourself up?" He smirks down at you, making you furrow your brows.
"Watch me."
"I intend to."
JANUARY 1, 5:44AM.
The only reason you and Chan stop is because he's made you soak through your sheets twice, the edge of your bed sopping wet as he carefully carries you into the bathroom. How he's even able to stand up is beyond you, your legs loosely wrapped around his bare waist as he leans to turn the water on in your shower.
You wince as he sets you down on the edge of the tub, his fingers expertly releasing the clasp on your necklace and draping it on your bathroom counter. "Don't want it to snag in your hair." He murmurs as he helps you back up, your legs hardly functioning as he makes you step into the tub.
The hot water feels great against your hips, your lips parting against Chan's chest in a soft groan as he holds you to him. He laughs softly, and you feel the pads of his fingers digging into the sore muscles. "I'm sorry, baby. Maybe that last position was too much, hm?"
"Fuck all the way off." You mutter, resting your cheek on his chest as he coos at you. "How's that for three ways to Sunday?"
"Great. It was great, wonderful. If fucking someone three ways to Sunday was an Olympic sport, you'd win gold every time." You confess quietly, your eyes barely open as you hear him pop the cap of your shampoo. "You know, you talk a lot when we have sex."
"Mmh, do I? What did I say?" You feel his fingers card through your hair, making him snicker. "For one, I think you're the one with the daddy thing. You said it more than once and I'm honestly a little impressed with your commitment to the bit…if it is a bit."
"Shut up. Wash my hair like a good boyfriend." Your cheeks grow hot as he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to your hairline. "You also asked me when I'd marry you, and that you'd marry me tonight if you could."
"When?" Your head snaps up to look at him, and he shrugs, a teasing smile on his lips. "If I recall correctly, you were face down–"
"Enough." You turn away, pressing your forehead to his chest once more. "You're not supposed to make fun of me, I was vulnerable."
"M'not making fun of you, baby. I'm absolutely enamored with you, I'd also marry you tonight if you'd allow it." He shrugs as he tilts your head back to rinse your hair, and you pout up at him. "I have a question."
"Shoot." He feels your hands trace his torso, before you flick his hip. "What is this?"
He looks down, the faded tattoo you'd been wondering about peeking through your fingers. He sighs, "It's a tattoo, babe. What else would it be?"
"Well for one, it's shitty. Second of all, of what?" You run your thumb over his skin, making him snort. "It is shitty, because I was drunk and I got it done with Soonyoung and Mingyu at their friend Seungcheol's apartment. It's also shitty because Seungcheol wanted someone to practice his fine line technique on and I was so wasted that I volunteered."
"You've never been that reckless unless you're with me. Where was I? And what is it!?" You insist, and he snorts as he pours your body wash on your loofah. "It's your name. I kept saying it because I always think of you when I'm drunk and Seungcheol assumed it was what I wanted. It was actually very pretty when it was new, it's just faded now. There's a little red splotch somewhere, it was a heart."
He nods as you gape at him, "My name?"
"It was two years ago. I was actually going to call you before Soonyoung threw my phone in the pool and told me I didn't deserve to call you if I wasn't going to beg for you back. I was always willing, I was just scared you'd reject me because of how much of a douche I'd been."
"How'd you explain this to your hookups?" You blurt, and he smiles. "I didn't. They always knew. I don't know if you want me to talk about that, though. Your feelings are important to me and I was so shitty to you then."
"You're a dumbass, both for not just talking to me and for getting this done at someone's apartment. You should get it redone at an actual parlor, I heard Hansol does tattoos now." You trace the faded ink, and he snorts. "I'd bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just branding me like that."
You don't say anything as he runs the sponge over your body, your eyes pointed as he scoffs. "But I'm the freak."
"I counted thirty six positions, you are the freak. God forbid I want a little something to kiss before I go down on you." You roll your eyes, and you hear him choke as he pushes you back slightly under the water. "Careful, you'll sound like me if you keep that up."
"Oh my God, I fucking asked you if I was too rough! You insisted I keep going!" He whines, landing a soft smack to your thigh as he washes your legs. You snicker, holding onto his shoulders, looking down at the red lines you'd inflicted. "Oh, your back is gonna hurt, babe."
"Well worth it, in my opinion. I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind yesterday." He sighs as he stands upright, your arms wrapping around his waist as he presses a kiss to your hairline. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get my shit together, my love."
"You know you've never called me that outside of those two months we were together?" You murmur, and he nods. "Mmh. Can't call you something you aren't, can I? I mean, you'll always be the love of my life but you weren't exactly mine and I didn't deserve you then, anyway."
"And you do now?" You ask softly, and he shakes his head as he switches you out to stand under the showerhead, wincing as the hot water hits his back. "No. I'm always going to be undeserving of you, especially after the shit I pulled. But I have no problem spending my lifetime proving that I love you."
You don't reply, holding onto him silently as he cleanses himself. Your eyes linger on the flexing of his muscles, the way his face twitches as your body wash stings the aftermath of your nails digging into his back. "I'll be nicer next time." You assure him as he rolls his eyes, a mumble of no you won't from his lips as he presses a kiss to your hairline.
The sun is beginning to peek into your bedroom by the time you and Chan exit, and you sit in your bathrobe as Chan strips your sheets. He makes your bed in silence, hiding his yawns with shakes of his head and fishing through your drawers for his old clothes. He finds a pair of sweatpants and an old cheer shirt of his, tugging them on before easing your tired form into your own pajamas. You nearly trip as he slides your shorts up your legs, his fingers cheekily pinching the swell of your ass as you swat at him.
"Unlock the door." You remind him as he slides you under the fresh blankets, and he nods, his breath minty from your toothpaste as he presses a kiss to your nose. He unlocks it quietly, checking the time on his phone before sliding in next to you. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven. Rosie's gonna barge in here." He mumbles as you settle on top of him, your head on his chest as his hand slips under your shirt with a sigh. "I love you."
"I love you, Channie." You murmur into his shirt, your eyes heavy as he pulls you impossibly closer, planting a kiss on your cheek without a word.
3:41PM.
You're the first to wake up, feeling like a train hit you as your muscles take in the absolute marathon you put yourself through with Chan the night before. You grimace as your back pops, stretching carefully so as to not wake up your boyfriend – who is curled into your chest, his arm hanging off your hip. Biting back your smile, you carefully run your fingers through his hair before sighing inwardly.
Sitting up slowly, you see something on your dresser. It's a framed photo, and a Polaroid tucked into the corner of the frame. You squint at it, unable to make out the shapes without rubbing at your eyes. Chan stirs next to you, a pout on his lips as he peels his eyes open. "Lay down, I'm cold."
"Hang on." You slide out of bed, wincing as you stand up. Your eyes land on the photo once more as you stand in front of your dresser, and it's you and Chan in a gold frame. It's the night of the Christmas Eve dinner, and it's slightly blurry but you can see the way you're smiling up at Chan shyly, and the way his eyes are starry as he looks down at you. It's the photo Rosie took, the one she didn't let you look at.
The Polaroid is also of you and Chan, in your bed with the same clothes you have on now. They must've walked in in the morning when neither of you responded, because you're both sound asleep in the photo. He's holding you close, and your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your promise ring glinting against his neck in the flash of the camera. Your foreheads are pressed together, cheeks flushed in the soft morning light.
The note sits under the frame, and you look closer at the frame. Between You and Me, it reads, and you feel your cheeks heat as you slip the note out.
We've been trying to teach Rosie how to be careful with her money, because your mother started giving her an allowance a few weeks ago. She wanted to get you a Christmas gift but didn't know what you liked, and instead of asking…she took your camera from when you were a little girl and snapped a photo of you and Chan at Christmas Eve dinner. She told me when we were getting the photos developed that she thought Chan was really important to you, and that she knew she was, too – so it was like a win-win situation, to give you a gift of the things you cherish the most.
She's pretty good at making something out of nothing, and she begged me to take her to that old thrift store you loved in high school. She found this frame near the old book section that you walked through a lot, too. So profound for a child, but I digress. The Polaroid is from me, consider it an apology for allowing your mother to make such insane bets when we all knew that the two of you were bound to fall in love. P.S. Rosie's pretty good at capturing beautiful moments. Do you think she'd make a good wedding photographer? ♡
– Dad.
Your vision is blurry as you feel the heat of Chan's body behind you, his fingers carefully picking the frame up and looking at it. "You're so in love with me." He murmurs, and you half expect to look up and see him smiling – but his face is serious, his thumb ghosting over your face in the photo. You swallow nervously as he stares at the photo, clearing your throat.
"I am. Is that…okay?" You whisper, and he nods silently, closing his eyes as he sets the photo down. "We're taking that home, right? We can't leave it here. I want to see it everyday."
He's not looking at you, holding the Polaroid gingerly in his hand. You watch as he sets it back down, his fingers plucking the note from your hand, leaning against the dresser as he reads it. He's blinking back tears and you feel your chest warm as he sighs, running his hand over his face. "We need to get Rosie that Lego set your dad said no to. The really big one, what was it?"
"Rosie has never even seen Titanic. She just wants it because she thinks the boat is cool, and my dad said no because it's seven hundred dollars." You snort, and he shakes his head. "Don't care. She needs it. I need to buy it, where are your keys?"
"We'll take my dad's, I don't feel like moving her booster seat."
You smile to yourself as your boyfriend hands you a pair of jeans to slide on as he roots around for his socks, and you quietly slip out of your bedroom after tugging them on. You see your parents sitting around your dining room table, a few drinks and a deck of cards spread out between the four of them. Rosie sits quietly in Mrs. Lee's lap as Mrs. Lee explains the game, and you clear your throat.
"Good afternoon." You say softly, and the parents turn their heads to look at you. They're smiling, and Rosie lights up, wiggling out of Mrs. Lee's lap and running towards you. "Did you like my present!? I made it for you!"
"I know, babycakes. I loved your present." You pick her up, holding her on your hip as she moves your hair out of your face. You turn to your father, who has a knowing look on his face. "You mind if I take her for a bit? Chan wants to buy her something."
"No sugar. She got a filling this morning." Your mother murmurs over her cards, taking a sip of her drink as she nods. Rosie huffs in your grasp, about to protest when Chan appears behind you. "Hey. Ready?"
His cheeks are ruddy as he greets your parents, and none of them say a word as you tug on your boots as he makes Rosie fetch her coat. She's nearly bouncing off the stairs as she runs back down, and Chan helps her put it on as she eagerly asks what she's getting and why she's getting it.
"Titanic." Chan shrugs, and your father nearly spits out his drink as you shove the two of them out of the door, grabbing his car keys off the hook. "Y/N! Don't buy her that, it's too expensive!"
"Can't hear you, Pop! See ya!" You grin cheekily, slipping out the front door and seeing Chan and Rosie giggling as he buckles her into her seat. Your heart warms at the sight, and you make eye contact with Chan as he shuts the door. He smiles, tilting his head towards the passenger side door as he opens it for you. You climb in silently, his eyes watching your every move. "You okay?"
"I love you."
EPILOGUE – JANUARY 7, 5:30AM.
"Do you have to go?"
You'd already stayed four more days than you'd originally planned, and you were really cutting it close by driving back on a Sunday. Rosie's eyes are tired and pleading as you hold her on your hip, Chan struggling to shove the last bag into your trunk as you snicker. "We do, babycakes. But don't worry! I'll come home with Channie in April for your birthday! Isn't that fun?"
"I guess." She pouts, resting her head on your shoulder. "Will you call me everyday?"
"Yes, I'll call you everyday." You nuzzle your nose to hers as Chan huffs, slamming your trunk shut. "Babe, someday you're going to have to pack this car and you'll understand why I sleep on the way back to campus."
He's red in the face as your mother ventures outside to retrieve your little sister, Mrs. Lee in tow with a bag full of goodies for the trip back to campus. You smile softly at your mother as she takes your now crying sister, your heart aching as you wipe her tears.
"Don't cry, Rosie. We'll be back soon, I promise." Chan nods, holding his pinky out for your little sister to take. She sobs into your mother's parka as she does so, and your mother gives you a warm smile. "You guys take care of each other, okay? No more breaking up!"
"No more breaking up." You both repeat, your cheeks flushing as Mrs. Lee gives you both a hug goodbye. Your father appears, holding up two tumblers full of hot chocolate and Mr. Lee hands Chan an envelope. "Pocket money. Don't let Y/N starve on the way home, she told us you only fed her beef jerky."
"I did not!" He begins to protest, but you clap your hand over his mouth with a wide smile. "Thank you, Mr. Lee. I appreciate you worrying about my appetite."
The goodbyes are not nearly as sappy as they usually are, but you know it's because they're looking forward to graduation. It will approach fast, you know you'll lose yourself in the excitement of it all and best of all, Chan will be right there with you. You're in the car waving to Rosie until you turn the corner, before your shoulders sag against your seat. You pout, making Chan smile as he reaches to pinch your cheek.
"Rosie will be okay, baby."
"I know, I know. I just wish I was around more to see her grow up. She won't think I'm as cool by the time I'm finally around to hang out and stuff."
"Babe, she's seven this year. She's gonna think you're cool." He rolls his eyes as he stops at a red light, connecting his phone to the aux and handing it to you. You sigh, unlocking his phone to see a photo of you and Rosie at the Lego store on New Year's Day as his home screen, paired with the same sentimental baby picture that rested in your locket as his lock screen – that one never changed. You say nothing as your cheeks warm, opening his Spotify and pressing shuffle as he turns left to take the exit to get onto the expressway.
You both tense as you hear the beginning notes of Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. He gives you a sideways glance as the lyrics start pouring through, and you clear your throat quietly.
"There's an exit…up ahead. It leads–"
"Into the woods, yeah. I'm just gonna–"
"Yeah. Should I-"
"Start taking your coat off, mhm."
"Got it. Are you gonna–"
"Yup. Didn't bring any condoms with me."
Your cheeks flush as you queue the same stupid sex playlist you made three years ago as he silently takes the exit before the one for the expressway, tonguing his cheek as he drives into the still-dark solace of the woods. You have your shirt off by the time he finds the same spot you found three years ago, and by the time he kills the engine, you're in the backseat.
"Hey, Chan?"
The opening notes of Kiss It Better by Rihanna fill the car as he all but rips his coat off.
"Yes, Y/N?"
"I love you."
He smiles, kissing you tenderly as he lays you down in your backseat.
— synopsis: life after undergrad is difficult, and life back home is harder than ever when you're finding trouble filling your time. with the weight of great expectations on your shoulders, miscommunication leads you to places you wouldn't go even if it were essential for survival.
– genre: est. relationship ; angst, fluff, smut.
— pairing: boyfriend!lee chan x prospective grad student!fem!reader
– word count: 14.6k
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: swearing, they argue a lot, mentions of food/alcohol, smoking (weed), mingyu and soonyoung make their reappearance, mentions of bribery, mentions of the weird time between the end of college and figuring your life out, concerns of infidelity (baseless). smut warnings: unprotected sex. duh. lowkey exhibitionist as fuck, alludement to edging, car sex, oral/fingering (f.rec), dirty talk (so. much.), missionary, masturbation (f), creampie.
— what to listen to: i'm so into you - swv ; all night long - mary jane girls ; heaven - taemin.
– author’s note: [special thanks to @/saradika here on tumblr for these lovely snowflake dividers!] welcome back to haologram! this is a special segment i’ve created to give a quick thank you to all of my friends this holiday season, and this one is for my angel baby, @sn4psh00t! josie, i'm so grateful to have you in my life and i can certainly attest that the majority of caratblr writers are so excited every time we see you pop up. you are an incredibly rare find on these wormholes of the web, and i'm so honored to have you around and consider a friend. i hope we get closer in the new year, and we can see each other thrive in the things we love. i'm always rooting for you, my josie posie! this being said, this is 10000% a spinoff of 'between you and me', and i spent the day writing this and rereading my own fic between my fingers hehe but i hope you love it as much as i love you!! happy haolidays, josie! i love you!
IT'S BEEN A YEAR SINCE YOU AND CHAN DECIDED TO TAKE YOUR RELATIONSHIP SERIOUSLY.
Well, almost a year.
You'd returned to campus hand-in-hand, and said nothing. People knew without a word, and they understood that Chan was no longer available to fool around. To canoodle, to warm someone's bed for a couple hours before heading back out to scour for another.
You decided not to let insecurity rear its ugly head. Chan chose you, and you chose him.
Doesn't mean that the stories about how good he was in bed stopped circulating.
The matching promise rings on your fingers certainly ensured they died down significantly, and Chan being nowhere to be found on April Fool's weekend (when his frat usually threw a major rager) — only solidified to all the people who didn't know your history with him that he was definitely not getting back on the market any time soon.
You spent said April Fool's weekend holed up in your childhood home, with Chan nestled into your side and pouting at your every attempt to get out of bed. You'd initially gone back home to celebrate Rosie's birthday — only to arrive home and see both your parents and your little sister sneezing their heads off. Your mother claimed allergies, your father was sure it was death knocking at his door — but your little sister sprawled on the living room carpet with crumpled tissues in her hand and asked for her birthday scoop of chocolate almond ice cream, only to be told by her pediatrician hours later that she had the flu and had to rest up.
Safe to say, she threw an absolute fit and you made her stay at home while you dragged Chan out to the ice cream parlor to pick the ice cream up anyway.
Graduation came and went — the two of you (surprising due to the circumstances) graduated summa cum laude, and your families threw a conjoined party. You went back to campus afterwards to pack up your apartment, snickering to yourself at the barren walls of Chan's bedroom and the crowded walls of yours. He'd promptly slithered his way into your space when you both got back in January, his trinkets and posters migrating little by little until your bedroom was an amalgamation of you and him.
Made you laugh a bit when his Iron Man figurines stood proud next to your Catwoman — the only time Marvel and DC can coexist silently.
Upon your return to town, you and Chan had been pulled in all different directions. Job interviews across the city, only for Chan to end up working at your father's store and for you to take on a temporary managerial position at your mother's restaurant. You looked for apartments together, finding jackshit in the surrounding area and Mrs. Lee kept hinting at the fact that their house was open to house you both — seeing as they were only there during the holiday season, and their apartment in the city was their norm. Chan stayed there, but you found solace in your bedroom…
So that meant you and Chan were living separately for the time being, sleeping together in his room (or yours) only on the weekends.
You met every morning at your dining table, barely changed out of your pajamas and pressing a tired kiss to the other's lips before slumping in your chairs and sharing a cup of coffee before your mother forced breakfast under your noses and made you eat to get your day started. You'd wrinkle your nose at the scent of scrambled eggs, and Chan would steal your extra piece of toast — but you ate silently, quickly, and thanked your lucky stars that your mother's restaurant was only down the road from your father's store.
You carpooled with Chan to save money, your car sat pretty in the driveway as he drove you both around town, to and from work…on dates.
Dates that were few and far between, usually on a Friday and usually ending with you on his lap in his bedroom, his hands up your shirt and yours tugging at his hair. Sometimes the two of you were too tired to do anything, barely making it past the threshold of your bedroom before falling asleep on the mattress next to each other.
Your parents and his agreed that you were just feeling the effects of life after college. You weren't nearly as busy as you used to be, and the lack of stress in your lives seemingly took a toll on you — your mother tried to make everything much more stimulating, as if the clinging of birthday bell every so often and the beeping of POS systems didn't already haunt you in your sleep. Chan was only faring slightly better — his days consumed with the embarrassment of mothers flirting with him and your father's stern eyes. Despite liking him, your father made it no secret that Chan was only there as a favor to you, and he was the only employee that got weekends fully off.
Your lives felt slightly mundane for the summer months, but you silently bowed your head and took everything with appreciation. Mrs. Lee got you and Chan both down to the dance center every few weeks, giving you a chance to get all your frustration out by teaching a class or two. Chan was much better at it than you were, taking the time and energy to perfectly learn a complex choreography and actually teach it — whereas you would spend your four hours in the city showing off all your acrobatic skills you'd learned from years of cheerleading to little kids who ooh'd and ahh'd.
Time went on, decisions were made, money was saved — and it's December again.
Your parents are still excited to have you home, and you actually get a chance to help with the decorating this year — eagerly dusting off twinkle lights and Christmas figurines, and Rosie gets to see you decorate the tree all by yourself. It'd been your favorite thing to do before you left for college, and Rosie had only see your parents do it since then — and she wasn't all that excited to see you anymore, moreso content with your constant prescence and cheering eagerly when you'd take your mother's car and pick her up from school at the end of your shift.
You and Chan are once more squished together in your bedroom when his cousins make the drive into town — this time, actually having time to spend with the two of you and staying until the end of January.
There's a bit of bickering between you and Chan.
He's taking up too much of the bed. He's taking too long in the shower. He's hogging the blanket, he's stealing your socks, he's in your way when you're trying to brush your teeth and wash your face.
He argues that you're practically on top of him in the mornings, that you could easily join him in the shower. He argues that you complain about being hot at night while he runs cold, that your socks were originally his, that you are in his way when he is trying to shave and blow-dry his hair.
Neither of you apologize, only grumbling before one of you pulls the other into a kiss. It's usually him, and he's usually got you pinned against the door telling you to apologize. You never do, only letting him kiss you until your lips are swollen and your mother bangs on your bedroom door asking if everything is okay.
And neither of you know that your parents share worried looks when you're not around, hearing the arguing through your bedroom door. Hearing it through the bathroom door, hearing it up until Chan kisses you stupid with his hands wandering more than they should for a winter morning.
With all the bickering comes less time for intimacy. Not just sex, of course not (even if you haven't had the time to properly mess around since December even started) — but you don't get to have conversations because you're both still angry. You don't talk over breakfast, picking at your food before one of you inevitably gets up and eats alone in the kitchen. You don't get a chance to stand in the same room to get dressed, because you'll be damned if Chan weasles his way out of apologizing by kneeling in front of you and pulling your shorts down. You don't touch, you don't hold hands, nothing — until you're both out the door for the day and he opens the car door for you and helps you in.
The car ride is silent. No music, no talking — just tight jaws until he pulls into the parking lot of your mother's restaurant and leans over the center console. He doesn't apologize, just presses a kiss to your cheek before you (despite the annoyance in your belly) turn your head and kiss him properly. You tell him to have a good day between kisses, he reminds you to eat lunch, his hand squeezing your hip before telling you to run inside. It takes you a moment to stop kissing him, so much so that he has to (rather reluctantly) pull away and give you a pointed look.
You think about him for the rest of the day then. You text him asking if he's eaten lunch. He'll text back a picture of him picking Rosie up from school when you couldn't. He'll ask you if you want something from the gas station, and you'll see Rosie barreling into the restaurant with a bag of M&Ms and he follows behind with her backpack in hand. He greets your mother, he gives you a kiss and catches you both up on what her teachers said — that she has homework, that she was on the green smiley face all week and got a treat to take home, to make sure she stays warm because she's in the winter play and can't be replaced…the like.
Something about it makes your chest warm.
Another thing to note is that you're both waiting on acceptance (or rejection) letters from a couple grad schools in your area, your undergrad campus included — and you're anxious, even if you're only really hoping to get into your undergrad university. You're visibly nervous as you pace back and forth in the office of your mother's restaurant — she had once more roped you into taste-testing her holiday menu. Chan is equally as on-edge, if not more, and you want to attribute all the bickering to said unease about the near future.
But it feels like an excuse.
It feels like an excuse when you argue with him, when he scoffs at you, when he kisses you out of frustration instead of the same sweet sentiment you know you both hold for each other.
When he hasn't called you baby in a while.
And you know, you know you said that the insecurities that make your chest tight weren't going to make a comeback but you can't help but let them fester a bit when you see how easily Chan fits into your life. It scares you, to know that he's been by your side your entire life and yet, he's still choosing you. Despite the flaws and faults, the fighting, fucking and everything in between. You're worried about it, day in and day out — and you want to convince yourself that the 'gut feeling' you have about your relationship is just a jumbled mess of jitters.
You assume that not sharing a bed with him every night is also adding to that. Not getting to hold him close, not being able to breathe him in right after his shower when he smells like eucalyptus and your lavender body wash that you've bitched him out about using but he just smiles in your face. Not getting to kiss him goodnight, even when he ends up with his hand down your pajama shorts and your shirt is somewhere across the room…it's all piling up.
It's all bothering you.
"Honey, you're going to pace a hole in my floor." Your mother says gently, her fingers expertly clicking around a calculator as she holds up some tax form. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you force yourself to sit in the rolling chair next to her, your hands fiddling with the buttons of your cardigan as you check the clock. Chan would be off in ten minutes, and then he could race home and check the mail. You weren't off for another hour and a half, and your stomach was starting to hurt.
"You'll get in, don't worry." She gives you a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze your knee as you slump against the desk. You know you probably seem childish, you probably seem like you're stressing yourself out about nothing — but your mother understands this feeling all too well. She was also in your shoes once, working in the back of a restaurant after college and waiting on those damn letters.
The difference is, she had no one supporting her the way she can support you. She was freshly married, working a stressful job and struggling to make ends meet. Your father was working two jobs, long hours spent away from the apartment that would become your very first home — because you came along during the part of their lives that was barely starting to settle. Your parents took many risks opening their businesses but taking care of you had to have been their biggest struggle.
And they did it anyway. With all the love they had, all the money they could scrape up, all of it — and eventually, both businesses took off and they never looked back. Sure, it was confusing when a music store and a restaurant within two blocks of each other were named after the same person — but local newspapers and even your town's radio station had interviewed your parents enough over the years that everyone knew the backstory. Newcomers could read about it from newspaper clippings on your mother's restaurant entrance or hear about it from your father's excited conversation — eventually, hearing it from you and Chan whenever people asked who 'Y/N' was.
However, you said 'me.'
Chan said, 'my boss' daughter,' 'my best friend', 'my girlfriend.'
'Mine,' if it was someone around your age.
It made you a bit giddy, biting back your smile like a schoolgirl with a crush.
"What if I don't?" You murmured, letting a frustrated groan fall from your lips as you leaned forward in your chair, covering your face with your hands. She snickers, her hand smoothing over your hair before patting your back, "go home."
"I can't, Chan—"
"Walk to your father's shop and go home, Y/N. You can't work in these conditions, maybe the cold air will do you some good."
You do as she says, and she kisses your forehead as you pout, tucking your scarf into your jacket. She pulls her knitted beanie over your head before giving you a careful push out of her office and letting you know she'd clock you out. You opened your mouth to ask about Rosie, only for her to hold a finger to her lips and shoo you away.
The air was prickling against your skin as you made your way outside. There wasn't any snow so far, but the sky was gloomy and so was your mood. You shoved your hands in your pockets, your purse hitched high on your shoulder as you reached the crosswalk. You could see your father's shop sign from where you stood — bold blue lights forming your name and standing out against the white background. If you peek over your shoulder, you'll see your mother's sign, too — recently rebranded to a flickering neon sign, on theme with the retro vibe of the restaurant.
You ignore the pit of inadequency sinking in your stomach as you cross the street, nibbling on your lips and missing the feeling of Chan's warmth.
Despite yourself, you miss him. Even if he makes you angry in the morning and steals your toast, even if he uses up all your body wash when he stays over, even when he merely hogs the blanket and leaves you a shivering mess at two in the morning — you miss him.
Your father sees you coming from halfway down the block, his eyes lighting up through the store windows as you smile inwardly. He stops what he's doing to make his way to the door, and you see Chan holding boxes up to his eyes as he fumbles around to get to the front counter. You speedwalk the rest of the block, your father smiling brightly as you greet him with a hug and a kiss to his cheek.
"It's freezing out there, bud. What're you doing? Did your mother send you down?" He asks, closing the door behind you as you rush over to take one of the boxes off Chan's stack, wiggling your brows at him as he scrunches his nose at you. You stick your tongue out at him, and he just shakes his head, suppressing his smile as he keeps moving towards the counter.
"She sent me home early because I was, in her words, 'going to pace a hole in her floor.'" You roll your eyes, but the waver in the back of your voice is far too evident for your father's keen hearing. He raises a brow, "if this is about grad school—"
"It is, you know it is." You sigh, setting the box down on the counter. You take another and do the same, your boyfriend peering at you through his lashes before tilting his head, "were you checking the Informed Delivery again? I told you to stop doing that."
"I can't! I need to know when the mail is getting here," you slump against the boxes, and your father shares a look with Chan before shaking his head.
"Honey, you're going to get in."
"You don't know that!"
"Y/N, it's grad school. I've been there, done that, and I did it with a kid and a wife and two jobs." He says pointedly, making you huff as Chan bites back his smile. You reach over and pinch him gently, earning a scowl as he bats your hand away. Your father pats your shoulder, "it's going to be okay. You're going to get in and you're going to do great and you'll be so proud of yourself."
"What about making you proud?" You mutter, and he just pulls your jacket hood over your head with a soft tap on the box beneath you, "you make me proud just by existing. Go home, Y/N. I'll see you both later."
Chan's eyes widen, and he darts to the back to get his coat as your father begins unpacking one of the boxes. You watch him silently, seeing him pull out a new shipment of vinyls, "anything good?"
"Everything's good," he retorts, holding up an ABBA vinyl that was missing from his collection. "Take this with you, put it on my desk at home."
You grab it, tucking it under your arm as you watch Chan bustle out of the back room with his scarf in his hand. He doesn't bother pulling it over his neck, or zipping up his jacket — and your father gives him a stern look. He pouts, limply zipping up his jacket to the middle of his chest, only for you to roll your eyes and reach over, pulling up to his chin.
"You'll get sick and then we're screwed when your parents get down here." You scold him, and you point at his scarf, "put it on."
"You're my girlfriend, not my mother."
"If you want me to keep being your girlfriend—"
"Alright, alright. No need for threats today," he grumbles, wrapping his scarf around his neck loosely before fishing his keys out, "ready? Who is picking Rosie up?"
"No one. She has rehearsal for her play tonight," your father states, peeking over David Bowie and KISS vinyls in his hand. "You guys get home safe, and stay out of the garage."
"Unwrapped gifts?"
He uses the vinyl to point at you, "I mean it, missy. No peeking."
"No peeking, got it." You nod, waving goodbye as Chan bows his head politely. He slips his hand in yours, pulling you towards the door and back into the biting winter wind. "Bet you're glad you put that scarf on, huh?"
"Shut up," he rolls his eyes, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your shoulders before pressing a kiss to your temple, "did you eat lunch?"
"You just told me to shut up and now you're asking about lunch?" You jest, but wrap your arm around his waist as he guides you both through the vast parking lot. He shrugs, pressing another kiss against your cheekbone, "you're annoying."
"You're worse."
"You still love me, though."
"Blah, blah, blah." You mock him with your gloved hand as he smiles against your skin, "I still haven't forgiven you for making our anniversary on Christmas Eve, Lee Chan."
He hums, ducking his head slightly to brush his lips to yours. You roll your eyes at him, giving into his lips as he pulls you into his chest, your lower back hitting the trunk of his car. His hand slides to your face, cupping your jaw as he speaks between kisses, "I'm just the gift that keeps on giving."
"You're so fucking annoying," you snort, and he just smiles into your lips as he cages you between him and the car. "Babe, I'm cold."
"I know a way to warm you up."
"You're corny as fuck, get out of my face."
He only laughs, planting a chase kiss to the corner of your mouth before opening your door. You slip inside, quickly grabbing the AUX as he closes your door and rounds the car, sliding into the driver's side. He starts the car with a shiver, rubbing his hands together for warmth as the air vents blast warm air.
"Do we have plans tonight aside from combing through the mail?" He chides, and you huff, pulling your mother's beanie off and tugging at your scarf.
"Mingyu and Soonyoung texted me earlier saying they picked up from Hansol, if we want to join them at our spot." You unzip your jacket as he pulls out of the lot, peeling to the left to head home as he nods. "We're supposed to be getting snow, though, and they want to get up there pretty late so we're not busted like high schoolers."
"We're always supposed to be getting snow," he shakes his head, veering into the left lane as you nibble on your lip. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, holding his hand out for you to take as you rest your head on the window. "Y/N, you can't stress yourself out like this."
"How are you fine? I feel like I'm going to throw up and die," you mutter, tracing circles into his palm before he sighs, simply sliding his fingers into yours and swiping his thumb back and forth on your hand. The car is silent as he drives home, and you hate the way your throat burns as you take a glimpse over your shoulder to look at him.
His eyes are tired, his back sore…mind full of stress and ideas and problems.
Chewing on his cheek as he flicks on the turn signal, your house coming into view as you sit up. Your eyes immediately dart to the mailbox, which is stuffed full (and left open) with overflowing mail. Chan barely has a chance to pull into your driveway before you're opening the door and sliding in front of the mailbox — pulling letter after letter out.
None of them are addressed to you except one, from a university across town that had the highest acceptance rate in the county. Close to home, carried your degree and Chan had applied, too.
You shove the rest of the mail into Chan's chest as he sidles up next to you, ripping the envelope open — and your heart sinks in your chest. The Dear before your name does nothing to soften the blow, and you try not to crumple the piece of paper in your hand as Chan's fingers gently pull it from your grasp. He clicks his tongue, folding the page back up and tucking it into his pocket. He slots the rest of the mail back into the mailbox, looping his arm with yours and pulling you toward the house.
You fall into lockstep silently, the rejection making your eyes burn with tears.
It was so stupid. A university with a seventy-six-percent acceptance rate saying no to you — a summa cum laude graduate with a hefty résumé and strong ties to the community. You knew half the professors there, they were friendly with your parents and Chan's. You knew other students there, Hansol and Seungkwan being two of them — Hansol went at night after his apprenticeship at the tattoo parlor and his sporadic shifts at your mother's restaurant, and Seungkwan went in the morning, leaving the spot open at your father's shop for Chan to fill.
"It's gonna be okay." Chan murmurs as he unlocks the front door, kissing your temple as you make your way inside. You roll your eyes, blinking back the tears as you kick off your boots. He takes your coat off, hanging it in the front closet as you cross your arms on your chest and make your way to your bedroom. He shuffles around in the front of the house for a moment as you slide your jeans off, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants from your drawer and pulling them on. You're pulling your shirt over your head as he appears at the door, your fingers plucking one of his out as he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder.
"Y/N, come on."
"It's fine. It's not a big deal."
"You can be upset about it, you know."
His fingers unclasp your bra, pulling the straps down your arms and tossing it across the room before he squeezes your sides. You shake your head, tonguing your cheek as you pull the shirt over your head. He rests his chin on your shoulder, "how can I help?"
"I don't need help."
"Y/N."
"I don't, it's fine." You twist out of his hold, pulling your duvet out from its tucked position and moving your throw pillows onto the desk chair in the corner. He changes his clothes silently, his fingers fiddling with the remote and pulling up a random rerun of 2 Broke Girls on your television before sliding into bed with you. You're facing the wall, your knees curled to your chest when you feel his arm pull you into him. Your back hits his chest as you let a singular tear spill down your cheek, and he sighs against your neck as you bite back a sob.
"I know you're crying." He whispers, "it's going to be okay. It's just one. You have six others, don't worry."
Something in you wants to say that he doesn't get it, but he does. He does get it, and that's what bothers you — you know he didn't get in, either. His letter arrived a week before yours did, but he took it differently. He'd stared at the letter for a few seconds before shrugging and tossing it into the recycling bin in his kitchen.
He'd taken it in stride.
"It's frustrating," you mutter back, your voice thick as you wipe at your eyes haphazardly. He laughs softly, his hand slipping under your shirt and caressing your skin, "yeah, I know. But we'll never appreciate the easy things in life if other things didn't fuck us over."
"I know."
"It'll be okay."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, and you sigh, letting your shoulders sag as you turn in his hold to bury your face in his neck. He wraps his arms around you, peppering kisses along your hairline, "I love you, and I'll always be here."
You nod silently, tears continuing to spill down your cheeks and soak into his shirt. You're not sure when you fall asleep, but you're sure the warmth of Chan's embrace and the soft cadence of his heart were nothing but a lullaby.
Your father had been wrong about Rosie — the rehearsal had been the day before, and the play was that night. The Lees also arrived back in town that night, creating even more of a hectic night as they tried to settle in while still getting ready on time to attend Rosie's play.
You and Chan were barely awake when your father pulled you out of bed, turning on all the lights and thrusting two bouquets of flowers into your hands when he rushedly told you to get dressed and get down to the elemtentary school. Chan haphazardly pulled on a pair of slacks that you'd ironed days in advance for this day, and you shimmied into the dress you'd promised Rosie you'd wear for the night of the play — a deep red with glitter all over it, swiping on a quick layer of lipstick and basically falling out the front door.
You were both half-asleep and sharing a cup of hot chocolate in the back of the school's auditorium, watching your little sister prance around the stage as Rudolph, her nose painted red and her microphone taped to her forehead. You leaned your head on his shoulder then, his hand snaking around your waist as one of the mothers leaned over and asked which kid was yours.
"Oh, she's my sister. She's Rudolph."
The mother, her nametag reading Mrs. Kim, gave you a tight smile. You raised a brow, "which one's yours?"
"Dasher. He'd wanted to be Rudolph but I guess your sister took the part." Her voice was rather grating, and you nodded slowly as your hand on Chan's arm tightened. Chan's brows furrowed, "Rosie earned that spot."
"Sure, of course." She nods, crossing her arms as your sister gave a monologue, "it had nothing to do with your mother being the caterer for the dinner after."
"That's enough, thank you." You snap, turning away from her as your mother leaned over your father to ask if you were alright. You gave her a thumbs up, and Chan's grip on the flowers was deathly as he tongued his cheek. You sat stiffly in your seats until the play ended, cheering loudly as the cast took their bow and the curtain dropped. Mrs. Kim was out of her seat before you or Chan could speak, but the sour taste lingered in your mouths as you both moved with your parents to find Rosie.
"Y/N! Did you see me!? Was I cool!?" Rosie screams your name from the side of the stage, and you smile as you make your way over to her. She wraps her arms around your neck as you nestle her to your hip, kissing her cheek, "you were so cool, babycakes. Come on, Channie's gonna take our picture, okay?"
The night went on smoothly, but you and Chan continued to share glances as the majority of the cast and their parents moved to your mother's restaurant. Mrs. Kim ate with an annoyed look settled in her brows, and you felt Chan hold you back from saying anything one too many times as your mother gave a toast.
She even congratulated Mrs. Kim's son on being casted as Santa's very first reindeer, the boy smiling as your mother mentioned the importance of his character.
"Glad to see someone knows the story," Chan mumbled in your ear, and you bit back your laughter as his phone buzzed against your thigh. You glance down at it, and he covers it quickly, shoving it into his pocket before kissing your cheek, "it's Mingyu. I'll be right back."
You hadn't seen Mingyu's name on the screen.
You'd seen an unsaved number.
You ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as you nod quietly, his hand squeezing your hip as he slinks away. He makes his way outside, and you can still see him through the window — a grin on his face as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks whoever messaged him. He's flushed, as he scrolls through something, zooming in and tilting his head the way he does when he's intrigued by something. He swipes out of it, his thumbs clicking around the screen and sending off a message.
You don't see anything else because Rosie tugs at your sleeve, asking you if you'll get her a slice of the black forest cake your mother had made. You agree, swallowing the nausea in your throat as you scurry to the back.
"You're looking green, honey." Your mother's voice cuts through the air as you shakily cut the cake for Rosie, giving her a thick slice on a paper plate and making sure she takes it with both hands. She thanks you as she skips back out of the kitchen, and you glance at your mother. Her eyes are expectant, and you nibble on your lip.
"I didn't get into the university across town," you sigh, and her eyes soften. It's not a lie, obviously — but you're not going to bring up your relationship and it's potential problems up to your mother. She gives your shoulder a soft squeeze, "it's okay, honey. You've still got, what, six letters? I'm sure you'll get in somewhere."
"Yeah! Me too," you nod quickly, "I'm just bummed. I hope I at least get back into my undergrad, it would be embarrassing if I didn't."
"You will, honey." She snorts, pinching your cheek, "Now, come on. I need to rub Mrs. Kim's face in the fact that she couldn't buy Rosie's spot in the play. Can you believe she tried to bribe the teacher into letting her son be Rudolph? Despicable."
You gaped as you followed behind her, Chan still standing outside. He was still smiling, but he was speaking on the phone. He was leaning against the building, fingers toying with his lip the way he does when he's excited. His brows move as he speaks, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he nods.
"Actually, Mom, I think I'm gonna cut out early." You clear your throat, and her eyes widen as she looks at you — but something on your face must give you away because her brows furrow.
"Honey, are you okay?" Her voice is hushed as she holds a hand to your cheek, feeling around as your father makes eye contact with you across the room. He excuses himself from his conversation just as Chan makes his way back inside, forcing himself to neutralize his expression before stepping back into the main room.
"Are you alright, Y/N? You look…stressed." Your father's voice is low as he, too, presses his hands to your face, and you bat them both away as you nod.
"Yes, I'm fine! I'm not sick, I'm not pregnant, so don't worry." You assure them, but your voice is thick the way it is before you start crying. Worry flashes across their faces, and you press a kiss to each of their cheeks before you feel Rosie tug at your dress, "are you leaving, Y/N?"
"I don't feel well, babycakes." You pout as you crouch to be eye-level with her, and she frowns as you carefully fix her antlers. "You did so well, though! You're super duper cool, the best Rudolph I ever did see."
She perks up slightly, and you wipe her face of cake crumbs before pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I'll see you at home, yeah? I gotta wrap your presents, too."
You wiggle your brows at her as she hugs you tight, bidding you goodbye excitedly. You wave at your parents, giving Chan a firm look that catches him by surprise. You push the door open, pulling your jacket over your shoulders and storming out of the building. He follows behind you, grabbing your wrist as you round the corner to the back of the parking lot.
"Woah, hey. What's got you in such a rush?"
"I want to go home. I have things to do." You reach into your pocket for the keys, only to remember that Chan drove you both. "Give me the keys, I'll drive."
"Not like that, you won't." He scoffs, and you twist your wrist out of his hand with a huff, "Y/N, what's gotten into you?"
"Nothing, I just want to go home. I need to wrap gifts and I need a damn drink." You run your hand over your face, blowing a breath out your lips as you look at him, "what did Mingyu want?"
He stiffens, but recovers quickly as he shrugs, "said he's got prerolls and we should join him and Hosh tomorrow after work. They're going into the city for last minute gift shopping, but they should be back before the snow is supposed to hit tomorrow."
You tongue your cheek, eyeing him before you take a step closer. He raises a brow at you, "what?"
"You giggle while talking on the phone with your cousin?" You ask, crossing your arms on your chest as Chan rolls his eyes. "Do you?"
"You don't laugh with your cousins?"
"I don't have cousins, you know that."
"Y/N, what are you trying to get at?" He says flatly, "are you just looking for reasons to fight? Because I'm getting really sick of it lately."
You must look some kind of way because he sighs, running a hand over his face, "I didn't mean it like that—"
"Give me the keys." Your voice is plain, level. You hold your hand out, and he shakes his head, "I'm not letting you drive like this."
You shove your hands into your pockets out of frustration, feeling your mother's dolphin keychain rub your palm. Your eyes widen, and you pull the keys out and click around, your mother's car across the lot. You glance at Chan over your shoulder, before clicking your tongue.
"Might want to ask Soonyoung if he'll fork your bed over tonight." You turn your nose up, your heels clicking against the pavement as Chan moves to block your path. "Move."
"Y/N, I really don't want to do this tonight, okay? I'm sorry, I'm not trying to make things more difficult—"
"You're not doing anything, Chan. I just want to go home. So move."
"You're calling me Chan and you haven't called me that since we got back to campus last year so don't act like you're not upset with me."
"Chan, I'm going home." You state, a finality to your voice that he doesn't like as he shakes his head, "we're going home together."
"You weren't talking to Mingyu on the phone."
"So what if I wasn't?"
"Then who was it?" Your voice comes out softer than you intend it to, and you're annoyed at the tears pricking the back of your eyes when you hear your mother yelling your name. You push Chan away slightly, turning around to see your mother looking around for you. You wave your hand, walking away from Chan quickly as she holds up a stack of envelopes.
"Honey, I'm sorry," she's out of breath as she reaches you, holding them out. "The mailman dropped these off here right after you left and I didn't get a chance to get them to you. Good luck!"
She scurries back inside, and your name is stamped across all the envelopes with several university seals. You chew on your lip, shoving the envelopes in your pockets and taking a deep breath.
"Please, let me take you home." Chan's voice is in your ear, and you shake your head, feeling your earrings swing.
"I'll see you later, Chan." You murmur, skirting around him and making your way to the car.
He doesn't follow you this time.
YOU WENT TO BED WITHOUT OPENING ANY OF THE ENVELOPES, AND IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU'VE SEEN CHAN.
He texted you several times, calling you at least twice a day before you sent him a simple stop. He didn't, and you silently muted your conversation thread, ignoring the flooding messages and fiddling with the ring on your finger that said he was yours.
And you were his, of course.
That wasn't the part you were questioning.
You drove yourself to work — making both sets of parents felt the shift between you and Chan. Your little sister felt it, too, as you hoisted her into your backseat and drove her around with you to run errands for your mother and then drop her off to spend the day with your father at the shop — giving Chan a nod in greeting.
The way he frowned made your heart sink, but he didn't beg. He didn't plead, he didn't force you to speak to him and you were glad he didn't. You were really glad he didn't, because he was giving you the space you wanted even if it was clearly hurting him, too. You saw the way his hands twitched at his sides to touch you, the way he shifted in his seat at dinner — the way his eyes pleaded with his parents not to ask any questions and how they listened.
You went out for breakfast alone to avoid speaking to him, and you took yourself to the shop for your snow tires — the snow starting to layer slowly over the course of the passing days. Mingyu and Soonyoung were finally done with their gift shopping, and Chan hadn't been home until nightfall for the last two days…
"It's Christmas Eve," your mother sang, prancing through the living room with her big dress held against her chest. Yours was a soft pink this year, and you snickered from your spot on the couch as she ruffled your hair, "go get ready!"
"I will, I will." You pushed off the couch, shaking your head as you made your way back into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, glancing at the envelopes on your vanity. You chewed on your lip, sighing as you grabbed the stack and stood at your desk, picking up a letter opener and taking a deep breath.
"It's not a big deal." You whispered to yourself, slicing through the envelope and unfolding it.
Rejected.
You're on envelope number three when Chan slips into your bedroom. You don't notice him, your vision blurry as you read the same words for the fourth time, after much consideration, we regret to inform you…
"Stupid," your voice is thick as you mutter to yourself, crumpling the paper slightly in your hand when you feel his chin on your shoulder. You don't bother fighting it, leaning into his warmth as a singular tear drops onto the paper. "Hey."
"Hey." He murmurs, his arms wrapping around your waist as he sighs. You don't like the way your heart picks up at his touch, your hands reaching for the next envelope. He pushes them out of your hands, slotting the letter opener back into your cannister of pencils before pulling you away from the desk. He turns you around, caging you against the vanity as he peers down at you.
"Are you still—"
"Who were you on the phone with?"
He sighs, resting his forehead against your shoulder, "I don't have to tell you everything I do, Y/N."
"If there's someone else, just end this now."
He looks up immediately, "what? What did you say?"
You breathe out shakily, picking at your nails between your bodies as your lip trembles, "if there's someone else—"
He doesn't let you finish, crashing his lips to yours. The kiss is hungry, angry, even — like he's trying to prove a point. His hands are tight on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest, "never, ever would I do that to you, baby. There is no one else but you. Ever."
"But you—"
"I promise. I'd never step out on you like that. I told you I'd do right by you and I meant that, your honor is mine, too." His eyes are soft as you pout, "seriously? That's what you thought was happening? You think I'd do that to you?"
"No," you admit, covering your teary eyes with your hands, "God, I don't know. I'm just…I'm sorry. Everything fucking sucks and the weather is changing and we are changing, I feel crazy. I think I'm going crazy."
"You're not going crazy," he speaks gently, his hands stupidly comforting as they slide up and down your hips, squeezing lightly. "We are changing. Things are changing, time is passing. You're allowed not to like it."
"Then why is no one else freaking out? Why does it feel like I'm the only one?" You speak behind your hands, and his own wrap around your wrists, moving your arms to wrap around his neck before he presses a kiss to each of your eyebrows, eyelids, cheeks…one to your lips. "Chan."
"We are freaking out. I'm waiting on letters, too. I'm waiting for answers just like you are, just like everyone else. I want to make you proud, too. I want to make my parents proud, your parents, shit, even Rosie. I know you want that too, and knowing that you're doing this with me makes it easier. So what if we don't get into a couple of schools? We're bound to get into one, you know? We're moving down the path we're meant to, at the pace were supposed to. You want all your answers now and that's just not how it works, babe."
"I miss you," you hug him tightly, "I miss sleeping next to you every night."
He sags in your hold, his arms tight around your waist as he trails kisses down your shoulder, "I miss you, too. God, I miss you."
"Sleep here tonight."
"I will."
"And tomorrow night."
"Okay," he nods as you sniffle, "dumbass."
"Fuck you!" You bury your face in his neck despite yourself, feeling him smile against your skin, "Chan, stop."
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry." He peppers his lips along your cheeks, kissing the pout on your lips twice before matching your expression. "I haven't seen you in a week because of this shit."
"You still haven't told me who you were on the phone with."
"I don't have to."
You must look unimpressed, because he rolls his eyes, pulling his phone out and clicking around before pointing at the unsaved number. He presses the information icon.
Maybe: Diamond Life Apartments.
You tongue your cheek as he kisses it, tossing his phone on your vanity as you huff.
"And the pictures?"
"Units that fit our budget. How did you even see that?"
You don't reply, slotting your lips with his. He melts into you, his hips pressing against yours before his hands slip under the waistband of your sweatpants. His thumbs brush the lace of your panties, and he pulls away to pull the sweatpants down — peering down at the white fabric. You shove his hand away, "you're not supposed to see that."
He nods slowly, but his fingertips pluck at the collar of your shirt, and you cover your chest with your hand before he can see the matching white lace of the bra. He nods again, fighting back his smile.
"You're fucking me tonight, aren't you?"
"In your dreams."
"Yeah, you're in all of them." He speaks between kisses to your lips, "with the house…the ring…anything you want."
Your cheeks grow hot as he teasing his fingertips beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, "it's our anniversary and we're spending it with our parents and getting stoned with my cousins. Isn't that such shit?"
"You asked me to be your girlfriend on Christmas Eve, Chan. You knew it would be this way."
"Stop calling me Chan. You're pissing me off."
"Don't care, that's your name," you shrug, your breath hitching in your throat as his hands cup your ass. He kisses down the column of your throat, nipping at the skin, "aren't you supposed to be getting dressed, baby?"
"How come you can call me Y/N for the last three weeks but I call you Chan and I get the paddle to my ass?" You huff, feeling him smile against your neck before he meets your eyes again.
"You told me that you didn't like it when I called you cute names while we were fighting, but we've been fighting everyday so I didn't know when I could or couldn't." He says pointedly, your eyes narrowing as he presses another kiss to your lips, "and if you wanna try a paddle, we can—"
"Shut up."
"But you're so pretty bent over my knee…whining for more—"
"Lee Chan."
He squeals as you poke his sides, pressing another kiss to your cheek before pulling his hands out of your sweatpants.
"But, seriously. Look at me," his hand grabs your jaw gently, making you meet his eyes, "it's just you and me. Okay? I'd never do that to you. In a million years."
"A million and one?"
"It's an imposter. Not me."
"Okay," you mumble, blinking up at him as he cooes, pressing a kiss to your puckered lips. "You're so cute, baby. I love you."
"Uh huh."
"Say you love me back or I'm keeping your gift for myself."
"Now I sound materialistic if I say it back," you point out, making him huff as you let out a chuckle. "I love you. Get out, I have to get dressed."
"Just a peek?"
"You already got your peek."
"Is it at least sheer?"
"Chan, get out of my bedroom." You state plainly, jerking your thumb in the direction of the door, and he pouts but moves away slightly. You turn around, your hands moving to grab your hairbrush when you feel his hand on your back. You roll your eyes as it snakes through your hair, tugging gently as he presses his hips against your ass. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his bulge press into you through the thin fabric of your sweatpants.
"Just for good measure, you know I'm only yours, right?" His voice is low against your ear, and you hum in the affirmative as his other hand lightly drags a finger down the column of your throat, wrapping gingerly at the base with a soft squeeze. "And you're mine, right? All of you. Mine."
"Yours," you breathe out, and his fingers in your hair let go gently, soothing your scalp before both hands trail down to your chest, cupping your tits firmly, the rough material of your bra helping the friction against your nipples. You can't help but push your hips back against him, feeling his teeth nip at your earlobe.
"All of you."
"All of me."
"Good girl, baby." He kisses the shell of your ear, "I'll see you later, beautiful."
Dinner is even slower than last year.
You're happily surrounded by family, and you can tell your parents noticed you and Chan are back on speaking terms. None of them say anything, simply watching the way he whispers about your mother's dress while unwrapping your silverware, the way you press a kiss to his cheek when he asks you to pass the salt, the way you both blush furiously when Rosie scrunches her nose at you and asks if she can be your flower girl when you get married.
Of course, you both say yes.
The questions you once hated are no longer asked. Your parents (read: your mother) no longer badger you about when you're getting married, when you're having kids, when you're settling down — instead, all four of them turning the focus on Chan. They ask him when he'll be proposing, when he's going to get his act together, when he's going to start thinking about your futures together and apart — and you can't help but smile smugly as he sinks in his chair. You eat your food silently, letting him drown in the questions as he gently nudges your foot under the table every time it's a 'we' question rather than a 'he' question.
"You're cynical," he murmurs as everyone gathers back around the front door, saying their nightly goodbyes and Rosie is leaning against your hip as your mother and Mrs. Lee have a laugh. Your father takes her swiftly, tucking her into her carseat in the back of his car before you and Chan get a chance to say your flurry of goodbyes and kissed cheeks.
"I thought it would never fucking end," you scrunch your nose as you take your coat off in the passenger seat, your dress rustling as you sink into the comfortable felt seats of your car. He snorted, "you? What about me!? You left me to die out there."
"We die like men, Lee Chan. I listened to them for years!"
"…Very true, very valid and I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you should be." You mutter, but he doesn't start the car. You spare a glance his way, seeing him already staring at you. "What now?"
"Did I tell you how pretty you look tonight?" He leans over the center console, innocently running his eyes over you. You raise a brow, "yes, Chan. You cried in my bedroom and told me I looked like Ariel if she slayed and had a voice when she met Prince Eric."
"Or Princess Peach."
"Both are princesses, are you trying to tell me something?"
"That I know no other characters with pink dresses." He kisses your cheek, "and that—"
"If you call me your princess I'm gonna throw up."
"But you are."
"Bleugh, next."
"I've called you that before and you've never complained," he snorts, turning the car on as you roll your eyes. You hate the way your cheeks heat, your fingers toying with the pink tulle of your dress before you peer over at him as he peels out of the parking lot.
"What are you giving me this year?"
"All my love."
"Chan."
"It's true!" He argues as he slows to a stop at the end of the street, preparing to drive up to the spot where Mingyu and Soonyoung said they'd be waiting for you both. It was your spot, technically — Mingyu and Soonyoung just happened to stumble across it when you and Chan snuck up there to get a little touchy-feely in his car during your graduation party with the excuse of buying more chips.
"Babe, come on." You whine, tugging at his suit jacket as he tongues his cheek, pulling forward as the light turns green, "you can't say I'm your princess and not tell me."
"I didn't get to say it, you cut me off. Bleugh, next, if I recall correctly."
"I'll suck your dick if you tell me right now."
"Tempting offer," he reaches over, pinching your cheek between his knuckles, "but you'll wanna do that after, anyway. Trust me."
"I don't like you very much right now." You cross your arms on your chest, your fingers toying with the pendant of the little gold necklace you wore today. Your dress was floor-length with long sleeves and a square neckline, and you'd worn your hair down and back at Rosie's instruction. She'd begged you to do her hair like yours, and you'd even slipped a little tiara into the bump of her curls.
The rest of the ride was silent aside from Chan's phone on AUX, She's My Religion by Pale Waves being the last song to play as you made your way up the hill, snow covering the patches of grass and making you scrunch your nose. He slows to a stop, turning the car off before turning to you.
"I need you to open this before we do anything else." He reaches into the glove box, pulling out an envelope. It's addressed to you but the mailbox is that of your father's shop. It's from your old university, and you glance at him as he pushes it into your chest. You take it with a sigh, shaking your head as you hastily rip it open. You slip the letter out, giving him a bored look — but there's a twinkle of something in his eyes.
"What do you know, Lee Chan?"
"That I love you."
"Uh huh," you must look unimpressed, because he points at the letter, "read it."
You make a show of undoing the folds of the letter, clearing your throat, "Esteemed Y/N L/N…they're really laying it on thick, aren't they?"
"Read, baby."
"I'm reading, I'm reading."
"It is my distinct pleasure to inform you…" You trail off, sitting up abruptly as the words get caught in your throat. Chan is giddy next to you, "It is my distinct pleasure to inform you that you've been granted admission as a graduate student for the P.S.M program in Biotechnology for the upcoming Spring Quarter…"
You feel your lashes wet, Chan's fingers gently wiping your cheeks, "I told you you'd get in."
"I'm gonna throw up," you blurt, your voice thick as he laughs. His arms wrap around you tightly, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks as you cried into his shoulder, "Chan, I'm going to throw up."
"No, you're not. Because this suit was very expensive and you don't want to spend your Christmas cleaning puke out of your car." His teasing tone only makes you cry harder, his hand smoothing back your back in soothing circles, "shh, I know. So stressful, huh? But now I can say I told you so…and who knows, maybe you'll get a doctorate."
"Please," you scoff, sniffling, "I can't wait for an acceptance letter to that, I might die."
"Well, if you put three different mailing addresses you'll certainly drive yourself mad, my love."
"Fuck you."
"God, I wish you would."
You pinch his arm as he giggles, batting you away lightly as you slump in your seat. You take a deep breath, looking at the letter on the dashboard before looking back at him, "did you get a letter?"
"Nothing yet," he shakes his head, "but that one got to the shop this morning, it would've been there all weekend if I hadn't dropped by to pick up your gift."
"Getting me a gift from my dad's store is a cheap cop-out."
"I never said it was from the store, I said I went there to pick it up."
"Well, what is it?" You sniffle, closing your eyes. "And don't tell me it's something expensive, because my stomach already hurts at the money I dropped for your gift earlier."
"You might be upset if I tell you the price."
"Then don't, just give it to me and pretend it was cheap."
"I don't think I can."
"Why?" You peel open your eyes, only to widen them the moment you see a small velvet box in his hand. He nibbles on his lip, fiddling with the crease of it as you sit up properly, "Chan."
"Don't say my name like that."
"Like what—"
"Like you're about to break my heart."
"Chan," you cover your face, letting out a frustrated groan as a fresh batch of hot tears simmer in your eyes, "Chan."
"Baby, please. Just listen." He pleads, and you trill your lips to stave off a sob as he pulls your hands from your eyes, his thumb running over the promise ring he'd given you exactly a year ago. "Just listen to me."
You nod silently, a laugh of disbelief falling from his lips as he wipes his knuckles across your cheeks, "baby, stop crying."
"I can't."
"You can."
"I love you."
"I love you, too." He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, before he takes your hands in his. "I don't want to ever take away from your personal achievements. I am infinitely proud of you and I'm incredibly honored to be the one that calls you mine."
"Chan." Your lips tug into a pout, dragging his name out as you bury your face in his neck. He wraps his arms around you gently, kissing the side of your face as he speaks.
"This is not a proposal until you want it to be. I didn't expect this either, but I don't have another gift prepared or properly wrapped for tonight. We can hold off. I can do this another time."
You're silent in his arms, your fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. It's gotten longer, long enough to tug on as you feel him keep kissing your face.
"…And you won't be upset?"
"Never upset with you, my love."
"Can I see it?" You pull back slightly, and he nods, shakily popping the box open. Your pout only grows deeper as you steady his hand, planting a kiss to his temple as he turns on the courtesy lights. A thin gold band with a princess-cut diamond, and three side stones — two sapphire, one emerald. It matches your promise ring, and his. His eyes are scanning your face as he shifts slightly, "do you like it?"
"Did you ask my dad?"
"And your mom. And Rosie."
"Give me your speech." You sniffle, resting your head against his. He blinks at you, and you wave him on, "go on. Let's hear it. Question and all."
"I love you." He starts, and you nod quietly, your thumb tracing his nailbeds as his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you over the center console and sitting you in his lap. He moves the seat back slightly, and you snuggle into his chest as he takes a shaky deep breath.
"I love you, and I remember when we were in middle school and I told you that for the first time, you told me that it was selfish to say that. That I loved you, because the point of being in love was that there was no I in team. You didn't let me tell you I loved you again without interrupting me and telling me that we loved each other, and that stuck with me for a very long time. I wanted to be in love with you, forever, even if it meant constantly getting interrupted because I knew how you felt about it but I can't help but give in to that selfishness. To love you and want you all to myself, knowing that I'd never get over you if I had even just a taste of what it was like for you to be in love with me. Our relationship has taken the worst times of my life and made them all that much sweeter, and amongst it all, you've made me a better man. I know I have a lot to live up to, and I know I've made you so many promises…and I intend to keep each and every one of them. I will always, always embrace your individuality and I always want things to be as easy as they've always been between you and me. You call my name, and I'll come. If time is the issue, if school is the issue, if I am not man enough for you yet, I will wait. Patiently, and I will be better for you. I will do everything I can to be the man you need, and in turn, I want you to be everything you've ever wanted. I want you to feel fulfilled. My love for you is rooted in selfishness, I will never deny that, and even if you deny me now, or tomorrow, or in ten years time…I'll still love you endlessly, if it means you're happy with yourself, and your honor is mine even if mine is not yours. I know this is a lot of me, me, and me…but I hope you'll have me, anyway. Will you…marry me?"
You nod your head silently, putting up your hand. It trembles slightly as you tap the box with your ring finger. He takes it out quickly, sliding it down your finger with shaky hands as you both hear a car pull up into the snow. You don't give him a chance to speak, pressing your lips to his as his thumb adjusts the ring on your finger before you move to hold his face gently. It's cold against his cheek, you can tell by the way he flinches — until you hear the slam of a car door.
"I love you." You mumble against his lips, "we're going to go up there for an hour, pretend we care about what they have to say, then I'm going to pretend I'm cold and you're going to walk me down here and I'm fucking you in the backseat. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he's breathless as he looks up at you, "yes ma'am."
"Perfect. Let's go get fucking blitzed." You pat his cheek, before turning back, "and yes, by the way. I will marry you."
"Great," he nods, but there's a gloss over his eyes that tells you the feigned nonchalance is not nearly enough to contain his emotions. You press a kiss to his lips again, "I love you, so much."
"I know."
"Say it back, dipshit."
"There she is," he smiles, making you huff as he chuckles, wiping his eyes carefully, "I love you, honey."
"Are you still going to cry at our wedding?"
"I could cry right now."
"No balls."
Tears start to stream freely down his face as you gape, quickly wiping his cheeks as you plant your lips all over his face, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"I love you so much, Y/N."
"I know, I know I love you, honey—"
A knock on the window makes you both jump, and you quickly cover Chan's face by holding him to your chest as you crack the window. You raise a brow as you look up at Mingyu, "yes?"
"Are you guys gonna get out or make out, 'cause I got shit to do." Soonyoung interjects from behind him, and the taller man nods and shrugs as he steps back. You roll your eyes, "you never change, Hosh."
"You're still hot, too." He says smugly, and Chan scoffs from against your chest, rolling the window down blindly and pointing a finger at his cousin, "I'll fucking end you, shithead."
"Yeah, because a little guy with lipstick stamps all over his face is going to beat my ass." He teases, and you give him an unamused look as you roll up the window, "we'll be right there."
"Don't get stuck, now." He turns on his heel, whistling as Mingyu shakes his head and follows up the hill.
"I like the lipstick stamps, thank you very much." He mutters, his arm around your waist tightening before he peppers kisses at the base of your throat, "you still want that summer wedding?"
"In the woods?
"Like in Breaking Dawn?"
"I'm getting déjà vu."
"Mmh." He keeps kissing up your neck, his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers as he trails up your jaw, "you smell so fucking good."
"Keep it in your pants. Twenty minutes." You breathe out, but you lean into his lips more. He tugs at your earring, "I'm already hard."
"Not my problem."
"It is. Did you know my girl's goin' to grad school?"
"Is she, now?" You run your free hand through his hair as he kisses your cheek repeatedly, but you tug him back, earning a soft whine and a rut against your thigh from his hips. "Get it together, baby."
"Just touch me a little. Spit in my mouth, even."
"You're insane."
"About you."
You plant a kiss on his lips, reaching into your seat to grab your coat and pulling it over your shoulders as he pouts, kissing up your neck. You hate how easily your underwear sticks to you, but you ignore the throbbing sensation and unlock the door — your hand easily finding his buldge over his pants and giving it a tight squeeze.
"Behave," you mutter sternly, his eyes wide as he nods. His lips part slightly, and you roll your eyes as you lean over slightly. He instinctively opens his mouth for you, sticking his tongue out and letting you spit onto it. He lurches forward to kiss you, and you let him meet your lips as you feel him grinding against your palm greedily. You give him another squeeze, swallowing his gasp before pushing the door open, "don't act up, Lee Chan."
"Tell me you love me."
"I love you."
"I could literally cum right now."
"Get out of the car, idiot." You roll your eyes again, but don't fight back the smile that graces your lips as you zip up your coat. He slides out shortly after, clearing his throat as he adjusts himself in his pants.
"One hour," he holds up a finger as he grabs your hand, and you raise a brow. "Easy. I've got this."
Not easy, and neither of you got this.
Chan is quietly listening to Mingyu talk about how he's finally got a foot in with Tzuyu from the jewelry shop in town, a long time friend of yours. You're listening to Soonyoung talk about his boyfriend from back home, how he went home with his parents and they've been struggling to communicate.
You can feel his bulge under your thighs as you sit on his lap, the two of you sharing a chair Mingyu brought out from the back of his truck. You can feel him rut against you every few minutes, genuinely trying to get comfortable but failing as the softness of your thighs tightens with every movement — and you're both grateful that Mingyu and Soonyoung are too zonked too notice it. You feel a sharp inhale against your neck about twenty minutes, and you almost think he's finished in his pants — but a strained look tells you he's fine.
"So, we heard you might have some news," Mingyu suddenly says, and you cross your legs on top of Chan's as you raise a brow. He blushes something awful as he looks away, and Mingyu wiggles his brows as he hands the joint over to you. You hold it between your lips, taking a quick drag as you tilt your head, "me? News?"
"Oh, cut the shit." Soonyoung says, a shit-eating grin spreading on his lips as he leans over his knees, resting his elbows on them. "Tell us already. Confirm or perish, Miss Y/N."
You roll your eyes, holding up your left hand. They glance at it, furrowing their brows and looking at each other. Mingyu scoots closer, holding your hand to his face before Chan swats him away and pulls your hand to his chest.
"You're engaged?" Mingyu asks, confusion crossing his features as it does your own.
"Uh, yeah? Is that not what you were talking about?"
"Sure, whatever. Uh, congrats," Soonyoung waves it off, before clasping his hands together, "grad school. You got in, right?!"
Realization crosses your face as both men look giddy for your answer, excitement gleaming in their eyes and warming your chest. You bite back your smile, nodding slowly as they cheer loudly. You cover your ears as Soonyoung smothers you in a bone-crushing hug, and Mingyu smacks the back of Chan's head lightly.
"You should learn from her! She's so smart and cool and you're some frat boy." Mingyu turns his nose up at him, and you manage to free yourself from Soonyoung's embrace to rub the back of Chan's head.
"Hey! He's still waiting on his letters!" You defend him, tucking his head to your chest as Chan sticks his tongue out at them, "yeah! I'm still waiting!"
"Listen, doll." Soonyoung points at Chan, "you can't expect wifey here to carve the pavement for you to drag your nuts. Either you get into grad school or you die trying, and if you're not going to go then you build her a house with your hands."
"I know how to love my girl, thank you very much. I'd build her a palace, so fuck off." Chan smushes his face into your neck, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes, the whites dusted pink from the weed.
"God, I miss Jihoon." He slumps back on his chair. Mingyu scrunches his nose, "then call him, idiot. I'm sure he misses you, too."
"This is why Tzuyu doesn't fuck with you."
"First of all, Tzuyu and I are gonna go steady. Just you wait."
"She invited you to her New Year's Eve party, Mingyu. She didn't ask you on a date."
"So? She might want a New Year's kiss! I can't risk not taking any chances she might give me!" Mingyu exclaims, and Chan taps his watch quietly.
"Hour and ten, baby." He whispers into your neck, and you sigh, looking over at Mingyu and Soonyoung.
"Fellas, I hate to do this—"
"No! C'mon, Y/N! We're only here for a few more days before Soonyoung makes us drive back to smooch his boyfriend!"
"Whine all you want, bud, but I'm practically freezing my toes off." You grimace, gesturing at your open-toed heels with a stiff hand. "I'm just gonna warm up. I'll be back."
"You guys might as well go home," Soonyoung scoffs, nudging Mingyu with his elbow. "I told you they couldn't hang."
"Oh! Okay!" You nod, cueing in malicious compliance as you hold the joint back out to Mingyu. He takes it suspiciously, and you grab Chan's hand and stick your tongue out at Soonyoung, "have fun missing your boyfriend while I fuck my fiancé, shithead."
The boys nearly fall over themselves trying to argue with you, but you hold your head high and pull Chan down the hill to your car. You fish the keys of his pocket, letting him pull you close and kissing your lips messily as you unlock the car.
"I know it's our anniversary," he mumbles, actively trying to pull the zipper of your coat down in the freezing winter air, "and I promise I'll make it up to you but if I'm not in you in the next five minutes, I might die."
"You won't die."
"But you can take it for me, right? You're my good girl, right, baby?"
Your cheeks grow warm despite the weather, your hand finally unlocking the doors as he kisses down your neck.
"Trying to knock me up already?"
"Fuck, don't say that."
His hips press against you, and you hardly have a chance to open the door fully before he's pushing you inside, the warmth engulfing you both as he slams the door shut and makes quick work of your shoes, tossing them into the front seat. You're not surprised as he kisses the arches of your feet, dragging his lips up your ankles and pushing the skirt of your dress out of the way as you try to pull off your coat.
If Chan is anything when it comes to you, it's needy.
If Chan is anything when he's stoned, it's needy.
His kisses against your thighs are wet and messy, and you hardly have time to pull the zipper of your dress down like some sort of contortionist when you feel his face pressing into the damp fabric of your panties. You hear him inhale deeply as you manage to pull the dress over your head, lazily tossing it into the front seat as you feel his tongue press against your clit through the fabric, your thighs closing around his head before he forces them apart, whining at the taste of you coating his tongue through the fabric.
Your hand pulls at his hair, your skin already slick with sweat as you make him look up. His chin and lips are already covered with your juices, "I thought you wanted to fuck me?"
"I do," he pants out, "but you look so pretty. I have to appreciate it first."
You don't get to speak again because he shoves your hand out of the way, nosing at your pussy before pulling you firmly onto his face. You cover your mouth as you gasp out, his lips sucking your clit perfectly through the soaked underwear and making your skin prickle. Your hands card through his hair, holding him firmly in place as you rock your cunt against his tongue, before you feel his fingers pull your panties to the side and dive back in. He swirls his tongue just the way you like, whines of his name falling from your lips as your thighs tremble. He pulls back, his face covered in spit and arousal when you feel his fingers run through your folds, pressing hard against your clit and tracing tight circles. Your stomach caves in slightly, thighs closing around his hand as he tuts.
"Come on, baby. Can't keep your pretty thighs open for me? Didn't you miss me?" He pries your legs open with one hand, a pout on your lips as he presses a quick kiss to them. "Don't you miss me touching you like this?"
You nod limply as the embarrassment of bringing you so close to the edge already settles in, gasping lightly as he lands a wet slap to your clit. You rut up against his hand, earning another as he kisses up the side of your neck, "always so wet for me. You love me, baby?"
"Love you," you nod frantically as his fingertips tease your entrance, "love you so much."
"Love me so much, right? Wore this cute set for me? Wanted to look so so pretty for me, right?" His whispering only makes you whimper against his neck, your hands pulling at his suit jacket when you realize he's still fully dressed. "Need words, baby."
"Take off your c-clothes," you stammer out, your fingers pawing at his tie as he nips at your neck. He smiles against your skin, "but I want to look good for you."
"I'll touch myself for you," you offer, your voice shaky as he barely dips his fingers inside you. Your own tighten, "wanna earn it. Wanna see you, please…"
"Please?"
"Please, daddy."
He kisses down your chest, his free hand unbuckling his belt expertly and pulling it through the loops, tossing it somewhere in the car as he gets back down to your cunt. He sucks your clit into his mouth, pulling you onto his face harder as he slides his fingers inside you. You let a choked moan out, his fingers moving so fast you can almost taste your release on the tip of your tongue, your thighs shaking as his mouth forces you across the finish line with a hard suck. Your fingers tug at his hair, your other hand covering your swollen clit from his mouth. You can feel him pout against your knuckles, kissing them needily when you feel his tongue snake over the ring he'd just given you.
You use your foot to push his shoulders back, his eyes fixed between your thighs like a man starved. His hand wraps around your ankle, and you quickly close your legs, lifting your hips to pull your panties off. His fingers fumble with his tie as you spread your thighs again, resting your ankle on his shoulder as he pulls it off his neck and throws it aside.
"Want you." You mumble, your fingers tracing over your puffy clit with a soft groan, your head falling back against the door as he unbuttons his shirt haphazardly, straining against his pants as he untucks his shirt. You huff as he trails his eyes up, your fingers spreading your cunt open lewdly, "look here. Want you to see how much I missed your cock inside me."
"Don't say that, I won't make it out of these pants," he whines, almost breaking the zipper of his pants as you sink your fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out shallowly before pulling down the cups of your bra and cupping your chest, pinching your nipple between your fingers with soft moans falling from your lips. He fumbles with tugging his shirt off, kissing the side of your foot and up to your knee as he throws it over his shoulder. He yanks you to him as he tugs his hard cock out of his underwear, not bothering to pull them further down before he pulling your fingers out of you and pressing them against his length. He ruts against your palm, letting you smear your cum and arousal all over him before you wrap your fingers around him tightly, tapping his tip against your clit with a whine before grinding yourself against it.
"Put it inside, baby." He orders, his eyes dark as you oblige, biting your lip as you tilt your hips up and guide him into your entrance. Your breath hitches, the stretch familiar and so good as you move to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He groans, holding himself over you, his fingers digging into the seat under you as you try to move your hips against him. His hands pin your hips to the seat, "you do this on purpose, you know."
You peer at him through your lashes, your nails digging into his shoulders as he gives you a hard thrust, your moan choked as he builds a brutal pace, "you do all these things to get me desperate and wonder why you can't fucking walk the next day."
"L-Love it," you try to reply, your thighs tight around his hips, "love it when you fuck me l-like this."
"God, I know…" his head falls forward, eyes squeezed shut as you whimper underneath him, "pussy's so fuckin' wet…feels so good, baby. You're mine, right?"
His hand wraps gently around your throat, squeezing softly as you squeeze your cunt around him, "all of you. You're mine. This pretty mouth that talks all that shit, mine…takes my cock so well, too. Right?"
His hand trails down, pulling at the middle of your bra roughly, and you hear the flimsy fabric tear as he pushes it aside. He pinches your nipple between two fingers, giving the other a soft squeeze with a grunt, "these are mine. Always been mine, gorgeous. Perfect. You love it when I paint these with my cum and you're mine, right?"
Your head is swimming as he picks up the pace, his hands squeezing your thighs in a death grip, "these are mine, too. Press these pretty thighs together and fuck my cock between them when you're not being a good girl, yeah? Make you all messy and clean you up with my tongue after. Wrap these fuckin' beautiful thighs around my head, God…you're mine, right?"
Said thighs are shaking as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, holding them apart almost painfully as his hand snakes down between them and traces circles into your swollen clit. Your hips chase the friction, watching him bite his lip as you clench around him. He lands a sharp slap to your cunt, tears pricking at your eyes at the stimulation.
"Greedy cunt's mine, too, huh?" He mutters, throwing his head back as he gives you another hard thrust of his cock, your jaw falling slack as he hits the perfect spot. "Right there, huh? Right there, baby?"
"Y-Yes," you breathe out, pinching your nipples between your fingers as he sinks into you over and over.
"Perfect fucking pussy…so wet and needy for my cock, right? Always ready for me, whenever I want…gonna fill you up, okay?" He leans forward, biting the lobe of your ear, "I own you, you know that? Bet you did. You're my smart girl, right? So smart…gonna be a grad student and make me proud, right? So proud of you, princess. I'll tell you everyday."
You nod, tears rushing down your cheeks as you feel your thighs tighening around him, feeling him sucking the soft skin under your ear before he speaks softly, "you're mine. Just like I'm yours. You own me, too, baby…be proud of me, too."
You whine loudly as your orgasm rips through you, feeling him chuckle as he quickly follows. You wrap your legs around his hips tight, pulling him into a searing kiss as you keep rolling your hips up. He takes the hint, keeping his pace as you moan into his mouth, "missed your cock so much, missed you. Love you."
"Proud of me?"
"So proud of you."
CHAN ALMOST THREW UP RECEIVING HIS ACCEPTANCE LETTER TO GRADUATE SCHOOL.
And he cried. He bawled in your arms in the middle of your bedroom, holding the same letter you'd opened just days prior in his hands. You kissed him all over his face, stamping your lipstick into his skin as he cried quietly. He pulled you close, the letter long forgotten on the ground as he tried to kiss you back, eventually managing to pin you against the carpet.
Your idea of celebration was quiet and private, and your parents excitedly made a nice dinner and had Mingyu and Soonyoung over before they left for the city again. Soonyoung once more inhaled your mother's chocolate cake, but you'd winked and handed Mingyu an extra Tupperware. He thanked you with a kiss to your forehead that earned him a smack from Chan, and you'd laughed until your sides hurt.
The thing about loving Chan was just that.
His devotion to it all. To you, to loving you, to being yours. He'd never known how to be anything else, and he's admitted he never wants to know, either. He makes good on his promises — he practically worships the ground you walk on, he kisses you breathless and keeps it cool in front of your parents. Your graduate school acceptance is the biggest deal you'd known since your first words — and Chan makes it a point to keep it that way. He talks you up to anyone he can, talking about how his girlfriend is a graduate student and she's going to be the best of the best in her field. He talks about how cool and smart you are, how hardworking and sweet.
He still whispers dirty things to you in the corners of your homes, don't get it twisted — something about how pretty you are with his cock in your mouth, how you must love being treated like his 'dirty little slut' so much…but you ignore the flame in your cheeks as he kisses you innocently, slipping away like nothing happened.
You'll be back in the city soon, too. Nestled away in your apartment, walking on campus — hand in hand.
Your engagement ring is nestled beneath your shirt most days, strung on a necklace with the same locket you were wearing last year when he asked you to be his girlfriend. Neither of you said anything, but you'd quickly learned how eager he was to defile the ring and the idea of you as his, eternally — often asking you to wear it when you fooled around, getting off on the idea of calling you his wife and making sure you knew he meant it. He was going to make you his wife — smart, gentle, with a loud mouth and a soft heart, you were his for the taking. Loving, worshipping…all of it.
He owned you, your heart, and he's stuck his claim years ago.
Just like you owned him.
Just like you reassured him.
"You're mine, right? And I'm yours?"
"Always. Yours, and mine."
GENRE/CW: smut, angst, fluff, porn with plot, slow burn, multiple smut scenes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, blowjob, dry humping, fingering, car sex, mutual masturbation, spit kink, multiple orgasms, marking, crying. mentions of nicknames, pda, messy feelings and bets, subtle mentions of jaywon. lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 30.9k words
SYNOPSIS: Jake is utterly oblivious to the fact that you are well aware how his sudden devotion to you is stemmed from nothing but a pathetic little bet. He is also unaware of the fact that you have been matching his energy, playing your part so convincingly that the line between performance and truth starts to blur, and you are not sure what is real anymore. OR, the classic bet trope twisted into bet inverse.
A/N: hihi loves <3 so i finally used my 2 year old idea and made it into a fic, it was soo fun to write and i could not have done it without doll (ily for sprinting w me always), i hope you guys enjoy it <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3
CHAPTER ONE: Raised stakes.
If there was one word to describe Jake, it would be carefree.
Some deeper parts within him would care to disagree, however, he had perfected this art of burying them six feet under layers of easy smiles. At twenty-three, Jake was the hot Physics student pursuing Masters with a killer arm (or leg in this case) on the football field.
He had always been good at drowning out uneasiness with a bright grin, a well-timed joke that he somehow laughed at harder than the others, the easy way his hand would find the small of someone’s back as he guided them through a crowded party. It worked, it always worked.
Hardworking to a fault, he balanced brutal training sessions, demanding coursework, and still found time to be the social glue of every group he touched. Clumsy in the most endearing ways—tripping over his own feet during victory celebrations or spilling his coffee down his jersey—he’d just laugh it off, turning mishaps into stories.
So, in a word, Jake Sim was considered to be carefree by any living creature that had the slightest pleasure of meeting him.
And to put it simply, he enjoyed it. He basked in the attention thrown his way, not in a way that would label him as arrogant, it just came to him as easy as, well, breathing. All that effortless energy around him kept him sane, coming from a loving family, to having friends he could call his second family, he truly cherished it to the core.
Tonight the spring kickoff party in the quad thrummed under strings of warm fairy lights, the bass from the speakers mixing with the scent of grilled corn (to Jay’s absolute delight), spilled beer, and early cherry blossoms. Jake stood right at the center of it all, lean athletic build relaxed as he leaned against the brick pillar, red solo cup in hand, black hair falling in soft tousled waves. He ran his fingers through it absentmindedly while Heeseung gestured wildly mid-story, the group around him already cracking up at the enthusiasm of it all.
“—and then she just looks at me after the game, all flushed and smiling, and says you looked really good out there tonight. Next thing I know we’re back at her place and I’m thinking, damn, maybe I should score more goals if this is the reward,” Heeseung said, smile wide as he took a swig from his cup.
Jay laughed at that, “you’re too fucking easy,” he mumbled, taking a bite of corn, pairing it up with vodka right after.
Sunghoon leaned back against the pillar, smirking as he shook his head, “you two are hopeless, now let me tell you guys about what real pleasure is—”
“Spare us the details,” Jeno mumbled, a tad bit tipsy with the amount of booze he’d been consuming, Jaemin holding him up, but his mind was elsewhere, planning something rather crazy to wash out the usual mundane conversation.
Jake’s laugh rolled out bright, head tilting back and shoulders shaking with genuine amusement, “you guys are practically whores,” he clicked his tongue, “but yeah—nothing beats that post-game high when someone’s waiting for you looking like that. Makes all the bruises worth it.” He bit his lower lip lightly, still grinning as he scanned the lively surroundings, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners.
Across the grass, you stood with Jungwon and Karina near the low stone wall, Jungwon had dragged the two of you here earlier, insisting it would be lowkey fun because his Jay hyung had invited him and “it’s not like we have to stay forever.” The music played in the background, but your attention stayed on them—sharp little remarks about random campus drama, Karina’s latest story about a disastrous blind date, the usual easy flow that made the noise somewhat bearable.
Jungwon glanced toward the center of the party, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he watched Jake’s group, “Jake’s in full golden-boy mode tonight. Look at him— Jay says he’s the same off the field, always cracking jokes even when everyone’s half-dead from practice.”
Karina nodded, swirling the last of her drink slowly, “It’s almost unfair how he does that, wish i could’ve been that extroverted honestly.”
You followed their gaze without meaning to. Jake was mid-laugh again, black hair falling messily into his eyes as he ran a hand through it. The light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the way his whole body seemed to lean into the moment. Everyone around him was leaning in too, feeding off that bright, effortless warmth.
It made something tight and irritated coil low in your stomach. Not jealousy, no, just exhaustion at the performance of it all. The way the entire party seemed wired to orbit one guy who never seemed to run out of smiles or energy.
You shrugged, “he’s too loud. Must get exhausting pretending the world’s that fun all the time.”
Jungwon bumped your shoulder lightly, his laugh soft and familiar, “c’mon, he’s not that bad. Jay swears he’s actually decent when you get him one-on-one. But yeah, he looks a wee bit too jolly tonight.”
Karina smirked, eyes glinting with teasing as she glanced at you, “you’d probably shut him down in two seconds flat if he ever tried talking to you. I’d pay to see that.”
You pressed your lips together for half a second, the thought of Jake Sim turning that sunshine smile on you—of him thinking he could just waltz into your carefully guarded space—sent a flicker of pure distaste through you. You weren’t interested in being another notch, another story he told his friends the next day.
Your life revolved around the quiet satisfaction of getting things right, majorly focusing on, well, studies. Romance, especially the loud, golden-boy kind, had no place in it.
“Exactly,” you said, tone edged with dry sarcasm, “not interested. Let’s grab something from the food trucks and dip before it gets worse. I’ve hit my limit on forced fun for one night.”
You didn’t mind being in the crowd as long as your friends were with you, however, you did mind the exhaustion creeping upon your body. No one but you were to be blamed for it. Going to the gym in the morning, catching up on lectures later, getting groceries, and now being at a party—you’d tired yourself out with the simple mindset of being busy is a blessing. It was true to some extent, albeit not in a way that your friends would agree. The conversation didn’t dull as you started making your way out to eat with your best friends.
On the other side of the quad, Jake was only half-listening to the guys now, he felt himself getting comfortable in his smaller circle, it was exactly the kind of night Jake usually loved.
But his eyes kept drifting.
It wasn’t as if it was his first time seeing you, especially when Jungwon was always around too, it was merely the fact that you kept your distance, always. Jake wasn’t blind, he appreciated beauty which you carried around effortlessly. The lack of general courtesy to acknowledge strangers? Not so much.
You looked like you wished to be anywhere but here (which was true), making him wonder why. He ran his hand through his hair, messing the soft waves before smoothing them back down, a habit he barely noticed anymore.
Jaemin, who had been unusually quiet for the last minute, suddenly leaned in closer, voice dropping low enough that only their small circle could hear over the music, “wanna make things interesting?”
Jay groaned, knowing his proposal would cause damage in the name of merriment, because that’s how Jaemin thrived. Sunghoon was rather interested in knowing what was gonna be the deal here, and so, he continued.
“See her? Jungwon’s friend?” The group turned and looked your way, Jay already opening his mouth to stop him, but of course, Jaemin was quicker, “make her fall in love with you in a month.”
“Wait—me?” Jake echoed, the word half-laugh, half-disbelief, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it usually did.
Jaemin leaned in closer. His grin was sharp, almost scary, “yeah, you, in one month. Make Jungwon’s friend fall for you, hard. Like, actually in love with you to the point it gets public.”
Jay’s head snapped up so fast the corn on his plate nearly toppled, “Jaemin, no. She’s not—fuck, she’s not gonna be interested, at all. I literally know her, she keeps everyone at arm’s length, especially guys like Jake, no offence.”
Sunghoon’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed, interested now in a way that made Jake’s stomach twist, “stakes?”
Jaemin didn’t hesitate, “If Jake wins—makes her say it out loud, in front of us—he gets the M4. Keys, papers, the whole matte-black beast. Mine for a month, and if he wants to keep it after that, it’s his. No take-backs.”
The circle went quiet for half a second before Heeseung let out a low whistle, cup frozen halfway to his mouth, “your car? The one you won’t even let me sit in without a fucking background check?”
“Yep.”
Jay dragged a hand down his face, shoulders tight, “Jake, this is messed up. You’ll hurt her, and then you’ll feel like shit, and she’ll hate you, and the whole group’s gonna be stuck in the middle because Jungwon’s her best friend. This isn’t a game, It’s gonna blow up in both your faces.”
Jake’s fingers found the back of his neck, then slid up into his hair without thinking. He messed them further, his eyes drifting across the quad again to where you were still walking away with Jungwon and Karina, posture straight, silver ring catching the light as you twisted it mindlessly.
He should say no. He should clap Jaemin on the shoulder, laugh it off, steer the conversation back to the upcoming football match or the thermodynamics midterm that was currently trying to murder all of them.
But something stubborn flickered in his chest. The same part that hated the idea of failing at the one thing he was supposedly best at, making people feel seen. You hadn’t even looked at him twice.
One month, one girl who looked like she probably just needed someone nice to talk to and share her worries—right?
Jake bit his lower lip for half a second, the way he did when he was locking in on a tricky play. Then the grin came back as bright and effortless, the one that always worked.
“Deal,” he said, not confident at all, though great at hiding it.
The group exploded, clearly not okay with the idea itself. Jay groaned louder, already shaking his head, “you’re both idiots. This is gonna end badly.”
Sunghoon just laughed under his breath, leaning back against the pillar, “I’ll take that bet too. Odds on Jake cracking first?”
Heeseung was already pulling out his phone, demanding proof in the form of media. Jaemin slapped Jake’s shoulder hard enough to make his red solo cup slosh over the rim.
“Day one starts tomorrow, Jakey. Better bring everything you’ve got.”
Jake laughed again, but when it settled, it left something quieter behind. Something that tasted a little (a lot) like doubt.
Later that night, when the place had emptied and the only sound left was the low hum of crickets, Jake lay on his back in his room. The mellow playlist he always played when the noise finally stopped drifted from his phone. His small notebook—the one no one ever saw—was open on his chest, a half-finished football formation doodled in the margin. He wrote one line.
She doesn’t like loud spaces, or crowds.
He closed the notebook, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and exhaled into the dark.
“What the fuck am I doing?” He whispered.
Across campus, you were already in your room, bullet journal open on your desk, silver ring still on your finger. You didn’t know about the bet yet. All you knew was that Jake Sim had never looked your way before last night, and something about the way his eyes had followed you across the grass fell off.
You pressed your lips together, biting the inside of your cheek once, then wrote in the tiniest handwriting in the margin of tomorrow’s schedule.
Keep your distance from Jake Sim.
CHAPTER TWO: Bet inverse?
Jake’s alarm went off at 6:47 in the morning like it always did, but this morning he didn’t bother hitting snooze. He stayed there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, the bet from last night practically sitting on his chest. Jaemin’s evil smile and Jay’s warning kept on repeating in his mind.
He should have let it go, instead, he rolled out of the bed, pulled on his black hoodie and shorts, laced up his running shoes after freshening up. He knew where Jungwon lived, the dorms near the science buildings where there was always an influx of food carts nearby.
The distance wasn’t long per se, but his breathlessness certainly made it seem like it was, and the little hope he had to spot you in the cold of this morning.
The sky was soft gray before the sun decided to show up, and Jake’s lungs were burning in a way that made him feel good, hair sticking to his forehead by the time he slowed to jog near the coffee cart.
To his absolute luck, he spotted you right there as you thought what you should order from the coffee cart, looking too proper in your jeans that fit you just right as if it wasn’t so early in the morning, and he took a moment to observe you, breathing hard, wiping his face on the sleeve of his hoodie. He stepped up beside you, the scent of your perfume overtaking his senses.
His friends called him weird for this rather peculiar habit of his where he leaned in too much to get a sniff of, well, practically everything. So, it was hard fir him to control himself at the moment.
“Y/N,” he said, voice low so it wouldn’t startle you, “uh—hey.”
You turned, eyes meeting him before you granted him the smallest nod of acknowledgement, “Jake.”
The barista waited and Jake kept his hands in his hoodie pocket so he wouldn’t fidget, “one Americano for me, and whatever she’s having—I’ll cover it.”
You frowned at this because Jake truly had no reason to be talking to you here, much less paying for your drink, “you really don’t have to.”
“I know.” He offered a half-smile, the real one, “but I want to. We’ve been around each other enough—Jungwon’s parties, that study hall last semester. Felt kinda stupid that we’ve never actually talked.”
You studied him a second longer, like you were trying to decide if this was a line or just politeness. Then you told the barista your usual—vanilla latte, extra shot, and stepped aside while the machine hissed to life.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward exactly, Jake could feel the bet sitting heavy in his throat, but right now it was better—the way your perfume kept drifting over every time the breeze picked up. He wanted to lean in again, but he didn’t.
When both cups came out he handed yours over carefully, no fingers touching, just the warm cardboard passing from his palm to yours.
“Uh—thanks,” you said simply before you started walking.
He fell in beside you, matching your stride without crowding your personal space. The path was empty enough to give you both privacy which you didn’t need as his heartbeat felt a little too loud in his ears, and for the first time, he found himself being nervous to talk to someone.
After half a minute you spoke again, “so how do you always act all nice for people you barely know?”
His lips curved, “I don’t do that, not really. Usually I’m the one everyone expects to keep things light,” he mumbled, “I saw you last night, you looked—bothered? Made me wonder what it’d be like to actually talk to you instead of just watching.”
You took a sip, wondering how he so casually admitted to staring at you, “and what’s the verdict so far?”
He glanced sideways, the early light was starting to hit the side of your face, “still figuring it out. But the coffee seems like a decent start.”
You didn’t smile, not really. But something in your expression eased, and it made him feel a little accomplished, as if he’d won something small and fragile that could disappear any moment.
The path split ahead, biotech building looming on the left. You slowed, turning to face him fully. For a second the guarded look cracked open, and he caught something underneath it—irritation, maybe, or the faintest flicker of curiosity you didn’t want to admit to.
“I’ve got lab,” you said.
Jake nodded, the easy warmth still on his face even though his stomach twisted with how badly he wanted to ask one more question, “yeah, of course. See you around, Y/N.”
You gave one small nod then turned and walked toward the doors. He stood there until you disappeared inside, the taste of black coffee bitter on his tongue and the ghost of your perfume still clinging to the air around him. He breathed it in once, almost guilty, then let it go.
Back in his dorm he dropped onto the bed still in his hoodie, the room quiet. The small notebook he never let anyone see was already open on his lap. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, before writing: Vanilla latte with an extra shot, morning lectures in lab 291.
He closed the notebook, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and stayed like that until the pressure behind them eased.
Meanwhile, you were beyond confused narrating it to Karina later, who gave you a dry chuckle, “yeah, don’t entertain him,” she said, and you scoffed—as if you’d ever do that.
But three days had passed since the party, and it was as if Jake had made it his personal mission to accidentally run into you whenever you least expected him to. Somehow, he had managed to get your schedule, which is why he was standing outside your lecture on the very next day.
Jake was a poor actor and highly unaware of the same, so his exclaimed Oh, Y/N, felt rather comical to you, granted he had two coffees in his veiny hands. You chose to ignored him, face pulling into a natural smile for a second, and he stood there shocked, only to realize you were waving at Jungwon who stood behind him.
Jake stood there for a few minutes, not moving even when you had left while Heeseung and Sunghoon stood right there, judging him. Your smile—as brief as it was, had been pretty, too fucking pretty, and doubt crept up Jake. He wondered if he’ll ever be able to coax that smile out of you himself.
The thought followed him through the rest of the day, sharp enough to make him reroute his afternoon lecture so he happened to be near the vending machines right as you stepped out of lab. He was there again the morning after that, leaning against the wall outside the biotech building with a single vanilla latte in hand, the extra shot already marked on the side in the barista’s neat handwriting. Each time he appeared, he kept his voice low, never demanding more, though it felt like a blow to his ego how you actively tried to avoid him. He genuinely wished to talk to you (for the bet, of course).
By the third afternoon the rain had started, insistent against the library windows. You had slipped into the far back study nook, the one buried behind the tallest reference shelves, you needed it—needed to bury yourself in studies and forget how Jake’s persistence was beginning to thread through your days like a melody you couldn’t quite shake.
You pulled out your bullet journal and started annotating protocols for the upcoming lab, pen moving with sharp precision, and you felt a presence behind you. You were most ready to snap at Jake, but it was Jaemin who found you instead.
He dropped into the chair across from you, smirking, like he had been waiting for this exact moment, “Jake’s been hanging around you a lot lately,” he said, voice light but knowing, “you might fall for him.”
You set your pen down slowly, “what makes you think I’ll fall for him?”
Jaemin’s smirk deepened, “well, chances are less but certainly never zero.”
You frowned, irritation rising, “what do you want, Jaemin?”
“I was getting to it.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting, “I wanna propose another bet since I’m bored and I clearly care for you.”
“Another bet?” You asked, brain finally working. Jake was following you around for a fucking bet, you should’ve known.
Jaemin watched your face change and his grin widened, “I give you thirty days to make him fall for you. And I mean truly head-over-heels kind of fall, then reject him, then you win, since you clearly don’t care about him.”
You stared at him, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, “I don’t want to be involved playing with feelings.”
“If he didn’t care for your feelings, why are you holding back?”
“Cause I’m not like him?”
“Fair, but here’s the deal—” Jaemin leaned in closer, voice dropping.
“Isn’t he your friend?”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“It’s fun.”
“You’re insane.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“What is he getting out of this?”
“My car.”
Another scoff left your mouth at this, and Jaemin said he’d give you anything you wanted if you’d win. Nothing was in your mind honestly, but you were too pissed to let it go.
“And what will I get?”
“A chance to absolutely shatter Jake’s ego, and that trip to Paris with your friends, you’ve been eyeing it for a while now.”
“How the fuck did you—”
“I have my ways,” he shrugged, but his eyes, oh his eyes were glimmering with joy. He almost seemed like a Cheshire cat.
So you agreed. Jaemin only smiled, walking away from you now, leaving you rather disturbed.
As if the universe itself had been listening, Jake walked past the end of the aisle at that exact moment, eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on you. You met his gaze head-on and gave him the smallest smile you owned, and he paused mid-step, lips parting like he might say something, then you looked away, not bothering with him anymore than you had today.
The game had just begun. And this time, you were the one holding the cards.
CHAPTER THREE: Ignorance isn’t bliss
You ignored Jake.
It was rather easy to do so despite all the plans you had brainstormed to make him fall in love with you hopelessly. The day had been too hectic, and to say you were exhausted would be an understatement—even the slightest voice would absolutely make you scream out in frustration given the state of your mind. Which is why you found yourself sitting in the bleachers, all silent and calm.
Truth be told, you didn’t wish to get into this mess by any means, however, Jake wasn’t one to give up. You scoffed at how he’d trade any stranger’s feelings for a stupid car, and even then he’d be celebrated for winning a bet.
Jake didn’t know why but the past few days had been weird for him. He couldn’t understand why you smiled at him in the library only to abruptly disappear from the face of the earth next—and yes, it bothered him because the time was ticking by. Maybe Jake was a lucky guy, cause right then, he found you at the bleachers, sitting up there as if trying to hide from the world.
It was clear you didn’t wish to be disturbed, by Jake of all people, but his feet carried him before his mind could keep up, and that’s how he found himself sitting three seats away from you, prepping to show his absolute best flirt game, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “are you okay?”
“Why are you everywhere?” You exasperated, finally turning to look at him despite knowing he’d found you before.
For once he didn’t jump in with some easy line. He just sat there a second, elbows on his knees, watching you like he was actually trying to read the mood instead of skating past it.
“I saw you from the path,” he said, “you were up here alone, I figured I’d check if you were okay. That’s it.”
You let out a sharp breath, the exhaustion from your day mixing with the frustration that had been building since Jaemin dropped his little bomb about the bet. This is all fake, you reminded yourself. He’s only here because he wants that stupid car, that bet.
“Checking in, right. You’ve been turning up at the coffee cart, outside my lectures, the vending machines, now here. I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.”
He shifted one seat closer, jacket creaking a little, but still left space between you, “I’m not trying to push. I know it probably comes off like I’m in your face every day. It’s just—you always seem like you’re carrying a lot and you’re doing it alone. I guess I wanted to see if you were actually alright or if you were just pushing through.”
You turned to face him, eyes narrowing, “pushing through is what students do, Jake. I don’t need an audience for it.”
“Yeah, I see that,” he said, gulping as he stared at your side profile, “you’re pretty resilient about it. Most people would’ve already vented to someone by now—and maybe you did to your friends but yeah.”
“Resilient?” You let out a short laugh, “or just tired of everyone expecting me to perform. Unlike the quintessential golden boy who’s always got a smile ready.”
Jake winced, looked out at the empty field for a second, then back at you, “golden boy—ouch, fair though. That’s the label I got stuck with.”
You crossed your arms tighter, “so, why are you up here trying to talk to me instead of being there with your friends? It doesn’t add up.”
He rubbed his palm over his knee, “uh—with them it’s nonstop noise, like I love my friends but it’s all just football practice, jokes, keeping the energy up no matter what. With you—it doesn’t feel like I have to be that version of me.”
You scoffed, how cliché, “right. So now the guy who’s always the center of everything suddenly wants to sit in silence on the bleachers?”
Jake leaned forward a fraction, elbows on his knees, “there’s this whole dichotomy between what everyone sees and what’s actually going on inside. Talking to you, it’s not like that.”
“Not like that,” you repeated, the words coming out flat, “how convenient, Jake.”
He swallowed again, eyes flicking to your face as you said his name, “It’s not convenient, It’s just true. You don’t expect me to keep the vibe going, y’know? You just say what you think.”
You felt your chest tighten. He sounded so damn eloquent even when he was lying, “you’re really good at this, you know? Making it sound like you actually get it.”
“I’m not trying to be good at anything,” Jake said, voice dropping, “I just keep showing up because every time I do, I see more of the real you. Not the version you show everyone else.”
You let out a breath, he could definitely get a few points for acting, “okay, so listen then—my lab did suck today. Equipment kept failing, I’m behind on three lectures, and I came up here to be alone, that’s it. Nothing exciting.”
“Hey—i didn’t ask for exciting,” he said, staring at the way your fingers still twisted the ring, “my day was shit too—coach rode us hard about tomorrow’s game and I barely studied for my midterm. Sometimes I just want to sit somewhere and not pretend everything’s perfect.”
You stared at him, “so you picked me to sit with? Out of everyone on campus?”
“Yeah,” Jake said simply, meeting your eyes, “because you don’t expect anything from me. You call me on my shit. It’s nice, I guess.”
“Whatever, I’m fine keeping my distance and acting like you care won’t change that, okay?”
“I do care,” Jake let out too quickly, surprised at his own words, “that’s the part you don’t believe, but it’s true.”
The conversation was getting too real, too fast, and the knowledge of the bet made every word feel like a trap, “It’s exhausting trying to figure out if any of this is real or if you’re just—”
Mid-sentence, just as your voice rose, Jake closed the gap by embracing you into a hug. His arms wrapping around you without hesitation, one hand settling at your back, the other across your shoulders. The dark jacket was soft against your cheek, still warm from the afternoon sun, carrying that clean, steady scent that was just him.
You practically froze as his heartbeat thudded against your ear—fast, as if the move had surprised him too. It was warm, really warm, making everything feel a little less heavy for a second. Even though you knew this was all part of the cursed bet, the gesture was still something, making your eyes sting. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had held you like they actually meant it.
Jake’s own breath caught as he held you. His pulse wouldn’t slow down, guilt and something else he couldn’t pinpoint made his heart seem heavier. For those few seconds he just held on, chin resting lightly against the top of your head, breathing you in like he could somehow make the whole stupid situation disappear.
It was awkward, because you in fact did not reciprocate the hug that well, proceeding to pull back with your cheeks burning. Jake’s hands stayed on your shoulders for half a second longer than they should have before he let go, looking just as thrown as you felt. He closed his eyes, biting on his bottom lip too hard, panicking cause for once, he didn’t know how to handle the situation.
The anxiety only rose as you grabbed your bag, planning on getting up, however, his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, “I’ve got a game tomorrow—It would mean a lot if you came, no pressure. You don’t have to stay the whole time or cheer or anything. Just come—if you want to for a break.”
You didn’t answer right away, watching him mutter it out all breathless, hair messy and cheeks seemingly red now. You barely caught on to his words, still processing the warmth, but a part of you did wish to reject him on the spot and walk away before the things got more complicated.
Another part wondered what would happen if you actually showed up, since you did have your own bet to take care of.
CHAPTER FOUR: Like a rom-com actor
The next afternoon the stadium was already packed and buzzing when Jake stepped onto the field for warm-ups. He was supposed to be loosening up his legs, listening to the coach bark instructions, getting his head in the game. Instead his eyes kept flicking up to the stands every few seconds. The wind was blowing hard across the pitch, constantly shoving his black hair into his eyes no matter how many times he tried to push it back.
Jay jogged over and bumped his shoulder, “dude, earth to Jake? You’ve been staring up there like you’re waiting for the love of your life to appear. You good?”
Sunghoon, who was retying his cleats a few feet away, let out a low laugh, “he’s been doing it nonstop. Head snapping up every ten seconds. What’s got you so distracted today? You never get like this before a home game.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a casual laugh even though his stomach was doing flips, “I’m fine, just looking for someone.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick glance with Sunghoon, “someone? As in a specific someone who’s basically a bet? Damn, this must be serious if it’s got you this antsy within a week.”
Jake didn’t get the chance to answer, because he finally spotted you.
You were sitting a few rows up with Jungwon and Karina, the wind tugging at your hair the same way it was messing with his. The second your eyes met his across the field, Jake’s breath caught hard in his throat. His heart slammed against his ribs because—you actually came? For a second he forgot how to move, just standing there staring like an idiot while the wind kept pushing his hair everywhere.
You gave him a small smile and lifted your hand, waving at him softly.
Jake’s whole face lit up before he could stop it. Without thinking, he waved back enthusiastically, arm swinging high and wide as if he was trying to reach you from the middle of the pitch. His hair flew wildly in the wind as he did it, the motion so eager and over-the-top that Jay choked on his water and Sunghoon doubled over laughing so hard he had to grab onto Jay’s arm to stay upright.
“What the fuck—” Sunghoon wheezed, “you just waved like a little kid who spotted his mom after school. I’ve never seen you do that in my life.”
Jay was cracking up too, wiping water off his chin, “yeah he’s absolutely finished. Down horrendously bad and it’s not even been a few days.”
“Guess we know who’s gonna lose the bet,” added Hoon in a singsong voice.
“He never stood a chance honestly.”
Meanwhile, around you, a bunch of girls in the stands noticed Jake’s dramatic wave and immediately started squealing, waving back excitedly and calling out his name like he’d waved at all of them. A few even stood up, cheering for him loudly.
You raised an eyebrow, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of amusement and slight disbelief, “damn,” you muttered, glancing at the crowd, “he sure is famous.”
“And a player,” added Jungwon.
“And an asshole,” quipped Karina, arms crossed over her chest.
You had told them, of course you did, and watching them get so enraged on behalf of you did make you feel tons better, which shouldn’t have been the case since they did threaten to chop Jake’s dick off, but hey, the way Karina said it was quite comical.
Down on the field Jay spotted Jungwon in the stands and lifted his hand in a casual wave with a clueless grin on his face like nothing in the world was wrong. Jungwon just stared back with his jaw tight, not waving back as he was convinced Jay already knew about the bet and was somehow backing Jake up, and the thought made his expression go hard.
You nudged Jungwon’s side with your elbow, keeping your voice low, “c’mon, be normal, wave back or he’s gonna think something’s weird.”
Jungwon let out a reluctant huff, but he finally lifted his hand and gave a small, stiff wave. Jay’s grin widened like nothing had happened at all, and he turned back to the field, completely oblivious.
Karina groaned beside you, pulling her knees up to her chest against the wind, “I still can’t believe we’re freezing our asses off here when we could be on your couch watching Harry Potter for the nth time.”
You let out a small laugh despite everything, the sound almost swallowed by the growing roar of the crowd as the teams lined up, “you said you’d come for moral support.”
“Yeah, well, moral support is currently questioning every life choice that led me here,” she muttered, but there was a reluctant smile tugging at her lips anyway, “at least the view isn’t completely terrible.”
The whistle blew and the game kicked off in a whirlwind of motion. You tried to follow the ball, the quick passes, the way the players cut across the pitch, but your eyes kept drifting back to Jake. He moved with this radiant energy that pulled focus without even trying, hair whipping in the wind, legs eating up the grass, every sprint full of that effortless, captivating drive. The crowd’s cheers rose and fell in effervescent waves, but you didn’t feel any better, still suffering with that familiar push-pull of suspicion and something warmer you really didn’t wish to name.
The first half was all back-and-forth tension, both teams trading chances without anyone breaking through. Jungwon kept up a quiet running commentary under his breath, trying to keep things light, while Karina complained about the cold seeping through her jacket and how much better butterbeer would taste than the lukewarm soda they were selling. You nodded along, but your attention stayed glued to Jake, much to your friends’ dismay. Every time he glanced toward the stands, even mid-run, your chest did this annoying little flip, which pissed you off.
Then the second half heated up. The score stayed locked until the final minutes, the air thick with anticipation. Jake got the ball near the edge of the box, dodged one defender, then another as he cut inside. The crowd held its breath as he struck it clean, a powerful curving shot that sailed straight into the top corner, past the keeper’s desperate reach.
The stadium lit up into celebration but Jake didn’t celebrate with the team right away. He turned straight toward the stands, eyes scanning until they found you. Then he pointed, right at you, his whole face breaking into this bright, almost whimsical smile as he jogged backward, arm still extended like he was making sure the entire world knew exactly who that goal was for. His jersey had ridden up in the sprint, revealing the sharp, glistening lines of his abs under the stadium lights, every defined ridge catching the late afternoon sun for a fleeting second before the fabric fell back down.
Your heart raced, oh that traitorous little thing, thudding hard enough that you could feel it in your throat. Heat rushed to your cheeks even as the knowledge of the bet sat heavy in your stomach, whispering that none of this was real. Still, for that split second, with the roar of the crowd and his hair messy in the wind and that radiant look aimed straight at you, it felt too much. Too real perhaps? Too dangerous regardless. The enigmatic pull of him was getting harder to ignore, and you hated how easily your body responded anyway.
Karina snorted beside you, rolling her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical, “oh my god, could he be any more performative? Pointing like he’s the hero in some cheesy romance movie, puh-lease.”
Jungwon chuckled quietly, but his eyes flicked to you with that same protective glint from earlier. You didn’t say anything, just stared down at the field as Jake got swarmed by his teammates, the final whistle blowing and the win sinking in. The crowd was still cheering wildly, but all you could feel was the lingering echo of that pointed finger and the confusing satiation it left within your chest.
Jungwon turned to you, voice low so only you could hear, “so, you’re actually going through with the plan?”
You let out a long sigh, shoulders dropping as you pushed yourself up from the bleacher. The metal was cold under your palms, “yeah, I kinda have to now. It’s the only way to beat him at his own game.”
Karina stood too, brushing off her jeans with a dramatic huff, “let’s get out of here before I turn into an icicle, you better make him drop down on his knees, babe.”
You nodded, hugging them both, but instead of heading toward the exit, your feet carried you toward the locker room area. You hated this part already, leaning against the brick wall, arms wrapped around yourself against the biting wind, you waited, every second dragging like you were standing there on purpose just to prove a point to yourself.
The door eventually did swing open and you watched Jake stepping out, hair still damp from the shower and curling softly at the ends, a fresh black hoodie hanging loose over his frame. He was laughing at something one of the guys said behind him when his eyes landed on you, causing him to stop mid-step.
For a second he just stared, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into this softer, brighter, almost disbelieving expression. His lips parted, and then he broke into the biggest, most genuine smile you had seen on him yet. It was radiant, boyish in how uncontained it was, his eyes lighting up like you were the best part of his entire day, and it made your throat go dry.
“Hey—you’re still here,” he said, voice warm and a little breathless as he walked straight over to you.
You pushed off the wall, trying to keep your expression casual even as your heart picked up speed, “you played really well out there. That last goal was incredible, it was the first time I experienced the whole stadium going crazy,” you said, completely ignoring the part where he dedicated that goal to you.
Jake’s smile grew even wider, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He ran a hand through his damp hair, still looking at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there, “you really stayed for the whole thing. God, that means a lot. I kept looking up into the stands and there you were. I—it motivated me, I can’t even explain it.”
He looked so happy, so openly thrilled, his eyes bright and captivating under the fading stadium lights. The way he was looking at you, like your presence genuinely made his day, made something dangerous flutter in your chest despite the reality of it all. You stepped a little closer, heart hammering, and did what you had to do.
You rose onto your toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, letting it linger for a second, “Uhm—I’ll see you around,” you murmured against his skin, starting to pull back.
But Jake’s hand gently caught your wrist, stopping you. His touch was light, almost careful, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he held on too tight, since this did seem like a dream to him. Behind him, Heeseung had paused in the doorway, watching the whole exchange with an amused little smirk he wasn’t even trying to hide.
“Wait,” Jake said softly, still processing the kiss, his thumb brushing once over your skin, “you’re leaving already?”
You swallowed, “yeah. I have an assignment I need to finish tonight.”
He nodded, but didn’t let go right away, “right, of course.” Then, a little shyly, he added, “there’s a party at the house tonight—but if that doesn’t work, we’re having a smaller one at the dorm in a few days. Just the guys and whoever shows up. You should come, I promise I’ll make it worthwhile for you.”
You hesitated, the warmth of his fingers and the hope in his eyes making it harder than it should have been, “I’m not really a party person, Jake.”
“I know,” he said quickly, voice gentle, “that’s why I’m telling you it’ll be chill. No pressure at all, just come hang out for a bit. I’ll even make sure there’s something better than cheap beer. Please?”
The way he looked at you, so earnest and a little nervous, made you feel guilty just a smidge. You could feel Heeseung’s amused gaze on the both of you, but you kept your focus on Jake.
“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, offering a small smile.
Jake’s eyes lit up like you’d already said yes. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
You gave him one last nod before gently pulling your wrist back and turning to leave, but Jake’s hand caught your wrist again, gentle in his action, like he couldn’t let the moment slip away just yet. He gave a light tug, drawing you back toward him until your back pressed against his chest. For a heartbeat you felt the solid warmth of him behind you, the faint dampness of his hoodie, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then he leaned down, one arm slipping loosely around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
His lips were plump and soft, warm from the shower, staying there for a second longer than necessary. The touch was rather unhurried, sending a quiet shiver through you that had absolutely nothing to do with the wind.
“Jake—”
When he pulled back, he bit his lower lip, eyes bright and a little shy as they met yours, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice hopeful, like the words were a promise he was already holding onto.
You managed a small nod, heart still stumbling over itself, and finally stepped away. The spot on your cheek stayed warm long after you turned the corner, and you wondered how this game was gonna end.
CHAPTER FIVE: Soaked and blue balled.
She gets cold so fast, shoulders hunch up the second wind hits.
She keeps twisting the rings on her index and ring finger.
She has a faint dimple on her right cheek.
She fits perfectly in my ar—
Now, Jake had not the faintest clue where he was going with this, yet he kept on writing under the pretence of keeping all the minute observations in a precise manner for his advantage. He stared at the page for another moment, then shut the notebook and tossed it onto his desk.
The ever so unforeseeable rain had started hammering against his window, and he watched one single raindrop cascading down the surface before he sat right up, grabbing an umbrella to head out without any destination in his mind. Well, he did have to bring Jay back from Jungwon’s dorm (who was facing this taxing challenge of acting normal around his hyung). It didn’t go beyond that really.
He wasn’t used to this silence and peace, he never really went out in the rain, calling it the perfect time to just play games with his friends. However, it was truly hard to pinpoint what made him rush out like this, only coming back to reality once he reached the lecture hall area. He was about to keep walking when he saw you pushing through the doors with Haechan beside you. Jake knew him, he was Jeno’s friend and also one of the dude who fucked around a lot.
Jake wasn’t any better by any means, but he hadn’t even thought of such a thing in the past eleven days. He simply stopped, watching how your umbrella showed no signs of cooperating in this windy weather, and your shoulders were starting to hunch in the same way Jake had noticed during his half time game yesterday.
He jogged to you, dismissing any other thought, especially the one that sounded a lot like Jay’s voice laughing at him for being too involved, “hey—wait up!”
You turned around, rain evident on your lashes already, and in that fleeting second, your mind was quick to admit his beauty under the dimness of the evening.
He lifted his umbrella higher, covering you completely as you lowered yours, the wide canopy shutting out the worst of the storm and pulling the two of you into a small, private bubble.
“Jay’s over at your dorm with Jungwon right now,” he said, a little out of breath, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “He needed some notes or something. I was heading there anyway to pick him up. Come on, my umbrella’s bigger.”
You glanced at your own umbrella, which was flapping uselessly, “I have one.”
“Yeah, but it’s not doing you much good,” Jake replied, stepping closer so the shelter stayed perfectly over you. His shoulder brushed yours as you started walking, “seriously—you’ll be soaked before you even get halfway. Let me walk you.”
Haechan gave you a quick, amused look and muttered something about seeing you in lab tomorrow before disappearing down another path with a wave, making you roll your eyes as he made missy faces, which Jake noticed.
The two of you fell into step under the umbrella. Jake kept it tilted toward you even when it meant his own left side kept getting wet. The closeness was apparent, his arm warm against yours, the faint clean scent of his shampoo mixing with the wet earth and rain. Every time you stepped around a puddle, his sleeve brushed your wrist, sending a small spark up your arm.
For a minute the only sound was the rain. Then Jake spoke, voice low and a little playful, “you know, I was halfway convinced you’d avoid me today after yesterday.”
You let out a small breath of laughter, “I thought about it, then I remembered I don’t own a boat and the campus flooded.”
He grinned, glancing down at you. The way the rain made your lashes look darker, the little droplets clinging to your skin, made his stomach flip, “lucky for me then. I would’ve been stuck walking alone, getting soaked, feeling so sorry for myself.”
“You’re still getting soaked,” you pointed out, noticing how his left shoulder was dark with water. Without thinking you shifted a little closer under the umbrella, your arm pressing more firmly against his.
Jake bit down his smile, “worth it. Besides, you’re warm and It’s nice.” His voice dropped a fraction, “are you always freezing or is it just me that brings the chill?”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved despite yourself, “It’s the rain, genius. Though you do have a habit of making normal things seem complicated.”
“Complicated in a good way, I hope,” he said, the words light but his eyes searching yours for a second longer than necessary. His free hand brushed yours again as you both avoided another puddle, and this time his fingers lingered for half a second before he managed to pull himself back.
The rain kept falling, steady and heavy, but under the umbrella everything felt smaller, rather warmer, you noticed how steady his breathing was, how the warmth of him seemed to chase away the chill seeping into your bones. He bit the inside of his cheek because in that moment, he wasn’t really acting, the wanton ease you provided him with was too real.
“You’re weird,” you muttered, clearly not meaning any bit of it, and he knew the implication behind it, or maybe it was his maladaptive daydreaming.
The dorm building appeared through the silver curtain of rain. Jake slowed deliberately, drawing the last few steps out as if the walk could stretch forever. When you reached the small covered overhang by the entrance, he lowered the umbrella but didn’t step away. Instead he moved in closer, guiding you gently until your back met the cool brick wall. The overhang sheltered you both from the downpour, but the world narrowed to the narrow space between your bodies and the solid wall behind you.
He was close now, so close you could see the tiny freckles across his cheek, the way his damp hair curled softly at the temples yet again, the faint flush across the bridge of his nose from the cold. His gaze moved over your face with quiet hunger, taking in every detail—the way rain glistened on your skin, the soft flush on your cheeks, the faint dimple that appeared when your lips parted slightly. You looked so pretty like this, natural and glowing in the dim light, and the sight made his throat tighten.
You raised your eyebrow, heart hammering against your ribs, “Jake?”
He only smiled, slow and unsteady, biting down on his bottom lip as he leaned in closer, closer, until the space between you was almost gone. His eyes dropped to your mouth, dark and wanting, then lifted again to meet yours. In that suspended second neither of you were thinking about the bet, about the car, about the game you were both playing. There was only the rain, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the dizzying pull that made everything else disappear.
Right then the dorm door swung open with a loud metallic scrape.
Jay stepped out, nearly walking straight into the moment. He stopped short, eyes widening as he took in how close you and Jake were standing against the wall.
“Whoa, Y/N?” Jay said, a smirk already spreading across his face, “am I interrupting something?”
Your eyes widened in realization and you slipped sideways, ducking under Jake’s arm without a word. You pushed through the door and disappeared inside, cheeks burning, the echo of the almost-kiss still buzzing hot in your mind.
Jake stayed frozen, then groaned hard. He turned and leaned back against the same brick wall, eyes falling shut as the rain continued to fall around him, umbrella now lowered. His heart was still racing, loud and unsteady, the ghost of your warmth lingering against his chest.
He let out a slow breath, jaw tight. I’m going to kill Jay.
CHAPTER SIX: Jaemin the instigator.
Jake had only read a few books in his life, only one of which had a plot that truly stuck with him as someone who was never an avid enjoyer of reading literature. There was a line that kept replaying in his mind lately, more often than he cared to admit.
As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen.
Funny enough, it was from Winnie the pooh.
It isn’t a romantic line, not even remotely, but he manages to fit it into his narrative perfectly, especially during the quiet. Mind drifting back to when the rain had been dripping from the eaves and your back had been against the brick and he’d leaned in close enough to feel the warmth of your breath. The bet had started as a stupid game. Now it felt like the kind of quiet adventure he hadn’t seen coming.
Unfortunately, the distraction followed him to the practice field.
During a simple change-of-direction drill, his mind slipped again. The ball came low across the turf and Jake planted his left foot to cut inside, making his ankle roll with an ugly twist. It wasnt anything dramatic, just a sharp flare of pain that shot up his calf and dropped him to one knee, breath hissing between his teeth.
Jay reached him first, crouching down fast, “shit, Jake, what the hell? You good?”
Heeseung slowed beside them, still breathing hard, “dude, you’ve been completely zoned out all week, like—really zoned out. This bet is fucking with your head too much, just call it off, man. For real.”
Sunghoon hung back a step, arms crossed, watching quietly, “coach is gonna notice, y’know? It’s not worth it.”
Jake sat back on the grass, testing the ankle with a careful flex, the place already swelling under the sock. Minor, probably, but it hurt enough to make his eyes sting for a second,“It’s fine,” he muttered, forcing the usual half-smile, “just a tweak—I’m good.”
From the edge of the drill Jaemin let out a soft, pleased laugh, “or this is actually perfect timing. Wounded-puppy Jake? She’s gonna eat it up.” He clapped Jake on the back once, “I’ll handle it. You just stay looking all soft and grateful.”
Jay shot him a sharp look, “Jaemin, I swear to God—”
But Jaemin was already jogging off to find you.
You were stepping out of your last lecture when Jaemin fell into step beside you, which was kind of scary.
“Jake’s in the medical room,” Jaemin said casually, making your eyes go wide at the sudden voice, “twisted his ankle pretty bad at practice. Trainer’s got him taped up with ice, might even sit out the next game if it swells.”
A flicker of worry did pass through your head, but then you shrugged, “hm, kinda sounds minor.”
Jaemin’s smirk was small, “c’mon, this is perfect for the bet. He’s all vulnerable right now, best time for you to go and play nurse, make him fall a little harder. You’re already halfway there anyway.” He bumped your shoulder lightly.
You sighed, the worry sitting heavier than you wanted to admit. Pretty bad, he’d said, “fine—I’ll check on him.”
Jaemin grinned, satisfied, “atta girl.” He peeled off toward the dorms.
You told yourself you weren’t going to bring anything. But the cafeteria line was short, and the smell of warm rice and simple broth pulled you in anyway. You ended up with a container of congee, a cold can of the original red bull, and two slightly squished steamed buns. Your hands stayed steady, but your pulse? Yeah, it didn’t.
The medical room door was halfway open. You knocked once with your elbow and stepped inside.
Jake was on the padded table, left leg propped up, ice pack soggy at the edges. His practice jersey hung open, undershirt damp against his chest, dark curls still messy and sticking to his temples. He looked tired—shoulders a little slumped, the usual bright energy dialed way down. For a second you just stood there in the doorway, and Jake’s eyes lifted to meet yours.
He gulped at the sight of you, the way a few strands of hair had slipped loose after class, the small crease between your brows that you probably didn’t even realize was there. You looked pretty like this.
Jay and Heeseung were hovering nearby. The second they saw you with the bag, they exchanged a quick glance.
Jay cleared his throat, lips twitching, “well, look who showed up.”
Heeseung pushed off the wall with a low chuckle, “we were just leaving anyway. Coach wants us back on the field.” He gave Jake’s shoulder a gentle clap. “Don’t be an idiot, yeah?” The two of them slipped out, the door clicking shut behind them and leaving the room suddenly quieter.
Jake cleared his throat, bottom lip bitten as he observed you walking closer, “I—you didn’t have to come,” he mumbled, flustered all of a sudden.
“You’re really being shy at me visiting you? Aren’t you the flirt of the campus?” You chuckled, “but yeah, heard you fucked up your ankle pretty bad, figured you’d be hungry.”
His ears flushed red, “yeah, well—I wasn’t expecting anyone here, least of all you showing up here with food,” he shifted on the padded table, wincing a little, “thanks, genuinely. I was mentally preparing myself to order takeout today.”
You set the bag on the counter, pulling out the container and a spoon, handing them over. Your fingers brushed his, absorbing the warmth of his skin, and he took the food with a grateful smile.
He peeled the lid back and took the first bite. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second. “God, this is actually really good,” he murmured, “way better than anything I would’ve scavenged later.” He ate quietly after that, the spoon scraping softly against the plastic, but every few bites his gaze lifted to you.
You dragged the plastic stool closer and sat down beside the table, elbow resting on the edge near his good leg, watching the way his throat moved when he swallowed, the small crease between his brows when he shifted his ankle, the way his damp hair fell across his forehead. He looked softer like this, stripped of the usual energy—which you had grown accustomed to.
“Does it hurt too much?” You asked.
Jake shrugged one shoulder, “throbs like a bitch when I put any weight on it. Nurse said it’s just a swelling, I’ll survive.” He took another bite, then glanced at you again, heart warm at the sight of you going out of your way to be here—even though it stemmed from Jaem’s instigations. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. I know you had a full day.”
“It wasn’t that far out of the way,” you lied, because admitting you’d gone to the cafeteria on purpose felt too revealing, “besides, someone had to make sure you didn’t try to be a hero and walk on it.”
He let out a low chuckle, “guilty, I probably would’ve.” He set the container down for a moment, fingers brushing the edge of the table near your arm. The contact was light, accidental, but it stayed there a second too long, “you’re really something else, you know that?”
You felt the heat creep up your neck but didn’t pull away, instead, you leaned in a little closer, resting your chin on your folded arms on the edge of the table, “eat the rest before it gets cold, idiot. I’m not carrying you anywhere.”
Jake grinned, small and crooked, but his eyes stayed soft on your face. He kept eating, slower now, like he was dragging the moment out. Your eyelids grew heavy. The day pressed down on you all at once—the lectures, the walking, the quiet ache of pretending this was still just part of the game. You let your head rest fully on your arms, cheek against the cool edge of the table, close enough that your breath stirred the fabric of his shirt. Just for a minute, you told yourself.
You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of his breathing, the faint scent of ginger and him all mixed together, and your eyes slipped shut completely.
Jake went completely still.
He set the spoon down without a sound and lowered himself back onto the table until he was lying flat, turning his head so he could look at you properly. You were right there—head pillowed on your arms on the edge of the table, breathing slow and even, lashes dark against your skin, lips slightly parted. A strand of hair had fallen across your face. He reached out without thinking, fingertips barely grazing it before he caught himself and pulled back.
Would it make any sense for Jake to feel this unexpected emotion he still couldn’t quite pinpoint? Maybe his friends were right, he didn’t really need to follow through with whatever the bet was about. It really wasn’t worth hurting you, or himself—but then, did you even think of him as someone close to you? Perhaps as a friend at least?
He let out a slow, shaky breath, and resorted to watching you—the way your shoulder rose and fell, the way your fingers formed a cute fist, how you let your guard down enough for your body to trust itself to fall asleep right next to him. Perhaps it was something small, yet to him, it was grand.
So, he just lay there, inches away from you, letting the silence settle as his mind spun in circles he couldn’t stop.
CHAPTER SEVEN: Holy stalker
“So, you spent hours sleeping with him?”
“You’re literally wording it wrong Jungwon.”
“And you almost kissed right outside the dorm—”
“Can you guys stop?” You groaned, but Karina was far from done, she was just getting started actually.
“—you can’t fucking lie to us, like genuinely you were smiling when you came in yesterday and today. What’s next? Fucking him at a party?”
“Oh god—nothing is happening, what is wrong with you both?” You stand up from the couch, turning to stare at both your friends, who sat rather comfortably with their arms crossed.
“This is not nothing, I’m just asking you, what’s the end point? Where would you draw the line, hm? If it requires physicality for him to actually fall in love with you, would you do it?”
Well, Karina did have a point.
“We’re grown adults with active sex life so, why would that change anything?” You finish, almost defensive.
Karina’s eyebrows shot up so fast it was almost comical. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, that wicked grin spreading slow across her face, “oh my god, listen to you. Active sex life, babe, you haven’t had dick in months and now you’re out here acting like it’s no big deal if Jake Sim rails you for the sake of the bet? Be so fucking for real right now.”
Jungwon nearly spit out his coffee, “Rina—”
“No, no, let me speak,” Karina cut him off, waving a hand without breaking eye contact with you, “I’m not judging, I’m just saying—if he’s already got you smiling like an idiot and almost-kissing you against a wall in the rain, what’s stopping you from seeing how far it goes? You gonna let him fuck you on the kitchen counter just to watch his ego implode when you ghost him after? Because honestly? I’d pay to see that. But don’t lie to yourself and say it’s all strategy when you’re feeling that way for him.”
You felt your face burn hot, “It’s not like that. I’m not—god, I’m not planning on sleeping with him, okay? I’m still in control.”
Karina barked out a laugh, “look, I love you, but if you’re gonna play this game, at least own it, and you’re allowed to enjoy the ride before you drop him and collect our Paris trip. Just don’t catch feelings and cry to us when the car means more to him than you do.”
Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck, looking equal parts amused and concerned, “she’s got a point, even if she’s saying it like a psycho. Just be careful, I still don’t trust him around you, but you’re always welcome to cry to us.”
You threw a pillow at Karina’s head. It bounced off her shoulder and she just cackled harder, “you two are the worst. Go to class before I actually kick you out.”
They finally dragged themselves up—Jungwon pulling you into a quick, tight hug and muttering, “text me if it gets weird,” before heading out, Karina pausing in the doorway to shoot you one last teasing smirk, “If you do end up letting him hit, at least make him beg first. Love you, bitch.” The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the dorm suddenly, blissfully quiet.
You let out a long breath and flopped back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. Your lab had been cancelled last minute—the TA had blown up the group chat at 8:47 with some excuse about electrophoresis set up not working—and now the whole morning stretched out empty in front of you.
Too much time to think about yesterday, or the day before that, or—
Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, thankfully breaking the train of your thoughts. You grabbed it lazily, expecting another spam message from the group chat. Instead it was an Instagram DM.
jake.sim:
hey
didn’t have your number so i figured i’d slide in here like a normal person instead of showing up at your door like a creep
Your lip twitched, just a smidge, because of course Jake would find your instagram and text out of nowhere.
you:
hi
and you still managed to sound like a creep anyway
The three dots popped up instantly, like he’d been waiting with his phone in his hand.
jake.sim:
fair actually
listen, random question
is your oven working? mine’s been dead for two days and i’m craving something sweet
You stared at the screen, thumb hovering. Of course he had friends with working ovens. Half the football house probably had better kitchens than you did. But he was asking you, specifically.
you:
yeah it works
why
jake.sim:
can i come bake a cake at your place?
i’ll bring everything
just wanna spend time with you, if that’s cool
Your stomach did a stupid little flip, and you groaned. What have you even come to?
you:
sure
door’s unlocked if you’re fast enough
Twenty minutes later there was a soft knock. You opened it to find Jake standing there in his black hoodie and grey sweats, hair still a little damp from a shower, maybe. Arms full of grocery bags, and he looked unfairly good, but when he shifted the bags higher on his arm you caught the tiniest wince in his leg. He hid it fast with that easy grin.
“Hey,” he breathed out, staring at just how comfortable you looked in shorts, “thanks for letting me invade, i come bearing burgers to show my gratitude.”
You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to ignore the way his eyes dragged down your bare legs for half a second before snapping back up, “didn’t you say you wanted a cake?” You raised your eyebrow.
His grin turned a little sheepish, “cake’s the whole point, yes. Burgers are just—extra, i saw you eating this with Jungwon two days back so—”
“So you are a stalker—”
“Just observant,” he finished quickly, stepping inside as you moved out of the way. The door clicked shut behind him and he realized that your flatmates were not home, leaving the place to you and him, “not in a creepy way though.”
You just nodded, as if humouring him, eyes fixed on his hands—which were veiny as hell somehow—unpacking the stuff including flour, sugar, eggs, and well, every ingredient needed for a good cake, before giving you a burger (he got two extras, just in case).
Hopping on the edge of the counter, you unwrapped the burger as he took all the bowls out with you pointing around the cabinets. The room itself was silent but his eyes? Pretty shameless, you’d admit, because his focus was more on your ridden shorts than the flour.
Jake caught himself after a second, lips twitching like he knew exactly what he was doing, “you really gonna sit there and not help me?”
You took a bite of the burger, chewing slowly while holding his gaze, “you’re the one who begged to come over and use my oven. Eyes on the bowl, Jake.”
He laughed under his breath, and went back to the flour, but the glance he stole at your legs was anything but subtle, “easier said than done when you’re sitting right there looking like that,” he mumbled to himself as he started scooping ingredients, movements smooth despite the way he kept most of his weight on his left leg, “pass me the sugar?”
You did so without getting down. He reached past you anyway, arm brushing the side of your thigh, and didn’t pull back right away. When you finally slid off the counter to actually help, he didn’t give you much space, he handed you the whisk and stepped right behind you, chest brushing your back as he reached around to adjust your grip on the handle.
“Easy circles,” he murmured, voice dropping close to your ear, “you can be gentle with it, y’know?”
Be gentle with me—is what he wished to say, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how much he enjoyed your grumpiness as well, and he was almost eager to find what more you had to offer.
His hand stayed over yours, so warm and steady, the other settled lightly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your tank top to brush bare skin. You could feel every small shift of his body against yours, the clean scent of his hoodie mixing with the butter and vanilla already in the air.
“You’re crowding me,” you said, dry but not moving away.
“Am I?” His thumb traced one slow line along your hip, “didn’t hear you telling me to back up.”
You elbowed him lightly, feeling lightheaded, because it was odd how he actually achieved to bring out your playful side in what? Fourteen days since his bet started. But it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, “focus on the cake, not my legs.”
He leaned in, “trying and failing pretty badly.” His thumb traced one slow circle on your hip, right where your tank top had ridden up, and your pulse jumped harder. The touch was light, but it felt deliberate, like he was testing how long you’d let him stay this close.
The banter stayed easy after that, but every word felt—crazy. He teased you about not knowing how to bake (you actually didn’t). You told him he was being annoyingly precise for a guy who claimed he just wanted to hang out. Finally the batter came together, perfectly thick, smooth, and chocolatey. You scraped it into the pan he’d already greased, and Jake slid it into the oven without a word. He set the timer, then turned to you, leaning against the counter with that crooked grin.
“Twenty-five minutes,” he said, eyes flicking over you again, “think we can behave ourselves till then?”
You raised an eyebrow, still catching your breath from how close he’d been, “you’re the one who can’t keep his hands to himself.”
Before he could answer, you flicked a leftover pinch of cocoa at his cheek—light, almost absentminded, but enough to leave a small dark smudge, shocking yourself at the easiness of it all.
Jake blinked, then his grin turned wild, “oh, it’s like that?”
He scooped a small handful of leftover flour from the counter and flicked it right back at you. It exploded in a soft white cloud across your tank top and collarbone. You gasped, eyes widening, and retaliated instantly—grabbing more flour and tossing it at his chest. Another puff burst between you, dusting the front of his black hoodie and catching in his hair.
“Seriously?” He laughed, already scooping more, “you started it, babe.”
You tried to duck behind the island, but the kitchen was tiny and he was faster, even with the slight limp. He caught you around the waist mid-step, pulling you back as he flung another handful. Flour went everywhere—exploding in soft bursts across your arms, your hair, the counter. You twisted in his hold, laughing despite yourself, and managed to smear a streak of cocoa down his cheek before he spun you again.
He couldn’t explain it, but having you laugh so freely in his presence—him making you laugh, yeah, it felt pretty damn good, and this smile was way better than you had given Jungwon in the earlier days of Jake chasing you—not that he was comparing (he was).
Your back hit the edge of the counter, both of you breathing harder now, covered in white powder and cocoa streaks. His hands stayed locked on your waist, thumbs pressing in, meanwhile yours ended up fisted in the front of his hoodie, pulling without thinking. Flour clung to his lashes, dusted his hair, streaked across his jaw. Your heart was hammering, butterflies rioting in your stomach, every inch of you hyper-aware of how close he was, how warm his body felt through the thin layers between you.
“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes dropping straight to your mouth, “you’ve got flour on your lip.”
“So do you,” you whispered.
Jake didn’t wipe it away. He leaned in slow, giving you every chance to stop him. Your breath caught again, but you closed the last inch anyway.
His lips were just as soft as they appeared to be, but more hungry than you could fathom, or manage. It felt consuming, the way his mouth moved against yours with this urgency but also a silent battle of him holding back. A low sound rumbled in his chest when your lips parted, granting his tongue the excess it so desperately craved.
It slid in slow, tasting faintly of the bitter cocoa and flour, your heart slammed against your ribs so hard you were sure he could feel it. Butterflies erupted low in your stomach, fluttering all around hard enough, it made your thighs press instinctively around his hips.
Bet. Bet. Bet.
The words flashed sharp in the back of your mind, but it dissolved rather quickly when Jake’s hand slid higher under your tank top, palm hot and rough against the bare skin of your back, fingers spreading wide as if he was trying to cover the expanse of your skin. His other hand stayed locked at your waist, thumb digging in just enough to anchor you against him while he kissed you deeper—slower, learning the shape of your mouth.
Everything else was forgotten for both him and you. All that existed was the warmth of his body pressed flush to yours, the faint scratch of his hoodie against your arms, the way his breath hitched when you tugged harder at the front of it.
“Yeah—fuck, like that,” he murmured against your lips, “kiss me back harder, c’mon, pretty.”
And so you did, tongue sliding against his in a messy push-pull that made his breath hitch, “you came over here to bake a cake,” you managed between kisses, sarcastic even as your hips rolled forward to meet his, “not to end up grinding on me in my kitchen.”
Jake laughed low against your mouth, the sound wrecked, and pressed his hips forward harder, letting you feel exactly how hard he was getting through his sweats, “pretty sure you started the flour fight, sweetheart. Don’t act like you weren’t waiting for this.” He kissed you deeper, tongue stroking yours in a filthy rhythm while he ground against you slow and deliberate, the friction pulling a sharp breath from you, “there, yeah. Feel that? That’s what you do to me every time you look at me like that, so fucking pretty.”
“Shut up,” you shot back, nipping his bottom lip hard enough to make him groan, then soothing it with your tongue. You rocked your hips right back into his, matching his pace, “you talk too much.”
He grinned against your mouth, that cocky little curve you could feel more than see, and rolled his hips again, slower this time, dragging right where it made your breath catch, “and you fucking love it.” His hand tightened on your waist, holding you steady as he kept that steady, grinding rhythm, “but keep doing that with your hips—yeah, baby, just like that—fuck.”
The oven timer went off, making you realize exactly how much time you’d devoted to this unholy activity.
You both froze, foreheads pressed together, chests heaving. His lips were swollen, eyes dark and glassy, breath hot against your mouth. Jake let out a rough, breathless chuckle, still holding you close, thumb stroking slow circles on your waist like he couldn’t stop touching you, “cake’s done.”
You dropped your head to his shoulder, a quiet laugh escaping you too, “this is insane.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, lips brushing your temple before he kissed the corner of your mouth once, lingering for a few seconds, then helped you slide down off the counter, hands steady on your hips the whole way, like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment slip away.
It felt too—intimate, not that the act of making out wasn’t on par, it clearly was, but this? It carried more emotion than just your everyday lust.
While the cake cooled on the rack, he prepared the frosting, letting everything take place before he reached into one of the bags and pulled out a small box of candles, trying to focus on regulating his breathing, and you started with your eyebrows lifted.
“Candles? For a random cake?”
He shrugged, cheeks going a little pink under the flour, “It’s for you, actually. Kinda a thank you? You sat with me after the practice when my leg was fucked, nobody else would’ve stuck around like that. Figured I owed you something sweet.”
You stared at him for a second, because this felt too genuine again, “Jake, that’s—”
“Crazy?” He laughed softly, lighting the candles anyway. They flickered golden in the morning light, “yeah, maybe. But you make me want to do crazy shit.”
You shook your head, the word “dork” slipping out quiet and fond before you could stop it. He just grinned, making you blow the candles, and yet again, you indulged in his theatrics before he managed to cut two big slices, sliding one over to you.
The cake was actually perfect, and it was clear that there wasn’t anything Jake Sim couldn’t do, maybe he couldn’t make you fall for him, but even you weren’t too sure, granted that you’d been smiling, and it wasn’t fake by any means. You took a bite and hummed in surprise, Jake watched you the whole time with a satisfied look on his face.
Then he scooped a bit of frosting onto his finger and held it out, eyes locked on yours, “here—try it this way.”
You leaned in and took it off his finger with your lips, slow. His breath hitched hard, and when you pulled back, he brought the same finger to his own mouth and licked the rest off, shameless and unhurried, tongue dragging over the pad like he was tasting you instead of frosting.
“Fuck,” he murmured, stepping close again, hands finding your waist like they belonged there, “you’re gonna kill me, YN.”
If domesticity with you felt like this, then Jake swears he can give up his parties just to spend an extra minute holding you close to his heart—which never lied. Jake was never dumb, not even now. He had always been quick to acknowledge his feelings, which screamed at him that nothing else mattered in this moment, just him and you. When you started to look in his eyes again, you gulped.
Because all that existed was him looking at you like this was exactly where he wanted to be.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Redbull gives you wings
“The fuck?”
Jay frowned, staring at his best friend.
The sight was diabolical to say the least, the smile on Jake’s face despite it all—idiotic. There was no way to describe it, at least for Jay, who couldn’t fathom what absurd war Jake had gotten into to return back home with flour on his hair and body, and wait was that a Tupperware full of chocolate cake in his hands?
Jake didn’t bother with explanations, simply dropping the box on Jay’s lap, courtesy of you packing some up saying how he’d managed to make way too much for a single person.
With how loud Jay’s voice had been, Sunghoon and Heeseung managed out come out of their rooms, equally as confused.
“Explain,” Sunghoon muttered, sitting next to Jay and grabbing a piece of cake.
“Nothing really, i just went to bake a cake with Y/N,” he managed to let out, still dazed.
“And she decided to maul you with flour?” Heeseung winced, brushing some power off of Jake’s hair, “seems like you lost the fight.”
“C’mon, she started it, so of course I didn’t stop at that—and things, uhm, escalated.”
Right then, Hoon took a big bite of the sweet, regret clear on his face, nose wrinkling, “what the fuck, dude—there’s a whole patch of raw flour in the middle.”
Well, that batch was put in after the flour fight, which would explain the quality difference.
Heeseung, who had already taken a forkful, shrugged and kept eating happily, “tastes fine to me. A bit lumpy, but the chocolate fixes it.”
Jay refused to touch it, not being polite in the way he pushed the whole container towards Heeseung, “yeah, I’m not eating that. And why do you look like you just got laid?”
Jake rubbed a hand over his jaw, the corners of his mouth still curved up, “we may have gotten a little distracted after the cake went in the oven.”
Heeseung choked, “distracted, how?”
Jake shrugged, not even trying to hide how pleased he was, “by kissing—a lot, oh god it felt good.”
Jay dragged both hands down his face, “you went over there to make her fall for you and ended up making out with her in the kitchen? Jake, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve barely looked at any other girl in weeks.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He just picked up a piece of the slightly floury cake and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully even though it really wasn’t that great.
“I’m thankful though, I can finally sleep without having to hear moans each fucking night,” Heeseung shudders, mind drifting back to how loud Jake and his night partners used to be.
Sunghoon barked out a laugh, “yeah, we went from daily noise complaints to peaceful silence. Did you catch feelings or did she put her tear drop into the cake batter?”
“Shut up, it’s not like that,” Jake mumbled, though the tips of his ears turning red said otherwise, “and we’re not in Descendants.”
They all just stared at him, till he managed to huff, sitting down on the couch which offered no space to him, dirtying it in the process, “it’s just—it’s nice, okay? I don’t have to be loud or use up all my energy around her, it feels calm to be there even in silence.”
Jay almost gagged, “calm? Did you just change your whole personality cause you’re in love now?”
Sunghoon was grinning, “next thing you know he’ll be holding her hand on campus and calling her baby in public, and trust, I’ll be documenting every bit of it.”
Jake threw a small piece of cake at him, missing on purpose, “you guys are annoying as hell. Can we talk about something else?”
The boys kept teasing him for a few more minutes—throwing in dramatic predictions about Jake turning into a full boyfriend and suggestions to get him a I’m in my soft era shirt before finally letting it go and arguing about tomorrow’s practice instead. Jake just leaned back on the couch, half-listening, the small smile never quite leaving his face.
Because he knew things had changed, and so did you. It was a gradual shift, from you tolerating Jake’s presence to enjoying it (well, some part of you did at least). The idea of seeing him often didn’t make you groan in agony, it felt like a routine granted Jake had your schedule memorized to his bones, and he made it his mission to randomly appear and fall in step with you without making it awkward.
“Hey, got you some coffee,” he’d naturally say, always bringing the latte, but he did make you try out an overly sweet drink which he fancied, and somehow, you didn’t hate it.
It was concerning to say the least, your friends being more concerned than you, but of course no one was blind to the fact that maybe Jake was more deep in this than you were, and that bit was not an act, not anymore at least.
It only escalated when one afternoon, you showed up at his practice session without him having you ask, a cold can of coconut berry red bull tucked in your bag. When you tossed it his way, his whole face lit up and he stared at you with such warmth, it seemed like his eyes were shining. It wasn’t a big deal, right?
Wrong. Jake knew it didn’t take a lot to do something for others, but you’d noticed his favourite flavour—you’d managed to remember it despite him having not mentioned it.
He was glad it was break time, cause he immediately cracked it open, “you remembered?”
You wanted to slap yourself for how hard it was to not smile at him, so you managed a shrug, “yeah, not a big deal.”
He stepped closer, still in his practice jersey, hair slightly damp from running drills, and you noticed how they’d grown longer, the afternoon sun catching on the sharp line of his collarbone. For a second he just looked at you, “it’s a big deal when you do it.”
The way he said it was enough to send a warm flutter through your chest that you quickly tried to ignore. You crossed your arms, pretending to watch the team stretching behind him, “don’t make it weird, Sim.”
“I’m not,” he replied, but the small grin tugging at his lips said otherwise. He took another sip, eyes never really leaving your face, and he swore, it was the best drink he’d ever had.
It almost felt like you were flying in the moment, as cheesy as it might be, maybe you’d blame redbull for giving you wings or whatever.
There were other small things too. He started saving you the quiet corner seat in the library because he knew you liked your back to the wall. You’d gotten him a hair tie when you noticed the length of his hair again, and the second he tied his hair, even you were rendered speechless for a moment.
The way it exposed the clean line of his jaw and the sharp cut of his cheekbones made something in your stomach tighten unexpectedly. You quickly looked back down at your notes, pretending you hadn’t noticed, oh but he noticed, and leaned in till his nose brushed against yours, “how do i look?” he’d asked.
“Good,” you remember breathing out, making him smile and lean in further, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before jogging back to the field, where three of his friends stood with their mouths hung open. It was a rather comical sight for anyone who watched from a distance.
At least to Jaemin, it was. He was always lurking around, and no one knew what he was trying to achieve. Jeno could only shake his head standing beside him, but well.
Anyway, as if that wasn’t enough, Jake would send you random memes at 2 a.m. when he knew you were still up studying, and you’d reply with a dry “go to sleep” that always made him smile at his phone like an idiot.
Jake had truly forgotten about the bet.
The whole stupid game barely crossed his mind anymore. He wasn’t playing anymore. He just wanted to be around you.
You were trying to bury the memory of the bet deep inside too. Every time it tried to creep up, you shoved it back down. You told yourself you were still in control, that this was all part of the plan. But the truth was simpler and scarier—you liked having him around. You liked the easy quiet when you studied together. You liked the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
And that terrified you more than anything.
CHAPTER NINE: Jealousy allegations?
“Are you like a hundred percent sure?”
You sighed, plopping on your bed with ease as you stared at Karina, who’d asked you this question at least, give or take, a million times.
“Yes, I am sure—gosh, you gotta stop,” you mumbled, running a hand over your skirt, while Karina shook her head.
“Trust me I have a feeling that something will happen tonight,” she exasperated for the nth time.
Jake was finally throwing that party he’d mentioned after his game a few days back, and to Heeseung courtesy, it wasn’t a small gathering anymore, but a full blown party at their dormitory which won’t even fit the amount of people he’d invited.
“What would happen? C’mon, I’m really okay,” you tried to reason.
“Okay? Girl, you’re practically beaming, and you got ready before I did, is that not proof enough?” She went on, doing her eyeliner by side, “you look hot as hell in that skirt by the way, I’ll be praying for Jake.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. The black skirt sat high on your waist, paired with a simple fitted top that showed just enough skin, and most importantly—you felt confident about yourself, which just completed the look altogether.
“Whatever. Let’s just go before I change my mind.”
Jungwon was already ready and waiting outside, and so you three went on as they both kept mumbling warnings in your ear, as if a child going outside alone for the first time.
“Seriously, if he gets weird just text me,” Jungwon said, half-joking.
Karina bumped your shoulder. “Or I’ll drag you out myself. I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.”
You just shook your head and kept walking.
The dorm was loud when you stepped inside, music playing from the living room and voices overlapping in every corner. The place smelled like pizza and cheap beer (of course), the usual Saturday night mess. People were everywhere—some chilling on the couches, others crowding the kitchen for drinks.
You hadn’t even taken three steps before Jake spotted you.
He was mid-conversation with Jay near the counter, cup halfway to his mouth, when he froze. His eyes locked on you and stayed there, dragging slowly from your face down to the skirt and back up again. For a second he looked completely thrown, like someone (you) had knocked the air out of him. Then he was moving, crossing the room in a straight line without saying a word to anyone, and Jay only shook his head with a small smile.
The second he reached you he pulled you into a hug.
His arms wrapped around you tight, one hand splaying across your lower back, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head. He buried his face in your hair for a long moment, breathing you in like he needed it. You felt his chest rise and fall against yours, warm and solid, completely forgetting your friends who tried to process the situation from a respectful distance.
“Fuck,” he muttered into your hair, voice low and rough, “you look—I don’t even know what to say right now.”
You laughed softly against his shoulder, letting yourself relax into the hug, “hi, Jake.”
He didn’t let go right away. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on your back, almost absentminded, and when he finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were darker than usual, a little dazed, “you’re actually trying to kill me tonight, huh?”
You raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile, “It’s just a skirt.”
“It’s not just a skirt,” he said, voice quieter. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing the edge of the fabric like he couldn’t help it.
You were about to tease him some more when he finally loosened his hold, stepping half a step back so he could actually look at you properly. His eyes flicked down again, then back up, and he let out a small breath like he was trying to collect himself.
That was when Sunoo wandered over from the kitchen, two cups in hand, spotting you both.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sunoo said, voice bright and easy like it always was in lab, “you actually came. I was starting to think you’d bail after that nightmare protocol we had last night.”
You turned toward him with a small laugh, “yeah, I almost did, Karina basically dragged me here,” you lied easily.
Sunoo grinned, holding out one of the cups, “here, sprite with lime. I know you hate the sweet crap they make in the kitchen.”
Jake raised his brow, almost ready to scoff because you did like sweet drinks, and whoever this man was clearly didn’t know you enough.
“Thanks,” you said, taking it, “needed that, the last lab almost killed me too.”
“Tell me about it,” Sunoo replied, leaning casually against the wall, “I spent twenty minutes trying to fix my gel after it kept tearing. Thought the TA was gonna cry with me.” He glanced at your outfit and nodded appreciatively. “By the way, that skirt looks really good on you. Way better than the lab coat.”
You let out a soft laugh, “appreciate it. Lab coat does no one any favors.”
Sunoo chuckled, “right? Anyway, how’s your presentation prep going? You were stressing about the lack of research papers ast class—”
From the corner of your eye, you saw Jake’s hand tighten slightly on your waist. He hadn’t moved away completely, still standing close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
Across the room, Karina caught your eye from where she was standing with Jungwon near the couch. She raised her brows in a clear what the hell look, while Jungwon just shook his head slowly, arms crossed like he was already bracing himself. Jay, leaning against the kitchen counter with Heeseung and Sunghoon, muttered something that made all three of them glance over. Heeseung smirked, while Sunghoon shook his head again, amused. Jaemin, kicked back on the armchair nursing a drink, was outright grinning like he’d hit the jackpot.
Sunoo kept talking, completely unaware, asking a casual question about the upcoming quiz. You answered easily, laughing at the right moments because talking to Sunoo was just—simple? He was the same bubbly guy from lab who always offered to share notes honestly.
Jake’s jaw ticked though, he wasn’t happy with this situation at all.
After another minute of the easy back-and-forth, Jake’s hand slid firmly from your waist to your lower back.
“Hey,” he said to Sunoo, voice calm but edged, “mind if I steal her for a second?”
Sunoo blinked, then gave an easy, unbothered smile, “yeah, of course. Nice catching up, Y/N.”
Jake didn’t bother waiting really. His hand stayed steady on your lower back as he guided you through the living room, weaving between people chatting and laughing. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the way they pressed a little harder than necessary against the fabric of your top. He didn’t say a word the whole way down the hallway. The party noise faded behind you, turning into a muffled hum.
The second his bedroom door clicked shut, Jake turned to face you, eyes dark, stepping in close, backing you up until your shoulders hit the door. His hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your head just slightly to the side.
“Ignoring me the second he came in to talk, hm?” He asked, voice low as his breath ghosted over your neck as he leaned in, lips barely brushing the skin just below your ear, “looking this good while doing so?”
You swallowed, “Jake, he was just—”
He cut you off by pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss right under your jaw. You felt his teeth graze lightly, then the warm drag of his tongue.
“Answer me,” he murmured against your skin, voice smug, “what was so funny?”
Your breath hitched, “It—it wasn’t anything, just talking about the lab—”
He simply granted you another kiss, slower this time, right by your pulse. His hand slid down to grip your waist, holding you in place as he sucked lightly on the same spot.
“You stuttered,” he said, the words warm against your neck, you could hear the smirk in his voice, “so fucking cute.”
You let out a shaky laugh, even as heat pooled low in your stomach, “you’re actually jealous right now, aren’t you?”
Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, not waiting as he leaned in and kissed you on the mouth—soft at first, almost sweet, like he was trying to shut you up gently. It didn’t last, the kiss deepening fast, his tongue sliding against yours until you were gripping his shirt tighter.
When he broke it, he was breathing harder, “yeah, I am. I don’t like watching you smile at someone else when I’m standing right there.”
You opened your mouth to tease him again, but he kissed you once more, firm, before you could get the words out.
“See?” He muttered against your lips, smirking, “try and be bratty if you want me to kiss you stupid.”
“Jake—” you started, voice already breathy.
He cut you off with another kiss, this one deeper, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a second.
“Keep going,” he chuckled, “tell me how ridiculous I’m being.”
You tried, you did, “you’re being ridiculous. Sunoo was just—”
Jake’s mouth was on your neck again, sucking a slow, wet mark right below your ear. You gasped, fingernails digging in his skin now.
“Wrong name coming out of your pretty lips, baby, try again,” he murmured, kissing the fresh mark.
“You’re fucking jealous,” you managed to say despite his previous confirmation of the same. Maybe you wanted to hear it again, maybe you wanted to feel the conviction of truth behind those words, the reality of it all.
He kissed your lips hard, swallowing the rest of your sentence, then moved back down to your neck, sucking another mark lower this time.
“Yeah,” he admitted yet again against your skin, “I hate it—hate how easy it was for him to make you laugh like that when it took me days.”
Your head tipped back against the door with a soft thud. He kept going—kissing, sucking, marking you up like he needed to claim every inch Sunoo had made you smile at. Every bratty little comment you tried to throw at him earned you another kiss on the mouth or a deeper suck on your neck until your legs were actually trembling.
Finally Jake straightened up, eyes hungry. Without a word he bent down, hooked his arms under your thighs, and lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you the few steps to his bed and laid you down.
To have you so close to him was a maddening experience, words leaving his lips with ease, “you’re beautiful, you know that?”
Somewhere between the bet and the reality, you started getting used to his blatant sincerity he put into words. But this praise? It made you sigh blissfully, eyelids fluttering close despite not wanting to be separated from the sight of Jake getting closer to where you needed him the most.
He crawled over you, settling between your legs, and kissed you again—slow and deep this time.
“Still think I’m ridiculous?” He asked against your mouth, hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher.
You nodded, breathless, “very.”
Jake grinned, that same smug, jealous little smile, and kissed you once more before moving lower. He took his time with your neck again, sucking fresh marks while his hands worked your skirt up around your hips. When he reached the lace edge of your panties he paused, thumb brushing over the delicate fabric.
“These are pretty,” he murmured, hooking his fingers in them and slowly dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside somewhere, taking a note to pick it up later.
Then he settled between your thighs properly, spreading them wider. He looked up at you, hair falling messily around his face from the small ponytail, eyes gleaming as he mumbled the praises of your beauty as if he was here to worship your being instead of what seemed to be a punishment for making him jealous.
“Still got something smart to say?” He asked.
You opened your mouth, but the second his tongue dragged over you, slow and so perfectly warm—the words turned into a broken moan.
Jake groaned at the taste of you, the sound vibrating right against your clit. You reached down without thinking, fingers finding the hair tie at the back of his head. You pulled it out, letting his dark hair fall loose, then slid your hand into it and tugged hard.
Jake moaned louder against you, the vibration making your hips jerk.
“Fuck—do that again,” he breathed, voice wrecked.
You did, tugging on his hair as he ate you out like he had all the time in the world—long, deep licks followed by quick flicks of his tongue that had your thighs shaking around his shoulders. Every pull on his hair earned you another low groan that went straight through you.
“C’mon, tell me how it feels,” he spoke against you, and you groaned merrily.
It’s not that you didn’t have any experience before, because you did. But never once a guy made you feel like they actually cared about getting you off rather than them chasing their own pleasure. Their flick of tongues did nothing, but Jake? He seemed like even having his whole face pressed against you wasn’t enough, as if nothing could satiate how desperate he was to have not a molecule of space between you two.
A lot of things were in your mind, but you could only manage to choke out a few words, “so good—baby, it feels so good.”
If Jake hadn’t already lost his damn mind, your nickname certainly made him lose the last few of his working brain cells. The moan he let out was downright pornographic, and you could swear there wasn’t a sound prettier than that.
You were completely gone, back arching off the bed, fingers tight in his hair, lost in the wet heat of his mouth and the smug little sounds he kept making against you.
While you were wrapped up in this little bubble of unadulterated pleasure, outside the things were a bit different as Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon stood together, shaking their heads.
“He really just dragged her straight to his room,” Jay muttered.
Heeseung sighed, “not even trying to be subtle anymore.”
Sunghoon smirked, “a hundred fucking pounds says they don’t come out for a while.”
Karina, standing with Jungwon near the couch, crossed her arms and muttered, “I knew something was gonna happen tonight.”
Jungwon just sighed, looking resigned, “this is exactly what I was worried about.”
Jaemin, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair with the biggest grin on his face, looking far too pleased with himself.
“This is even better than I planned.”
CHAPTER TEN: Bet versus feelings.
“Are you out of your damn mind?”
The voice seemed to have echoed, because the same sentence was being uttered at the exact same second inside two different dorms, by two different people.
First being Jungwon, clearly directed towards you once you were done giving your side of the story to him.
Jake was undergoing the exact same procedure of questioning, causing Jay to scream in agony.
Things were clearly going perfectly, Jake was in too deep, you were in too deep, all for the bet, right? Right?
Because as far as acting was concerned, even it had limits, which certainly didn’t include getting eaten out and fingered all night. Cherry on the top was when you both fell asleep in each other’s arms with Jake caressing your back so gently, you learned the meaning of comfort in its truest scene.
So, why did it feel so easy when Jake kissed you in the morning, when he walked you back home with ease, talking normally as if everything was fine. Your heart broke a little at the thought of him just using you, and trust was a delicate topic for you. How could you even let yourself think that he actually wanted you when the whole relationship of yours was built on a pathetic bet. Which is why, you let yourself fall in deeper, to feel more of his warmth before it ends.
Before he could ask what was bothering you, a gentle kiss was placed on his lips, “bye, Jakey.”
The simple fact that you initiated the kiss had Jake smiling like an idiot before you walked inside your dorm, and he left for his own, heart thumping fast, almost in a way that it was synchronized.
And now you were here, eyes watering in front of your friends who could only pull you in a deep hug.
“Y/N, just tell him, just end this I swear,” Jungwon mumbled, and you didn’t know what to say, so you resorted to hugging them both till you fell asleep again.
Jake on the other hand—he couldn’t stop pacing around as the three watched him like a hawk, eyes moving in sync with every step he took across the living room.
Jay leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, looking way too smug, “I told you you’d fall for her.”
Jake stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around so fast he nearly tripped, “I didn’t fall. I’m not—fuck, okay maybe I did, but shut up.”
Sunghoon let out a loud laugh, slapping his knees “you dragged her into your room in front of everyone. You’re on your knees for her at this point.”
Heeseung was already cracking up, head thrown back, “the way you looked at Sunoo? Pure murder like, he didn’t even do shit.”
Jake groaned, running his fingers through his hair, “you guys are the worst. I was standing right there and she was laughing with him like it was the easiest thing in the world. I hate it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, “you hate it? Or you’re jealous as hell?”
“Both,” Jake muttered, then dramatically dropped to his knees right in the middle of the living room, forehead hitting the floor with a thud, “I’m so fucked. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Jay let out a loud laugh, leaning forward on the couch, “wrong? It’s literally called love, Jake.”
“On your knees in the living room because a girl, you’re not yours by the way, smiled at someone else? Yeah, you’re fucked.” Sunghoon added helpfully.
Heeseung clapped slowly, “soft boy Jake is real. We’re witnessing history.”
Jake stayed on the floor for a second, breathing hard, face pressed against the carpet. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying last night—the way you’d gasped his name when he had his mouth on you, the way your thighs had shaken around his shoulders. How he couldn’t stop staring at you even after you came down, all soft and sleepy in his bed, lashes resting against your cheeks, lips slightly parted. You looked so beautiful like that, relaxed and trusting, nothing guarded in your expression for once. He’d kissed your forehead then, slow and careful, while you dozed off against his chest. Later, when he still couldn’t sleep, he’d grabbed his diary and sketched you—just the curve of your cheek, the way your hair fell across the pillow, the small peaceful smile you had even in sleep. It wasn’t weird. It was just—you. He needed to remember exactly how it felt.
He groaned again, louder this time, “I’m so fucked.”
“So you’ve said.”
The boys kept teasing, but Jake was already thinking ahead.
He pushed himself up, hair a mess, cheeks still flushed, “whatever. Laugh all you want, I’m gonna ask her on a proper date.”
The room went quiet for half a second, observing him closely to find out any signs of humour or a joke.
Jay blinked, “you’re serious?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, grabbing his glasses, “I’m serious.”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, still amused but skeptical, “you sure that’s a good idea right now? Things are already messy as hell.”
Heeseung nodded slowly, “moving kinda fast, don’t you think?”
Jake just shrugged, the stupid smile creeping back onto his face, “I don’t care, I want to do it right.”
The problem now was that Jake had never planned a date before, heck he’d never even dated before. He knew that something grand wouldn’t work, not right now at least, so when he woke up the next day, he had a few errands to run. Thankfully, he had only one lecture, after which he found himself running around the campus with a list, more motivated thann he’d ever been.
By late afternoon he found himself standing outside the biotech building, leaning against the wall near the main exit with his hands in his pockets. He knew your schedule by heart now. When you finally stepped out, backpack slung over one shoulder, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up to you.
You stopped, surprised, but the second he pulled you into a hug your expression softened. His arms wrapped around you tight, one hand rubbing your back like he needed the contact more than air, “hey,” he mumbled into your hair.
You smiled despite everything, pressing your face into his chest for a second, “Jake? What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice right now?”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist, “I skipped.”
“You skipped?” you asked, eyes widening a little.
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit awkward but determined. “I want to take you out right now, just us, if you’ll let me.”
Your heart skipped. He was being so boldly awkward about it, standing there in the middle of the hallway like skipping practice for you was the most normal decision in the world.
You teased, trying to keep your voice light, “what if I say no?”
Jake’s face fell instantly, that hurt-puppy look laughed at you right in the heart—big eyes, slight pout, shoulders slumping just a little like you’d actually kicked his favorite ball into traffic. It was funny how you could compare him to puppies so often and he didn’t seem to mind.
“Then—I guess I’ll go back to practice,” he said quietly, voice cracking at the end, “but you’re really gonna say no?”
You didn’t know what to say, skipping classes wasn’t really something you did, unless you were sick beyond your ability to stand, however, a small voice within you screamed, skipping once wouldn’t hurt, right?
You reached out and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, sending a shiver up his arm, “lead the way, Sim.”
Jake’s whole face lit up like you’d just handed him the world, and maybe you did. He squeezed your hand once, tight, and started walking, pulling you gently along with him.
You walked side by side across the quad, the late afternoon sun warm on your skin. His thumb kept brushing slow circles over your knuckles, and the simple touch felt so grounding, so comfortable.
“Where are we going?” You asked after a minute, glancing up at him.
Jake grinned, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “It’s a secret.”
You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips, “you’re really not gonna tell me anything?”
“Nope,” he said, voice light and playful, “just trust me, okay?”
From a distance near the science building, Heeseung stood watching the two of you with a small smile, “they’re already acting like a couple,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head fondly.
When you reached the parking lot, Jake stopped in front of a sleek black car you didn’t recognize.
You looked back at Jake, “wait—you drive?”
Jake grinned, a little cocky as he opened the passenger door for you, “yeah, borrowed it from Jay. Figured walking you around campus wasn’t gonna cut it today.”
You slid in, the leather seat cool against the back of your thighs. Jake got in on the driver’s side, started the engine, then turned to you, looking a little nervous but hopeful.
“So, uh, what’s your favourite flower?” He asked, voice casual but his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel.
You raised your brow, surprised by the question, “Tulip, why?”
Jake let out a small, relieved breath. He reached into the backseat and pulled out three bouquets—a bright bunch of fresh tulips, a classic dozen roses, and a smaller mixed one with daisies and soft white flowers.
He handed them to you carefully, almost shy, “I wasn’t sure which ones you liked, so I got a few options. Just in case, thank god you chose one of those—”
You stared at the flowers in your lap, heart squeezing so hard it almost hurt. He had gone out and bought three different bouquets because he didn’t want to get it wrong, for you.
Before you could stop yourself, you leaned across the console and kissed him midway through his nervous ramble.
It was soft and grateful at first, but Jake melted instantly, one hand coming up to cup your cheek like he needed to hold onto the moment. When you pulled back, his eyes were a little dazed, lips parted, that stupid, lovestruck smile back on his face.
“God,” he whispered, thumb brushing your cheek, “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
You laughed softly, cheeks warm, and settled back into your seat with the bouquets still cradled in your lap. Jake grabbed your hand again, lacing your fingers together on the center console like he couldn’t stand not touching you.
He started driving, thumb still tracing slow circles over your knuckles, stealing little glances at you every few seconds like he still couldn’t believe you were here with him.
You were so fucked, and now, you didn’t even care.
The drive was short, just ten minutes out of campus to a quiet spot by the river. You’d passed it a few times before, always packed with students on weekends, but on a weekday afternoon it was practically empty—just the soft rush of water, a few birds, and the warm sun filtering through the trees.
Jake parked and killed the engine, then turned to you with that soft smile you’d grown to love, “wait here.”
He got out, popped the trunk, and came around to your side with a big picnic basket and a folded blanket. You watched him spread the blanket on a sunny patch of grass near the water, setting everything out with careful hands. There were little sandwiches you liked, fresh fruit, the coconut berry Red Bull he knew you’d steal from him, and even a small box of those chocolate cookies you’d mentioned once in passing.
You stepped out of the car, flowers still in your arms, feeling suddenly shy that was very out of your character, “Jake—you did all this?”
He looked up at you from where he was kneeling on the blanket, eyes bright, “yeah. Figured we deserved something nice, just us.”
You sat down beside him, cheeks warm, and he basked in it—the way you ducked your head a little, fiddling with the edge of the blanket, the small smile you couldn’t hide. He loved seeing you like this, unguarded and a little flustered because of him.
The sun got brighter as the afternoon stretched on. After you’d eaten and talked about nothing and everything, Jake stretched out and laid his head in your lap, looking up at you with those pretty eyes. No big smile this time—just quiet, almost reverent.
You reached down, fingers finding the hair tie at the back of his head, and gently pulled it out. His dark hair fell loose around his face. You slid your hand into it, playing with the strands, slow and gentle.
Jake let out a contented sigh, eyes never leaving your face.
“You know I have a dog named Layla?” He said quietly after a while, voice warm.
You smiled down at him, still running your fingers through his hair, “yeah? Tell me about her.”
“She’s a Border Collie. Super hyper, loves chasing balls, but she’s the biggest cuddler when she’s tired. She always knows when I’m having a bad day and just—sits next to me until I feel better.”
You laughed softly, “she sounds perfect.”
He hummed, eyes soft, “she is.”
Time passed easily between you. The river flowed steadily nearby, birds chirped overhead, and the sun warmed your skin. Jake told you how he loved singing but almost never did it in front of people because it felt too embarrassing. You told him how you were terrified of roller coasters and how you liked cats because they were quiet and independent. He almost gasped when you admitted you loved horror movies, cause they scared Jake half to death.
“You ever scream at the screen?” He asked, grinning up at you.
“Never,” you admitted, “do you?”
“A lot,” he mumbled, and you chuckled—that sound becoming Jake’s favourite each passing second.
Jake’s eyes stayed on your face the whole time, soft and full of something deep. He felt surreal having you like this—so close, so willing, so in love with the version of you that no one else really got to see. The way your fingers moved through his hair, the gentle way you looked down at him, it made his chest ache in the best way. It made no sense how you looked so fucking pretty even from that angle, so perfect.
At one point he reached up, hand gentle on the back of your neck, and pulled you down for a soft kiss. It was slow, sweet, full of everything you both weren’t saying yet. You got goosebumps all over, your body reacting so perfectly to him, to the quiet love blooming between you.
When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’m really glad you said yes.”
You kissed him again, softer this time, heart so full it almost hurt.
You could feel how down bad he was—the way his hand rested on your thigh like he needed the contact, the quiet reverence in his gaze every time he looked up at you, the small, content sighs he let out whenever your nails scratched lightly against his scalp. He didn’t say any of it out loud, he didn’t need to, really. It was all there in the way he looked at you.
After a while he sat up slowly, hair messy from your fingers, eyes soft and dark. Without a word he reached for you, hands gentle on your waist as he pulled you into his lap. You settled against him easily, knees on either side of his thighs, and he grabbed your chin with careful fingers, tilting your face down to his.
The kiss was soft at first, full of everything that had been building between you all afternoon. His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, thumb brushing your jaw in the gentlest way.
When he pulled back he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight against his chest. You held him just as tightly, arms looped around his neck, face buried in the crook of his shoulder. You didn’t want this to end, not the warmth of him, not the steady beat of his heart against yours, not the way he made the rest of the world feel so far away.
Jake pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, slow and lingering. You whispered his name, soft and breathless, “Jake—”
He smiled against your skin, the curve of his lips warm and pleased. Then he licked over the same spot, and your breath hitched.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, cheeks warm, “you’re terrible,” you complained, but there was no real heat in it.
Jake’s eyes sparkled with that smug little glint. Before you could say anything else he pulled you back down into a deeper kiss, filled with everything he felt—the want, the softness, the quiet desperation of someone who was completely, utterly, helplessly in love with you. His hand slid into your hair, the other pressed against your lower back, holding you close as the kiss turned slow and emotional, tongues brushing, breaths mingling, hearts beating in the same unsteady rhythm.
You melted into it, fingers curling into his shirt, losing yourself in the way he kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Foggy façade.
It was the third time Jake had rerouted the car to go away from the campus, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, a pout on his plump lips as you pointed out that he was, in fact, not willing to take you home.
“I just don’t want the day to end, is that so bad?” He spoke so freely and you wondered how he got the confidence to say things like that without sounding ridiculous, his hand stayed laced with yours on the console.
“You’re literally driving in circles,” you said, squeezing his fingers, “we’ve passed that same coffee shop twice now.”
Jake glanced over at you, eyes bright even in the fading light, “worth it. Every single time I look at you I forget where I’m supposed to be going.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave you away completely, “smooth talker. Take me home, Sim, I have an assignment due tomorrow.”
He made a dramatic whining sound, slowing the car at a red light, “one more hour. Please? I’ll be good. I’ll even let you pick the music.”
You laughed, leaning your head back against the seat, even though you couldn’t deny it yourself, you didn’t wish to go back, “you’re impossible.”
The light turned green and instead of turning toward campus he took another random right, the river still sparkling in the distance behind you. You narrowed your eyes at him, “Jake.”
“What?” He asked innocently, but the grin tugging at his mouth was anything but, “I’m just—taking the scenic route.”
You were still bickering lightly when he suddenly pulled off the main road into a quiet, tree-lined side street and parked under the shade of an old oak. The engine cut off. For a second the only sound was the soft tick of the cooling car and your own heartbeat.
“Jake,” you said again, softer this time.
He turned to you fully, eyes dark and a little desperate, “I can’t stand not kissing you for one more second.”
Before you could even tease him about it, he was leaning across the console, one hand sliding into your hair as his mouth crashed into yours. The kiss was messy and urgent, like he’d been holding back the whole drive. You kissed him back just as hard, fingers curling into his shirt, the taste of the picnic strawberries still lingering on his tongue.
“Backseat,” he mumbled against your lips, already fumbling with both your seatbelts, “c’mon, baby.”
You laughed breathlessly into the kiss, “Jay’s gonna actually murder you if he finds out what we’re doing in his car.”
“Let him,” Jake grinned, nipping at your bottom lip before climbing over the console in that surprisingly smooth way he had. He tugged you with him and you tumbled into the backseat together, legs tangling, laughter bubbling up between more kisses, “totally worth getting murdered for.”
You ended up straddling his lap, your jeans rubbing against the front of his as his hands gripped your waist tight. The humping started almost immediately—slow rolls of your hips that had you both groaning at the friction. Denim on denim felt stupidly good, the thick seam of your jeans pressing right against your core every time you rocked forward.
“Fuck,” Jake breathed, head falling back against the seat as you ground down harder, “even through the jeans you feel incredible.”
You leaned down, kissing him again while you kept moving, slow and teasing, “you’re so impatient, Jakey,” you murmured against his mouth, smiling when he chased your lips.
“Can you blame me?” He bucked up to meet you, hands sliding under your top to grip your bare waist, “been hard since the river. Watching you play with my hair, looking so fucking pretty, I couldn’t help it.”
The laughter died down into heavier breaths and soft moans, and you fucking loved how vocal Jake was. You kept rolling your hips in lazy circles, feeling how hard and thick he was beneath you. Jake’s hands roamed higher, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, and every little sound he made went straight to your core.
Eventually you slid lower, kissing down his neck, then his chest, until you were kneeling between his legs in the cramped backseat. Your hands worked open his belt and jeans, and when you pulled him out, his cock was so big and thick it made your mouth water.
Jake let out a shaky breath, fingers gently threading into your hair, “baby, you really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you said, looking up at him. You nuzzled your cheek against the heavy length first, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along it, feeling it twitch against your skin.
“Fuck,” he groaned, low and wrecked. “Look at you—nuzzling my cock like that. So pretty.”
You licked a slow stripe from base to tip, then took the head into your mouth, sucking gently. Jake’s groan was loud, head tipping back against the seat.
“Shit—yeah, just like that,” he panted, fingers tightening in your hair but never pushing, “you look so fucking good with your lips around me.”
You took him deeper, tongue swirling every time you pulled back. He was so thick it stretched your mouth perfectly, and you loved the way he filled you.
“Jaeyun,” you moaned around him, the name slipping out soft and needy.
Jake’s whole body jerked hard, “fuck—say it again,” he groaned, voice breaking, “god, I love when you call me that. Say it again, baby, please.”
“Jaeyun,” you whispered, taking him even deeper, eyes watering a little as you looked up at him through your lashes.
He let out a wrecked sound, hips twitching up just slightly before he caught himself. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pulling, just holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the way his thighs tensed every time you hollowed your cheeks.
But then his hand slid down to your shoulder, gentle but urgent, “come here,” he breathed, voice rough, “I need you closer.”
You pulled off with a soft pop, lips shiny, and he didn’t waste a secon—he tugged you up into his lap again, hands already working your jeans open. You shoved his jeans down further, wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him slow and tight while he pushed two fingers into you without warning. The stretch made you gasp, forehead dropping to his shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered against your neck, curling his fingers just right, “all this for me?”
You nodded, breath hitching as you kept stroking him, thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke. The car was getting warmer, windows starting to fog, the cramped backseat making everything feel even more intense—elbows bumping seats, knees knocking, but neither of you cared. You rocked into his hand while he fucked you with his fingers, messy and uncoordinated and perfect.
Jake’s mouth found your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned, head tilting to give him more space, and he took it, kissing, licking, biting down gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. Another mark right below your ear, then one on your collarbone. He was claiming you in the quietest way possible, and it made your stomach flip.
His fingers sped up, thumb pressing against your clit, and you squeezed him tighter in response, stroking faster.
“You feel so good,” he panted, voice low and broken against your skin, “I—I can’t even think straight when you’re like this. I think I lo—”
You cut him off with a kiss, hard and desperate, swallowing whatever he was about to say. Your heart was hammering too loud, the guilt and the want twisting together until it hurt. You weren’t ready, not yet. Not when everything still felt like it was built on something you couldn’t admit out loud.
Jake groaned into your mouth, kissing you back like he understood anyway, fingers still moving inside you, thumb circling faster. You kept stroking him, messy and slick, both of you breathing hard between kisses, bodies pressed so close you could feel his heartbeat against yours.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead on yours, eyes dark and glassy, “you’re everything,” he whispered instead, the words thick, “don’t stop, baby.”
You didn’t, kissing him again, slower this time, the act so devastatingly soft, your bodies couldn’t help but react by reaching the peak of unadulterated pleasure you both provided each other with, messy and desperate, but none of you cared in the moment, enjoying the bliss of it all.
Letting the mess of feelings stay buried under the heat of his mouth.
CHAPTER TWELVE: The forgotten bet
You didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, and somehow hiding in the library was the best you could do to get away from everything you wanted to be close to. Choosing a seat which you normally didn’t opt for was even worse, and the notes in front of you seemed to be in an entirely different language when your mind was elsewhere.
But someone had this weird idea about the whereabouts of practically everyone in the campus, which is why Jaemin found you sulking in a corner, his smile as bright as ever as invited himself to sit next to you.
“Bet not going too well, I presume,” he started, breaking your train of thoughts.
That shit eating grin on his face infuriated more, and there was nothing more you wished to do than punch him at the given moment.
“What the fuck do you want?” You snapped, not even bothering to look up from the notes that might as well have been written in ancient Greek.
“Relax,” he said, leaning back like he had all day, “I come in peace. Just checking in on my favorite partner in crime.”
You finally glanced at him, jaw tight, “there’s no bet anymore. So, you can leave.”
Jaemin laughed under his breath, spinning one of your pens between his fingers, “sure looks like there is to me. I saw you two at the party, the way he dragged you into his room right in front of everyone. Then yesterday? Jay’s car parked on that quiet street for almost an hour, windows completely fogged up. Jake came back to the dorm looking like he’d just won the lottery. He’s been skipping practice, smiling at nothing, telling the guys he’s taking you on a date again very soon. He’s in deep, Y/N. Like, actually gone.”
Your stomach twisted. Of course he knew. Jaemin always knew everything that happened on campus.
He leaned in a little, voice dropping but still smug, “you’ve got him right where you want him. One more good date, a couple more nights like yesterday, and he’s gonna say it. The whole i’m in love with you speech. Then you reject him, take the Paris trip, and we both win. Easy.”
You stared at him, chest tight, “you’re actually serious right now.”
“Dead serious,” he said, grin still firmly in place. “This was your plan too, remember? Make him fall hard, then crush him. Don’t go soft on me just because he bought you three bouquets and looked at you with those puppy eyes. You’re winning. Don’t fuck it up now.”
He stood up slowly, tapping the table once with his knuckle, “think about it. He’s already forgetting the car even exists. Finish the job before it gets too messy.”
Jaemin walked off without another word, even though you did scream your answer, garnering the attention of students who weren’t pleased about it. But yes, he did leave you alone with the heavy knot in your chest and the notes you still couldn’t read.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Too good to be true
This wasn’t the plan.
Sitting in the bleachers, supporting Jake, clad in this jacket as if you were his girlfriend. To make things worse, Jake absolutely preened in showing you off, not one care about embarrassment, not when he was the one who had insisted you wear it before the game even started.
“Looks better on you than it does on me,” he’d said with that easy grin, tugging the collar straight and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead right there on the sidelines where half the team could see. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but now, with his name printed across the back in bold white letters, you felt the weight of every curious glance from the crowd.
The game was loud to say the least, Jungwon and Karina agreed, but they also silently agreed that your happiness came first, and at the moment, you looked really happy. Jake was everywhere—stealing the ball with sharp precision, setting up plays that made the stands roar, running like the field belonged to him alone. Every few minutes his eyes would flick up to the bleachers, searching until they landed on you. The second they did, his whole face would change. That bright, boyish smile would break through the concentration, and he’d give you this tiny, secret nod like you two were the only ones who understood what it meant.
“I’m not doing it,” you whispered to yourself.
Jungwon only smiled, “we know—we’ve always known.”
You turned to look at him, “how?” Somehow the question itself made you seem small, especially the possibility of Jake finding out and losing trust in you—seemed way worse.
“You try to act all tough, but we know how soft you are,” Karina spoke softly.
“And with Jake? There was no way we didn’t see this coming, you really can’t fool us,” Jungwon added with a dimpled smile, making you chuckle despite the breakdown you were going to have.
You didn’t realize how heavy the bet felt till you got it off of your chest, eyes watery as you turned to look at Jake in his element yet again, watching how he moved with ease under the burden of the timer ticking. But Jake was really good at what he did, kicking the ball straight into the net as it curled around in the corner left just as the whistle blew in the background.
You didn’t even realize you were screaming until your own voice hit your ears. You shot up fully, hands in the air, cheering so loud your throat hurt. “Yes, Jake! Go!” The words just flew out of you, completely unfiltered. Jungwon and Karina were jumping beside you, all three of you yelling like idiots.
Jake didn’t celebrate with his teammates. He broke away from the pile and ran straight for the stands, jumping the barrier in one smooth motion, and before you could even catch your breath he was right there in front of you, chest heaving, that huge, bright grin on his face.
He grabbed your waist with both hands and spun you around once, fast. Your feet left the ground, the roar of the crowd blurring into one big cheer.
“Jake!” You squeaked, laughing but instantly embarrassed as people around you whistled and shouted, “put me down—everyone’s watching—”
He didn’t listen. He spun you one more time, slower this time, eyes locked on yours like the rest of the stadium had disappeared. “Let them watch,” he said, still grinning like an idiot, “I scored that goal thinking about you, I want them to know it.”
When he finally set you back on your feet he didn’t step back. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you right there in front of everyone—deep, a little messy, his jersey was damp with sweat, his heart still hammering against yours, but the kiss felt steady.
Your face burned hot the second his lips touched yours. You could feel hundreds of eyes on you, phones probably out, people cheering and laughing, but Jake didn’t care at all. He kissed you like the crowd wasn’t even there, like this was the only thing that mattered.
When he finally pulled back just enough to rest his forehead on yours, he was breathing hard, eyes shining, “I—I, uh,” he tried to find words, but with you looking at him so sweetly, he just melted, “you’re my good luck charm.”
And gosh, you smiled, pecking him softly, reciprocating the exact feelings he’d been harbouring towards you. His teammates were yelling his name from the field, and so he left with a promise to be back soon.
It’s normal for any sane person to get scared when things feel too good to be true, exactly how they felt for you and Jake, so the flicker of worry didn’t go unnoticed by Jake after the whole team came out. When they came out of the locker rooms, hair damp and smelling like fresh soap, Jake made a face at the idea of the big victory party happening across campus.
He glanced at you, really looked at you for a second, and caught the tiny flicker of worry that crossed your face, clearing his throat, “guys, I’m tired, let’s just go to the dorm and get some food and drinks ordered in.”
Jake looked down at you again, voice softer just for you, “that cool? We can keep it small.”
You managed a small smile and nodded, “yeah. That sounds perfect, actually.”
He smiled back, the kind of relieved, soft smile that made your chest feel a little lighter, and pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “good, let’s go home then.”
Jaemin, who had wandered over to join the group at some point, grinned wide. Jeno, standing a step behind him, shot Jaemin a sharp look and shook his head once, trying to warn him without saying anything out loud. Jaemin just smirked and ignored him completely.
Jake didn’t notice. He was too busy lacing his fingers with yours again, already tugging you gently toward the dorms. It was new to you, the feeling of being held in someone’s arms—in front of everyone, as if the concept of personal space was foreign to Jake, but did you actually want him to let go of you? Absolutely not, even if you won’t admit it out loud.
Jake hadn’t let go of you once. He kept you tucked right against his side on the couch, one arm looped around your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy little patterns on your arm like he couldn’t stop touching you. Every few minutes he’d lean in and press a soft kiss to your temple or the top of your head or the corner of your mouth, completely unbothered by the others being right there.
Was it really that easy to fall in so deep for someone within a month? Take yourself for example, wrapped up in Jake’s embrace, it certainly did seem true to some extent.
“You okay? You’ve been quiet since we got back, was I too much?” He asked, thumb brushing the side of your neck, a worried pout on his face.
You shook your head just a bit, “I’m just happy, you did so well out there, Jakey.”
He sighed with happiness, all worries gone in a second, “couldn’t have done it without you.”
Sunghoon groaned loudly, “dude, you’re so gone it’s painful to watch.”
Jake laughed, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, “leave me alone, man. I earned this.”
You were about to tease him back when the door swung open.
Jaemin strolled in with Jeno beside him, grabbing a slice of pizza from the nearest box and dropping onto the arm of the couch across from you, taking a big bite. His eyes flicked over the scene—Jake’s arm still wrapped around you, the way Jake was still leaning into you like he couldn’t get close enough. Jaemin’s grin sharpened.
“Damn, look at you two,” he said casually, chewing, “still going strong, huh? So Jake, did you finally drop the L-word on her yet? Cause you have two days left till the bet ends.”
You stilled, staring at Jaemin with wide eyes, just like everyone else in the room. Jeno groaned at the back cause he did try to stop Jaem, but to no avail. But it was almost as if he couldn’t pick up context cues, and so he continued, “you told her about it right? Since you’re smitten now, that’s why you’re together, right?”
“Jaemin,” Jake warned him, his hold tightening on you, “shut the fuck up.”
Jungwon and Karina were ready to take you back, almost jumping to their feet, but that’s not where Jaem stopped. Jungwon was already shifting closer on the couch until his knee pressed against yours, one hand resting lightly on your arm like he was ready to pull you out of there the second you needed it.
“What? You didn’t tell her?” He smirked, now staring right at you, “well, too fucking bad cause she already fucking knows you’re playing her for a car,” he smirked, leaning back against the couch, finally letting the drama unfold.
Your chest tightened so hard it hurt to breathe. You felt the heat rush to your face, then drain away just as fast, leaving you cold. Jay was staring at the floor like it had answers. Heeseung’s hand froze around his beer. Sunghoon looked like he wanted to sink into the cushions. Karina’s eyes were wide, looking at you knowing exactly how you felt right now—especially after the nights you cried with her. Jungwon’s fingers tightened on your arm because of the same.
Of course his friends had known the whole time.
You pulled away from Jake’s arm slowly, like your body was moving through water. The walls you’d been trying so hard to keep down slammed back up, higher than before. You felt small, exposed, stupid even. Like every soft kiss, every my girl, every time he looked at you like you mattered had been watched and laughed at behind your back.
You stood up, “I knew it the whole time,” you confessed, observing just how panicked he seemed at the moment, “Jaemin told me everything at the very beginning—how you just bet on my feelings for his car,” you tried to stop yourself from getting emotional, letting a shaky breath out as Jake’s shaking hand held on to yours, “so he asked me to do the same, to show you how it hurts to play with someone’s emotions.”
His face went pale, and even though he opened his mouth, no words came out, just throbbing pain in his heart, and eyes wide as if he’d gotten punched in the gut.
Maybe him accepting it would’ve made it better, but for Jake, there wasn’t an option between fight or flight, only freezing on the spot. Everyone stayed silent, watching it unfold and Jay tried to shake Jake’s shoulders, but all he could see was your trust crumpling, and his heart breaking.
“You—you don’t actually like me?” He asked, voice breaking.
“I do—I fucking do,” your voice cracked as well, “going through with the bet was not my intention, but what about you, Jake?”
Jake’s hand, still reaching for yours, started to tremble. His mouth opened again, but nothing came out. The guilt on his face was so raw it made your stomach turn. He looked hurt—really hurt, and you weren’t sure how to feel anymore, the hypocrisy of it all sinking in deeper, making everything worse. You’d planned to use him too, you were no better. The walls around you shot up even higher at the absence of words, of reassurance.
So you asked again, “Jake, was any of it real?”
Jake finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper, broken, “you—you knew the whole time?”
You nodded, a tear cascaded down the curve of your cheek freely, “yeah. I knew.”
He let out a shaky breath, like the words physically hurt him, “and you still—you let me fall for you anyway? You let me get this deep even though you knew I started it for a stupid bet? Why didn’t you tell me?”
The rise in his voice almost made you laugh, “so now you’re hurt cause I knew? After you started the whole thing for a car? That’s rich, Jake.”
Jungwon stood up right beside you, shoulder brushing yours, protective, “Y/N, you don’t have to explain anything else to him, not right now.”
“No, no—Jake just fucking tell me, is it real?” You waited for an answer, to get absolute silence in return, “Jake?”
You tried for the last time, just to find tears streaming down his flushed face, but nothing came out of his mouth. He was too in his head, cursing himself, cursing Jaeming for letting it happen, but you? How could he ever hate you?
Wiping your tears roughly, you let Karina embrace you, who kept glaring at all the boys. It wasn’t awkward for them, they felt guilty too, but knew better than to speak up in between them.
You stepped back, “fine then—I’m done, we’re done. Don’t follow me, don’t text me. Just stay the hell away from me.”
You turned toward the door. Jake shot up after you, voice cracking, “Y/N, wait—please, just let me explain—”
“Don’t,” you snapped, not turning around.
Karina was already grabbing your jacket, “c’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Jungwon stayed right at your side until you reached the door, then spun around, glaring at Jay, “you should’ve stopped him, you knew what he was doing from the start. You let him play with her feelings like it was nothing. What the fuck, Jay?”
Jay looked wrecked, never expecting Jungwon to get angry, “I tried, man. I told him it was fucked up—”
“You all knew!” Jungwon’s voice rose, “every single one of you sat there and watched her fall and didn’t say a word. That’s fucked up—you couldn’t reassure her after she told you everything, huh, Jake?”
You didn’t wait to hear more, stepping into the hallway, Karina right behind you, her hand gentle on your back,“I’ve got you,” she whispered, “just breathe, okay?”
Behind the closed door, it only got worse, Jungwon’s voice only got louder as Jay tried to explain himself.
As the boys gathered to calm down Jungwon, they completely missed the way Jake got up and headed towards Jaemin. Only the sound of a loud crash got their attention—Jake’s fist connecting with Jaemin’s jaw.
“You fucking asshole,” Jake snarled, his voice raw and broken. Another punch landed, his knuckles splitting open against Jaemin’s cheekbone. Blood smeared across his hand and dripped onto the floor. Heeseung and Sunghoon tried to pull him back, but Jake was swinging again, tears streaming down his face as he cried freely, angry and devastated all at once.
“Fucking get off me!” He shouted, his voice cracking between sobs, "this is your fault—all of it! You ruined everything!”
Furniture scraped against the floor. Someone yelled for them to stop, but it fell deaf to Jake’s ears. He kept swinging, his knuckles bleeding worse with every punch, tears falling fast down his cheeks, until Heeseung and Sunghoon finally managed to drag him back, both of them breathing hard.
Jaemin didn’t care much, he looked rather amused at the situation as Jeno tried to pull him up in furious whispers of urging him to stop being messy.
Jake stood there in the middle of the mess, shoulders shaking, blood on his hands and tears still streaming from his bloodshot eyes. He looked completely destroyed.
And you? You didn’t look back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Salvation
So maybe you did jinx yourself for thinking everything was perfect. However, it made no sense to you, or to anyone for that matter. You weren’t an expert about feelings by any means, yet it was clear to anyone with working eyes that whatever you and Jake had was far from fake.
Why couldn’t he say it?
You knew the stakes, you came clean to him, and god knows you couldn’t be mad at him for telling you that it, in fact, started off because of a bit. But the silence hurt.
“I love him,” you whispered, and Karina hugged you tighter at how raw the confession sounded.
“I know,” she mumbled, “it’s okay, it’ll be okay.”
You stayed quiet for a while, letting her hold you. The numbness had settled deep, leaving you strangely serene even as your heart ached. There were no more tears left. Just this heavy, enthralling ache that refused to let go.
Karina eventually pulled back and brushed a strand of hair from your face, “I’m gonna make you some tea, okay? I’ll be right back, yeah?”
You nodded mutely and watched her head to the small kitchenette. The soft clink of the kettle and mugs filled the room as you sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.
Karina was busy with the kettle as a knock came at the door, making her pause her ministrations. She walked over and opened the door just a crack, hoping it’d be Jungwon.
It was Jake.
He looked utterly destroyed. His eyes were bloodshot and had started to swell from crying, cheeks still damp with fresh tears. His knuckles were split open and bleeding, dark red smeared across his hand and the sleeve of his hoodie. He was breathing hard, like he’d run the entire way here without stopping.
Karina’s eyes widened in horror, “Jake—what the hell happened to your hands?”
He didn’t even look at her. His gaze was fixed past her shoulder, desperately searching for you, “please,” he said, his voice hoarse and broken. Without waiting, he slowly lowered himself to his knees right there in the hallway, bloody hands clasped in front of him, “please, Karina, just let me talk to her. I need her to know it was real, I’m begging you.”
Karina stood frozen for a long moment, clearly torn. She glanced back at you, then down at Jake kneeling on the floor, tears still slipping down his face, knuckles dripping blood onto the tiles.
She let out a heavy, reluctant sigh.
“I—come in,” she said quietly, stepping aside, “but if you make this any worse, I swear to God, Jake—”
Jake didn’t even stand up right away. He stayed on his knees for another heartbeat, bloody hands still clasped like he was praying, before he pushed himself up on shaky legs. God, his eyes—they were red-rimmed and glassy, the golden-boy sparkle completely shattered. He looked like he’d been run over by a truck and then backed over again for good measure.
Karina shot you one last warning glance before she slipped into the kitchenette, muttering something about giving you two five minutes and that she’d be right there with a knife if needed. The door to your room clicked shut behind her, leaving nothing but the sound of Jake’s ragged breathing and the faint drip of blood onto your floor.
You stayed rooted on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tight around your middle like you could physically hold yourself together. Your heart was hammering so hard it hurt. A part of you wanted to scream at him to get the fuck out. The other part—the stupid, traitorous part that had fallen anyway—ached at the sight of him like this.
You swallowed hard, voice coming out sharper than you meant, “what the hell are you doing here, Jake? What now?”
Jake ran a shaky hand through his hair, smearing a thin streak of blood across his forehead, “I don’t know,” he groaned, “I really fucking don’t. You said all that shit after the game and I just—I just froze, okay? I punched Jaemin so hard I think I broke something, and it still didn’t make me feel better. Nothing did.”
You looked away, “so you came here?”
“Yeah, I came here,” his voice was rough, frustrated. He took another step closer, boots scuffing the floor, “what else was I supposed to do? You just walked off, were my actions not enough for you, huh? I sat in my room staring at the wall like an idiot for an hour.”
You let out a sharp laugh, finally looking at him again, “oh, poor you. Must’ve been real hard.”
“Don’t,” he warned, “don’t do that. You told me you knew everything and you fell anyway. And then you just—left. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”
You stood up fast, arms dropping to your sides, “what did you expect? A hug? You started this whole thing. You came after me for a bet. I only played along to fuck you over and now look at us. I’m the dumbass who actually caught feelings, while you couldn’t even admit it in front of your friends.”
Jake’s jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscle jump, “I broke the bet off before the date, Y/N. Before I even took you out. That morning I told Jaemin I was done with the whole thing. He was just stirring shit tonight to fuck with both of us.”
You stared at him, the words hitting like a slap, “you—you what?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, “I ended it days ago. Because it wasn’t a game anymore, not for me. But you still think I was using you the whole time, don’t you?”
Your hands started shaking, “then why the fuck didn’t you tell me? You let me keep thinking it was all fake while I was falling for you like an idiot? While I was lying to my friends and to myself?”
“Because I was terrified!” His voice cracked, louder now, “I knew the second I said it out loud you’d look at me like this—like I’m the enemy. I didn’t want to lose you and I still fucking don’t. I’m in love with you, okay? Not for the bet or the stupid car.”
You shoved at his chest, hard, but your fingers stayed twisted in his hoodie at the confession. He loves you, and he was never once hesitant to show it till now, “you’re such a fucking coward, Jake.”
“I know,” he breathed, eyes glassy as he pressed closer, forehead almost touching yours, “I’m the biggest coward on campus. But I’m yours if you still want me.”
You yanked him down by the hoodie and pulled him into a deep kiss as Jake groaned into your mouth, hands sliding under your shirt, bloody knuckles rough against your skin, and you could taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips.
“I love you,” he gasped right against your lips, the words spilling out shaky between kisses, “fuck, I love you—”
You whined into his mouth at how freely he said it now. Jake had always been truthful to his feelings, while you’d been insecure, which is why you couldn’t do much but kiss him back, hoping that it’ll show how you reciprocate the feelings.
The sharp tang of blood hit your tongue when his injured knuckle brushed your jaw. You pulled back, breathing hard, eyes dropping to his right hand. Only that one knuckle was split open, still seeping a thin line of red.
“Jake,” you muttered, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently and turning it over, “you’re still bleeding.”
He tried to pull you back in, eyes dark and hazy, “don’t care—”
“I do.” You slid off his lap before he could argue, legs a little unsteady as you crossed to the shelf by your desk. Your hands shook slightly when you grabbed the antiseptic wipes, a small tube of ointment, and a strip of gauze. When you turned back he was still sitting on the edge of the bed exactly where you’d left him, watching you with this raw, open look that made your stomach twist in the deepest way—cause gosh, he looked beautiful.
You knelt between his thighs again and took his injured hand. The wipe stung when you pressed it to the cut. Jake hissed softly through his teeth but didn’t pull away. He just stared at your face like the sight of you taking care of him was something he couldn’t quite believe was real.
“You’re really doing this right now,” he said quietly.
“Someone has to,” you whispered, dabbing the blood away carefully, then smoothing ointment over the split skin. Every small touch felt heavier than it should—the faint tremble in his fingers, the way your own heartbeat was slamming so hard against your ribs it felt like it was echoing in your throat. You wrapped the gauze around his knuckle slowly, and the quiet intimacy of it settled somewhere deep in your chest, warm and aching and terrifying all at once.
When you finished he caught your face with both hands and pulled you up into another kiss as if pouring every ounce of emotions he’d ever felt towards you, his lips slotting perfectly against yours, a bit messy with how reverent he was. He even wish to breathe anymore, just accepting the warmth of your mouth as a way to live.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed against your mouth again, the words vibrating through you, “god, I love you so much it feels like it’s in my bones. Like every time I touch you I remember how close I came to losing this.”
You climbed back into his lap, straddling him, and kissed him harder, hips rolling once against the obvious hardness straining in his sweatpants. The friction made you both moan softly. His bandaged hand slid up your back under your shirt, palm warm against your spine, while the other cupped the back of your neck like he was scared you’d pull away.
He broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing ragged. His eyes were glassy, voice cracking when he spoke.
“Do you actually want me?” He whispered, lips brushing yours with every word, “not because we’re both fucked up right now. Just—tell me, if not i’ll just stop. Say it against my mouth, pleasw, I need to hear it.”
Your heart felt too big for your chest, a heavy, aching throb that matched the pulse between your legs. You leaned in until your lips touched his with every syllable.
“I want you,” you breathed right against him, “I want you so fucking bad, Jake. Just you—all of you.”
The second the words left your mouth you grabbed his bandaged right hand and pressed his palm flat to the center of your chest, right over your racing heart. His fingers spread wide, the gauze rough and warm against your skin, and Jake let out this low, broken groan that vibrated straight through you.
“Fuck—baby,” he rasped, eyes fluttering like he was barely holding it together, “for me?”
You’d seen how Jake got during intimate moments, but the way he was acting right now—breathing hard against your skin, you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to handle without confessing all your feelings for the pretty boy in front of you. The fact that he came running so soon, that he wished to clear things up, it was enough. Staying mad at him wasn’t ever a choice when every single cell within you yearned for him.
“For you,” you whispered gently, eyes never leaving his face.
He looked stunning to say the least, perhaps the prettiest crier you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. His face was flushed, this beautiful shade of red gracing it, and you couldn’t help but trace your thumb over his swollen lip, “you’re so pretty,” you whispered without thinking twice.
In one smooth motion he flipped you both, laying you down on the bed and settling between your thighs, his body pressing you into the mattress. The sudden weight of him, the heat rolling off his skin, the way his pendant swung forward and rested cool against your clavicle—it made you shiver. You looked down and saw it, your initials, small and delicate on the silver chain around his neck, nestled right there against your skin.
A soft, involuntary moan slipped out of you.
Jake’s breath hitched hard against your neck, “you see it, baby?” He whispered, his lips—so fucking soft and plush, brushed your throat as he spoke, “got it the next day after our date, been wearing it since.”
“You’re crazy,” you managed to say, but your eyes were shining just as bright as his own, his usual smile stretching, making your heart race faster than usual.
The proximity was maddening. His chest pressed flush to yours, heart hammering so hard you could feel it through his ribs. The heat of his body soaked into every inch of you, his breath hot and ragged on your neck. He took his time to take your scent in, shamelessly so, doing exactly what he couldn’t when he first talked to you, and swore he was rather drunk on it.
He buried his face deeper into the curve of your neck and inhaled again, slow and shaky, like he was trying to memorize you, “fuck—wanted to do this when I first met you,” he mumbled, lips dragging along your pulse point, open-mouthed and wet.
You shivered hard, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging lightly, “then stop holding back now, Jake. Touch me.”
He groaned, “yeah? You want that?” His bandaged hand slipped under your shirt, palm hot and trembling as it cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it tightened, “like this? Tell me if it’s good, baby. I need to hear you.”
“Feels so good,” you breathed, arching into his touch, “don’t be gentle. I want to feel how bad you want me.”
“Fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking, “I’m gonna show you how sorry I am. Gonna make you feel it with every fucking inch of me until you know I’m yours.” He pushed your shirt higher, mouth following right behind, kissing and sucking down your chest like he was starving, “god, look at you—so fucking pretty under me. Can I take this off? I need to see all of you, baby. Please?”
You nodded fast, lifting your arms. He peeled your shirt off and tossed it aside, then just stared, chest rising fast, “fuck—these tits. Been thinking about them every night.” His mouth latched onto one nipple, plush lips sucking slow and deep while his hand palmed the other one, thumb teasing the peak until you were squirming.
“Jaeyun—shit, that feels so good,” you moaned, back arching.
“Yeah? You like my mouth here?” he asked, switching sides, tongue swirling lazy circles. “Tell me, baby. I need to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
“So good,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair, “don’t stop.”
“Won’t stop,” he sighed in pleasure, sucking harder as his teeth grazed just enough to make you gasp, the pendant dragging cool over your skin with every move of his head.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You pushed at his shoulders and flipped you both again, straddling his hips, grinding down slow and filthy against the hard line of his cock through his pants.
Jake’s eyes rolled back, a wrecked groan tearing out of him, “Jesus Christ—yeah, keep going, pretty.”
You leaned down, hair falling around both of you, and kissed him deep, tongue sliding against his, his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist, as if no amount of kissing could satiate his hunger.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, lips still brushing and his eyes were blown wide, chest heaving under you. Holding his gaze, you gathered spit in your mouth, and let it drip slowly right onto his waiting tongue.
Jake’s whole body jerked hard beneath you. A wrecked, filthy moan tore out of his throat as the warm spit landed on his tongue. He didn’t even hesitate before swallowing it down with a shaky groan, then leaned right up and licked into your mouth like he was chasing the taste of you, tongue sliding against yours again, ever so messy and eager.
The absolute joy of being here, so free and filthy with Jake despite everything, had you getting freakier by second knowing damn well how Jake would be thrilled, and he did. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself if you didn’t accept his apology, or if you’d admit that it was a game to you. But seeing neither was the case, he had to take the next step—to show exactly how much he wanted you.
“So dirty for me, huh?” He smirked, sucking on your tongue, “fucking perfect, you’re mine, yeah? Made for me.”
“Getting possessive already?” You chuckled deeply, licking up his neck, nibbling on his earlobe, confidence boosting by second at the sight of him shivering with your ministrations, “you like it when I spit in that pretty mouth of yours, Jake?
He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, gentle but playful, giving it a light pull before letting it go with a soft pop, “like it?” He murmured, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief even now, “darling, I fucking love it. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to be this comfortable with me—this filthy.”
You grinned, rolling your hips down against the hard line of his cock, “then stop talking and do something about it.”
Jake clicked his tongue, rolling over so you were under him again, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, eyebrow cocked up, “bossy tonight, aren’t you?” He teased, lips brushing yours as he spoke.
You traced your finger up his spine, grabbing the hair on his nape with a tug that had him groaning, “why wouldn’t I be? You’re mine now, aren’t you?” You challenged.
“Claiming me now, hm? Not mad anymore?” He caught your wrist, pinning it beside your head with his bandaged hand while his other slid down to grip your thigh, spreading you wider under him.
The weight of him was heavenly, you could feel the faint ridges of his abs through his hoodie, the way his heart was slamming against your ribs like it was trying to reach you. His pendant swung forward, cool metal kissing your skin right between your breasts, and the sight of your own initials resting there made you whine yet again.
“Want me to be mad?” You pecked his neck, “want me to go ask someone else to please me—”
Jake’s head snapped up so fast it was almost comical, “you fucking dare say that again,” he almost groaned, his grip on your thigh tightening, fingers digging in like he needed to remind himself you were really here, “don’t even joke about that shit, the thought of someone else even looking at you the way I do makes me want to lose my fucking mind.”
You blinked up at him, surprised by how quickly the jealousy hit, “Jake—”
“No,” He he you off, voice rough as he shoved your shorts and panties down your legs in one impatient yank, the fabric tearing slightly at the seam. He didn’t care. He tossed them off the bed and settled between your thighs like he belonged there, his big nose brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he inhaled deep, shameless.
“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes locked on how wet you were, “you’re actually dripping. All this for me, just for me, hm?”
You tried to answer, but the words died in your throat when he dragged two fingers through your folds, spreading the wetness before pushing them inside you in one smooth thrust. The stretch made your back arch off the bed with a sharp gasp.
“Jake—”
“Yeah?” He curled his fingers deep right away, thumb brushing your clit in slow circles. His nose rubbed against your inner thigh as he leaned in closer, breath hot against your pussy, “keep talking. I wanna hear what you wanna say while my fingers are buried in you like this.”
You clenched around him, hips rolling up to chase the feeling, absolutely enamoured with how possessive he was—maybe that’s what you wanted, him claiming you so freely, “you’re so fucking jealous,” you managed, half-laugh, half-moan, “god—I fucking love you.”
It didn’t take much for you to say it, but to Jake, it was everything.
His fingers froze deep inside you for a split second. Then he yanked them out so fast you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but before you could even protest he was surging up your body, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs pressing into your cheeks as he stared down at you like you’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.
“Say it again,” he demanded, chest heaving and eyes wild.
“I love you, Jaeyun,” you whispered, looking straight in his eyes.
“Fuck—I love you too,” he managed to say desperately, he crushed his mouth to yours, kissing you like he was trying to crawl inside your skin, “i needed to hear that.”
He pressed open mouthed kisses all over your torso, only stopping to take his hoodie off in a go, revealing the faint lines of his abs and the light scatter of freckles across his shoulders. The sight of him all flushed, made heat flood between your legs even more.
He slid back down your body fast, shoving your thighs apart wider. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up even more, his big nose brushed your inner thigh as he inhaled deep and shameless. “Fuck, you smell so good when you’re this turned on,” he groaned, then dragged his tongue in one long, filthy stripe up your pussy, moaning loud when he tasted you, “mine, hm.”
His nose rubbed firm and perfect against your clit as he licked, the pressure making your hips jerk.
“Jake—godd,” you gasped, fingers twisting in his hair.
He looked up at you, lips shiny, eyes dark, “yeah? You like my mouth on you?” He sucked your clit into his mouth, fingers pushing back inside you, curling just right, “tell me, baby, I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel while I eat this pretty pussy.”
“So good,” you moaned, thighs shaking around his head, “your nose—right there, it feels so fucking good rubbing my clit like that.”
He caressed the soft flesh of your inner thighs with his veiny hand, thumb stroking back and forth.
Placing open mouthed kisses on it made it worse (better), and you twitched hard.
Jake’s eyes flicked up to yours, lips curving into a filthy little smirk, “oh? Sensitive here?” He dragged his teeth along the inside of your thigh, then sucked hard, leaving a dark mark right where his thumb had been stroking, “fuck, I love that. Gonna mark every spot that makes you shake for me, yeah? My good fucking girl.”
He didn’t give you time to recover. He buried his face between your legs again, eyes never leaving your face, and just how perfect you looked shaking for him, memorizing every bit of it.
He sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, nose pressing firm and relentless. “Mhm, cum for me, baby. Let me taste how much you want me right now.”
You came hard, thighs clamping around his head as you cried out his name, pulsing around his fingers while he kept licking and sucking you through it, moaning like your orgasm was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
He didn’t stop until you were whimpering and pushing weakly at his shoulders, over-sensitive and trembling.
Only then did he crawl back up your body, kissing you deep so you could taste yourself on his tongue. His cock was straining hard against his pants, the front completely soaked with pre-cum.
You reached down and palmed him through the fabric. “Take these off,” you said, voice hoarse, “I want to see you. All of you.”
Jake sat back on his heels, eyes locked on yours the whole time as he shoved his pants and boxers down his hips, keeping it on the side. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed dark, and leaking at the tip. He wrapped his veiny hand around it and gave himself one slow stroke, watching your reaction.
“Better?” He asked, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips even as his chest still heaved, “this what you wanted?”
You bit your lip, heat flooding through you at the sight of him so flushed and bare, freckles standing out across his nose and shoulders, faint abs flexing with every breath, cock heavy in his hand.
“Better,” you breathed, sitting up just a little, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his thick length.
He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan when you stroked him slowly from base to tip, thumb swiping over the leaking head, “love your hand, so fucking pretty,” he mumbled, hips twitching forward into your fist, “been hard for you for so long it hurts. C’mon, get on your back, baby, I need to be inside you.”
You lay back, spreading your legs for him. Jake settled between them, rubbing the thick head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness, being thick enough that the first push made your breath catch.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice strained as he pressed in slowly, making you feel every inch he gave you, “you’re so tight—fuck, just breathe for me. I’ve got you.”
It took time. He worked himself in with shallow thrusts, letting you adjust to the stretch, his jaw clenched tight, sweat already beading on his flushed chest. When he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt, the fullness made your eyes flutter shut and a broken moan slip out of you.
“Shit, Jaeyun you’re so deep,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, “you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, “like you were made for me. Tell me when you’re ready.”
You rolled your hips experimentally and moaned, “yeah, yeah—please.”
He started slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, building the pace slowly with steadier strokes that made your back arch and your moans louder. Every thrust pushed the air out of your lungs, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.
“God, look at you taking me,” he panted, eyes locked on where you were stretched around him, “so pretty and full of my cock.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, “harder, Jake. I can take it.”
He groaned and gave you exactly what you asked for, hips snapping faster, the pendant with your initials swinging between your breasts with every thrust. His veiny hand slid down to rub your clit, drawing eights on them.
You were moaning his name, right on the edge, when you suddenly pushed at his chest, “wait—I want to ride you.”
Jake didn’t hesitate, in fact, he was already drooling at the image of your pretty tits jiggling right in front of him. He flipped onto his back, pulling you on top of him in one smooth motion. You straddled his lap and sank down onto his cock in one go, both of you moaning loudly at the new angle.
“Fuck—ride me, baby,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips as you started moving. His thumbs brushed your nipples, pinching and rolling them while you bounced on his thick length, “so fucking pretty riding my cock like you own it.”
You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, and started sucking dark hickeys into the side of his neck, right below his jaw, “I do own it, baby.”
Jake’s head fell back, a low moan escaping him as you marked him up.
“You do, just you” he panted, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you against him while the other kept playing with your nipple, “want everyone to see I’m yours.”
He reached blindly to the side, grabbing his discarded pants. From the pocket he pulled out a delicate silver pendant—his initials engraved on it. He had planned on asking you out properly before Jaemin fucked it up, but he didn’t plan on waiting anymore, caressing your neck as he clasped it around you, letting it sit beautifully on your clavicle.
“Wear this for me,” he said, voice rough as he watched it bounce lightly with every roll of your hips. The cool metal rested against your overheated skin, a constant little shock that made you shiver, “now say it. Say you’re mine while you’re riding my cock.”
You sat up straighter, rolling your hips deep, warmth blooming inside you at how beautiful the small accessory was, “I’m yours, Jake,” you moaned, looking down at him, “all yours.”
His eyes rolled back for a second, hands tightening on your hips as he helped you ride him harder. “That’s my girl,” he groaned, thumb still playing with your nipple, “keep saying it. I wanna hear it every time you sink down on me, baby.”
You pressed your face into his neck again, sucking another mark there as you rode him faster, both of you lost in each other, sweaty and desperate and finally, completely real.
Jake’s grip on your hips turned bruising, fingers digging in as he thrust up to meet every roll of your body.
“Fuck—baby, I’m so close,” he panted, voice ragged, eyes half-lidded and wild, “I should pull out, shit, I didn’t even ask—”
You shook your head fast, nails digging into his shoulders as you kept riding him, “It’s a safe day,” you gasped, lips brushing his, “I want you inside. Don’t pull out, please.”
Jake’s breath hitched hard, like the words alone almost broke him, “I can’t ever deny you anything, my love,” he groaned, “not when you ask me like that.”
He slammed up into you twice, burying himself deep as he came with a wrecked moan of your name, loud enough to reverberate, hips jerking as he spilled hot and thick inside you. The feeling of him pulsing, filling you, pushed you over right after—you clenched around him hard, thighs shaking, a broken cry of his name leaving your lips.
For a long moment you both just stayed there, trembling. Jake didn’t pull out, wrapping both arms around you and flipping you gently onto your back so he could hover over you, still buried deep, bodies pressed together with no space left. His chest heaved against yours, sweat-slick skin sticking, heartbeat slamming so hard you could feel it through your ribs.
He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at you, eyes glassy and a little wide like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Then he started kissing every mark he’d left on you tonight—the dark bruise on your inner thigh, the ones on your neck, the one just above your breast. Each kiss was slow, open-mouthed, his nose caressing your skin, warm breath fanning over the fresh hickeys like he was memorizing them with his mouth.
You carded your fingers through his damp hair, letting him take his time.
“I was so ready to beg on my knees tonight if that’s what it took,” he finally whispered against your collarbone, “don’t ever make me do that again.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, still a little dazed, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees, actually.”
Jake lifted his head, eyes meeting yours, he leaned in and pecked your lips once, letting it linger before he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he needed the contact more than air.
“Brat,” he murmured, the word warm and fond against your mouth, but the way he said it was so full of quiet, desperate attachment it made your chest tighten. He stayed like that, still inside you, arms wrapped around you, one hand gently stroking up and down your back while the other traced lazy circles over the pendant now warm against your skin.
“I love you,” he finally said, cupping your cheek.
“I love you,” you smiled, letting him be as clingy as he wanted to be.
“Wanna make a bet?” Jake asked, eyes gleaming as you raised your brow.
You laughed under your breath, thumb brushing his bottom lip. “Depends. What are we betting on this time?”
He grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “that I’ll spend the rest of my life proving this was the best bad idea we ever had.”
You smiled against his lips, pretending to think which only made him whine further. But maybe, this one was worth spending time over.
“Bet.”
MEANWHILE:
Jay was repenting for Jake’s sins, staring up at Jungwon, who still appeared to be dissatisfied, half pressed against the man who kept on mumbling, “sorry, Wonie. I’m sorry Jungwonie, please?”
Jungwon only huffed, arms crossed tight even as Jay clung to him like an oversized koala, “you knew about the whole stupid bet and didn’t say a word. I had to watch my best friend get emotionally waterboarded for weeks.”
“I tried to stop it!” Jay whined, nuzzling his face into Jungwon’s shoulder, “I told Jake it was a terrible idea at least thirteen times—”
“Fourteen,” Sunghoon and Heeseung deadpanned from the couch.
Jaemin, already sprawled in the armchair rocking a fresh black eye and split lip, let out a smug little snort, “relax, you babies. I was trying to get them together.”
Jeno, sitting on the floor looking two seconds from committing murder, dragged a hand down his face, “they didn’t even fucking know each other, Jaemin.”
Jaemin shrugged, completely unfazed, “but I saw the bigger picture.”
Heeseung threw a pillow at his head, “there were better ways, you absolute menace.”
Jaemin dodged it with a grin, “yeah, but none as entertaining.” He popped a chip in his mouth and asked casually, “now who do I do next?”
The entire room exploded at once.
“No.”
“Fuck no.”
“Touch another person and I’m punching you this time.”
“I swear to God, Jaemin—”
Jaemin just laughed, raising his hands like he was innocent, “fine. Jay’s next.”
The poor guy looked up in horror.
“Absolutely the fuck not,” Jungwon snapped, yanking Jay behind him like a human shield who only blushed at the display of power, “you stay the hell away from him, Jaemin. End of discussion.”
SYNOPSIS. When the world falls asleep, a certain radio broadcast goes live—one hosted by none other than you and your best friend Wen Junhui. The two of you host an anonymous love confession segment, where listeners submit their deepest feelings, secrets, and late-night loves they can’t say aloud for you to unravel live on air. However, when a recurring submission starts to feel too familiar, a certain someone finds themselves wondering how long they can stay anonymous… before they are finally heard.
PAIRING. radio host!wen junhui x radio host!fem!reader (ft. soonyoung as a comedic device)
GENRE. fluff, best friends to lovers, crack/humour, comfort, slight angst, smut (minors dni 🔞)
WARNINGS. cursing, mentions of toxic situations in relationships (situationships, cheating, love bombing), yn and jun are dumb asffff no wonder they're besties, jun feeling a lil insecure :(, lots of playful bickering and bullying, terms of endearment, kissing, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, they bully each other even while doing the deed 😭
WORD COUNT. 11.3k
notes: hellooo everyoneee, this is my fic for the @studiosvt First Time Caller collab! please don't forget to support all the amazing authors in the collab!! unfort this was so rushed and lowkey not proud of it SDFDS i completely forgot how to write while writing this since it was all during the stress of finals szn and other matters LMAO, but i love writing abt two stupid oblivious idiot besties who are secretly in love with each other 😔 not rlly proofread so i'm sorry for any mistakes !! there is also a skye @etherealyoungk cameo in here hehe
“No, no, no𑁋Wen Junhui, you’re being way too nice about this!” You exclaim mid-laugh, shaking your head as you lean in towards the mic. “If someone’s been stringing you along for six months with nothing but ‘I’m not ready for a relationship yet’ texts, then that’s just straight up terrorism. Not even a situationship, at this point.”
Jun lets out a laugh of his own and throws his head back, almost making his headphones nearly fall off his head. He readjusts quickly, dark hair messily falling over his forehead. The neon red of the bright ON LIVE sign on the wall behind his head casts an almost villain-like glow across his features, sharpening the curve of his already amused smile.
“Terrorism? Wow, tell us how you really feel, Y/N,” Jun retorts playfully. “But fine. Anon, if they’ve been feeding you breadcrumbs for half a year, that’s basically emotional warfare. Please save yourself and block them on everything𑁋and yes, that includes on Spotify.”
You snort at that, tapping your pen against your script notes that you’ve been barely following anyway. The show had practically devolved from advice to whatever banter you and Jun had cooked up on the spot. “Exactly. Listeners, if your situationship has an expiration date longer than expired milk, it’s time to toss it. Jun is too sweet to say it, so I’ll do it. Run.”
“I𑁋’too sweet’?!” A dramatic gasp tumbles out of Jun as he spins his chair toward you. “I was the one who told last week’s caller to roast her boyfriend’s dick like a marshmallow because he kept forgetting her birthday!”
“But you said it with, like, the sweetest voice ever!”
“That man deserved to get emotionally blue-balled! How can you forget your girlfriend’s own birthday for a second year in a row?”
You roll your eyes so hard it’s basically audible over the mic. “God, Junhui, you have the emotional range of a raccoon.”
“I’ll take it.” Jun grins at that, thrusting his shoulders back as if he’s trying to appear bigger and more intimidating. “At least raccoons are cute, right?”
On your laptop, the chat is going crazy.
user: here we go again with their flirty banter 🙄
user: JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY YOU TWO!!!!!!!!!
user: i swear this radio show is hosted by 2 delusional idiots
user: i think they should kiss idk
“No, we shouldn’t!” You exclaim at the chat like you’re scolding a bunch of twelve-year olds.
Jun nearly hops out of his seat. “Wait, I agree!”
“Wen Junhui!”
“What? I was agreeing with you!”
“That was not you agreeing with me,” You groan. “You agreed to kissing me.”
“Well, the chat started it, so don’t put all the blame on me,” Jun says with a pout, folding his arms together. “Plus, it would be good for research purposes, wouldn’t it?”
Your eyes bulge out of your skull, your mind and face flaming up. “You’re such a𑁋we host a radio show, not a damn lab!”
“Chemistry is still relevant! And chemistry is needed for relationships!”
“We are not in a relationship, oh my, God.”
“Hypothetically, Y/N. Think hypotheticals.” Jun clicks his tongue, letting out playful tsk-tsk-tsk. “I’m telling you our ratings would absolutely skyrocket.”
You fight back the smile threatening to split your face in half, but there’s no point in trying to battle it. After being best friends with Jun for most of your life and witnessing pretty much all the stupid shit he has ever said or done, you’ve long accepted that his brand of chaos is the only thing in this world that can make your chest too tight and too warm at the same time. Especially if it involves the playful flirting you’ve been bouncing on for years.
“Whatever, to answer your question𑁋raccoons are cute, but they’re also known for making stupid life decisions,” You point out with a victorious smirk. “So, maybe not the best comparison to make. It’s accurate, regardless.”
“Harsh,” he whines, but his eyes𑁋those stupid, unfairly expressive eyes of his𑁋sparkle with teasing delight. “Alright, onto the final submission of the night. Anonymous says…”
Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air,
I’ve been supporting the show since the very beginning, and now, I think I’m in trouble enough to make a submission.
I’m in love with my best friend. I have been for years and it struck me pretty hard this morning. Is it weird to say when I first met them it felt like love at first sight? We talk every day to the point that everyone assumes we’re together, but we’re not. They’re kind, funny, and sometimes I think they deserve someone better than me. But is it selfish of me to say that I want to keep them in my life forever? Even if that line isn’t crossed?
What should I do???
🐱
The studio falls silent for a few moments after Jun finishes reading. The shift in the air is immediately noticeable, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. When Jun picks his head back up to look at you after reading the confession, his usual smirk is still in place, but fades just a tad when he catches the contemplative expression on your face.
“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”
“Huh?” You blink back up at him. “Oh, shit. Right, uh…”
You can’t tell if it’s the late night hour getting to you or something else entirely. You’ve received so many similar confessions before𑁋a best friend falling in love with their other half, the slow and torturous ache of unspoken feelings, the fear of messing up something that’s already so beautiful itself. And ultimately, your advice has always stayed the same.
But when you meet eyes with Jun, it’s as if the words have completely cut your tongue off. You finally clear your throat.
“First of all, welcome cat anon to the club of people who are all vicariously and collectively screwed together,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I wish we hadn’t read yours at the very last minute since we’re about in end in five𑁋”
Jun lifts a brow. “Wait, we have about fifteen𑁋”
“𑁋but I’ll just say that you aren’t selfish for wanting to keep them in your life. But you are doing a disservice keeping it locked away forever. This kind of love doesn’t come around twice. So tell them, even if it scares you. What’s the worst that could happen, you know?”
You can feel Jun’s heavy gaze linger on the side of your face.
“Exactly, anon,” he jumps in like the professional he is. “Ripping the band-aid off would only hurt temporarily, right? And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll be here next week with some ice cream recommendations to help you cope.”
“Keep in mind what Jun said, guys,” You say, forcing a small laugh. “Thank you all for turning into Love On Air. Stay honest, stay unhinged, and send that one person a risky text. If you want to submit a confession, please send one to our email. We are live every Saturday on FM 98.7! Goodnight, everyone!”
You kill your microphone first as the ON LIVE sign on the wall blinks out with a soft click. Jun switches off his microphone right after, and the silence that washes over the studio is louder than anything else.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
You still feel the ghost of Jun’s gaze warm on your cheek from when you were giving advice just a minute ago. It’s silly, really𑁋how one singular anonymous confession is enough to make you think and contemplate so hard. You’ve given advice to more people than you can count on your hands and toes, but this specific one feels as if it grew limbs, crawled out of the screen, and sat itself between you and him.
“You rushed that ending,” Jun interrupts your thoughts as he swings his coat over his shoulders.
You scoff lightly. “I did not.”
“Did too.”
“I literally answered the question,” You shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s our job.”
“Exactly,” he hums in response, leaning his elbow on the desk and resting his chin lazily in his palm. “You answered it like it was your first time ever hearing it.”
A pause.
“When it’s not.”
It’s not. But why𑁋out of all goddamn times you’ve read the same exact fear𑁋did this one feel like someone jabbed a finger at your chest and said: here, this is yours?
You force a laugh at that, letting out a deprecating shrug. “Maybe I’m just getting sentimental at my big age.”
“You’re literally younger than me.”
“Only by a few months. Your argument is irrelevant, grandpa.”
Jun tilts his head at your words, pushing himself off the table and invading your personal space as always. He stands only a step away from you, observing the way you’re speedily packing your belongings like some kind of punishment. When you face back up at him, he gives a light flick to your forehead. His touch lingers for a few seconds, before he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s playful and casual, but the way your skin tingles after isn’t.
Your heart does a stupid little flip in your chest.
“Come on, youngling, I’ll drive you home,” he says with a cheesy smile, dangling his car keys off his finger.
A groan leaves you as you allow him to drag you by the wrist and out of the studio.
To be honest, the radio show started off as one big fat joke.
It started in sophomore year of college, where you and Jun were nothing but a pair of dumb, broke college kids. Then you both decided to sign a quick gig for the campus radio station because you thought it would look good on your resumes. The two of you were supposed to do the boring music hour𑁋basically play whatever indie crap the station manager liked and read weather updates every morning.
But that didn’t exactly go as planned, as the majority of those sessions were spent with you both roasting each other’s music tastes live on air, and for some reason, the listeners seemed to eat that dynamic up.
In one particular session, Jun opened up the radio station email box live on air. You both expected for another complaint, which wasn’t uncommon knowing how immature the two of you act sometimes. However, it wasn’t a complaint this time.
It was a confession.
A girl had written about how she’d been in love with her roommate for the past two years and didn’t know how to voice it without ruining their lease together. Jun read it when his microphone was supposed to be switched off, and something in the studio shifted that night.
“Do… we answer it?” Jun had asked you warily.
You had hesitated for once, before a sudden surge of determination filled you. Perhaps it’s the delirium of two idiots who believed they could wing it, or the thought that a random person decided to reach out to both of you𑁋out of anyone else𑁋was the reason for the determination. Either way, you looked across at Jun that night and said, “Yeah. Let’s answer it.”
And that was that.
The rest of the semester became an absolute rollercoaster of love confessions, messy breakups, love bombers, situationships that made you want to pull your hair out, and the two of you slowly carving a name for yourselves as the unfiltered chaotic duo who gave sarcastic advice that came straight from the heart. The campus station extended their time slot, then the local radio station in the city picked the two of you up.
Somewhere along the way, and four years later, Love On Air stopped being a joke and became a real thing you and Jun committed together every Saturday at midnight𑁋your own little pocket of chaos in an otherwise normal adult life. For the most part, at least, because pining for your best friend is totally counted as normal.
Wen Junhui came into your life like a stray cat who decided that your doorstep looked comfortable enough to stay forever. Uninvited and unpredictable, way too pretty for his own good, yet somehow always exactly where you needed him to be. He randomly plopped down right next to you during freshman orientation, snatched the last macaron on your plate, and gave you a look that said you’d be fun to annoy for the next four years before introducing his name.
You’d never admit how absolutely starstruck you were the first time he smiled at you. Or laughed. You told yourself you were just sleep deprived and lonely being in the city all by yourself, but deep down, the voice in your head at that moment said that you wanted to keep him.
You should have been annoyed. But instead you laughed and nearly choked on your water, and that was it. Game over. And you became each other’s favourite person without either of you having to put a label on it. Best friend felt too small, and soulmate felt too big and scary for two broke college kids who couldn’t dedicate themselves to a single major.
So you just… existed together. Thrived together. Grew together through the most stupidest decisions known to mankind.
And at some point down the road, that stray cat curled up into your chest and refused to leave.
“Listeners, let’s give a full round of applause to user derangedcarat for cutting off their cheating ex-partner,” You announce into the microphone, clapping your hands like a proud mom at a recital. The chat explodes immediately.
user: 👏👏👏👏
user: FINALLY i’m so proud of u user derangedcarat queen
user: anyone who cheats on their partner needs to be put on death row
user: ^^^ preach!!!
“And you did the hard part, user derangedcarat,” Jun adds in. “We love growth in this household. Maybe email us a screenshot of the block so we can frame it in the studio here.”
“Exactly, and please don’t forget to take care of yourself,” You reassure into the microphone. “Block, delete, go touch some grass if you need to. You deserve someone who actually respects you.”
The next confessions run by in a blur over the next hour. Someone sends in a confession asking if it’s weird to still be hung on their high school ex, another person confesses that they’ve been naming their house plants after people who ghosted them, which the two of you undoubtedly praise for creativity.
To top off the chaos, there’s one submission an anonymous user submits with screenshots of cringe-worthy flirty text messages from a man they’re talking to, with the sender begging for the two of you to rate the messages on a scale of “smooth operator” to “immediate block”.
Jun narrows his eyes toward the screen. “Y/N, listen to this: ‘hey babygirl, how’s your night been? mine was spent thinking about u 😏’. Sent at 2:19 in the morning, left on read for three days.”
You burst out laughing, cheeks puffing out to the point it hurts. “Oh, my God. Solid negative five. That’s a biohazard right there.”
“That’s way too generous,” Jun snorts while spinning in his chair. “Anon, this man is serving nothing but expired milk. Please save yourself a headache and block his number.”
Heartbreak, confessions, and ridiculous stories𑁋you and Jun tag-team them over the next hour like strong duo you are, with the chatting eating up every particularly brutal line that leaves either of your mouths. This is what seems to happen when you give two nocturnal people a cup of bitter tar coffee and the free will to say whatever they please.
By the time the final minutes of the session comes, you and Jun decide to read out one last confession.
“...Cat anon is back with a follow-up confession.”
You perk up curiously at that. “Really? What does it say?”
Jun hesitates briefly, before clearing his throat.
Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air,
Hi, it’s me again. The one who wrote the other week. Thank you both so much for responding to me. I listened to every word you guys said, and I think you’re right. I was almost brave the other night𑁋had this whole stupid mental speech planned to tell them when we were hanging out together. But I… chickened out. Again. Really dumb of me, I know.
And I know that I look like a coward who needs a weekly pep talk, but this show feels like the only safe space I’m able to confess this. I do have a question for the two of you to answer and discuss.
Do you think there’s such a thing as ‘perfect love’?
I think that’s my dilemma right now. I want to be perfect for them. I want to give them that perfect love that they deserve. But how can I do that, knowing who I am?
🐱
The studio falls into a gentle kind of quiet after Jun finishes reading. The words are still processing deeply through your mind when he warily lifts his eyes back up at you, lingering on your concentrated expression. Then his heart stutters in his chest when you meet his eyes as if he got caught doing something wrong.
“Jun, why don’t you answer it first?”
Jun blinks, before shaking his head like he’s trying to clear away fog. He leans back in his chair and stretches his long arms up with a thoughtful sigh, enough for his hoodie to ride up just slightly for you to catch a sliver of skin. You try (and fail) not to notice, muting your microphone briefly to let out a cough into your hand.
“I mean, ‘perfect’ love is that type of stuff you read about in books or watch in movies, right?” He shrugs, letting his arms fall back down as his chair creaks softly beneath him. “Like no miscommunication, no timing issues, no one being stupid… which already disqualifies most of humanity, honestly.”
You lean back in to unmute your microphone. “Are you saying you’re part of that disqualification?”
“Absolutely, I’m the poster child for it,” he claims with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “I constantly forget shit, I’m nocturnal as hell, and sometimes I make objectively terrible decisions. Who would want to date me?”
The question lands a little too easily, maybe even familiar, sending an uncomfortable ripple you feel all the way down to your toes. Something about the way it left his mouth without any hesitation sends a painful grip to your heartstrings. Jun has always had this kind of self-deprecating humour, tossing it out like it was nothing at times. It makes you want to one: shake reality into him, or two: kiss him to prove him wrong.
You force out an awkward laugh, higher than it needs to be.
“Someone with terrible taste, clearly,” You answer, keeping your voice teasing despite the heaviness in your chest. “But luckily for you, the world is full of people with terrible taste.”
Jun chuckles, spinning his chair so he could study you properly.
“Yeah?” He tilts his head. “You think so?”
The chat is moving so fast now it’s basically a complete blur.
user: bro really asked who would date him while staring at his wife
user: why is he so boyfriend coded still tho
user: y/n should answer the question too!!!
user: PERFECT LOVE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT EACH OTHER STOPPP RNN
“Chat is right,” Jun quips. “What’s your answer to the question too, Y/N?”
The second the question leaves him, you can feel every pair of invisible eyes staring at you through the screen and your pulse kicking up loudly in your ears. Jun is still leaning back in his chair, relaxed as ever, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.
Finally, you clear your throat.
“Well, I’ve seen couples break up because their relationship isn’t ‘perfect’,” You begin. “But the ones that last? They’re the ones where both sides are a little flawed, a little messy, and a little scared, but they choose each other anyway. That’s what you would call an imperfect love, and… I think that’s the most beautiful kind of love that can exist.”
Suddenly, the tiny studio feels almost suffocating to sit in. Your eyes flick up to Jun. He isn’t laughing anymore, or even smiling. He’s just staring at you with an expression so open𑁋almost surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be so serious𑁋it steals the rest of your answer out of your throat.
You refuse to look at the chat; you already know what they’re saying.
“You really thought about it a lot, huh?” Jun asks, scratching at the back of his neck.
You could only manage a small, somewhat self-conscious nod, bringing your eyes down to the ground. “Yeah. Guess I have.”
A wave of silence washes over the studio for a minute.
“...it’s a really good answer,” he murmurs.
A pleased smile crosses over your face. “Well, I am kinda a professional at this.”
“Mm,” he hums absentmindedly in response.
You pretend to busy yourself with your laptop, trying to read over the chat that has now morphed into just meaningless spams of screaming text and heart emojis. Your cursor lingers over nothing, while your heartbeat is running a full blown marathon of panic.
But when you glance back at Jun, the panic seems to strengthen even more.
“Cat anon, we really appreciate your trust in us,” You finish softly. “And I really hope that our advice tonight resonates with you. At the end of day, we’re all just a bunch of flawed humans looking for love, right? Don’t drive yourself to be perfect, because you’re already perfectly imperfect just as you are. And if your best friend reciprocates these feelings…”
Your eyes flit back up to Jun.
“...then take the leap, because they’re probably already waiting for you.”
After a pause, you lightly kick Jun’s foot underneath the table. He jolts in his seat like you shocked him, before recovering with a nervous, boyish chuckle, sounding not even close to his usual, bright and effortless laugh. For once, he appears almost rattled, with his pupils wide and his ears pink that even the dim studio lights can hardly hide.
On the wall, the ON LIVE sign flickers in and out of its glow.
“She’s, um… Y/N is right, cat anon,” Jun agrees quietly. “You don’t have to become someone else to prove yourself worthy for someone. If they’re your person, then… who you are already is why they stayed this long.”
From that, the chat practically combusts.
user: WEN JUNHUI???? IS THERE SOMETHING U WANNA SHARE W THE CLASS???
user: why did this suddenly get so intense lmao is it hot in here or is it just me?
user: i’ve been on this ship since the beginning of the show!!!!
“Alright, that’s all the time we have for tonight,” You interrupt quickly, instinctively switching back to host mode. “Thank you to everyone who sent in your confessions tonight. Stay safe, stay honest, and please don’t respond to someone who sends you a babygirl text at ungodly hours.”
Jun reaches for the switch. “Goodnight, everyone!”
Click. The ON LIVE sign dies.
Jun slides the headphones off his head and shuts down his laptop. You do the same. The two of you pack up belongings in that familiar and companionable silence that always spills into the room after a session. When you swing your bag over your shoulder, Jun glances up in your direction worriedly.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod, offering him a small, sleepy smile. “Take me home?”
Jun swallows down the lump in his throat.
“Yeah.” He’s already opening the door for you. “Always.”
Jun remembers one of the first discussions the two of you had on the show together.
Love at first sight.
Back then, the studio was smaller, scrappier, and the chairs squeaked each time either of you moved even a centimetre. The world had fallen asleep long enough that honesty slipped through the cracks of your voices so easily. You both were running on nothing but instant noodles and caffeine, way different than the semi-functional adult routine you have established now.
He remembers the beautiful laugh that left you when the question came in halfway through a song neither of you remembered choosing.
He laughed with you too. Rolled his eyes and called it nonsense, all while pretending to not notice how your smile had gone a little soft when you answered it with that amused lilt to your voice.
“I think it exists,” You had said. “Not like movie magic, though. But… you just meet someone and your brain clicks into place, you know? Like it says, ‘Oh. It’s you.’”
“That sounds like you’re trying to make shit up to justify bad decisions,” Jun argued back with a smirk.
You gasped at that and slapped his wrist, causing him to laugh. “Excuse me? That was uncalled for.”
And the segment moved on after that.
But Jun continues to carry that sentence with him like a permanent scar.
Oh. It’s you.
“What are the chances that a confession we’ve read out is from someone we know?” Jun asks while plopping a chip in his mouth, adjusting his body from where he had been sprawled across your couch for the past few hours.
You don’t bother to spare a glance up from your laptop, but a grin crosses your features. “Pretty high, to be honest. Soonyoung once told me he submitted something to the show one time.”
Jun nearly chokes on the chip scratching at his throat. “Soonyoung? As in Kwon Soonyoung? Never shuts up, Soonyoung?” He sits up so fast he accidentally knicks his socked foot under the coffee table. “Ow! I𑁋What the hell did he confess? Was it about that girl in his dance class that was drooling over him?”
You finally look over at him, chuckling at the way his eyes have grown comically wide. “He didn’t say. Just that he sent it under a funny username and almost died when we read it out. Apparently, we just straight up told him to stop being a coward and talk to her. They went on one date together. He found out she was allergic to cats and broke her heart by saying they were incompatible. End of story.”
Jun stares at you for a full blown three seconds, before he throws his head back into the couch with a laugh so genuine you would think his soul left his body completely.
“That’s insane,” he says breathlessly. “Literally the most Soonyoung thing to do. No wonder he’s still single.”
“Actually, he’s not,” You chime back in. “I think he’s dating this new girl named… Skye, I think?”
“Sky?”
“Skye, but with an e at the end.”
“Wow,” Jun mutters, crunching down on another chip and sarcastically adds, “Character development. We love to see it.”
You roll your eyes, shutting down your laptop with a click and leaning back into the couch with Jun right next to you. You curl your knees up to your chest. “People change, Jun. Miracles happen.”
Jun offers you the bag of chips. You take one, crunching absentmindedly as your gaze travels somewhere past the TV, past the wall, past everything. He notices. Of course he does. A nudge to your leg awakens you quickly.
“Where’d you go just now?” he asks.
“Nowhere.”
Jun huffs. “Liar.”
You flick a crumb at him. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he retorts with a lazy grin, sticking his tongue out.
You shoot a glare at him and snatch the bag of chips from his hand before he can react. A scandalised look splits his face as he lunges to grab it back from your grasp, but you manage to twist your body away and dodge his reach.
“Hey!” he exclaims, attempting to grab the back once more but you clutch it tightly to your chest. “Give that back to me!”
You yelp and scramble further into the arm of the couch, shoulders shaking with laughter as you hug the back tight enough to crush some of the chips inside. “You stole this from my pantry!”
When his fingers brush the corner of the bag, you only yank it away again. Jun narrows his eyes at you, lips twitching upwards like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Y/N.”
“No.”
“Y/N.”
“Junhui.”
“You’re being annoying on purpose.”
“And you love me for it,” You remark, sticking your tongue at him back mockingly.
That does it.
As he makes a dive for it again, you twist a little too far. The next thing you know, you’re collapsing back against the couch cushions with a soft oof, and Jun is falling down with you. Very much ungracefully.
Because one second he’s reaching, the next he finds himself tumbling down over you in a tangle of limbs and laughter, somehow managing to catch himself just beside your head before he can actually crush you into the couch. And he’s way too close.
His knee presses into the cushion in between your legs, while his hand is planted by the side of your head. His dark hair has fallen slightly into his eyes, and his breath comes out unevenly from the laughing.
Your own breathing isn’t exactly steady either.
Jun looks down at you. You look back up at him. Your apartment suddenly feels fifty times smaller, and the laughter dies instantly, replaced by a familiar heaviness in the air whenever the two of you are alone together. His eyes drop down to your lips for a singular second before flicking back up to your face, and you catch the way his ears redden in slight guilt.
You swallow down a lump in your throat. “Jun…”
And from that split second of vulnerability, he uses that opportunity to snatch the bag of chips right off your hands, catching you completely off-guard. The warmth in the air still lingers even as he pulls away from you and flops back down on the couch.
“Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly. “Victory is mine!”
You stare at him in disbelief before letting out the loudest, most offended noise imaginable as you smack his shoulder.
“Wen Junhui!”
“Hm? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the savoury taste of victory,” he quips with a grin, face beaming with pride.
“You’re such a little thief𑁋”
“You hesitated!” he argues smugly. “So that’s on you!”
“Because you were staring at me all weird!”
That makes him shut up, the smugness fading off his face so abruptly as if you accidentally powered something in his system off. The apartment goes quiet enough for you to only hear the soft buzz of the refrigerator and the honk of a car outside. You didn’t mean to say it out loud. Or maybe you did, you don’t know.
“I…” You utter weakly, trying to brush it away with a nervous chuckle. “Can we just pretend I spontaneously combusted instead?”
A soft, disbelieving laugh leaves him. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“For… looking at you all weird.”
“Jun𑁋”
“I think I’ll get going. It’s getting late,” he mutters, immediately standing up a little too fast. He grabs the bag of chips instinctively, realises it’s still in his hands, and sets it back down on your coffee table awkwardly.
He doesn’t look at you as he grabs his hoodie and keys, moving with a surprising speed that even your own brain can barely process what to say. When he’s scrambling to the door, you move before you think, and you grab him by the wrist before he can unlock your door.
Jun feels his pulse jump harder under your fingertips. Twisting himself back around, he’s met with your soft yet worried gaze, before flicking down to where your hand is still wrapped around his wrist. You release him immediately like you accidentally touched fire.
“Sorry,” You murmur, taking a small step back. “Just… text me when you get home, okay?”
He nods solemnly. “Yeah. Of course.” A sheepish smile graces his lips for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Jun.”
You close the door with a quiet click that somehow is louder than it should be. Now, you’re all alone in your apartment, yet the warmth of his presence still lingers through every part of your place. He’s been in here a thousand times𑁋hell, you both have slept in the same bed together a plentiful amount during all the times he’s trespassed in your space𑁋but tonight it feels like there’s a literal dent in the air itself.
The two of you have shared many awkward moments together. He’s accidentally walked in on you changing a few times; you’ve seen him stress-eat an entire family-sized bag of shrimp chips at four in the morning. You both have seen each other at some of your lowest points, but why, out of all nights, does it hit harder than anything else?
You sink back into the couch with a groan. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. Then𑁋
Buzz.
[12:55am | menace (affectionate)]
i just got home
you okay?
You stare at his message for a long moment.
[12:57am | y/n]
good
and yeah, i’m fine. you?
[12:58am | menace (affectionate)]
splendid! and … tired
[12:58am | y/n]
go sleep then dumbass
[12:59am | menace (affectionate)]
alright mother calm down i’m brushing my teeth
A low giggle leaves you at his response. A few minutes pass before a new text from him lights up your phone.
[01:05am | menace (affectionate)]
can i ask you something really random?
[01:05am | y/n]
of course
The typing bubble appears, disappears, then reappears again.
[01:07am | menace (affectionate)]
do you think cat anon is okay?
A sinking feeling opens a pit in your stomach, thumb frozen over your keyboard. You stare at the screen until the words begin to blur. God, of all the questions he had to ask tonight…
[01:10am | y/n]
i don’t know
i hope so
and that they learn it’s okay to be brave
[01:12am | menace (affectionate)]
yeah. me too
You’re hardly able to think when his next text comes in quicker than you expected.
[01:12am | menace (affectionate)]
goodnight y/n
don’t overthink in your sleep
You smile faintly.
[01:13am | y/n]
no promises
goodnight jun
You lock your phone after that with a tired sigh, tossing it onto the couch cushion besides you like it might bite you back if you hold it for too long. And somewhere on the other side of the city, another phone is tossed away like a shameful piece of evidence.
As you stare blankly at your dark television and feel the exhaustion of the day weighing between your bones, you know that sleep won’t come easy tonight. It becomes even more challenging even after you brush your teeth, wash your face, doomscroll on your phone for a while, and face plant onto the bed like you just came home from a wounded battle.
“Pathetic,” You mumble into your pillow to absolutely nobody. “I’m so pathetic.”
On the other hand, Jun is… doing the exact same thing.
His ceiling fan spins lazily overhead while his phone screen dims beside him. The last text message you sent to him spirals through the air around him. He doesn’t even know what to do but let out a muffled incredulous laugh into his pillow, sighs, before abruptly sitting up in bed and realising how much of a loser he’s acting right now.
“I should’ve…” Jun groans, running a hand over his face. “I should’ve just told her… I’m such a coward.”
Because the thing about running a late-night show where love is the main topic and advice is given, is that it’s painfully easy to tell strangers to be brave when your own heart isn’t on the line, when you’re not the aforementioned person in the story who is being pined over. It’s easy to take the leap when you aren’t standing at the edge yourself. Yet for some reason, it’s only harder to take the leap when you don’t even follow the advice you give to others.
The irony is quite laughable, to be honest.
Jun grabs his laptop and forces it open, the bright screen nearly blinding him in the darkness of his bedroom, but he doesn’t care. He finds himself navigating to his email, switching to his second account, and gets greeted by a particular message that had already been forwarded to the radio show. A message that had already been read, answered, and sent under a certain pseudonym.
Dear Y/N and Jun of Love On Air…
Biting down on his bottom lip, he opens up a fresh draft and begins typing.
“Take the leap, cat anon,” he repeats to himself over and over again. “Take the leap, Wen Junhui.”
Jun texted you two hours before the show that he was sick along with a selfie of him buried in a hoodie he threw on, somehow contracting a stomach bug which he blamed on some expired convenience store gimbap. He insisted that he could still come in, yet you reassured him with a string of sobbing emojis that it’s probably in his best interest to stay home to rest, and that you could handle hosting the show on your own, even if… you’ve never really done it before.
The show must go on, after all.
So when you find yourself sitting alone within the quiet studio just mere minutes from going live, you definitely sense both the physical and mental emptiness of his presence in the room a little too sharply. His headphones are still left the way he always leaves them, and his chair is facing the wrong wrong because he spins in it so much that he never bothers to put it back properly.
A small, fond chuckle leaves you at the thought of him, and you have to chase those thoughts away the second the clock strikes midnight. From there, you roll your shoulders back to shake away any residual nerves, clear your throat, and reach over to the switch.
Taking one last deep breath, you flip it on. The ON LIVE sign sparks to life on the wall.
“Good evening to all our fellow lonely and emotionally volatile listeners,” You greet warmly into the microphone. “Welcome back to everyone’s favourite unhinged radio show, Love On Air, live at midnight every Saturday on FM 98.7.”
Your eyes can barely keep track of the live chat box being spammed with incoming messages. You read a couple of messages out of people describing their day, but it isn’t long until the elephant in the room is acknowledged.
You snort lightly. “I regret to inform you all that Jun has passed away due to… alleged food poisoning.” Some comments following your words make you laugh. “Yes, yes, you’re all invited to the funeral, don’t worry.”
user: i commence a ritual to bring him back or we riot 🙏🙏
user: bro probably slept through his alarm honestly
user: WAIT BUT THIS FEELS SO WRONG W/O HIM 😭😭
user: rip… guess no husband and wife arguments for now… 😔
“He offered to join while sick, by the way,” You add in quickly. “But I personally vetoed it. I’m not letting a man who ate expired gimbap shit his way into a session. He’s probably listening in right now, so hi, Jun. Hope you’re still intact, buddy.”
After a few minutes of more interactions, you finally pull up the radio show’s inbox and begin to organise through the confessions that were received recently. That weird feeling creeps back up your spine once again as you scroll𑁋not about the confessions specifically, just the thought about doing this alone. Your eyes flick to the empty chair right next to you once more.
You read a few confessions and answer two callers𑁋there’s one from someone who felt bad for ghosting someone they actually liked, another person confesses they’re having a hard time with their partner wanting to open up their relationship, and one with expressing their fears of having their first time with the wrong person. You offer your own thoughtful answers and advice as best as you can, yet it feels so lackluster and flat without Jun’s playful interjections whenever you get too sappy on air.
“Your first time should be with someone who makes you feel safe, not just wanted,” You say gently into the microphone. “You deserve that. Don’t settle for anything less. It’s okay to wait until that safety feels undeniable.”
The chat floods with hearts and supportive messages. A few people send their thank yous for the advice. Some latecomers ask questions about Jun’s whereabouts.You smile gratefully, but it feels a little fragile tonight, not quite reaching up to your eyes.
As the final music break of the session ends, you unmute your microphone to speak.
“Alright, listeners, we’ve reached the final thirty minutes of tonight’s session. I want to thank you as always for staying up and listening into the show,” You announce confidently. “We’ve got time for… maybe a few more confessions and a possible lucky caller, so let’s see what we have left.”
Scrolling silently through the inbox, it isn’t long until your cursor hovers a familiar username once again. Your heart spikes at the sight, hesitating for a slow second.”
“Everyone, let’s welcome cat anon back to the stage with another follow-up confession.” You click the confession, take in a deep breath you’re sure the viewers can hear, and start to read it aloud.
Dear Y/N of Love On Air…
Hi, it’s me again. To be honest, I don’t really know why I keep sending these, but somehow I always end up back here again. You truly have a way of words, and I really want to thank you for that.
I thought about what you said about imperfect love. I used to think that if I fix every flaw about myself, then maybe I’ll be worthy of them, but now I know that love is someone seeing every fractured version of you, and staying anyway.
There’s something else I want to confess too. I think I’ve been waiting so long for the “perfect” moment that I accidentally passed a thousand “imperfect” ones. It makes me terrified that they’ll meet someone more braver than me, so I’ll use this chance now to be brave for once.
I’ll be ready on the line for this session and use this chance to finally face whatever happens next. I hope you’re able to answer my call whenever that may be. I have an important message to send.
🐱
Your voice comes out almost too quiet by the end you finish reading. You flit a quick glance to the ever-exploding live chat box.
user: HOLY SHITTT CAT ANON VOICE REVEAL???
user: answer the call! answer the call!
user: IM GONNA THROW UP WHY AM I SO NERVOUS
user: we’re witnessing a cinematic moment in history wtff
Suddenly, the blink of the call line makes your throat tighten. Your fingers hover over the console as if it might suddenly jump out and bite you. God, you don’t understand why you’re unexpectedly so nervous𑁋you’ve talked to many callers, and yet, speaking with cat anon has you on complete edge.
“Okay,” You stammer shakily into the microphone, covering up your nerves with a faint smile. “Let’s… let’s take this final call of the night, everyone.”
When you answer the line, it’s as if the world goes entirely mute, except for the intense pounding your chest. Nothing but static fills your headphones as the line struggles to connect for a few torturous moments.
Then, a quiet breath reverberates into your ears. The kind of breath that sounded like it had to claw its way out of someone’s chest.
“...hello?”
The voice is slightly distorted through the line, unmistakably low𑁋clearly a male voice𑁋and trembling slightly around the edges. It’s more of a whisper, if anything. Perhaps he’s just as nervous as you.
“Hi,” You greet warmly, slipping back into your professional radio voice. “You’re live on air with Love On Air. Is this… the one and only cat anon?”
A small, embarrassed huff of air crosses the line. He sounds a bit closer this time as he replies, “...yeah, it’s me.”
“Well, I’m giving you the floor now,” You assure firmly. “Whatever you need to say… we’re listening.”
Another shaky breath crackles through the line. You can practically touch the contemplation that’s buzzing through the call with your fingertips if that’s even possible, and even within the studio itself.
When the seconds of silence turn into a full-blown minute of consideration, the line crackles once more.
“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”
Your heart stops. Your mind draws a complete and utter blank. The abrupt clarity of his voice cuts through any lingering distortion and static and hits you like a wave. The world itself feels as if it’s tilted on its axis.
“Jun𑁋?”
“I love you,” he repeats more firmly this time, voice raw and full of everything he’s been holding back. “and I told you I was sick tonight because I couldn’t sit right next to you while you gave advice I was too scared to take. I just𑁋holy shit, I love you…”
Your mouth parts open in shock, then closes. The chat is going absolutely feral right now and you can barely read through all the comments without having this unusual urge to just slam your hand onto the console and pretend that you’re suffering from pure delirium.
On the wall, the ON AIR still glows stubbornly.
user: I FREAKING KNEW THAT CAT ANON WAS JUN
user: may i find this kind of love one day what the helly 🙏
user: Y/N ARE YOU BREATHING RIGHT NOW ????
user: our stupid oblivious hosts are in love. I CALLED it
You feel as if you almost have to squeeze your voice just to get it out. “Jun…”
On the other hand, he inhales sharply.
“...yeah?”
“You’re such an idiot,” You sputter out. “Do you have any idea how… how insane this is? Confessing on our show… using a pseudonym I gave advice to𑁋”
“I know.”
“𑁋after lying about being sick𑁋”
“I know.”
“𑁋and letting me sit here and talk about love like you weren’t the one I was talking to the whole time?” You ramble on out of a sheer mix of pure disbelief and relief, tightening your grip on the microphone. “Like all the advice I said wasn’t about… us?”
You hear some rapid shuffling on the other side, and you could almost imagine Jun sitting up in bed as if he’s received the most shocking news of his entire life. Then you hear his dazed laugh flowing into your ears.
“Yeah,” he admits quietly. “It was.”
Your breath catches embarrassingly hard and your face is completely on fire. The chat combusts once again, and you have to keep mentally reminding yourself that this entire interaction is live and half the city is probably listening in at this very second.
“From the first moment I saw you back in college,” Jun continues softly. “My heart and brain did the thing, you know? That you said before𑁋where you meet someone and all you can think is: Oh, it’s you. The second I saw you, I just… I knew I wanted to keep seeing you.”
You feel your eyes start to burn.
“I should’ve said it years ago, but I’m… I’m a coward. I know I am,” he mutters helplessly. “I know it’s stupid pretending to be cat anon because it was safer than telling my best friend I’m in love with her. Stupid that I… used to remind myself that I never deserved someone as bright as you. But anytime you told someone to suck it up and take the leap, I had to do it now or else I’d lose the chance and probably explode.”
He lets out a soft, breathless, disbelieving laugh of relief at the very end. Tears are streaming down your face at this point, but you don’t care.
user: IM PASSING TISSUES DOES ANYONE ELSE NEED ONE???
user: jun confessing his undying devoted love to y/n life is worth living again!!!!
user: i feel like a successful marriage counselor WTF
user: the solomon paradox is REAL
“Gosh, you’re…” You wipe a tear from your eye, murmuring weakly, “Your timing really needs to be studied, Jun.”
“Wait, wait, are you crying?” Jun asks worriedly in a fit of panic. “I didn’t mean to make you cry on air𑁋oh, my God, I can take it back, I can𑁋”
“You cannot ‘take this back’, you idiot!” You cut in immediately. “I’m crying because I’m in love with your stupid ass too! And if you don’t get here and finish the show with me, I’m absolutely going to lose the rest of my dignity.”
There’s a very long, suspicious beat of silence that passes. It’s enough to have you feel like you’re going through all the stages of grief in just a matter of seconds. And you swear on Jun’s life that if he doesn’t say something in the next minute, you might actually crash out and let the world witness your breakdown.
But reality snaps back in when you hear the sound of him nearly tripping on the other end of the line.
“I’m coming,” he reassures you. “I’m sprinting as fast as I can. Stay there for me, okay? Don’t finish the show without me.”
The line goes dead.
The night is quietly young as you and Jun step back into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind to finally cut out the rest of the world.
You still can barely process what just happened. First, Jun had texted you that he was quite literally shitting bricks for the entire day (which was a lie, thank goodness), then you somehow managed to host an entire segment all on your own without losing your sanity, and now the man you’ve been secretly in love for years had confessed to you𑁋live on air, alongside an entire audience of fellow love drunk listeners𑁋and is currently standing directly in front of you, wearing a hoodie he probably put on right before sprinting to the studio and a pair of pyjama sweatpants.
Jun doesn’t waste a single second. He steps up close to you and carefully wraps his long arms around you, the comforting scent of him quickly filling all your senses. He lets his forehead rest against yours, the two of you shutting your eyes together as you simply bask in each other’s presence.
“You’re real,” he murmurs, his hands trembling where they rest on your back. “I swear I thought I hallucinated the entire night. I need someone to pinch me if𑁋hey!”
You giggle at the way his face dramatically contorts with a pout, soothing his side with a gentle squeeze. You tilt your head enough to brush your nose against his.
“Then kiss me like I’m real, you idiot.”
For a moment, he just blinks like you spoke complete gibberish. Then he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, sending immediate shivers that make your knees weak. You let out a soft sigh into his mouth as the kiss deepens ever so slightly, your hands slowly sliding up his chest. You feel him chuckle against your lips.
As you kiss, you find yourself backing up in the direction of the couch. Jun follows without breaking contact with your mouth. When the backs of his knees hit the cushions, you both tumble down together in a clumsy, giggly heap with you on top of him, straddling him.
You brace your hands on his shoulders, and Jun’s arms lock around your waist instantly, holding you flush against him. And for a second, you both just… stare at each other.
Jun is the first to break, his eyes flitting back and forth between your eyes and lips as he doesn’t know where to look. “What?”
You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide at how ridiculously cute and disheveled he looks right now, tilting your head at him like you’re pretending to study him. You lean in a little just to tease, and instinctively, he puckers his lips together, chasing after yours when you pull back away.
“I can’t believe how stupid we are,” You whisper, brushing his lips briefly in a feather-light peck. “Giving advice to everyone but ourselves. We wasted literal years.”
Jun chases after your mouth again, capturing it properly this time and pulling away with a satisfied hum. “Mhm. Absolute morons.” His hands find their way under your shirt, tenderly mapping the bare skin of your waist. “But I’m done wasting time now.”
You chuckle into the next kiss, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as he tries to deepen it. God, his lips are so eagerly soft, but he’s smiling so hard you momentarily knock your teeth against his.
“Mm, wait,” You mumble against his mouth as you draw back to readjust your position, causing him to suck in a breath. “Are you trying to eat my face? Where’s the technique?”
He blinks up at you dazedly, mouth parted in playful offense. His hands tighten around your waist. “I𑁋excuse me?”
“Zero finesse. One star. I expected more from cat anon.”
Jun sits up suddenly so that you’re basically pressed chest-to-chest with each other.
“You’re too cute, that’s the problem,” he says, voice deep yet still a little rough around the edges. “How am I supposed to kiss you if I short-circuit and all I could think, holy shit, she’s mine?”
Your heart does a stupid little flip from his words. “Flattery won’t save your shitty technique.”
“Oh, yeah?” He cups your face with both hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks. “Watch this.”
The next kiss is messier𑁋heated, giggly, and clumsy because you both can’t stop smiling. You feel your toes curl as he nips lightly at your bottom lip. You sigh into it, threading your hands through his hair, the heat of it enough to make you rock your hips against his growing hardness.
You feel the heat dancing up your skin and pooling into your belly as you continue your lazy grinding against him, swallowing down the broken sigh and groans that fall out of his mouth. When his mouth begins its descent down your jaw and to a particular sensitive spot behind your ear, he smirks against your warm skin.
“Fuck𑁋you like that?” he breathes out, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast underneath your shirt.
A shaky laugh leaves you, but it melts quickly into a soft moan when his thumb brushes your already-hardened nipple. “Don’t get cocky. Still𑁋mmh𑁋mediocre at best.”
Jun lifts his brow, mouth curved into a stupidly fond grin. “Mediocrity, huh?” He pinches your nipple gently, causing you to jerk your hips into his. “Your body is saying something different, baby.”
“Ignore her. She’s… a traitor,” You croak out, grinding against the hard line of his cock through his sweatpants.
Jun merely chuckles, tugging your shirt up enough to expose your chest. He unclips your bra without any hesitation, pushing the straps off your shoulders then letting it fall uselessly to the floor. His eyes widen as he takes a few seconds to drink you in completely.
“God, you’re so beautiful…”
Then his mouth is back on you. He sucks one nipple between his lips while his hand affectionately palms the other. A crude moan slips out of you this time; it heightens his confidence even more.
As his mouth lavishes attention to your other breast, he drags his hand down your side, teasingly sliding under the waistband of your pants to cup you over your pants. He can feel how warm you are already.
“Rating?” he requests with a firm suck.
“Like a solid𑁋shit𑁋two-point-five out of five…”
Jun pulls off your breast with a wet pop, grin turning wicked. “But you’re soaked, and you’re still calling me below average? I think your pussy disagrees.”
You open your mouth to retort, but then he slides his hand into your panties, fingers circling over your slick folds, and nothing but a breathy gasp escapes you. Your hips roll down to meet his hand as he inserts a finger inside of you, curling into that spot that makes your back arch and he has to use his other hand to hold you in place.
“What’s the rating now?” he asks, watching the way your face is beautifully twisting with pleasure as a second finger slides inside.
You shoot him a death glare as you clench around his hand. “Three𑁋fuck, right there𑁋three-point-eight𑁋”
“Getting better already,” he hums in approval, leaning back down to worship your breasts once more. The dual sensation has your head falling down into the crook of his neck, your moans caressing his skin.
“Four𑁋Jun, you asshole𑁋four-point-five𑁋”
He pulls his fingers out of you unexpectedly, making you whine at the loss. Before you can complain, you find yourself being flipped on the couch as he settles in between your thighs, looking up at you with that mischievous, hungry, adoring look. He gives another tug to the waistband of your pants.
“Final rating before I eat you out?”
Your chest heaves, though you try to keep your tone light and teasing. “Four-point-seven. Don’t get lazy down there or I’m docking points, smartass.”
Jun’s eyes sparkle with challenge as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes. When you’re fully bare in front of him, he spreads your thighs even further, letting his mouth hover tantalisingly where you need him most.
“Four-point-seven,” he repeats to himself, pressing a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. “I can work with that. Watch me get that perfect five.”
Then he leans in and drags his tongue up your soaked pussy in one long stripe, a groan leaving him as he tastes you for the first time. Your hips jolt against his face, a sharp moan tumbling out of you and bouncing off the walls of your quiet apartment.
“Oh𑁋Jun𑁋”
“Hmm?” He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently into his mouth, eyes flicking up to watch your face. Two fingers slide back inside of you, curling into that spot that makes your vision glassy. “God, you taste even better than I imagined…”
You slap a hand over your mouth as the pleasure starts to bloom its way out of you, but he reaches up and pulls it away, lacing your fingers together.
“Don’t do that, please,” he murmurs against your pussy. “Let me hear you, baby…”
The way he eats you out has your head spinning. It’s dizzying, a little messy, and entirely devoted to you. The wet sounds of his mouth and fingers echo and your moans and gasps travel throughout the room, only making him double down even harder to bring you over the edge.
“Five𑁋five stars𑁋ah, please𑁋”
You cum with a cry of his name, the pleasure crashing into you in waves. He continues to lazily lap at you before you start trying to push his head away, the two of you giggling breathlessly in the aftermath.
When he pulls away, his lips are shiny and he looks foolishly pleased with himself. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls his way back up your body, meeting you for a deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought that this absolute klutz of a man just gave you the best orgasm of your life sends another shaky giggle rolling out of you.
“You okay?” he breathes against your mouth, chuckling softly of you barely controlling your laughter. “I… what the hell just happened?”
“That was me letting go after holding back for years,” he answers without diffidence, tracing soothing circles over your bare thigh. “Do I get a final rating now?”
“Hmm, solid five-point-five. An extra half point for your enthusiasm and those cute noises you made down there.” You run your fingers through his messy hair, making him lean into your touch like a baby kitten. “But I’ll let you try for a six if you fuck me right now.”
Jun’s eyes darken instantly. “Say less.”
The two of you battle over taking off the rest of his clothes. Jun attempts to smoothly yank his hoodie off in one go, but it gets snug on something, causing him to laugh when it gets caught on his shoulders.
“Oh, my God𑁋stay still so I can take it off, you dummy!” You exclaim in frustration.
“Help me then, smartass!” His laughter is muffled into the fabric.
When you finally unsnag the hoodie and toss it somewhere on the floor, you both immediately reach for his pants at the same time, elbows bumping into each other. Rolling your eyes, you lightly smack his hand away so you can push it down his hips with borderline desperation. He kicks it off the rest of the way, his boxers following quickly.
The second he’s fully bare in front of you for the first time, he cages you into the couch right above you, littering soft kisses over your flushed cheeks. His cock rests heavily against your stomach as he stares down at you, chest rising and falling heavily.
“Hi,” he whispers stupidly, like he’s just remembered how to speak.
“Hi,” You reply with a bashful smile, reaching up to cradle his face, pinching his cheeks together. “Still waiting for my six-star performance.”
“Give me a break, I’m nervous!” he gasps defensively, grinding the underside of his dick along your slickness unconsciously. “I’ve only pictured this every single night for, like, the past four years!”
“Poor baby,” You coo impishly, reaching down to stroke him softly. “You’ve been jerking off to the thought of me for four years?”
Jun whines needily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Stop bullying me when I’m trying hard not to embarrass myself right now.”
“Then embarrass yourself. I’ve waited just as long, you idiot,” You urge, bringing him closer until there’s physically no more space between your bodies.
With a sly smirk, he reaches down, lines himself up with you, and slowly pushes inside. He groans lowly as he sinks inside you until his hips are pressed against yours. For a second, he doesn’t move at all, only trembling with his forehead leaning onto yours.
“Oh fuck𑁋I think I died a little,” he grunts pitifully into your neck. “You’re so warm. And tight. Think I-I short-circuited again.”
You give his shoulder a tight squeeze. “Move, Jun. Please.”
He obeys right away, thrusting into you experimentally and drawing a collective moan out from both of you. When he snaps himself into you again, again, and again, he sets a slow, deep rhythm that has the couch creaking softly beneath you.
“Shit, Jun𑁋” Your nails rake down his back as he hits that spot perfectly inside you again and again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “You… You feel so good.”
“Yeah? You look so pretty falling apart on my cock, baby,” he praises heavily, voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “Still rating me? Am I passing?”
Your laugh dissolves into a moan when a particular thrust punches the air out of your lungs.
“You’re at…” You bite down harshly on your bottom lip, glancing down to where you’re joined together. “Five-point… seven𑁋shit, keep going like that, I’m so close…”
“I’m so close too, not gonna last,” he pants, his breath molten on your neck. “God, I love you, I love you, I love you…”
You grab him by the nape of his neck to collapse his mouth back onto yours, swallowing all his desperate little grunts and sighs as the kiss turns heated fast. His rhythm stutters for the briefest second before he regains himself swiftly, the wet slap of your bodies meeting over and over again flooding the room, with your own hips rolling to meet with each of his thrusts.
The heat of it all invades through all your nerves, that familiar coil tightening in your belly. The rating game is completely out of the window now. There’s only nothing but the drag of his cock kissing your walls and this thumb dipping in between your legs to caress your clit, encouraging you to let go.
When your orgasm finally crashes, it’s much more intense than the last. Your nails imprint sharp crescents down his back as one final broken cry rips out from your throat, stars bursting behind your ears. Your walls squeeze around him so tightly he curses, the drive of his hips faltering sloppily.
“Baby, I can’t𑁋I’m gonna𑁋where𑁋?”
“Inside,” You beg gravelly, wrapping your arms around him even tighter. “Lose yourself in me, Jun, please.”
That’s all it takes for his own orgasm to hit him. With one final thrust, he spills inside of you with a deep, guttural groan. His face drops into the crook of your sweaty neck as shaky little whimpers continue to leave him𑁋your name, I love you, fuck I love you𑁋repeatedly until he’s completely spent and melted into your arms.
For a few moments of stillness, the only sounds travelling throughout the room is your ragged breathing and the sudden hum of your refrigerator. Eventually, Jun lifts his head from where it’s been resting comfortably on your chest. His dark hair is sticking out in all sorts of places, a few strands even matted to his forehead. And his eyes are half-lidded, yet so soft and full of love that you almost want to sob.
“So…” he starts hoarsely, kissing the tip of your nose. “Final rating?”
You let out a tired, contented laugh, brushing damp strands of his hair off his face.
“Mmmh… six-point-five,” You decide sleepily, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
A bright, boyish grin unleashes across his face. “I’ll take it. Room for improvement for the next round.”
“I𑁋next round?!”
“I aim to achieve ten stars. Or maybe more than that.”
“God, you’re so insatiable,” You groan, shaking your head despite the smile breaking through your expression. “Later on, maybe… for now, I just want to hold you.”
Jun swears he feels himself literally melt into a puddle at that, because how could he ever deny a request like that from you? Despite the little space on your creaky couch, he pulls out of you with a wince, grabs the throw blanket that has unknowingly dropped to the floor before shifting himself more deeper into your arms. The soft fabric wraps around your bare bodies together in a warm, messy nest, one of his legs slotting in between your legs.
“Better?” he mumbles hopefully, letting his eyes fall to a close so he could listen to your heartbeat.
“Mhm. Much,” You hum in response, nosing through his hair. “I love you, you menace.”
You feel his lips meet the soft skin above your breast, right over your heartbeat.
“I love you too, dummy.”
Remember that stray cat that landed on your doorstep at the very beginning and refused to leave?
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