ot7archives

She/her

[ot7archives]

📖 Enhypen Masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG/ EVAN

PARK JONGSEONG/ JAY

[ot7archives]

LEE HEESEUNG/ EVAN

Between Schedules And Stethescopes (7.5k)

Summary: When Heeseung sneaks out one night for a quiet bowl of ramen, he never expects to meet you, a tired doctor just trying to survive another shift. A viral misunderstanding turns your lives upside down, forcing you both into a fake engagement neither asked for.

[ot7archives]

Between Schedules And Stethoscopes

Summary: When Heeseung sneaks out one night for a quiet bowl of ramen, he never expects to meet you, a tired doctor just trying to survive another shift. A viral misunderstanding turns your lives upside down, forcing you both into a fake engagement neither asked for.

Tags: ENHYPEN Heeseung x reader, idol Heeseung, doctor reader, arranged marriage, fake engagement, canon compliant, misunderstanding trope, slow burn, romance, fluff, mild angst, hurt/ comfort, kdrama au, happy ending.

Word count: 7.5k

Note: I am slowly completing all my works I had written halfway through and was just in my drafts. Also, this is the first one that I am writing for a member other than Jay. I hope you all like it. Any type of interaction is appreciated. 🤍

The neon signs of Seoul buzzed faintly in the humid air, painting streaks of red and blue over the quiet street. Past midnight, the time when fame could finally breathe.

Lee Heeseung tugged the hood of his oversized sweatshirt lower, a mask hiding most of his face. He’d slipped out of the dorm silently, telling the manager he needed “a walk.” The members were asleep, exhausted after a 14-hour shoot, but Heeseung’s mind wouldn’t stop replaying the noise, cheers, cameras, fake smiles, and the endless cycle of being watched.

He just wanted ramen. Hot, greasy, cheap ramen. The kind he hadn’t eaten since a long time. The kind that didn’t come with fans snapping photos outside the restaurant.

He ducked into a small alleyway ramen shop. The kind with peeling wallpaper and the comforting scent of broth. The bell above the door chimed softly. Only one other person sat there, hunched over a steaming bowl, still wearing her hospital ID.

A doctor.

You barely noticed the newcomer at first, too focused on your noodles and the blessed warmth they brought after a double shift in the ER. Your eyes were tired, your fingers faintly red from constant sanitizers. It wasn’t until the stranger took off his hood to glance at the menu that your breath hitched.

Lee Heeseung. Of ENHYPEN.

Your heart almost stopped. You blinked twice, convincing yourself it was sleep deprivation. But there was no mistaking those eyes, sharp yet soft, framed by exhaustion.

Oh my God. Oh my God, it’s him.

Your brain screamed internally, but you kept your head down, staring at your ramen as if the broth had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. You couldn’t let him know you recognized him. He probably wanted peace. He deserved peace.

You heard him order, voice low and polite. Then the scrape of a chair next to yours.

Out of all the seats. He sat beside you.

You almost forgot how to breathe.

Heeseung noticed your subtle stiffness and smiled faintly under his mask. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, taking it off. “I’m not contagious.”

Your laugh slipped out before you could stop it. A small, tired sound that made him glance at you again.

“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I just— it’s been a long day.”

He nodded. “Same.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between them. Just the sound of slurping noodles, the rain starting outside, and the quiet hum of the vending machine.

Then, Heeseung spoke again, voice softer this time. “You work at Seoul General?” He nodded towards your ID.

You blinked, glancing down. “Uh— yeah. How’d you—”

“The badge,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’m not psychic.”

“Oh. Right.” You flushed. “Emergency department.”

Heeseung whistled softly. “That sounds brutal.”

“It is,” you admitted. “But… it’s kind of my dream. I get to help people, you know? Even if it means no sleep.”

He nodded slowly, stirring his noodles. “Must be nice. Having a dream that’s still yours.”

Your head tilted. “Still yours?”

He met you gaze then. Really met it. And for a fleeting second, you saw through the idol façade. The exhaustion. The loneliness of being adored by millions but known by none.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like mine anymore,” he said quietly. “Feels like I’m just… maintaining someone else’s version of me.”

The honesty in his tone startled you. You didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he just needed to say it aloud.

“Well,” you finally said, “for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing fine. Better than fine, actually. People look up to you.”

He smiled faintly. “You sound like my company PR rep.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He chuckled, the first real one that night, and the tension eased.

You both ate in companionable silence after that, two strangers sharing a moment of peace. You tried not to stare, but Heeseung’s presence was magnetic. The quiet confidence, the way his eyes softened when he looked at the rain.

When you both finished, Heeseung stood up first and placed some cash on the counter before you could reach for your wallet.

“You don’t have to—”

“Consider it a thank-you,” he interrupted. “For not freaking out or… you know, taking pictures.”

Your eyes widened. “I wouldn’t. I mean— I’m not that kind of fan.”

His lips twitched. “You are a fan then?”

Your cheeks heated. “Maybe a little. But I’m also a doctor. Confidentiality is kind of my thing.”

That made him laugh again. “Good to know.”

He tore off a small piece of napkin, scribbled something on it, and handed it to you. “An autograph. Just so you don’t regret not asking later.”

You blinked at the messy scrawl of Lee Heeseung ♡.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He nodded. “And… maybe keep this between us, yeah?”

“Of course.”

As he left, the bell chimed again, and the night swallowed him back into its quiet loneliness.

You stared at the napkin for a long time before tucking it safely into your coat pocket. It felt like a strange dream. The kind that left warmth in its wake.

You didn’t know that by morning, that warmth would burn into chaos.

The next day began like any other. You walked into the hospital, yawning and checking your phone between coffee sips until a notification nearly made you drop the cup.

Dispatch Exclusive: ENHYPEN’s Lee Heeseung spotted on a late-night date with mystery woman!

Your heart stopped.

You clicked the link, and there it was. A grainy video from outside the ramen shop. The headline screamed “Lee Heeseung’s Secret Girlfriend?” and the comment section was already exploding. The footage showed you both sitting side by side, laughing softly.

Your blood ran cold.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

At the same moment across Seoul, Heeseung sat frozen on his couch, staring at the same article, disbelief twisting into anger.

“How the hell did this get out?” he muttered, jaw tight. His phone buzzed non-stop. Managers, PR, even Jungwon and Jay.

“Hyung, what happened?!” Jungwon’s panicked voice came through the speaker.

“I don’t know,” Heeseung snapped. “It was just— some random girl! We just ate ramen!”

“HYBE’s calling a meeting,” Jay said grimly. “You’d better get here now.”

Heeseung grabbed his jacket, fury simmering under his calm mask. The girl. You. You must’ve taken the video. Who else could’ve known?

He’d trusted you, for one quiet night, and you’d sold him out for a headline.

By the time you were summoned to HYBE’s office later that afternoon, the sky had turned an ominous grey. You sat in the waiting room, heart pounding, trying not to hyperventilate. You had never been to a place like this. It was very sleek, intimidating, filled with people who looked at you like you were the villain in their movie.

Heeseung walked in.

And the air froze.

He didn’t greet you. Didn’t even look at you fully. Just said coldly, “So, you’re the one who wanted your five minutes of fame?”

Your heart cracked. “What?”

“You got it,” he continued, voice low and sharp. “I trusted you for one night, and this is what you do?”

“I didn’t— Heeseung, I didn’t tell anyone! I swear!”

He scoffed. “Right. Because videos just magically appear on gossip sites.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you bit them back. “I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t. I—”

“Stop,” he said flatly. “We’ll handle it from here.”

Before you could respond, his manager stepped in, face tense. “Heeseung, the company’s decided. We’ll address the media. You’ll tell them she’s your fiancée.”

Heeseung’s head snapped up. “What?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s the only way to control the narrative,” the manager said briskly. “Fans will calm down if they think it’s serious. Your parents have already been informed, Heeseung. They’re… thrilled.”

Heeseung felt his world tilt.

You just sat there, shell-shocked, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear.

Fiancée?

Your phone buzzed. A message from your mother.

Mom: Is it true? You’re dating Lee Heeseung?! We’re so proud of you, sweetie!

You looked up at Heeseung, eyes wide and terrified.

And in that moment, he realized. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. It was a trap you were both already caught in.

The next morning, Seoul woke up to chaos.

#ENHYPEN_HEESEUNGGIRLFRIEND trended worldwide.

Every news outlet replayed the same shaky footage. Heeseung in a hoodie, a mystery woman beside him, their heads bent close, laughter lost in the hum of the ramen shop.

To you, it felt surreal, like watching someone else’s life implode on a screen. Only, it was your name being whispered across the internet. Your face blurred in the video thumbnails. Your hospital colleagues whispering behind their masks.

“That’s Dr. Y/N, right? The one from ER?”

“Oh my god, she’s dating Heeseung from ENHYPEN?”

“She doesn’t look like an idol’s type though…”

Your stomach churned.

By noon, you received an official message from HYBE requesting your presence again. The tone was polite. Almost too polite, which made it worse.

When you arrived, cameras already swarmed the front gate. You tried to sneak in through the side, head low, cap pulled tight, but the flashes still caught you.

“Miss, are you Heeseung’s girlfriend?”“Is this a publicity stunt?”

“How long have you two been dating?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Heeseung was already there, seated at the long table in a sleek black suit that did nothing to hide the storm in his eyes. The rest of ENHYPEN sat nearby. Jay, Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki, watching with quiet discomfort.

Your throat felt dry as you sat across from him. Your eyes met. His cold and accusing, yours wide with hurt.

The PR director cleared her throat. “Given the circumstances, we’ve decided on a unified statement. The article has gained too much traction to deny, and Heeseung’s parents have expressed approval. The public announcement will identify Miss Y/N as Heeseung’s fiancée.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. “You can’t be serious.”

“This minimizes damage,” the director said briskly. “We’ll control the narrative. The public already adores the idea. A hardworking doctor and a famous idol. It’s clean, romantic, and stabilizes your image.”

“I don’t need a fake romance to stabilize my image,” Heeseung snapped.

“But you need to protect your career,” she replied smoothly.

Silence fell. Heavy. Final.

Your hands clenched in your lap. “What about me?” You asked softly. “My job? My reputation?”

The director smiled. The kind of smile that wasn’t kind at all. “You’ll be taken care of. We’ll issue a statement saying your families arranged the match. Your hospital will likely appreciate the publicity.”

Heeseung scoffed under his breath. “Unbelievable.”

You wanted to scream. But all you could do was sit there, small and helpless, as the world decided your future.

That evening, the news broke again. This time, officially.

HYBE CONFIRMS: ENHYPEN’s Lee Heeseung engaged to ER Doctor in an arranged marriage!

“Their families have known each other for years,” the statement read. “Please support them with warmth and respect.”

Your phone exploded with messages.

Mom: Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us sooner? Heeseung’s parents called. They said they’re so happy! We’ll meet them next week for the engagement dinner!

Best friend: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE ENGAGED TO LEE HEESEUNG???

Supervisor: We need to discuss your leave of absence. The media is causing a disturbance.

You stared at the messages until the words blurred.

Then came the call from your mother again, voice trembling with excitement. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how long your father’s wanted to see you settled! Heeseung’s such a good boy. He’s famous, polite, handsome—”

“Mom,” You interrupted, voice breaking. “It’s not— it’s not what you think.”

“What do you mean?”

But you couldn’t explain. Because even if you did, no one would believe you. The world already had its story.

A few days later, you both met again. This time at Heeseung’s apartment.

HYBE insisted you move in together for the image. Paparazzi had already spotted moving vans.

You stood awkwardly by the door, clutching a small suitcase, feeling like you’d walked into someone else’s life.

Heeseung barely looked up from the couch. “You can take the guest room.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, stepping inside.

The silence was painful.

You’d imagined what it would be like living with a celebrity before. Glamorous, exciting, full of laughter maybe. Not this. Not cold silence and walls that seemed too clean, too empty.

Heeseung finally stood, brushing past you towards the kitchen. “Don’t get comfortable. As soon as this dies down, we’ll tell the media we broke up.”

Your chest tightened. “You still think I leaked that video, don’t you?”

He turned, eyes sharp. “Should I not?”

You flinched. “I told you I didn’t—”

“Then who did?” he demanded. “Because the only people there that night were you, me, and the shop owner.”

“Maybe your stalker!” You snapped back, anger finally spilling through. “You said you wanted peace that night. Maybe someone followed you!”

The accusation seemed to catch him off guard, but his pride didn’t let him show it. He scoffed instead. “Convenient excuse.”

Your eyes burned. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to.” His voice was flat, cutting. “I’ve met enough people who smile nice and stab harder.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your tears down. “Then I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Good.”

He turned back toward his room, the conversation ending like a slammed door.

You stood there in the quiet apartment, surrounded by the echoes of a life you didn’t belong in.

Days turned into weeks.

Heeseung’s schedule grew relentless with photoshoots, rehearsals, interviews and your shifts were no kinder. You both barely saw each other except at dawn, passing like ghosts in the hallway.

But even silence has edges. And sometimes, those edges softened.

One night, you returned from the hospital long after midnight, exhaustion etched deep into your bones. You slipped off your shoes and froze. There was a blanket lay folded neatly on the couch. A cup of warm tea steamed faintly beside it.

Heeseung wasn’t home, but the gesture was unmistakable.

He must’ve left it for you.

The next morning, when Heeseung came back from practice, he found a small lunchbox on the counter with a sticky note.

“Eat something that isn’t instant coffee. – Y/N”

He stared at it for a long moment, something unsteady flickering in his chest. He didn’t say thank you. But he ate every bite.

By the second week, the other members began teasing him mercilessly.

“Hyung, are you sure it’s fake?” Ni-ki asked with a grin one evening during practice.

Heeseung glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake snickered. “You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. She texting you?”

“I’m not—”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “We’re just saying, you’ve been less of a grump since she moved in.”

Heeseung threw a towel at them, trying to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Shut up and get back to work.”

Meanwhile, you found yourself glancing at your phone more than usual, too. Not because you expected messages, but because you kept catching glimpses of Heeseung on your feed. Concert clips, interviews, fancams.

He looked different on stage— brighter, freer, magnetic.

It hurt a little, realizing how little of that version of him you got to see.

And yet, when he came home tired, messy-haired, half asleep, you found yourself quietly setting out a glass of water for him before heading to bed.

It wasn’t much. Just care. Simple, quiet care.

A week later, HYBE called again. This time, for a joint interview.

To “solidify the image of a loving couple.”

Heeseung almost refused, but the look on your face, weary, resigned, stopped him. You didn’t deserve more public scrutiny.

So, you both went.

The set was warm, cameras flashing, reporters smiling too brightly. Heeseung’s hand brushed yours under the table— an accident, maybe, but he didn’t pull away.

When asked how they met, you hesitated. Heeseung answered smoothly, “Through mutual acquaintances.”

When asked what you liked about him, you managed, “He’s… surprisingly kind when he wants to be.”

He glanced at you, just briefly, and something in his chest shifted.

By the end of the interview, the internet was ablaze again. But this time, with adoration.

“They look so genuine!”

“Heeseung’s smile when he looked at her! Omg😭”

“I ship them for real.”

Heeseung scrolled through the comments later that night, exhaling slowly. Maybe this wouldn’t be as unbearable as he thought.

But deep down, guilt still lingered. Because every time you looked at him, he saw the hurt he’d caused when he didn’t believe you. And for the first time in his life, fame didn’t feel heavy. Regret did.

The sound of wedding bells wasn’t supposed to make your chest feel hollow.

But when you stood under the soft lights of the private ceremony hall, cameras hidden behind floral arrangements, company executives pretending to be guests, all you could think was how fake it all felt.

You and Heeseung stood side by side in front of the officiant, a perfect picture for the media to release later. His jaw was tight, hands clasped neatly in front of him, not touching yours even once.

The vows had been prewritten. “A beautiful union between two families who value tradition and love.”

Love.

You almost laughed.

Heeseung said his lines with perfect composure, every word sounding rehearsed. You followed, your voice trembling just slightly.

When the ceremony ended, you both bowed to the small crowd of HYBE representatives and both sets of parents, then turned to face each other for the final step. The symbolic ring exchange.

Heeseung slipped the ring on your finger without looking up.

You did the same.

The cameras clicked.

And just like that, you were married.

Later that night, in the car back to your apartment, silence hung between you both like fog.

You turned the ring on your finger, staring at it. “Your parents seemed… really happy.”

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “They’ve wanted this since I was born. ‘A nice, educated girl who can ground you.’ Guess they got their wish.”

“I didn’t ask for this either,” you said quietly.

“I know.” His voice softened just a little. “But we’re in it now.”

You looked out the window at the flashing city lights. “How long do we keep pretending?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Until the world stops watching.”

You nodded slowly. “Right.”

But deep down, you wondered if that would ever happen.

Your “honeymoon” — another PR move, was a weekend photoshoot in Jeju.

The ocean was beautiful, the sky perfectly blue, but everything felt staged.

You were told to “look in love” for the camera. Heeseung placed his hand around your waist, smiled on cue, whispered lines the photographer fed him.

And you smiled too, but it hurt. Every click of the camera was a reminder that your life wasn’t yours anymore.

That night, when the crew packed up, they sat on the beach in silence, watching the waves.

“You’re good at pretending,” you said finally.

Heeseung looked over, surprised. “What?”

“You act like you’re fine all the time. Like it doesn’t bother you.”

He gave a small, tired smile. “It’s my job.”

“Doesn’t it ever get lonely?”

His expression faltered. “Every day.”

Something inside you softened.

“You know,” you murmured, “I used to think fame was glamorous. But you look… tired, Heeseung. Really tired.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s because it is tiring. You spend every waking moment being someone else. Then one day, you realize you’ve forgotten who you actually are.”

Your chest ached. “That sounds awful.”

“It is,” he admitted quietly. “But tonight—” He looked at you, eyes reflecting the ocean light. “—it doesn’t feel that bad.”

Your breath caught.

For a second, it wasn’t fake. For a second, you forgot there were cameras, contracts, rumors.

Just him and you, sitting by the waves, both aching in their own ways.

When you returned to Seoul, something between you both had changed.

It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it wasn’t hostility anymore either.

You learned to exist around each other.

You cooked breakfast when you had the time. Heeseung sometimes left your favorite snacks on the counter before leaving for schedules. You didn’t talk much, but the quiet felt less like walls and more like… understanding.

One night, when Heeseung returned from a live broadcast, you were asleep on the couch, medical papers scattered around you. Your glasses had slid down your nose, hair messy, exhaustion written all over you.

He hesitated for a moment, then gently pulled the blanket over your shoulders.

His fingers brushed your cheek, soft and brief, before he pulled away.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

You stirred slightly, murmuring something half-asleep. His name.

And Heeseung froze.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did.

A few days later, you came home early, surprised to find the members hanging out in their living room. Jungwon and Ni-ki on the floor with snacks, Jake scrolling on his phone, Jay humming softly.

“Oh— I didn’t know you guys were here,” you said, startled.

Sunoo beamed. “Y/N! You’re back!”

Heeseung looked up from the couch, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We were just hanging out.”

“Do you want some ramyeon?” Jungwon offered, holding up a pot.

You laughed. “You guys really eat this much?”

Jake grinned. “Heeseung’s been obsessed with it lately. Wonder why.”

Heeseung shot him a look, but his ears turned pink.

You rolled your eyes, amused, and joined them for dinner. The members were loud, chaotic, endlessly teasing Heeseung. For the first time in weeks, you laughed. Really laughed.

Later, after everyone left, Heeseung stood in the kitchen cleaning up.

“You know,” You said softly, leaning against the counter, “you’re lucky to have them.”

He looked over. “Yeah. They’re my family.”

“Must be nice,” you murmured.

“You don’t have siblings?”

“One younger brother,” you said with a smile. “But my parents are doctors too. We were always busy.”

He nodded. “Guess we both grew up chasing perfection.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, neither looked away.

There was something unspoken there. An understanding, fragile and real.

As weeks passed, small moments began to blur the line between fake and real.

When you caught a cold, Heeseung left his schedule early and brought yo medicine, pretending it was because “HYBE would kill him if their PR wife died.” But his voice trembled just enough to give him away.

When Heeseung had a rough night, overwhelmed by exhaustion and the noise of fame, you found him sitting on the balcony, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes unfocused.

You didn’t say anything. Just brought him tea and sat beside him in silence.

After a while, he whispered, “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know.”

“But you did anyway,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you said. “Because you needed someone to.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And something in his chest loosened.

But not everything was easy.

The world still watched. Every glance between you both was dissected online. Every photo analyzed. Some fans sent hate, calling you unworthy.

One night, you came home late, scrolling through the comments. Cruel, mocking words staring at you through the screen.

She’s not even pretty.

She’s just using him for fame.

She looks like she doesn’t belong next to him.

Your throat tightened. You slammed your phone face-down and pressed your palms over your eyes, fighting tears.

Heeseung walked in just then, stopping when he saw your shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?”

You looked up quickly, wiping your cheeks. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He frowned, stepping closer. “You’re crying.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone was gentle but firm.

Something in you broke. “Do you have any idea what it’s like being hated for something you didn’t even do? For being with someone who doesn’t even want you there?”

Heeseung froze.

You laughed bitterly, voice cracking. “They think I’m lucky, Heeseung. But I feel like I’ve lost everything.”

He didn’t know what to say. Guilt twisted in his chest like a knife. Because you were right. He’d made your life harder, accused you, hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice raw. “For… everything. For not believing you. For making this harder than it already is.”

You looked at him, eyes red, searching. “Do you mean that?”

He nodded, quietly. “Yeah. I do.”

And you believed him.

A week later, Heeseung had to leave for a world tour. The apartment felt emptier without him. Quieter, colder. But every few days, you’d wake up to a text.

Heeseung: Did you eat?

Heeseung: Don’t forget your umbrella.

Heeseung: Your favorite ramen place added delivery now. Thought you’d like that.

You smiled every time, your heart aching in that sweet, unbearable way.

One night, after a particularly long shift, you came home to find a small package at the door. It was a snow globe of Paris, one of the stops on his tour.

Inside, a tiny note read: “For when I’m not there. – Heeseung.”

You sat on the couch, clutching it to your chest.

Somewhere along the line, you’d stopped pretending.

The apartment had changed.

Not in appearance. It was the same minimalist decor, the same scent of coffee and faint cologne. But in atmosphere.

It felt different.

Warmer. Quieter. More alive.

Maybe it was because Heeseung had started leaving small things behind when he returned from tour. Postcards from each city, trinkets you never asked for but always smiled at. Or maybe it was the way your heart didn’t race from discomfort anymore, but from something gentler. Something you didn’t dare name.

When he finally returned from tour, it was raining.

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through patient reports, when the door clicked open. Heeseung stood there, suitcase in hand, hoodie damp from the drizzle.

“You’re back,” you said, standing up before you could stop yourself.

“I’m back,” he echoed, smiling faintly. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched. “You wish.”

He laughed softly, setting his bag down. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

“I wasn’t,” you lied.

You both knew you were.

He glanced around. The apartment looked the same, but somehow felt like home. There was a blanket draped neatly over the couch, the faint smell of chamomile tea lingering in the air.

“I brought you something,” he said, reaching into his bag. He handed you a small box.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple but elegant.

“Heeseung…”

“It’s not much,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just saw it and thought you’d like it.”

You smiled softly, eyes glimmering. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He met your gaze and felt something in his chest tighten. Your smile was real. Tired but warm. And he realized he wanted to see it more often.

“Welcome home,” you said quietly.

And somehow, it felt like the most genuine thing anyone had said to him in a long time.

The following weeks were a blur of quiet domesticity.

You worked your exhausting hospital shifts; Heeseung juggled recording and photoshoots. Yet somehow, always found small pockets of time for each other.

You’d come home to find him asleep on the couch, hair messy, TV still playing softly.

He’d wake up to you cooking breakfast, humming under your breath.

You both didn’t need to talk much. Silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. It was easy. Safe.

One evening, Heeseung knocked on your bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

He peeked in, holding a bag of takeout. “Ramen?”

You laughed. “You’re still obsessed.”

“Hey, it’s tradition,” he said, grinning. “You, me, and noodles.”

You both ate on the balcony, watching the city lights twinkle below.

“You know,” you said between bites, “I think this is the first time I’ve had a normal dinner with someone in months.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Same. Unless you count eating backstage while a makeup artist touches up your face.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds glamorous.”

“It’s not.” He paused, eyes softening. “This— this feels better.”

Your heart fluttered. You quickly looked away. “Don’t get used to it. I have a night shift tomorrow.”

He smiled, teasing. “So, you do enjoy my company.”

“Don’t push your luck, Heeseung.”

But you were smiling.

It was subtle, but something had shifted.

Heeseung started showing up at the hospital on his rare days off, disguised in a mask and baseball cap to drop off lunch for you. The nurses whispered behind their hands, half in shock, half in awe.

“Your husband’s really handsome,” one of them whispered.

You flushed. “He’s… not my— I mean— we’re just—”

The nurse smirked. “Right. Sure.”

That afternoon, you texted him.

Y/N: You’re going to get me fired one day

Heeseung: Worth it. You looked like you needed a break.

Y/N: …thanks.

Heeseung: Anytime, doc.

You stared at the last message longer than you meant to.

One night, Heeseung came home later than usual with tired, eyes heavy. He found you asleep at the kitchen table, still in your scrubs, medical notes sprawled everywhere.

He smiled faintly and shook his head. Then, without thinking, he bent down and carefully lifted you into his arms.

You stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

As he carried you to your room, your hand unconsciously curled around his sleeve, like you didn’t want to let go.

He froze, heart pounding, chest aching in ways he couldn’t name.

He laid you gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around you. His eyes lingered on your face. It was peaceful, softer than usual.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before he could stop himself.

Then he left the room before the feeling could consume him.

The next morning, you woke up with your glasses neatly folded on your nightstand and a blanket you didn’t remember pulling up. You frowned, then smiled faintly.

Heeseung.

It was becoming a habit. These small gestures that neither of you acknowledged aloud.

But feelings never stay quiet forever.

One evening, you were walking home from the hospital when you saw Heeseung standing outside the apartment building surrounded by fans.

You froze. They were harmless. Squealing, waving, asking for photos. But the sight made something sharp twist in your chest.

Heeseung was smiling, polite and perfect as always. But then a fan reached up to fix the collar of his jacket, and yo felt something you didn’t recognize rise inside you.

Jealousy.

The realization startled you.

When he finally came upstairs, you tried to act normal, pretending to focus on your phone.

“Rough night?” he asked, setting down his bag.

“No,” you said quickly.

He looked at you, amused. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You crossed your arms. “You were… busy downstairs.”

He blinked. “Busy?”

“With your fans.”

He tilted his head, realizing. “Were you… jealous?”

“I— No! Of course not!”

He smirked. “You totally were.”

“Heeseung,” you warned.

He chuckled, stepping closer, voice dropping lower. “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Your heart stuttered. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a terrible liar,” he repeated softly.

For a moment, your eyes locked. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, the tension thick in the air.

Then your phone buzzed, breaking the moment. You stepped back quickly, pretending to check it.

Heeseung smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth curling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

After that night, something changed again.

The distance between you grew thinner, fragile, dangerous.

There were lingering looks over breakfast. Fingers brushing when you both reached for the same glass. Late-night conversations that stretched until dawn.

And every time your eyes met, the unspoken words grew louder.

I care about you.

But I don’t know how to say it.

One weekend, Heeseung surprised you with tickets to a musical.

“You need a night off,” he said when you protested. “Doctor’s orders.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Too bad,” he said, smirking. “Husband’s orders, then.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.

The show was beautiful. Soft lights, warm music, laughter that melted stress away. For once, you weren’t a doctor on duty. You were just… yourself.

Afterward, you both walked along the Han River, the city lights shimmering on the water.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For tonight.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

A soft breeze lifted your hair. You looked at him, and the moment felt suspended, fragile, precious.

Heeseung reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You deserve to be happy, you know.”

Your breath caught.

“I’m trying,” you whispered.

He smiled, heartbreakingly gentle. “Me too.”

The silence that followed was full, not empty, not awkward, just full of everything you both couldn’t yet say.

That night, when you returned home, Heeseung lingered by your door.

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

“Goodnight,” he echoed. Then, after a pause, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Thank you… for staying.”

You smiled. “Always.”

And when you closed your door, your heart was pounding so loud it drowned everything else.

Neither of you realized how close you were to breaking, how much love can hide beneath silence until one night, it can’t anymore.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion.

You leaned against the staff room wall, your head spinning slightly as the alcohol kicked in.

Your coworkers had dragged you out for a rare night of celebration. A successful surgery, a long week survived. You’d promised yourself just one drink. Then two. Then… you’d stopped counting.

Now, your phone buzzed in your hand.

Heeseung: You still at the hospital?

Heeseung: It’s late.

You squinted at the screen, smiling drowsily.

Y/N: On my way home, bossy boy.

Heeseung: …are you drunk?

Y/N: maybe.

Y/N: maybe i’m fine. maybe i miss your stupid ramen.

Heeseung: I’m coming to get you. Stay there.

You giggled. “He’s so dramatic,” you mumbled to yourself.

Fifteen minutes later, Heeseung’s car pulled up outside the hospital. He got out, mask pulled down, hoodie up, eyes scanning until he spotted you swaying slightly under the streetlight, cheeks flushed, still in your scrubs.

He called your name and sighed, walking over.

You looked up, eyes wide and glassy. “Heeseung~ You came.”

“Of course I came,” he muttered, taking your hand. “You shouldn’t be wandering around like this.”

You blinked at your hands, then smiled softly. “Your hand’s warm.” He stilled. “…Let’s get you home.”

The ride was quiet, the city lights blurring past. You hummed softly, leaning your head against the window.

“You’re mad at me,” you said suddenly.

Heeseung glanced over. “No. I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried,” you mumbled. “Even when you pretend not to care.”

He exhaled. “Y/N…”

You turned your head, eyes hazy but honest. “Do you know how hard it is? Loving someone who doesn’t see it?”

The words hit him like a blow.

His hands tightened on the wheel. “What did you just say?”

You blinked slowly, smiling faintly. “You’re beautiful, Lee Heeseung. And so, so stupid.”

“Y/N—”

But you were already closing your eyes, whispering softly, “I love you, idiot.”

The words hung in the air, fragile and breathtaking.

Heeseung’s chest ached,his pulse thundered, and for the first time in months, he didn’t know how to breathe.

He parked the car, turning to you . You were asleep now, head resting against the seat, lashes wet from the faint trace of tears.

“Love…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

But you didn’t stir.

He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“You have no idea what you just did to me,” he murmured.

He carried you upstairs, careful not to wake you. Gently, he laid you on the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

For a long time, he stood there, watching you breathe steady and peaceful.

Then he whispered the words he’d been holding back for far too long.

“I love you too.”

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache and a heavy feeling in your chest. You groaned, shielding your eyes from the sunlight.

Your mind was a blur. Fragments of last night flickering through like pieces of a dream.

Laughter. His hand. The car ride. His voice.

And then, your breath caught.

“Do you know how hard it is? Loving someone who doesn’t see it?”

Your heart stopped.

“Oh no.”

You jumped out of bed, nearly tripping on the blanket, and ran to the kitchen.

Heeseung was there. Already dressed, making coffee.

He looked up as you stumbled in, cheeks flushed, hair messy.

“Morning,” he said softly.

“About last night—”

He handed you a glass of water. “You were drunk.”

“I— I might’ve said things—”

“You did,” he said quietly.

Your throat tightened. “Heeseung, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean it?” he asked, eyes unreadable.

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know what I meant. I just—”

He stepped closer, setting the mug down. “Hey, look at me.”

You did — reluctantly, nervously — and his expression softened.

“Tell me you didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

Your breath hitched. “Hee—”

“Because I can’t keep pretending anymore,” he said, voice trembling. “I can’t keep acting like this is just an arrangement. I can’t look at you every day and not say it.”

Your eyes widened.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and honest. “I’ve loved you for months. Every little thing. The way you drink your coffee, the way you fall asleep over your notes, the way you smile when you think no one’s watching. You’ve ruined me.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You don’t mean that—”

“I do.”

He stepped closer, his voice breaking. “I tried not to. God, I tried. But I can’t anymore.”

You stared at him, heart thundering, every emotion crashing down at once.

And then you broke.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to, but I do. I fell for you when you smiled over ramen that night. I fell harder every time you cared when you didn’t have to.”

Heeseung’s breath caught. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

He moved before either of you could think. One step, then another, until his hands were on your face and his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, trembling. Then it deepened. Months of longing, heartbreak, and unspoken words pouring into one perfect, breathless moment.

When you both finally pulled apart, foreheads touching, you laughed through your tears.

“That was… overdue,” you whispered.

He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited.”

“Guess we’re finally married for real now,” you teased weakly.

Heeseung chuckled. “Guess we are.”

The days that followed were lighter.

You both still had your lives. Surgeries and stadiums, long nights and missed calls. But now there was something else: love, quiet and steady, anchoring you both through it all.

Heeseung would leave sticky notes before tours, little doodles, reminders to eat, small “I miss you”s hidden between your medical books.

You would stay up late watching his concerts online, smiling every time he said, “This song’s for someone special.”

You didn’t need grand gestures. Just the simple, sacred peace of knowing you were home.

One evening, months later, Heeseung was waiting for you at the ramen shop where it all began.

When you walked in, exhausted but glowing, he grinned.

“Déjà vu?” You asked, sitting across from him.

“Maybe,” he said, handing you chopsticks. “But this time, I’m not letting you run away.”

You smiled softly. “I wasn’t planning to.”

You both ate in comfortable silence, steam curling between you like warmth reborn.

When you finished, Heeseung reached across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You know,” he said, eyes glimmering, “for a misunderstanding, we turned out pretty great.”

You laughed. “We did.”

And when he leaned in and kissed you, it was slow, sure, and full of everything they’d survived. The world outside faded away.

No rumors. No headlines. No pretense.

Just you both.

The idol who craved peace.

The doctor who found love in chaos.

And the life you built together was one quiet, perfect heartbeat at a time.

A year since you both got married, the smell of coffee and pancakes drifted through the apartment.

The same apartment where everything began. The fake marriage, the arguments, the awkward silences.

Now, it was home.

“Heeseung!” You called from the kitchen, flipping a pancake with far more aggression than necessary. “You said you’d help!”

From the living room came a groggy voice. “I am helping. I’m providing emotional support.”

“You’re lying on the couch!”

“That’s emotional support!”

You glared at him over your shoulder. He was sitting there in sweatpants, hair tousled, eyes half-open, clutching his mug like it was his lifeline.

You sighed, but your lips curved upward anyway. “Pop-star.”

He grinned sleepily. “Doctor.”

It still amazed you sometimes how natural it all felt now. No cameras. No press statements. No contracts or pretending. Just you both.

You plated the pancakes and set them down in front of him. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Heeseung leaned forward, stealing a quick kiss before you could protest. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you married me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.” You smirked, hiding a smile.

Your schedules were still chaos, his tours, your shifts, but somehow, you had both built a rhythm. Mornings like this, quiet and golden, felt like stolen miracles.

Heeseung watched you sip coffee, your hair messy from sleep, sunlight spilling across your face.

He couldn’t help it. He took out his phone and snapped a photo.

“Hey!” You protested. “I look half-dead!”

“You look perfect,” he said simply.

Your cheeks flushed. “You’re so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Devoted?”

“—annoying,” you finished, though your smile betrayed you.

A knock at the door interrupted them.

Heeseung frowned. “Who—”

Before he could finish, a familiar voice shouted, “Hyung! Open up!”

You blinked. “Is that—?”

“Don’t tell me—”

Too late. The door burst open, and six chaotic voices filled the apartment.

“Surprise!” Jungwon grinned, holding a cake box.

“Hyung said you’d be home!” Sunghoon added.

Jake was already filming on his phone. “Domestic Heeseung and Y/N content. For private archives only, of course.”

“Delete that,” Heeseung groaned.

Sunoo gasped dramatically. “So rude! We come bearing cake and love!”

Ni-ki peeked over their shoulders. “Is that pancakes? Hyung, you didn’t save me any?”

You laughed, utterly unbothered. “Come in, come in. There’s plenty.”

Heeseung groaned again. “You’re encouraging them.”

You shrugged. “They’re family.”

The boys tumbled inside, filling the apartment with noise and laughter. Someone put music on; someone else started dancing with the broom.

Heeseung watched you in the middle of it all. Laughing, talking, teasing Sunghoon about his hair and his heart swelled.

Once upon a time, this apartment had been a cage. Now, it was everything he’d ever wanted.

Later, after the boys left (leaving crumbs, chaos, and love in their wake), you and Heeseung stood by the balcony, city lights stretching endlessly before you.

“Remember the first time we met?” You asked softly.

“How could I forget? You were trying really hard to pretend you didn’t recognize me.”

“I almost screamed.”

He chuckled. “And now you steal my hoodies.”

“They’re comfortable,” you said defensively.

He slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re comfortable.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “You used to hate me.”

“I never hated you,” he murmured. “I was just too stupid to understand you.”

You looked up at him, eyes reflecting the city lights. “And now?”

“Now I can’t imagine life without you.”

Your heart fluttered, same as it had the first time he’d smiled at you.

“Heeseung…” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For choosing me. Even when you didn’t have to.”

He smiled softly, genuinely. “You don’t choose who you fall for. You just… do.”

You laughed quietly. “Still sounds like a song lyric.”

He tilted his head, grinning. “Maybe it will be.”

A few weeks later, ENHYPEN released a new single.

Fans called it “Home Again.”

The lyrics spoke of finding warmth after chaos, of ramen nights and quiet mornings, of someone who made the world feel safe again.

When asked in an interview about the song’s inspiration, Heeseung smiled, eyes shining just a little too softly.

“It’s about someone who reminded me that love isn’t about timing or perfection,” he said. “It’s about peace. The kind you don’t realize you’ve been searching for until you find it.”

Somewhere backstage, you watched the broadcast on your phone, a fond smile tugging at your lips.

And when he looked into the camera at the end, whispering, “This one’s for you,” you didn’t need to wonder who he meant.

You already knew.

The end~

[diviniyae]

pink winter dividers

credit not needed. recoloring welcomed. feel free to edit as you need!

[ot7archives]

Betting on Us

Summary: When quiet, unassuming you catch the eye of ENHYPEN's notorious heartbreaker, Jay, the bet is simple: charm you for three months and win $10,000. But as Jay gets closer to the girl who’s immune to his charms, the line between the game and reality blurs, and he’s left questioning everything, including his feelings for you. Will he risk it all for love, or will his past mistakes tear you both apart forever?

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, angst, emotional hurt/ comfort, betrayal, Jay is stupid at first, angst with a happy ending, we love a boy who grovels, happy/open ending, healing.

Word count: 11.5k

Note: I am so sorry for being inactive for so long. Life happened and I just couldn’t keep up. I’m slowly trying to write and help myself through this as well. I hope it’s not very rusty and you all like it. Please do let me know how you feel about this. And I’m planning to make a taglist too. So please do comment or send me an ask if you’d like to be added. I promise I’ll try to write more. I’m also thinking to maybe start taking requests so that I can write on more topics. I will post separately regarding this. In the meantime, I hope you all like this fic. 🤍🤍

The August sun filtered through the tall windows of the campus lecture hall, casting golden rectangles across rows of wooden desks. It was one of those mornings where everything felt just slightly out of sync. Students arriving late, papers shuffling, the professor muttering something about a pop quiz. But none of it fazed you.

You walked in, your satchel hanging low on one shoulder, hair loosely tied back, glasses slipping a little down your nose. Your sneakers squeaked slightly against the freshly waxed floor, and a few heads turned as you entered. Not because you stood out in a loud or obvious way but quite the opposite.

It was the quiet confidence. The way you scanned the room once, chose an empty seat near the middle, and settled down without a second glance.

You were new. Not just to this class, but to the campus entirely.

Transferring mid-semester wasn’t ideal, but life rarely moved on schedule. Your old school hadn’t worked out, and this was your chance for a clean slate— new major, new environment, new people. You were ready.

Or so you thought.

“Yo, who’s that?”

Jay leaned forward from his usual seat at the back, tilting his head just slightly to get a better look. His tone was lazy, amused, but the question was genuine. Park Sunghoon, seated beside him, followed his gaze.

“New girl,” Sunghoon muttered, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. “Transfer student. I think she’s in our elective too.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, watching you pull out a pen and a lined notebook. No laptop. Interesting.

“She’s cute,” Jake said, sliding into the seat behind them. “But kind of... different.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He was too busy studying the way you interacted with the professor when he called your name with a respectful nod, a smile, and then head down, back to your notes. No fluttering lashes. No awe-struck stammering. No stolen glances at him or the other ENHYPEN boys.

That was new.

In the world of Jay Park and his band of brothers, famous on campus for both their music and their reputation, people noticed them. People looked. People tried.

But not you.

And that? That rubbed them the wrong way.

After class, you navigated the hallways with a folded campus map sticking out of your pocket. You made your way to the next class, mentally plotting out where the library and science building were. A few girls from your bio lab smiled and introduced themselves. You made friends quickly, but kept your circle small.

You liked it that way.

You weren’t shy. Far from it. You had a way with people, but you also had a radar for trouble. And that ENHYPEN group? Trouble in tight jeans and expensive cologne.

The name was everywhere. On posters for open mic nights, social media pages, and whispered conversations in the dorms.

“Jay Park is literally a god.”

“I heard Jake once dated three girls in one week.”

“Sunghoon said hi to me and I almost blacked out.”

You didn’t get it. Sure, they were good-looking, confident, and had the whole mysterious-frat-boy-musician thing going on. But that wasn’t enough to earn your attention. You wanted substance. Not swagger.

Later that afternoon, Jay strolled into the music elective fifteen minutes late, sunglasses still on. The professor gave him a dry look but didn’t say anything. ENHYPEN boys always got away with it.

He saw you again.

This time, you were seated up front.

He took the seat directly behind you.

“Hey,” he said casually, tapping your chair with the tip of his shoe.

You turned slightly, just enough to look over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Jay,” he offered, flashing his signature smile, the one that had worked for years.

Your lips tugged into a polite smile. “Y/N.”

“And you are... new here?” he said, leaning forward, trying to meet your eyes.

“Yes,” you said, turning back toward the front. “But not new to small talk.”

Jay blinked.

Sunghoon, who overheard from the next row, stifled a laugh.

Damn.

That night, in the ENHYPEN dorm, the energy was rowdy. Jungwon was flipping through his guitar chords, Heeseung and Ni-ki were arguing over pizza toppings, and Jay sat on the couch, still thinking about her.

“She’s not like the others,” he muttered.

Jake caught that. “You mean she’s not obsessed with you? Yeah. We noticed.”

“Maybe she’s playing hard to get,” Sunghoon said, flopping down beside him. “Or maybe she’s just not into you.”

Jay’s brows lifted. “You don’t think I could get her?”

Jake’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Oh no. That sounds like a challenge.”

Heeseung grinned from across the room. “Ten grand says you can’t make her fall for you in three months.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Jay chuckled. “You’re kidding.”

Jake leaned forward. “Dead serious. You’ve done it a hundred times. Why not her?”

Jay twirled the soda can in his hand, thinking. Three months. Ten thousand dollars. And the chance to break the one girl who didn’t look at him like he hung the stars?

It was stupid.

It was childish.

And yet...

“You’re on.”

The ENHYPEN dorm always buzzed with the noise of guitar riffs echoing from one room, video games blasting from another, and someone always burning something in the kitchen.

But that night, there was something different in the air: challenge.

Jay sat in the middle of the chaos, still half-laughing at the absurdity of it. Ten thousand dollars, a solid chunk of their gig money, was now unofficially riding on his ability to win over the new girl who didn’t give him the time of day.

“She’s literally not even your type,” Jungwon pointed out, flipping through his phone from the armchair.

Jay smirked. “What, because she reads books and doesn’t hang on every word I say?”

“Exactly,” Jake said, grinning. “It’s fun. She’s like... some kind of untouchable nerd goddess. Makes it more exciting.”

“Untouchable,” Ni-ki scoffed. “Until Jay pulls out the guitar and starts singing to her at sunset. Boom. Game over.”

Jay shook his head, amused. “I’m not doing this just for the money.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You’re doing it for pride. Which is worse.”

Jay didn’t deny it.

The bet was set. Unwritten, unspoken outside their circle, but very real. Jay had three months to win you over. Get you to fall. Make you his. And then break up. No strings. No mess. Just a bruised ego for you, and a thick envelope for him.

The prize was temptation. But the chase? That’s what really got under his skin.

The next day, you entered your elective class early, as always. You liked the front row with fewer distractions, easier to focus. Today, your notebook was filled with neat bullet points from the previous lecture. You didn’t notice Jay slide into the seat beside you until he casually leaned over.

“You always sit alone?”

You glanced at him. “Not really. I just don’t have time to wait around for someone to save me a seat.”

Jay chuckled. “Independent. I like that.”

You gave him a sidelong look. “I’m not looking to be liked.”

“Good,” he said, without missing a beat. “Because I don’t do things to impress. I’m just naturally charming.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

The professor walked in, cutting the conversation short. Jay stayed quiet through the lecture, though every so often, he’d lean closer, not close enough to invade your space, but just enough to be felt. A presence. A pull.

You kept your focus on the lecture. Mostly.

Over the next week, Jay started to show up in your orbit more and more.

At the library, he’d just happen to be browsing the same shelf.

“Oh hey, didn’t expect to see you here. What are you reading?”

In the cafeteria, he’d sit near you, even if his group was across the room.

“What’s that? Homemade lunch? That’s cute.”

At one point, he offered to walk you to class.

“I’m going that way anyway.”

And you, though amused, weren’t stupid. You knew when someone was trying too hard. You just didn’t understand why.

One afternoon, as you sipped an iced latte at the on-campus cafe, your friend Chaewon leaned across the table and lowered her voice.

“So... what’s up with Jay Park?”

You blinked. “What about him?”

“He’s been hovering around you like a lost puppy.”

“He’s just... talkative,” you replied carefully, not wanting to overthink it.

Chaewon grinned. “Girl, that man does not waste his time talking. If he’s circling you, he’s interested.”

You frowned, a little unsettled.

“I don’t get it. He’s got his fan club. Half the school thinks he’s God’s gift.”

Chaewon shrugged. “Maybe he wants what he can’t have.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well. I’m not a prize.”

“Exactly why he wants you,” Chaewon said, not realizing how on-the-nose she really was.

Back in the ENHYPEN dorm, Jay flopped onto the couch, exhausted.

“She’s harder to read than I thought,” he muttered.

“She’s not playing your game,” Sunghoon said, tossing him a soda. “Maybe you need to change the rules.”

“Has she smiled at you yet?” Jake asked.

Jay paused, thinking.

“Once. Barely.”

“Progress,” Ni-ki said, sarcastic.

Jay grinned anyway. “You don’t get it. She’s not impressed, but she’s curious.”

“Curious is good,” Heeseung nodded. “Curious is how it starts.”

But Jay didn’t respond right away. His thoughts were a little tangled. He’d spent the last few days watching you more than expected, not just to win a bet, but because you genuinely intrigued him.

The way you always asked thoughtful questions in class. How you helped that freshman find their way to the science building. How you laughed with your friends like you’d known them for years.

You were warm, sharp, and real. Different.

And that was dangerous.

Because he wasn’t supposed to actually like you.

The next day, he cornered you outside the lecture hall before class.

“Hey,” he said, holding out a drink— iced vanilla matcha, your usual. “Peace offering.”

You looked surprised. “For what?”

“For being annoyingly persistent.”

You tilted her head, clearly skeptical. “You are persistent.”

“I can’t help it,” Jay said with a smile. “You’re interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And that’s new for you?”

Jay grinned. “Most people talk at me. You talk to me. I’m not used to that.”

You looked at the drink, then at him. You took it slowly.

“One coffee doesn’t make you less annoying.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep trying,” Jay replied, and walked away, not giving you the chance to reject him.

That night, as you sipped the drink while working on your paper, you caught yourself smiling.

Just a little.

And that scared you more than you’d like to admit.

Jay wasn’t used to trying.

He was the type who drew attention just by existing. Whether it was the way he carried himself in a casual but confident way or the fact that he and the ENHYPEN boys owned the campus stage every open mic night, Jay never had to chase.

Until now.

And he was discovering something about himself he didn’t quite expect: he kind of liked the chase.

“You’re smiling like a weirdo,” Sunoo said as Jay tied his guitar string for the second time that afternoon.

Jay glanced up, amused. “I’m always smiling.”

“No,” Sunoo said flatly. “You usually smirk. This is different.”

“Maybe I’m in a good mood.”

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Or maybe you’re catching feelings for Miss I-Don’t-Care-About-ENHYPEN.”

Jake and Heeseung, sprawled out on beanbags in the corner of their practice room, perked up at the mention of you.

“She still pretending you don’t exist?” Heeseung teased.

“Actually,” Jay said, strumming a lazy chord, “she thanked me for the coffee today.”

“A miracle,” Jake said with a dramatic gasp.

Sunghoon laughed. “So what’s your next move, Romeo?”

Jay didn’t answer right away.

The next morning, you walked into the library and paused.

There was a note taped to your usual table. Neat handwriting, familiar.

“I figured you'd be here by 8:15. Here’s a bookmark for that Kafka book you pretend not to like.
—J.”

Beneath the note was a handmade bookmark, the paper folded carefully, decorated with tiny doodles of books and stars.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Okay, that was... unexpected.

You glanced around, half-wondering if he was watching.

He wasn’t.

Not that you could tell, anyway.

In the following days, Jay’s presence became a constant but not overbearing. Thoughtful, even.

He’d walk with you to class, sometimes in silence, just matching your pace. He started asking genuine questions about your hobbies, not just the typical flirty stuff. When you mentioned your part-time job at the campus bookstore, he actually showed up there, bought a poetry collection, and asked for a recommendation.

“Something that’ll make me sound deep,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, but gave him one anyway.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the attention.

In fact, that was the problem.

You were starting to enjoy it a little too much.

Which scared you.

Jay Park was... trouble. A walking heartbreak. And you weren’t naïve. You knew his reputation. You heard the stories. The girls he dated for a week, sometimes even less. Girls who swore they were special, only to become a footnote in his playlist.

You didn’t want to be a song. You wanted to be real.

One afternoon, after the shared elective, Jay caught up with you outside the campus café.

“Wanna get coffee?” he asked, casually as ever.

“I can’t,” you said, shifting the strap of your bag. “I have chem lab.”

“I’ll walk you there then.”

“Jay...”

He stopped.

There it was. Hesitation in your voice. A pause that wasn’t just about your schedule.

“I’m not trying to play games,” he said carefully.

“I know,” you said. “But I don’t know what this is.”

Jay looked at you, really looked. And for a moment, the bet, the boys, the teasing it all felt far away.

“This is me trying to know you,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

And damn it. You believed him.

Later that night, in the ENHYPEN dorm, the energy was chaotic as always. The group had just wrapped up band practice, instruments strewn everywhere, empty soda cans rolling on the floor.

Jay sat tuning his guitar when Jake threw a pillow at him.

“You’ve been real quiet lately,” Jake said. “Bet going too well?”

Jay didn’t answer.

Sunoo flopped down beside him and grinned. “We’ve been watching you go soft in real time. It’s cute.”

Jay smirked. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” Sunoo teased. “You used to ghost girls after three texts. Now you’re sending bookmarks?”

“Let him cook,” Heeseung said, smirking. “The bet’s still on.”

Jay’s jaw tightened slightly, something no one noticed.

The next week, you and Jay found yourselves assigned as partners for a short group project in your elective.

“I didn’t rig it,” Jay said, hand raised innocently.

You just shook your head. “Convenient, though.”

You both spent an afternoon working in the courtyard, laptops open, papers scattered. Jay was surprisingly focused, thoughtful, even brilliant when he wanted to be.

“You’re smarter than I thought,” you said at one point.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was stupid?”

“I thought you were... a distraction.”

He leaned back, arms crossed. “And now?”

“Still a distraction,” you admitted. “But a smart one.”

You both laughed.

And in that moment, something shifted.

The air between you changed.

More real. More dangerous.

That night, Jay stared at the ceiling from his bunk.

Sunghoon was snoring. Jake was mumbling something in his sleep. Sunoo was already out cold with a face mask on.

But Jay was wide awake.

The bet had started as a joke. Something to pass the time. An ego boost.

But now?

Now he wasn’t sure where the game ended and where the real feelings had begun.

It was supposed to be just another day, another shared project, another coffee run, another awkward attempt at small talk between you both.

But for some reason, today felt different. Maybe it was the soft breeze blowing through the trees as you both sat on the grass outside the campus library, or maybe it was the way Jay was looking at you, not with the usual cocky grin, but with something softer, more genuine.

“You’re quiet today,” you said, looking up from your laptop screen. “Usually, you’re making some kind of sarcastic comment.”

Jay’s smile was slow, almost hesitant. “I’m just... thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he said, and immediately regretted it, but his voice remained steady. “I mean, we’ve been hanging out a lot, and you’re still not like other girls. It’s... it’s confusing.”

You frowned. “Confusing?”

He shrugged, dropping his gaze to the ground. “Yeah. Usually, when I talk to someone, they try to impress me, or... make me want them. But you’re different. You just... you don’t care. You don’t care about what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. You didn’t know whether you should be flattered or worried.

“You’re not used to that?” You asked carefully.

“No. And it’s... kind of a relief.”

You blinked at him. There was a moment of silence, where the world around you both, the chatter of students passing by, the rustling leaves in the trees seemed to fade out. It was just you both and Jay’s soft vulnerability that you weren’t used to seeing.

“I don’t play games,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how to do that. But I’m not pretending when I say I like spending time with you. I’m not just doing this because of a bet.”

That hit you harder than you expected.

For the first time, you felt the weight of the situation. The bet. The game. The promises made behind your back. But in that moment, all of that seemed so distant.

“You can’t just say that,” you said softly, leaning back on your elbows. “I’m not a prize, Jay. I’m not something to win over and leave behind when you get bored.”

He swallowed, his expression tightening. “I know. But I’ve never felt like this before, and I can’t just turn it off.”

You shifted your gaze, looking away for a moment. You were quiet as your mind raced. The complexity of what was happening between you both, the way Jay’s words seemed too genuine to ignore. It felt real. It felt too real.

“Do you think I’m some kind of fool?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. “That I can’t see through you?”

Jay’s heart clenched. “No, I don’t think you’re a fool. I think... I think you’re the one person I can’t figure out. And that scares me.”

You wanted to respond, but instead, you found yourself looking at him, really looking. There was something in his eyes, a raw sincerity that you hadn’t expected. It was like the mask had slipped for a second, and what you saw was a person who was both deeply complicated and strangely simple at the same time.

Before you could process what was happening, Jay leaned forward, closing the gap between you both. He hesitated for just a moment, his breath catching as he searched your eyes for any sign of hesitation.

And then, as if the pull between you was too strong to resist, his lips met yours.

It was gentle at first, hesitant, like you were both testing the waters. Jay’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, and before you even realized it, you were kissing him back, the connection between you both sparking something neither of you had expected.

Your hands instinctively reached up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your touch. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as if your feelings had finally found a way to manifest. But even as the moment stretched, something inside you was tugging at you. A nagging reminder that this was Jay. The same Jay who played games, who charmed everyone, who didn’t believe in staying around for anything more than the fun.

You pulled back slowly, breathing heavily.

“Jay...” your voice was shaky, the tension of the kiss still hanging in the air. “We can’t... I don’t know what this is.”

Jay looked at you, eyes wide, chest still heaving from the kiss. “I know. But I want this to be real. I don’t want to be the guy who uses you. I don’t want you to think I’m playing with you.”

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to steady your racing heart. You looked down at him, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admitted. “You’re... confusing. You say you want to be real, but everything you’ve done... it’s all been part of some bet.”

Jay stood up, too, his expression conflicted. “I know. I messed up. But this isn’t just about the bet anymore. It’s about you and me, and I can’t pretend like I don’t care.”

You shook your head, your heart pulling in two directions. “I can’t be just another game to you, Jay.”

He stepped closer, his voice softening. “You’re not. I swear.”

But you couldn’t get past the doubt. The feeling that you were falling for someone who didn’t know what love meant.

“Just... give me some time,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I need to think.”

Jay nodded, a tightness in his chest. “Okay. I’ll give you time. I won’t push. But I’m not going anywhere.”

That night, Jay lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, but this time, the thoughts that swirled in his mind weren’t about the bet, or the game, or even the money. They were about you.

The kiss had meant something. He had never kissed someone and felt it so strongly. The connection wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. He didn’t know when it had started to happen, but now he couldn’t stop it. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: he had to make things right. He had to show you that what he was feeling was real.

And that meant putting everything. The bet, the boys, the pride aside.

He had to prove that he was serious.

It had been a week since the kiss, and everything had shifted.

Not dramatically. No dramatic declarations, no whirlwind romance. But the energy between Jay and you had changed.

You were softer around him now. Smiling more. Letting him walk you to class without complaint. Sometimes, you’d even initiate the conversation. There was something vulnerable in the way you looked at him now, like you were searching for proof that he meant what he said.

And Jay? He was trying. For real.

He hadn’t said anything to the others. Not about the kiss. Not about how he hadn’t even thought of the $10,000 since that day in the grass. Not about how every time he saw your name light up on his phone, his chest tightened and not in a bad way.

For once in his life, Jay wasn’t thinking about the end goal.

He was thinking about you.

“Let me guess,” you said one afternoon, sipping your iced tea as you sat together under a tree between classes. “You used to be the type to ghost girls after one date.”

Jay winced. “Ouch.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased. “You have the energy.”

He glanced at you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I used to be... worse than that.”

“So what changed?”

Jay looked away for a second, eyes on the clouds above. “You.”

The words were quiet, almost too soft for you to catch.

But you heard them.

And you didn’t know what to do with the way they made your heart ache in a good, dangerous way.

Later that week, Jay invited you to dinner.

“Just some pasta,” he said. “Nothing fancy. We’ll eat and listen to music.”

You hesitated.

It wasn’t just a date. It was a step into his world.

“You live with the other band members, right?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“So I’d be meeting all of them?”

“Probably,” Jay admitted. “But they won’t bite. They’ll just act like dorks and try to impress you.”

You laughed, still unsure. But there was something reassuring in Jay’s tone. He wasn’t pressuring you. He was just... offering a glimpse into his life.

“Okay,” you said eventually. “I’ll come.”

That Saturday night, you showed up at the ENHYPEN dorm in a casual sundress, hair loose around your shoulders. The apartment was louder than you expected. Guitars leaned against the walls, speakers buzzing with background music, and the faint scent of overcooked garlic in the air.

Jay opened the door with flour on his cheek.

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I tried to cook.”

“You tried?” You said, laughing as you stepped inside.

The other members were gathered around the kitchen, making it look like a chaotic frat-boy sitcom. Jake was stirring something that looked suspiciously burnt, Sunghoon was filming for their Instagram story, and Sunoo was adding way too much grated cheese to the pasta.

“Y/N!” Jake grinned. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh no,” you muttered playfully. “I should be scared, huh?”

Sunoo jumped in. “We promised Jay we’d behave. So we’re only gonna embarrass him a little.”

Jay groaned. “Ignore them. They’re just mad I’m the charming one.”

You smiled through it all— the teasing, the glances, the awkward introductions. But part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off.

The way the boys exchanged subtle looks when Jay wasn’t watching.

The quick silences that followed your name.

And something about Sunghoon’s voice when he said, “You’re lucky. He usually doesn’t keep anyone around this long.”

It was probably just nerves. Or maybe they were just being protective friends.

But the unease stuck to your skin like humidity.

Still, you pushed it down.

Because Jay was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

And that meant something.

Over the next few days, things felt even easier.

He started bringing you little things. Your favorite energy drink, sticky notes with dumb quotes, flowers he said he “borrowed” from the quad. He texted you goodnight. Called you after class. Held your hand in public.

For the first time in your life, you felt like you were falling for someone.

Really falling.

And that terrified you.

One evening, you sat on your dorm bed, headphones in, rereading an old book you loved. Her roommate, Yunjin, glanced over.

“You’ve been glowing lately,” Yunjin said, chewing her gum.

You smiled softly. “It’s... Jay.”

“Oh. Jay Jay?”

“Yeah.”

Yunjin blinked. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I.”

“You think it’s serious?”

You hesitated.

“I think it could be.”

Meanwhile, at the ENHYPEN locker room, the air was thick with post-practice exhaustion. Guitars were packed up, amps unplugged, and someone was spraying cologne like a war crime.

“She’s got it bad,” Jake said, tossing a towel into his bag.

“Totally head over heels,” Ni-ki added.

Jay didn’t respond, changing in silence.

“Looks like you won the bet,” Sunghoon said, half-laughing. “She’s yours.”

Jay stiffened.

Jake smirked. “Three-month deadline’s this weekend, by the way. Time to cash in.”

Sunoo leaned back against the wall. “You’ve gotta break up with her or the bet doesn’t count.”

“Yeah,” Jake added, tone light but loaded, “unless you’re catching real feelings for the emotional fool?”

Laughter filled the room.

Jay didn’t join in.

But they didn’t notice that you had just turned the corner into the hallway, holding a coffee tray — a surprise.

You had been walking to meet Jay after practice. Just like always.

But the words froze you in place.

“Break up with her.”

“The emotional fool.”

Your fingers clenched around the tray.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

You waited until the laughter died down. Until you heard Jay’s voice, quieter than the rest.

“I’ll handle it.”

Your chest caved in.

You turned and walked away without a sound.

The coffee tray hit the trash can on your way out.

That night, Jay texted you.

“Can we meet this weekend? I want to talk.”

You replied like nothing was wrong.

“Of course :)”

Because you needed to know just how far he was willing to go with the lie.

Saturday arrived faster than you expected.

You had barely slept the past two nights.

Your smile still came easily in front of your friends. Your laugh sounded normal. You didn’t cancel on Jay. Didn’t send a dramatic message. Didn’t even let the heartbreak show in your eyes.

Because you needed to know what kind of man Jay Park really was.

Would he confess? Would he fake it? Would he say he loved you and walk away laughing once the curtain fell?

You wore a simple outfit. Your favorite jeans, a soft cardigan he once said made you look “too cute to focus.” Your makeup was minimal, but your walls? Those were steel.

You waited for him under the tree near the music building— your usual spot.

Jay arrived a few minutes late, guitar case slung across his back, hair tousled from the wind. He smiled when he saw you.

But you noticed it immediately.

The guilt.

It lingered just behind his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You look... perfect.”

You forced a smile. “You too.”

You both walked together to the quieter side of campus where no one really went on weekends. A few trees, an old bench. The sun was starting to set.

Jay paused before sitting, looking at you like he wanted to memorize your face.

“I’ve been thinking about what to say,” he started. “But I can’t script it.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s okay.”

“I didn’t expect to fall for you,” he said. “When I first started talking to you... it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Your chest tightened.

“And?” You asked, tone light.

Jay exhaled.

“There was a bet,” he admitted, finally. “It started before we really knew you. It was dumb. I didn’t think it through.”

He was watching your face carefully. Trying to read you.

You blinked at him, playing dumb. “A bet?”

“Yeah. Me and the guys...” He trailed off. “They thought you weren’t interested in us. That you were different. So they dared me to charm you. For three months. I said yes.”

“And did you?” Your voice cracked despite your control. “Charm me?”

Jay hesitated. “I wanted to. But then... I actually started falling. It wasn’t a game anymore.”

He stepped closer. “I swear. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. But now it’s real. Every second. Every kiss. I meant it.”

You blinked up at him, swallowing the knot in your throat.

Then, he did it.

He cupped your face gently, like you might break and whispered, “I love you.”

His lips touched yours— soft, slow, desperate.

And for one second, your world tilted.

You kissed him back.

Because some stupid part of you still wanted to believe.

But then you remembered it all.

Jake’s voice. “She’s got it bad.”

Sunghoon’s laugh. “She’s yours.”

Sunoo’s teasing. “Emotional fool.”

Jay’s whisper. “I’ll handle it.”

You pulled back. Your breath shook.

Jay frowned. “Y/N?”

Your palm hit his cheek before you could stop yourself.

The sound cracked through the air.

Jay staggered back, stunned.

“You really took it that far, huh?” Your voice wasn’t loud but it was ice.

“Was the prize not enough? Did someone raise the stakes for a fake love confession, Jay?”

Jay froze. “What are you talking about—?”

“I heard everything,” you snapped. “The locker room. Your little pep talk. Your friends laughing like I was just another girl to conquer.”

Jay’s stomach dropped.

“I was on my way to surprise you. With coffee,” you added bitterly. “So congratulations. You fooled me. Completely.”

“Y/N, please,” Jay stepped forward, panicked. “Let me explain—”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you said sharply. “You don’t get to explain betraying someone who trusted you.”

“I did fall for you,” he said, desperate. “It’s not about the bet anymore. I was going to tell them I wasn’t doing it. I never took the money. I meant what I said—”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “Don’t you dare say you love me again.”

His face fell, silent.

“You knew what you were doing,” you whispered. “You played the long game. Got me to let you in. And you lied.”

You turned before he could say another word.

This time, you didn’t look back.

The next week, everything changed.

You stopped replying to texts. Skipped the usual classes. You started sitting farther away, surrounded by new friends.

You even changed your route to avoid the music building altogether.

Jay noticed.

So did the others.

In the ENHYPEN dorm, the mood had shifted drastically.

Practice was quieter. Meals were awkward.

Jake was the first to break.

“We were idiots,” he muttered, staring at his untouched plate.

“Speak for yourself,” Ni-ki mumbled, though he didn’t sound proud either. “I told you guys it felt wrong after the second week.”

Sunoo looked up. “She won’t even look at me when I pass her on campus.”

“I tried saying hi,” Heeseung added, voice low. “She flinched.”

Jungwon, who had mostly stayed neutral, finally spoke. “You think we can fix it?”

“No,” Sunghoon said. “But we owe her.”

Jake rubbed his face with both hands. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

“She’s not just some girl,” Sunoo said. “She cared about us. Even me. And I didn’t even try to stop it.”

They turned to Jay who hadn’t spoken in minutes.

His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t been sleeping. Eating. Smiling.

“She was real,” Jay whispered.

Jungwon stepped forward. “Then prove it. Make it right.”

“How?” Jay asked, voice hollow.

Jake stood up. “We tell her everything. No games. No excuses.”

Sunoo nodded. “And you tell her the truth.”

Jay looked at them, really looked.

And he realized something.

He’d already lost you.

But maybe, just maybe, he could at least show you that not everything had been a lie.

The days that followed felt like static.

People moved around you, laughing, studying, asking questions in class, but you weren’t really in any of it. You went through the motions, your smile thin, your words rehearsed.

Only Yunjin, her roommate, noticed the difference.

“Did something happen?” she asked one night, glancing up from her laptop.

You just shook your head. “I’m fine.”

But your unread messages, all from Jay, most left on read, said otherwise.

On a Wednesday afternoon, you were shelving books during your bookstore shift when someone cleared their throat behind you.

You turned, half-expecting a customer.

Instead, it was Jake.

He wasn’t smiling.

He had no guitar slung across his back, no air of cocky charm. He looked... guilty. Genuinely guilty.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

You didn’t respond.

Jake looked down, then back up. “Just five minutes. Please.”

You glanced at the clock. Shift ended in fifteen. Against your better judgment, you nodded toward the door.

You both sat on the bench outside, the one shaded by ivy and far from the quad’s noise.

Jake let out a shaky breath. “We messed up.”

You stared ahead, not looking at him. “That’s an understatement.”

“I’m not here to defend it,” he said quickly. “Or to excuse it. I just... I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

You finally looked at him, your face unreadable.

Jake continued, “The bet was real. We all laughed. We all thought it was harmless. And Jay — he said yes.”

“I know,” you said coldly.

“But he wasn’t supposed to catch feelings,” Jake said. “None of us thought he would. Hell, he didn’t think he would. But then something shifted. He started defending you. Stopped talking about the bet. Missed practice. Got quiet. Then... he kissed you.”

Jake paused.

“And that’s when we all realized something changed. But instead of supporting him, we kept pushing the joke. Pretended it was still on. Even though he already backed out.”

Your throat tightened. “So you knew.”

Jake nodded, ashamed. “Not right away. But when we did... we still didn’t stop. We just let him keep pretending it didn’t matter.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

“You called me an emotional fool,” you said. “I heard it all.”

Jake’s face crumpled. “I know. And I hate myself for it.”

Silence hung between you both like a storm cloud.

After a beat, he added, “He never took the money. We offered it. We pressured him and he refused. He wanted to tell you the truth. But he was scared. And stupid.”

You stood slowly. “I believed him.”

“I think he believed you, too,” Jake said. “That’s what makes this worse.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “Tell your friends I don’t want anything to do with any of you.”

Jake nodded, accepting it. “We’ll leave you alone. But I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

As you walked away, you didn’t look back.

Jake sat alone on the bench for a long time after.

That evening, Jay sat in the dorm’s tiny kitchen, untouched tea going cold on the table.

Heeseung walked in, grabbed a water bottle, and looked at him. “Jake talked to her.”

Jay’s heart jumped.

“And?”

“She’s angry. She told him to leave her alone.”

Jay didn’t answer.

Ni-ki entered next, quietly washing dishes without a word.

Sunoo sat beside Jay. “We ruined something good,” he said. “We all did.”

Jay nodded slowly. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Jungwon, leaned against the doorframe, finally said, “Then maybe it’s not about fixing it. Maybe it’s about showing her that what you said... meant something. Even if she never takes you back.”

Jay looked up at him, broken. “What if she never forgives me?”

“Then you live with that,” Jungwon said gently. “But you still tell her everything.”

The next few days passed in a blur.

Jay didn’t reach out.

Not once.

But not because he didn’t want to.

He was scared.

Not of rejection but of proving that what you’d had was truly over.

You, meanwhile, were withdrawing from everyone.

You skipped open mic night. Missed elective class. Ignored DMs from Sunoo and Heeseung.

You saw Ni-ki walking toward you once near the dining hall and turned around before he could say anything.

It wasn’t that you wanted to punish them.

You just didn’t trust yourself not to forgive them too easily.

And you couldn’t do that again.

On a rainy Friday, a small box showed up in your dorm mailbox.

No return name. Just a short note in Jay’s handwriting:

“For the parts of you I couldn’t protect.
I hope you’ll still protect them, even if it’s without me.”

Inside was the bookmark you had once made for him, now laminated, wrapped in soft linen.

And underneath it, a folded paper.

A printout of a bank transfer receipt.

$10,000 → Returned to ENHYPEN Band Fund

The note at the bottom:

“I never wanted the money. I only wanted the girl who believed in me.”

You closed the box with trembling hands.

Your heart hurt.

And yet... somehow... it also breathed.

For the first time since it all fell apart.

It had been days since the box had arrived.

You didn’t touch it for the first few hours after finding it. You left it on your desk, staring at the simple letter, the printout, the laminated bookmark.

But then, when the dorm grew quiet late that night, you opened it.

The words hit you harder than expected.

You wanted to hate Jay. You wanted to scream and burn everything he gave you. To throw it in his face and say you never needed any of it.

But then you read his words.

“I never wanted the money. I only wanted the girl who believed in me.”

You closed your eyes, the letter burning against your skin.

Meanwhile, in the ENHYPEN dorm, Jay was doing what he always did when things got bad: he distracted himself with work. He wasn’t playing guitar, didn’t even care about the band’s new setlist. All he could focus on was the fact that the day was slowly passing, and he hadn’t heard from you.

Not once.

He'd kept his distance because he didn’t want to overwhelm you. Because he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Not yet. Not after what he’d done.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.

Jake: You still haven’t talked to her?

Jay stared at the message for a long time before responding.

Jay: No. I don’t think she wants to hear from me.

Jake: Don’t make that decision for her. Go talk to her.

Jay stared at the screen, heart aching. Could he really face you again? Could he apologize in a way that mattered?

Jake had been the only one to genuinely try to help. Even if their stupid bet had started everything, Jake’s apology, his willingness to own the mess they’d made, had been the first thing that made Jay feel like maybe... just maybe... things could be fixed.

But fixing this? Fixing you?

He didn’t know if it was even possible.

The next morning, you were sitting at the coffee shop, laptop open in front of you. You hadn’t checked your messages in a while. Just been too overwhelmed by everything.

Then, the message from Jay appeared on your phone.

Jay: Can we talk? I need to say something.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching. You stared at the screen, conflicted. After everything, were you ready to face him?

You looked at the time. He’d sent the message around 8 a.m., and it was already nearly noon.

You took a deep breath, fingers hovering over the keyboard. And then, with a shaking hand, you replied.

Y/N: I don’t know if I can handle hearing more lies.

Jay’s response was quick.

Jay: No lies. Just the truth. Meet me at the bench by the quad in an hour?

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if you should go. But something deep inside you told you needed to.

When you arrived, Jay was already there sitting on the same bench where you both shared your first coffee date. His guitar case was next to him, but he wasn’t holding it. His eyes were bloodshot, his face hollow.

He didn’t look confident. He didn’t look like the usual, cocky Jay.

He looked... vulnerable. And that scared you more than anything.

You stopped a few steps away from him, your arms crossed in front of you like a shield.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “But if you’re planning on telling me you don’t deserve to lose me, don’t bother.”

Jay flinched. “I deserve everything you throw at me.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, the movement shaky. “You’re right to be angry. You’re right to hate me for how I played with your feelings. I used you for something selfish, and I hurt you.”

“You hurt me, Jay,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“I know,” he said, his voice tight. “But I can’t take it back. I can’t change what I did. All I can do is tell you the truth.”

You glanced away, eyes blurry. “And what truth is that?”

“That I started the bet because I thought you were just like every other girl in the world. I thought I could charm you, use my stupid reputation, and have it be a joke. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You looked at him again. His eyes were wide, almost pleading.

“The truth is,” he continued, “I fell in love with you. For real. For real, Y/N. It was never a game after the first week. I never cared about the money. I didn’t even care about the bet anymore.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep pretending?”

“Because I was afraid.” Jay’s voice shook. “I was afraid I’d lose you before I even had a chance to tell you the truth. And then when I heard how you were... pulling away... I thought maybe you wouldn’t ever forgive me. I didn’t think I deserved your forgiveness.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t even give me a chance to choose.”

Jay took a deep breath. “I know. I was stupid. And I won’t make excuses for it. But everything I said to you, everything we shared. I meant it. I still do.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jay continued, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. For every lie, for every moment I wasn’t honest with you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to hold yourself together. “I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t expect you to have an answer right now. I just... I needed you to know.”

For a long moment, you didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, your heart torn between anger, sadness, and an aching hope you didn’t want to feel.

Finally, you whispered, “You can’t just expect me to forget everything.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m asking you to believe that what I feel for you is real.”

You looked at him, your hands trembling. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, Jay. I don’t know if I can just... pretend nothing happened.”

He nodded, his face pale. “I’ll give you all the time you need.”

You both sat in silence after that. No more words. No more promises. Just the sound of your breathing, the wind rustling the leaves above you.

Time moved differently after that conversation.

Jay didn’t text. He didn’t call. He didn’t even look at you during class.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t mind the silence.

You needed it.

Because silence meant space and space meant you could think.

And thinking was something you hadn’t been able to do properly since the night you heard everything fall apart in that locker room.

Three weeks later, life had resumed in small ways. You smiled again, not because you had to, but because it was slowly becoming genuine again. You walked to class without your chest tightening. You joined a study group again, laughed with Yunjin more, and spent less time looking over your shoulder.

But Jay?

He was still everywhere.

Not physically. He had kept his word. But emotionally? He lingered in your playlists. In the notes tucked in your planner. In the quiet walks across campus where he once made you laugh so hard your eyes watered.

And yet, you hadn’t spoken to him since that day.

One Thursday afternoon, Sunoo found you by the campus café. He wasn’t loud, or overly cheerful, not like before. He just handed you a warm matcha latte with your name spelled correctly on the cup.

Your favourite order.

“I thought you might need one,” he said, eyes uncertain. “You don’t have to say anything.”

You took the drink quietly.

Then you nodded. “Thank you.”

Sunoo smiled softly, not with relief, but with something like hope.

He left without pushing further.

Later that same day, you found a message in her email inbox from the ENHYPEN Music Club:

Subject: Open Mic — Theme: “Second Chances”

All students welcome. No judging. No winners. Just words and music.

Come if you want. Share if you can.

The sender?

Jungwon.

You stared at the subject line for a long time.

“Second Chances.”

How ironic.

The next evening, you sat with Yunjin in your shared dorm room, the soft glow of string lights casting lazy shadows against the walls.

“I don’t get it,” Yunjin said. “You still love him, right?”

You hesitated, curling your knees to your chest. “I don’t know.”

Yunjin raised a brow. “Do you hate him?”

You paused. “I want to.”

“But you don’t.”

You sighed. “I miss who I thought he was. But I also miss who he became.”

“Which one’s real?”

“I’m starting to think... both.”

Meanwhile, in the ENHYPEN dorm, Jay sat on the floor of their cluttered living room, guitar in his lap, lyrics in his notebook untouched.

He hadn’t performed since the night before everything shattered.

The others watched him from the kitchen, speaking in low voices.

“He’s not the same,” Ni-ki said.

“No one is,” Heeseung muttered. “But he’s... trying.”

Jake nodded. “Let’s just keep giving him space. He’s doing the right thing by not forcing anything.”

Sunghoon leaned on the counter. “He’s writing something.”

Sunoo added, “Yeah, but it’s not for us.”

Jungwon looked down at his phone, at the RSVP list for the open mic event.

One name had just been added: Y/N.

He smiled quietly to himself.

Two days later, it was the Open Mic Night.

The auditorium was dim and warm, with soft golden lights overhead and a small stage in the center of the room. No crowds, no pressure, just raw music and honest words.

You sat near the back, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, a journal in your lap.

You didn’t plan to perform. Just watch.

Until your name was called.

Your breath hitched.

You looked toward the booth, where Jungwon stood by the soundboard, smiling gently.

You hadn’t signed up.

But he had.

“Only if you want to,” he mouthed from across the room.

You stared at the stage for a long time.

Then, slowly, you stood.

Your legs shook slightly as you walked up. Your heart thundered in your ears.

You sat on the edge of the stool, took a breath, and opened your journal.

“I wasn’t planning on sharing anything,” you began, voice soft but steady. “But... this one’s been living in my head for a while.”

You didn’t sing.

You just spoke.

“It was supposed to be a joke,
a punchline wrapped in a smile,
I was the girl unfazed,
too smart to fall,
too stubborn to play.

But you walked in like a storm in disguise,
all charm, all calm,
and somehow,
I let you in.

You didn’t just break my heart.
You undid it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
With words I thought were true.

And maybe I was a fool.
Or maybe I just believed that somewhere,
beneath the layers,
there was something real.

You told me I changed you.
But you changed me too.

So this isn’t revenge.
It’s not even goodbye.
It’s just...
me finding my voice again.”

When you stepped off the stage, the room was quiet.

Then a soft ripple of applause.

No cheers. Just honest hands meeting in support.

But you didn’t stay to talk. You walked out quietly, slipping through the side door.

Only you didn’t notice the boy leaning against the wall just outside.

Jay.

He had heard every word.

The door clicked shut softly behind you.

You didn’t see Jay right away. The night air was cooler than you expected, and your thoughts were still buzzing from what you’d read aloud.

But when you stepped further into the courtyard, your heart stopped.

He was there.

Leaning against the brick wall just beyond the stage door, hands tucked in the pockets of his black hoodie, face tipped slightly down. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t smiling.

He had heard everything.

And he looked like it broke him.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then Jay lifted his gaze.

His eyes were glassy, and there was no trace of that confident boy who once strolled through campus with a smirk and a guitar.

Just Jay.

Just him.

“Your words,” he said softly, “hurt more than any slap ever could.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I deserved them,” he added, stepping closer slowly, like he was afraid you might vanish. “Every single line. Every pause. Every look.”

You didn’t move. “I didn’t write them to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said. “But the truth does that sometimes.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t the awkward kind. It was weighty, like the air between you both was full of things neither of you had said yet.

Finally, you found your voice. “Why were you out here?”

He gave a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “I wasn’t supposed to come. I thought maybe hearing you tonight would give me closure, or... I don’t know. Peace?”

He looked at you then. “But it didn’t. It just made me realize I never wanted to stop hearing your voice.”

Your heart twisted painfully. “Jay…”

“I’m not here to ask for another chance,” he said quickly. “I swear, I’m not. I just… I wanted to look you in the eye and say it. One more time. No games. No music. No frat-boy persona.”

He stepped closer, hands shaking slightly. “I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

“And not because I’m supposed to, or because I feel guilty. But because knowing you, really knowing you, made me want to be someone better. Someone who deserves you.”

You swallowed. “And yet... you still made a choice.”

He nodded slowly. “I did. And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

The honesty in his voice made something crumble inside you.

You stepped forward, just a little.

“I loved you, too,” you whispered. “That’s what made it so cruel. I chose you. Even when I had no reason to believe I should.”

Jay’s eyes filled, but he didn’t look away.

“I kept asking myself,” you continued, “if what we had was real. Or if it was all just part of the game.”

“It was real,” he said fiercely. “Maybe not from the beginning. But after that second week? I didn’t care about the bet. I just wanted to be around you. To make you laugh. To see you smile because of me.”

You looked at him then.

And you saw it.

The sincerity. The remorse. The ache.

He wasn’t lying.

He hadn’t been, maybe for a long time.

But trust wasn’t something you could just hand back overnight.

“I’m not ready to forget,” you said softly. “And I’m not ready to jump back in.”

Jay nodded. “I don’t expect you to. I just wanted you to know… I’d rather have your hatred than your silence. Because even when you’re mad at me, I know it’s real.”

That made your eyes sting.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the bookmark which was now worn at the edges.

“I kept it,” you said. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

He smiled faintly. “Because deep down… you still believed in me?”

“I wanted to,” you said. “But now I need you to believe in yourself. Without needing me to fix you.”

Jay’s chest rose and fell slowly.

“I’ll wait,” he said. “If it takes a month. A year. More. I’ll wait. Even if you never come back.”

Her voice wavered. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll still be better,” he said simply. “Because of you.”

And with that, he took a step back. Gave you space. Gave you a choice.

For the first time in weeks, you breathed a real, deep breath.

Then you said it.

“Give the money to someone who needs it.”

Jay blinked. “What?”

You met his gaze.

“The band fund? Give it away. Help a first-year. Buy instruments for someone who can’t afford them. Do something good with it.”

Jay’s lips parted, then slowly curved into something small. Something grateful.

“I already started,” he said. “The day I got it back.”

And for the first time since it all began, you smiled.

It was soft. It was sad.

But it was real.

“Good,” you whispered. “Then maybe… you’re not completely hopeless after all.”

Two months later, autumn came and went like a whisper.

Leaves turned gold, assignments piled up, and midterms passed without drama. Campus slowed. Things quieted.

And in the quiet, you began to breathe again.

You no longer flinched at the sound of a guitar in the quad. You could walk past the ENHYPEN table in the dining hall without freezing. The ache hadn’t disappeared, but it had settled. It was no longer sharp, just something that lived in your chest like a memory.

You still hadn’t spoken to Jay.

And Jay hadn’t tried to reach out again either.

But you saw him sometimes across campus, in the distance, or in the back of a lecture hall. He looked… lighter. Not loud. Not performative. He started volunteering at the student rec center, according to Yunjin, and hosted songwriting workshops with Jungwon on Saturdays.

His band had changed, too. ENHYPEN still performed, still filled rooms, but there was something different now. Softer. More grounded.

You had stopped running from their music.

In fact, sometimes you listened to it.

One chilly morning in December, you stepped into the campus café to grab your usual hot chocolate with cinnamon and oat milk.

When you turned around, you saw him.

Jay.

Standing by the window in a navy peacoat, black turtleneck, and those familiar silver rings. He hadn’t seen you yet. He was reading something on his phone, earbuds in.

And you realized something that stopped your breath for a moment:

You weren’t scared to face him anymore.

So you took a step forward.

Then another.

He looked up at the movement.

Your eyes met.

And he smiled, not wide, not bold, just… warm.

Real.

“Hey,” he said quietly, pulling one earbud out.

“Hey,” you replied.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in soft awkwardness and something like nostalgia.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here this early,” he said, hands tucked in his pockets.

“I needed warmth. And sugar,” you smiled faintly.

Jay let out a breathy chuckle. “Still the same order?”

You lifted her cup. “Still the same me.”

He tilted his head. “Not exactly.”

You blinked. “No?”

“You feel different now,” he said. “Like you’ve grown further than I could ever catch up to.”

The words stung but not painfully. More like the closing of a chapter.

“I had to,” you said honestly. “You made me grow up faster than I wanted to.”

Jay nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

A pause. People moved around, the café bustling with early winter energy.

Then he asked, voice tentative, “Do you still write?”

You nodded. “More than ever.”

“That makes me happy,” he said softly.

You sipped your drink. “And you?”

He smiled gently. “Writing. Teaching. Actually listening to people now.”

“And the band?”

“They’re still my brothers,” he said. “But we’ve all changed. I think we needed to.”

“Good,” you murmured.

Another beat of silence.

Jay glanced down. Then back up. “I don’t want to mess with your peace. But… would you ever want to catch up sometime? Just… talk. Not with expectations. Not with apologies.”

You looked at him for a long moment.

And then you did something you hadn’t done in a while.

You smiled truly, without hesitation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I’d like that.”

Jay looked almost stunned. Like he hadn’t let himself hope this could happen.

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Okay. Um… coffee next week?”

You lifted your cup. “Already beat you to it.”

You both laughed.

And it wasn’t bittersweet.

It was just… good.

A week later, you both met at the café again. Talked about music. Classes. Sunoo’s new obsession with scented candles. How Ni-ki dyed his hair silver for no reason. How Jake had started dating a film major and now swore he was a “serious actor.”

You both laughed like friends.

Talked like people who had loved, hurt, healed and learned.

Jay didn’t try to reach for your hand. He didn’t ask for more.

And you didn’t give it.

Not yet.

But as you stood outside under a string of fairy lights later that evening, he looked at you this time not with regret, but with quiet admiration.

“I’m really proud of you,” he said.

“I’m proud of you,” you replied.

And then soft as falling snow, you added:

“Maybe we had to fall apart... to learn how to come back together.”

Jay looked at you like you’d just given him the world.

But this time, he didn’t try to claim it.

He just walked beside you as you headed down the path together.

Not rushing.

Not forcing.

Just… walking.

Side by side.

One year later, at the university’s spring concert, ENHYPEN performed a new song.

It was soft. Acoustic. No spotlight. Just them.

And Jay’s voice, gentle and sure:

“She came like quiet lightning,
Left like ocean tide,
But somewhere in her storm, I found my calm.

And if forever’s never promised,
I’ll still write her name in every song.”

In the third row, you sat with Yunjin, a gentle smile on her lips.

And when your eyes met from across the stage, Jay didn’t wink.

He didn’t smirk.

He just smiled.

And this time, you smiled back.

The applause faded slowly, like waves retreating from shore.

Jay stood still, fingers loosening from the strings of his guitar, breath catching in his throat.

Not because of the crowd. He was used to that.
But because of you.

Third row.
Soft smile.
That same look he remembered from the first time you heard him sing.

But different now.

There was peace in your eyes. No sharp edges. No ghosts. Just warmth… and a kind of forgiveness that didn’t need words.

He’d take that over applause any day.

Later that night, he sat in the dorm living room alone, guitar resting against the couch, stage makeup wiped off, hoodie sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The others were out celebrating, but he had stayed back. He needed quiet.

He needed to let it sink in:

You had come.

You’d heard the song. Stayed for the whole set. Smiled at him.

Not the girl from last semester, broken-hearted, betrayed, guarded.

But the girl he fell in love with.

The one who wore her truth like armor and still made space for joy.

Jay rubbed a hand over his face, laughing softly to himself. “You idiot,” he muttered. “You almost lost her completely.”

He remembered the day the bet started, Sunghoon’s smirk, Jake’s casual voice saying “She’s too serious, too perfect. I dare you to break through.”
He remembered accepting, not to be cruel, but because some part of him already felt drawn to you.

The bet was just his excuse.

But somewhere between your annoyed eye rolls and nervous laughter, somewhere in those late-night convos after class, when you rambled about obscure literature or why matcha lattes were superior, something in him unraveled.

You weren’t just a challenge.

You were everything he didn’t know he wanted.

And then he ruined it.

He hadn’t taken the prize money. Never even looked at it.

Instead, he used it to start a campus music scholarship which was anonymous, small, for students who couldn’t afford gear or classes.

He never told you.

It wasn’t about proving anything anymore. It was about being someone he could live with.

Someone you might trust again, even just a little.

Jay leaned back on the couch, letting his head fall against the cushion, the ceiling spinning gently above him. His voice was still raw from the performance.

But it had been worth it.

That was the first time he sang something he meant.

Not for the crowd.

Not for the band.

Just for you.

The night he wrote the song, it was raining outside, soft, steady, the kind of rain that blurred the windows and made the campus feel smaller.

Jay sat on his bed with his journal open, fingers hovering over the page.

He had written half a dozen songs since everything fell apart. Angry ones. Apologetic ones. Longing ones.

But none of them had felt right.

Until this one.

She came like quiet lightning,
Left like ocean tide,
But somewhere in her storm, I found my calm…

His pen trembled after that line.
Because it was true.
Even in the mess , even in the fallout, you had centered him.

Back in the present, Jay stood and crossed the room to his desk.

He picked up a photo strip you had once left behind in his guitar case, one of those goofy booth shots with Yunjin. You were laughing in every frame.

Unfiltered. Happy. Radiant.

That’s the version he wanted to remember you by.
Not the one who walked away with tears in her eyes.

But the one who chose herself, even when it hurt.

He slid the photo into the side of his journal.

And beside it, he scribbled one last line:

If loving her was a lesson,
I hope I never graduate.


In ENHYPEN’s shared dorm, one Saturday evening in spring, exactly one and a half year after The Bet began, it was very frenzied.

The furniture’s mismatched. The air smells like burnt popcorn. Someone’s blasting a 2000s throwback playlist off a Bluetooth speaker. It's loud, chaotic, and deeply homey.

You are here.

And this time, you’re here because you want to be.

“Okay, who put mustard in the popcorn again?”

“It was Ni-ki!” Sunoo gasped, scandalized. “He’s an agent of culinary chaos.”

“It’s fusion,” Ni-ki defended, half-laughing from his spot on the floor. “Respect the artistry.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Jungwon muttered, nudging the bowl away.

You sat curled up on the couch beside Yunjin and Heeseung, watching it all unfold with a soft smile. A few months ago, this would’ve felt impossible. But now?

Now it felt like healing.

Jay walked in from the kitchen with actual, unflavored popcorn, raising it like a peace offering.

“See? I’ve grown. I bring snacks instead of scandals.”

“That’s personal growth,” you teased, eyes twinkling.

Jay beamed and set the bowl between you both, casually brushing your fingers as he did. You didn’t flinch. In fact, you leaned a little close, just enough to let him know you were still here. Still trying.

Later in the evening, after a chaotic game of charades where Jake accidentally acted out Titanic by flopping dramatically onto the floor and knocking over two pillows and a lamp (“I was the iceberg!” he insisted), the group settled into a calmer rhythm.

Someone dimmed the lights. Heeseung started strumming his guitar quietly in the background. Jungwon passed around cups of hot cocoa with exactly one marshmallow each because rationing is real, okay?

Sunoo sprawled dramatically across the bean bag. “Okay, I’m calling it. This is my soft era.”

You grinned. “What was your previous era?”

“Vengeance.”

Jay nearly choked on his cocoa.

Jake, now curled up with a hoodie over his head, turned to you with a gentle smile.

“You know, we never really got to say it properly,” he said. “Back then.”

You looked at him. “Say what?”

He glanced around at the others. Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Ni-ki, Sunoo. One by one, they all nodded.

“We’re sorry,” Jake said. “All of us. For the part we played. For the looks. The jokes. For not stopping it when we could’ve.”

Sunghoon added, quieter, “We really didn’t think you’d be… real.”

“And that’s on us,” Heeseung said. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

You felt a tightness in your chest you didn’t realize was still there.

But you looked around at these boys, these chaotic, growing, fumbling humans and you didn’t feel anger anymore.

Just… relief.

“I forgave you all a while ago,” you said. “But hearing that still matters.”

Sunoo leaned over dramatically to rest his head on your lap. “Group absolution, unlocked.”

Jay looked at you from across the couch, eyes soft, thumb brushing the inside of his mug and mouthed thank you.

You just smiled.

Hours later, after board games and story-swapping and another failed Ni-ki “experimental snack” moment (wasabi marshmallows. Why?), you stood at the door, shoes in hand.

Jay walked you out.

You both stood in the hallway, under dim lighting and sleepy quiet.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “More than okay.”

He hesitated, then offered, “I know we’re still… figuring us out. But I’m really glad you’re part of the group again. It feels right.”

You looked up at him. “It does.”

Then, after a pause, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the popcorn.”

Jay blinked, stunned, then laughed under his breath, ears turning pink.

“Anytime,” he said. “No mustard, I swear.”

You turned and started down the hall, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands.

Jay watched you go, heart warm.

This wasn’t a grand ending.

No dramatic love confession. No emotional storm.

Just something better.

A do-over.
A new song.
Something real.

And this time, they were all in harmony.

The end~

(Where do I find myself a man like Jay😭)

[ot7archives]

@babyybunny06 I hope you like this one too🥺🫶

[ot7archives]

Strings Of Stardust

Summary: You both met by chance. Loved each other in secret. And the world made sure you paid the price for it. Jay is a trainee desperate to debut. You are the daughter of one of the most influential families in Seoul. In another life, maybe things could have been simple. But in this one, every stolen glance feels dangerous, every moment together feels temporary, and every choice pushes you further apart. Still, some people leave marks on your soul impossible to erase no matter how hard you try to let them go.

Word count: ~15k

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, pre-debut au, idol au, first love, secret romance, break up, arranged marriage (not between reader and Jay), other original characters, angst, family pressure, wealth gap, idol Jay, chairman's daughter reader, emotional hurt, reunion, lots of angst and emotional drama with a happy ending.

Release date: End of June or first week of July

Please send an ask or comment to be added to the taglist. 🤍

[ot7archives]

Even The Quiet Hurts Sometimes

Summary: You love him loudly. Always have. Maybe too much. Jay never made you feel like it was a problem until the day he didn’t know you were standing outside the door. One overheard joke. One crack in everything you thought was safe. And now you’re loving him in silence, wondering if you were ever wanted the way you loved. He doesn’t know what changed. But you do.

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, established relationship, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, clingy gf, communication, romantic angst, angst with a happy ending, reassuring bf Jay

Word count: ~4.2k

Note: Hi! I am so happy that my previous fic got over a 100 notes. I am so so thankful! 🥺🫶 This response kinda gave me the confidence to actually post a work that was completed and in my drafts. While the story is of a very cliche trope, this is my take on it. I hope you all like and enjoy it. Please do let me know if you’d like to see more of this. Thank you once again.

You weren’t sure when you became this clingy. Maybe it was just the way you loved— loudly, fully, with your whole heart. Or maybe it was because Jay made you feel like it was okay to be that way. He never once pushed you away. In fact, he’d pull you in closer.

You were his girlfriend. The clingy one. And he was yours— the patient, calm, quietly affectionate one. The one who always seemed to enjoy your affection, who welcomed your hugs even when he was sweaty from practice or half-asleep after a schedule.

So, when your work trip came up, you didn’t think twice about surprising him before your flight. You were only going to be gone a few days, but it felt like forever. You had texted him that morning, pretending you were already heading to the airport.

Instead, you’d asked the cab to wait outside HYBE for just ten minutes, just enough time to run upstairs, find him, hug him once and whisper a proper goodbye.

The hallways of HYBE felt oddly quiet for late afternoon. You took the elevator to the practice floor and tiptoed toward the familiar training room. You peeked through the glass to find Jay inside with the rest of Enhypen. They were laughing, all sprawled across the floor, drenched in sweat, clearly taking a break.

You reached for the door handle but paused.

Jay was speaking.

“My girlfriend is so clingy,” he said, laughing, voice light and teasing.
“I swear, she’d probably come here just to say bye before her flight or something.”

Your heart stilled.

Another voice, probably Sunghoon’s, chimed in, “She would, wouldn’t she?”

Jay laughed again. “She would. It’s so annoying sometimes. I don’t get a moment of peace, man.”

The others laughed, but you couldn’t hear them anymore.

Your fingers trembled on the door handle. You let go.

You stumbled back, trying not to draw attention, your eyes already stinging. A sob pressed against your chest, but you bit it back. Not here. Not now.

You turned and rushed toward the washroom down the hall. Inside, you locked the door and leaned over the sink, gripping the edges like they were the only thing holding you up. Your reflection in the mirror was pale, eyes wide, lips trembling.

Annoying.

He said I’m annoying.

The word echoed again and again, ringing louder than his laughter.

You had always known you were clingy. You texted him too much, hugged him too tight, asked to see him even during his busiest days. But Jay never once made you feel like it was too much. He let you love him the way you did. He said he liked it.

Maybe he lied.

Maybe he never wanted to hurt you, so he smiled through it but deep down, it was suffocating him.

You covered your mouth to stop the sob that finally escaped. Your cab was still waiting.

You didn’t even check your face before leaving the bathroom. You just walked straight out of the building, got into the cab, and texted Jay once you were seated.

[Y/N 🐰]: on the way to the airport now. have a good day at practice 💛

The reply came quickly.

[Jay 🐯]: thanks babe!! have a safe flight. text me when you land 😘

That was it.

He didn’t know you were just a few feet away moments ago, standing outside the room, hearing the words that sliced right through you.

The flight passed in a haze.

You barely remembered getting on board or the hotel you checked into when you arrived. But your brain kept looping those words. So annoying. Don’t get a moment of peace.

It wasn’t just what he said, it was the laughter. The way he brushed you off like a joke. The way no one disagreed.

Was that really how he saw you?

The first few days of the trip, you made yourself hold back.

You texted him daily, like always but your messages were short. Polite. Emotionless.

No cute photos, no voice notes, no “I miss you so much I could die”s. Just:

[Y/N 🐰]: morning. hope you slept well.
[Y/N 🐰]: heading to my meeting now. ttyl.
[Y/N 🐰]: landed back in the hotel. was a long day.

Jay didn’t seem to notice at first. He replied sweetly, called you whenever he could, and even sent food delivery to your hotel once. You picked up his calls when he rang but didn’t initiate any yourself.

When he teased you gently one night over FaceTime with a “Where’s my clingy girlfriend gone?” you just smiled and said, “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He didn’t press it.

And you were thankful.

Because if he knew the truth that you had been spiraling ever since overhearing him he might have just reassured you out of guilt.

You didn’t want pity. You just wanted to understand.

Were you too much?

Maybe distance was good. For both of you.

When you landed back home, HYBE had given Jay the day off. You didn’t even have to ask. He was already at your apartment, waiting with open arms and a stupidly excited smile on his face.

Normally, you would’ve jumped into his arms, wrapped yourself around him like a koala, kissed him breathless.

This time, you stepped into his hug and held him tightly… but quietly.

“I missed you,” you murmured into his chest, feeling tears threaten again.

“I missed you more,” he whispered, kissing your hair.

“I’m really tired. I think I’ll shower and lie down for a bit.”

You felt him hesitate, but he nodded. “Okay, babe. Want me to order in dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, already walking away.

You didn’t see the confused crease forming between his brows.

In the days that followed, you pulled away even more.

You still kissed him good morning. Still cuddled on the couch. Still replied to his texts.

But your affection had changed.

It was measured. Careful. Held back. Almost as if you were scared to overdo it.

And Jay noticed.

Jay had been trying to convince himself that nothing was wrong.

At first, he chalked it up to jet lag. Then maybe work stress. You had just come back from a full-on business trip, after all. And still, you were warm, affectionate, kind. Still you.

Just… less.

You didn’t linger with your hugs. You didn’t sneak into his lap when he was watching TV or ask to hold hands while walking down the street. You still responded to his “I love you”s but always with a soft smile or a quiet “You too.”

And what unsettled Jay most was that you didn’t seem upset.

You weren’t cold or angry or ignoring him. You were… normal. Just a little too quiet. A little too reserved. Like someone walking across thin ice, afraid that one wrong move would make it crack.

And Jay didn’t know why.

“Everything okay with you two?”

Heeseung’s voice pulled Jay out of his thoughts one afternoon as they cooled off outside the dance studio.

Jay blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been spacing out for the past hour, man.”

Sunghoon looked up from his water bottle. “Did you two fight?”

“No,” Jay said automatically.

Because you didn’t fight. You never fought. You were the clingiest person he knew—but never demanding or dramatic. Just soft and sweet and maybe too gentle for someone like him.

He ran a hand through his damp hair.

“No fight. She’s just… different lately.”

“Different how?” Heeseung asked.

Jay hesitated. “I don’t know. She’s quiet. She doesn’t… I don’t know. Cling.”

Sunghoon laughed. “You miss her being stuck to you like Velcro?”

Jay smiled faintly. “Yeah. I do.”

It got worse in the next few days.

Not by much but enough that he noticed.

Your hugs lasted only a few seconds. You stopped cuddling into him at night unless he pulled you in himself. You smiled a lot but it didn’t always reach your eyes.

Jay caught himself staring at you more often than not. Trying to read your face. Trying to understand what changed.

You were always good at hiding when you were hurting. But he knew you well enough to sense something was off.

So, one night, when you were brushing your hair after a shower, he finally asked.

“Are we okay?”

Your hand paused mid-stroke. “Yeah. Of course.”

“You sure?”

You turned slightly to look at him. “Why are you asking that?”

Jay moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. Just feels like… something’s different.”

You smiled. And it hurt him how convincing it was.

“We’re both busy lately,” you said. “Maybe it’s just that.”

Jay nodded slowly. “Okay.”

But his gut told him that wasn’t it.

A few days later, Jay’s manager stopped by the practice room to drop off some documents. They exchanged a few casual words, laughing about scheduling and performance outfits.

Then, as the manager turned to leave, he paused.

“Oh! By the way, I think I saw your girlfriend here last week.”

Jay blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, sometime last week? You guys were on break. I was heading up to a meeting and thought I saw her in the hallway. Looked like she was crying, actually. But I figured I must’ve been wrong. Thought she was out of the country, wasn’t she?”

Jay’s blood ran cold.

“What day?”

The manager scratched his head. “Uh… maybe Tuesday? Or Wednesday? Not sure. Why?”

Jay’s chest tightened.

Tuesday.

That was the day of your flight.

That was the day he had been joking around with the guys in the practice room. The day he’d laughed about how clingy you were. The day he’d said—

“She’d probably come here just to say bye before her flight or something.”

“It’s so annoying sometimes. I don’t get a moment of peace, man.”

His breath caught.

You had come.

You heard him.

Oh God.

Jay stood up so suddenly his water bottle toppled over. The other members looked at him in surprise.

“I have to go,” he muttered, already grabbing his phone.

You were curled up on the couch when the door opened.

Jay didn’t knock. He never did. But this time, the energy he brought into your apartment was different.

Urgent. Heavy.

You turned around, confused. “Jay?”

He looked like he’d just sprinted through a storm. His hair messy, shirt slightly damp from sweat, chest rising and falling like he hadn’t stopped moving since the studio.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just stared at you like his heart was breaking right there at the door.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, standing up slowly.

“You came to HYBE before your flight.”

The air thickened. You didn’t respond.

“You were outside the practice room,” he said, voice low. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

Still, you didn’t speak.

Jay crossed the room in three long steps and stopped in front of you. “Y/N… why didn’t you tell me?”

You looked away. Your throat burned.

“I wasn’t supposed to hear it,” you said quietly. “You didn’t mean for me to.”

“But I still said it,” Jay whispered. “And I’m so sorry.”

You clenched your jaw, blinking fast. “Did you mean it?”

“No.” His voice cracked. “I mean—I said it. And maybe there was some truth in the joke. But not the way you think.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes shimmering.

“Then explain.”

Jay exhaled slowly.

“I was tired that day. We were joking around. And yeah, I said you were clingy. But it was dumb. Stupid. I didn’t mean it to sound like a complaint. I didn’t mean it like you were a burden.”

You didn’t say anything.

Jay stepped closer. “Do you know how empty it feels without you clinging to me all the time?”

That surprised you.

He continued, “I miss you barging into my day with twenty texts. I miss you hanging off my arm. I miss you falling asleep on my shoulder even when I told you I was too sweaty.”

A shaky laugh escaped you.

“I’ve been walking around like an idiot wondering why my own girlfriend suddenly feels… distant,” he said. “And it’s because I hurt you. Without even knowing it.”

You swallowed hard.

“I didn’t want to be too much,” you whispered. “I thought maybe you were just too nice to tell me to back off. And then I heard that, and I… I couldn’t un-hear it.”

Jay pulled you into his arms.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “you are not too much. And if I ever feel overwhelmed, I swear I’ll talk to you about it like an adult. Not laugh about it behind your back like a coward.”

You buried your face into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop loving me the way you do. I like it. I love it. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

You were crying now. Silently, but openly. Your fists clutched the back of his shirt.

“I missed you,” you mumbled.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “The real you.”

Jay stayed the night. He held you until you fell asleep. And when you woke up, he was still there, watching you with a look so full of guilt and affection, it made your chest ache.

But even after his apology, something still lingered.

You tried. You smiled more. Hugged him longer.

But you were hesitant. Still afraid of slipping into being “too much” again.

Jay noticed.

So he did the only thing he could.

He doubled down.

Jay hadn’t stopped trying since that night.

You could feel it in every small gesture, every extra text, every meal he cooked for you (even if it was just ramen), every time he pulled you closer in bed when he thought you were asleep.

He never outright said, “Please go back to being clingy,” but it was in the way he lingered after hugs, the way he sent little updates about his day hoping you’d reply with your usual excited rambles. It was in the way he’d pause before hanging up a call, waiting, just waiting, for you to say “Wait, don’t hang up yet.”

But you didn’t.

Not yet.

You couldn’t help it. Even though you believed him, believed the apology, believed that he loved your affection, it was hard to silence that voice in the back of your head.

What if he just said that to make you feel better?

What if he only missed it because it was gone?

You didn’t want to return to being your old self if it meant smothering him. And you didn’t want to ask for reassurance constantly either. That would make you even more clingy, wouldn’t it?

So you stayed somewhere in the middle.

You loved him quietly. Carefully.

And Jay, slowly but surely, began to unravel that quiet.

It started with the small things.

He sent you selfies, not just the polished, fan-facing ones, but blurry shots of him mid-bite at lunch, or with half of his face smushed into a couch pillow.

[Jay 🐯]: rate this hair from 1 to “should I just shave my head”

Or—

[Jay 🐯]: me thinking about you. also about cake. mostly you tho

Sometimes you replied. Sometimes you left him on read. But he didn’t stop.

Then he brought home your favorite pastries one evening.

You smiled, a little surprised. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just missed your smile when you see these.”

You felt your heart crack a little. You hadn’t lit up the way you used to. Not since that day.

Then came the soft ambushes.

You were brushing your teeth when he wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Miss this,” he mumbled through his reflection.

You tried to laugh, mouth full of foam.

When you rinsed and turned to face him, he was still there, looking at you like you hung the moon.

“You don’t have to hold back,” he said softly.

You looked down. “I’m trying not to… smother you again.”

Jay sighed. He lifted your chin gently with one finger so you’d meet his gaze.

“You never smothered me,” he said. “You just… made my days brighter. And warmer.”

A long silence passed.

You looked at him, then reached forward and poked his cheek. “You’re really not mad I used to cling to you all the time?”

Jay smiled. “I loved it. I was just being an idiot around the guys. Trying to sound funny and cool.”

“You’re terrible at that.”

He laughed. “I know.”

And then you hugged him.

Properly. Tightly.

Like the old you would’ve.

He melted into it immediately, arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

“I missed this,” he whispered into your hair.

You pressed your face into his neck. “Me too.”

But it wasn’t all better overnight.

There were still moments when you’d pause before reaching for his hand. Still moments where your fingers hovered over the “call” button on your phone, wondering if you were doing too much again.

Jay never stopped noticing.

So he made it his mission to rebuild what had cracked.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch reading, and Jay sat beside you holding his phone. A few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

[Jay 🐯]: miss you.

You glanced at him. He was right beside you.

He grinned and sent another.

[Jay 🐯]: miss my clingy koala too

You blinked at the screen, heart stuttering.

Then he reached out and pulled your legs onto his lap.

“I’m giving you a chance to cling again,” he said casually, flipping through Netflix.

You stared at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered but your voice was warm, your chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

He looked over and smiled. “But you love me.”

You rolled your eyes.

And climbed into his lap.

A week later, Jay had a short out-of-town schedule. You went to drop him off at HYBE.

You hesitated outside the building, remembering that day. Your chest tightened a little.

But Jay was waiting at the entrance this time. As soon as he saw you, he ran over and threw his arms around you.

“I knew you’d come say bye.”

You smiled against his shirt. “Do you want me to?”

Jay leaned back just enough to meet your eyes. “Yes. Every time.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

He kissed your forehead. “And I’ll be starving for affection.”

Later that night, Jay sent you a voice note from his hotel bed.

“Babe. You left a hoodie here. It smells like you and now I’m lying in bed like a loser sniffing your sleeves. Hope you’re happy. Also, I miss you. And I hope when I get back, you’ll jump on me like the clingy little koala you are. I need that. Seriously.”

You laughed to yourself, cheeks heating.

You recorded a reply:

“That’s what you get for saying I’m annoying behind my back. 😤 But yes. Prepare to be clung to.”

He replied in a heartbeat.

[Jay 🐯]: that’s my girl 🥹

Jay’s trip only lasted three days, but you found yourself counting the hours until he returned.

Maybe it was the way he kept checking in, texting you the dumbest memes, or updating you about every little thing he ate. Or maybe it was because, for the first time since everything happened, you felt like your old selves again, playful, chaotic, and full of love.

You'd been cautious for so long, trying not to step over some invisible line.

But Jay had erased it completely.

When you picked him up from HYBE that evening, Jay didn't even wait for you to unbuckle your seatbelt before dragging you out of the car and into a tight embrace.

You squeaked in surprise. “Jay!”

“I told you I’d be starving for affection,” he mumbled, lips brushing your ear. “And I meant it.”

You laughed, heart warm and full. “Did you miss me that much?”

He pulled back and cupped your face in both hands. “I missed you so much that I used your voice notes as lullabies and told Jake I was suffering from cuddling withdrawals.”

“Poor Jake.”

Jay smirked. “Poor me.”

Then you kissed him.

And maybe it was just a kiss to the world, but to you, it felt like a reset. Like everything between you had settled again. No more walking on eggshells. No more holding back.

You were home again. In him.

In the days that followed, the shift between you two was impossible to miss.

The subtle distance you had placed between your hearts was gone. You clung again, softly, playfully, and sometimes even more than before.

Jay didn’t just welcome it. He mirrored it.

He reached for your hand more often. Held you longer in the mornings before you got out of bed. He surprised you with coffee deliveries, forehead kisses, and random “I love you” texts at 3AM.

One afternoon, while he was cooking, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and rested your cheek on his back.

“Koala mode again?” he teased.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed. “You said I’m allowed.”

“You’re encouraged,” he corrected.

You peeked up at him. “So I’m not annoying?”

He turned off the stove, dried his hands, and spun around to face you.

“No,” he said seriously. “But even if you were, you’d be my annoying.”

You grinned.

Then, just to mess with him, you whispered, “I might text you thirty times tomorrow while you’re at practice.”

“I’ll reply to all thirty.”

“And I might kiss you in front of your members next time.”

“Good. Then they’ll stop calling you fake for being ‘less clingy.’” He gave you a look. “Yeah, they noticed too.”

You gasped. “No way.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “Jake said he almost cried when you left a room without hugging me once.”

You laughed, burying your face in his chest.

Jay held you closer.

“I’m sorry again,” he murmured. “For hurting you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And thank you. For making me feel safe again.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You never lost that place. You just forgot where it was for a while.”

A few weeks later, you surprised him at HYBE again. This time with coffee for the whole group and a massive bear hug for Jay the moment he stepped out of the practice room.

Sunghoon whooped dramatically. “She’s BACK!”

Heeseung pumped his fist. “Balance has been restored!”

Jay just wrapped both arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world and said, “My girlfriend came to say hi. Be jealous.”

Jake fake gagged. “Gross. But also… finally.”

You smiled into Jay’s shoulder.

It felt good to be back.

That night, after dinner, Jay curled up beside you on the couch and tapped your nose.

“I never told you this,” he said softly, “but when I first met you, I knew you were going to love hard. I could feel it.”

You looked at him. “Is that a good thing?”

Jay nodded. “The best.”

He ran a finger along your jaw gently.

“You make me feel loved all the time. Even when you're annoying.”

You glared. “Jay.”

He laughed. “I mean in a good way.”

You crossed your arms. “There’s no such thing as good annoying.”

He leaned in, kissing the side of your neck. “Sure there is. It’s the kind that keeps me warm. Keeps me grounded. Reminds me that someone wants to be around me, even when I’m tired or grumpy.”

You softened.

“I used to think I’d need a lot of space to feel okay in a relationship,” he continued. “But then you happened. And I realized I don’t want space. I want you. Every weird, clingy, dramatic bit of you.”

Your eyes shimmered.

“You’re going to make me cry again,” you murmured.

He smirked. “Then cry on me. I like when you do that too.”

You shoved him playfully, and he dragged you into his lap, tickling you until you were breathless and smiling through tears.

And later, when the apartment was quiet and you were lying tangled in each other under the sheets, Jay whispered, “Thanks for not giving up on us.”

You kissed his chest where your head rested.

“I never could.”

One rainy morning, Jay was rushing around getting ready for another early schedule when he noticed you sleepily padding after him, wrapped in his oversized hoodie.

He turned just as you flopped face-first onto the couch.

“Do you want me to cancel and stay home?” he joked.

You made a noise that sounded suspiciously like yes.

He chuckled and walked over, crouching down in front of you.

“Clingy again?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

You yawned. “Always.”

Jay leaned in and kissed your nose.

“Good.”

Then, with a grin, he added, “You’re lucky I love it.”

You pulled him down into one more hug.

And when he left, he did so with your warmth still clinging to his clothes and your love still blooming quietly in his heart.

The end~

[ot7archives]

Just realised this baby crossed 1k notes. Thank you so much for all the love. 🤍🤍🥺🥺

[ot7archives]

Betting On Us

Summary: When quiet, unassuming you catch the eye of ENHYPEN's notorious heartbreaker, Jay, the bet is simple: charm you for three months and win $10,000. But as Jay gets closer to the girl who’s immune to his charms, the line between the game and reality blurs, and he’s left questioning everything, including his feelings for you. Will he risk it all for love, or will his past mistakes tear you both apart forever?

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, angst, emotional hurt/ comfort, betrayal, Jay is stupid at first, angst with a happy ending, we love a boy who grovels, happy/hopeful ending, healing.

Word count: 11.5k

Note: I am so sorry for being inactive for so long. Life happened and I just couldn’t keep up. I’m slowly trying to write and help myself through this as well. I hope it’s not very rusty and you all like it. Please do let me know how you feel about this. And I’m planning to make a taglist too. So please do comment or send me an ask if you’d like to be added. I promise I’ll try to write more. I’m also thinking to maybe start taking requests so that I can write on more topics. I will post separately regarding this. In the meantime, I hope you all like this fic. 🤍🤍

The August sun filtered through the tall windows of the campus lecture hall, casting golden rectangles across rows of wooden desks. It was one of those mornings where everything felt just slightly out of sync. Students arriving late, papers shuffling, the professor muttering something about a pop quiz. But none of it fazed you.

You walked in, your satchel hanging low on one shoulder, hair loosely tied back, glasses slipping a little down your nose. Your sneakers squeaked slightly against the freshly waxed floor, and a few heads turned as you entered. Not because you stood out in a loud or obvious way but quite the opposite.

It was the quiet confidence. The way you scanned the room once, chose an empty seat near the middle, and settled down without a second glance.

You were new. Not just to this class, but to the campus entirely.

Transferring mid-semester wasn’t ideal, but life rarely moved on schedule. Your old school hadn’t worked out, and this was your chance for a clean slate— new major, new environment, new people. You were ready.

Or so you thought.

“Yo, who’s that?”

Jay leaned forward from his usual seat at the back, tilting his head just slightly to get a better look. His tone was lazy, amused, but the question was genuine. Park Sunghoon, seated beside him, followed his gaze.

“New girl,” Sunghoon muttered, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. “Transfer student. I think she’s in our elective too.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, watching you pull out a pen and a lined notebook. No laptop. Interesting.

“She’s cute,” Jake said, sliding into the seat behind them. “But kind of... different.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He was too busy studying the way you interacted with the professor when he called your name with a respectful nod, a smile, and then head down, back to your notes. No fluttering lashes. No awe-struck stammering. No stolen glances at him or the other ENHYPEN boys.

That was new.

In the world of Jay Park and his band of brothers, famous on campus for both their music and their reputation, people noticed them. People looked. People tried.

But not you.

And that? That rubbed them the wrong way.

After class, you navigated the hallways with a folded campus map sticking out of your pocket. You made your way to the next class, mentally plotting out where the library and science building were. A few girls from your bio lab smiled and introduced themselves. You made friends quickly, but kept your circle small.

You liked it that way.

You weren’t shy. Far from it. You had a way with people, but you also had a radar for trouble. And that ENHYPEN group? Trouble in tight jeans and expensive cologne.

The name was everywhere. On posters for open mic nights, social media pages, and whispered conversations in the dorms.

“Jay Park is literally a god.”

“I heard Jake once dated three girls in one week.”

“Sunghoon said hi to me and I almost blacked out.”

You didn’t get it. Sure, they were good-looking, confident, and had the whole mysterious-frat-boy-musician thing going on. But that wasn’t enough to earn your attention. You wanted substance. Not swagger.

Later that afternoon, Jay strolled into the music elective fifteen minutes late, sunglasses still on. The professor gave him a dry look but didn’t say anything. ENHYPEN boys always got away with it.

He saw you again.

This time, you were seated up front.

He took the seat directly behind you.

“Hey,” he said casually, tapping your chair with the tip of his shoe.

You turned slightly, just enough to look over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Jay,” he offered, flashing his signature smile, the one that had worked for years.

Your lips tugged into a polite smile. “Y/N.”

“And you are... new here?” he said, leaning forward, trying to meet your eyes.

“Yes,” you said, turning back toward the front. “But not new to small talk.”

Jay blinked.

Sunghoon, who overheard from the next row, stifled a laugh.

Damn.

That night, in the ENHYPEN dorm, the energy was rowdy. Jungwon was flipping through his guitar chords, Heeseung and Ni-ki were arguing over pizza toppings, and Jay sat on the couch, still thinking about her.

“She’s not like the others,” he muttered.

Jake caught that. “You mean she’s not obsessed with you? Yeah. We noticed.”

“Maybe she’s playing hard to get,” Sunghoon said, flopping down beside him. “Or maybe she’s just not into you.”

Jay’s brows lifted. “You don’t think I could get her?”

Jake’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Oh no. That sounds like a challenge.”

Heeseung grinned from across the room. “Ten grand says you can’t make her fall for you in three months.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Jay chuckled. “You’re kidding.”

Jake leaned forward. “Dead serious. You’ve done it a hundred times. Why not her?”

Jay twirled the soda can in his hand, thinking. Three months. Ten thousand dollars. And the chance to break the one girl who didn’t look at him like he hung the stars?

It was stupid.

It was childish.

And yet...

“You’re on.”

The ENHYPEN dorm always buzzed with the noise of guitar riffs echoing from one room, video games blasting from another, and someone always burning something in the kitchen.

But that night, there was something different in the air: challenge.

Jay sat in the middle of the chaos, still half-laughing at the absurdity of it. Ten thousand dollars, a solid chunk of their gig money, was now unofficially riding on his ability to win over the new girl who didn’t give him the time of day.

“She’s literally not even your type,” Jungwon pointed out, flipping through his phone from the armchair.

Jay smirked. “What, because she reads books and doesn’t hang on every word I say?”

“Exactly,” Jake said, grinning. “It’s fun. She’s like... some kind of untouchable nerd goddess. Makes it more exciting.”

“Untouchable,” Ni-ki scoffed. “Until Jay pulls out the guitar and starts singing to her at sunset. Boom. Game over.”

Jay shook his head, amused. “I’m not doing this just for the money.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You’re doing it for pride. Which is worse.”

Jay didn’t deny it.

The bet was set. Unwritten, unspoken outside their circle, but very real. Jay had three months to win you over. Get you to fall. Make you his. And then break up. No strings. No mess. Just a bruised ego for you, and a thick envelope for him.

The prize was temptation. But the chase? That’s what really got under his skin.

The next day, you entered your elective class early, as always. You liked the front row with fewer distractions, easier to focus. Today, your notebook was filled with neat bullet points from the previous lecture. You didn’t notice Jay slide into the seat beside you until he casually leaned over.

“You always sit alone?”

You glanced at him. “Not really. I just don’t have time to wait around for someone to save me a seat.”

Jay chuckled. “Independent. I like that.”

You gave him a sidelong look. “I’m not looking to be liked.”

“Good,” he said, without missing a beat. “Because I don’t do things to impress. I’m just naturally charming.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

The professor walked in, cutting the conversation short. Jay stayed quiet through the lecture, though every so often, he’d lean closer, not close enough to invade your space, but just enough to be felt. A presence. A pull.

You kept your focus on the lecture. Mostly.

Over the next week, Jay started to show up in your orbit more and more.

At the library, he’d just happen to be browsing the same shelf.

“Oh hey, didn’t expect to see you here. What are you reading?”

In the cafeteria, he’d sit near you, even if his group was across the room.

“What’s that? Homemade lunch? That’s cute.”

At one point, he offered to walk you to class.

“I’m going that way anyway.”

And you, though amused, weren’t stupid. You knew when someone was trying too hard. You just didn’t understand why.

One afternoon, as you sipped an iced latte at the on-campus cafe, your friend Chaewon leaned across the table and lowered her voice.

“So... what’s up with Jay Park?”

You blinked. “What about him?”

“He’s been hovering around you like a lost puppy.”

“He’s just... talkative,” you replied carefully, not wanting to overthink it.

Chaewon grinned. “Girl, that man does not waste his time talking. If he’s circling you, he’s interested.”

You frowned, a little unsettled.

“I don’t get it. He’s got his fan club. Half the school thinks he’s God’s gift.”

Chaewon shrugged. “Maybe he wants what he can’t have.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well. I’m not a prize.”

“Exactly why he wants you,” Chaewon said, not realizing how on-the-nose she really was.

Back in the ENHYPEN dorm, Jay flopped onto the couch, exhausted.

“She’s harder to read than I thought,” he muttered.

“She’s not playing your game,” Sunghoon said, tossing him a soda. “Maybe you need to change the rules.”

“Has she smiled at you yet?” Jake asked.

Jay paused, thinking.

“Once. Barely.”

“Progress,” Ni-ki said, sarcastic.

Jay grinned anyway. “You don’t get it. She’s not impressed, but she’s curious.”

“Curious is good,” Heeseung nodded. “Curious is how it starts.”

But Jay didn’t respond right away. His thoughts were a little tangled. He’d spent the last few days watching you more than expected, not just to win a bet, but because you genuinely intrigued him.

The way you always asked thoughtful questions in class. How you helped that freshman find their way to the science building. How you laughed with your friends like you’d known them for years.

You were warm, sharp, and real. Different.

And that was dangerous.

Because he wasn’t supposed to actually like you.

The next day, he cornered you outside the lecture hall before class.

“Hey,” he said, holding out a drink— iced vanilla matcha, your usual. “Peace offering.”

You looked surprised. “For what?”

“For being annoyingly persistent.”

You tilted her head, clearly skeptical. “You are persistent.”

“I can’t help it,” Jay said with a smile. “You’re interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And that’s new for you?”

Jay grinned. “Most people talk at me. You talk to me. I’m not used to that.”

You looked at the drink, then at him. You took it slowly.

“One coffee doesn’t make you less annoying.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep trying,” Jay replied, and walked away, not giving you the chance to reject him.

That night, as you sipped the drink while working on your paper, you caught yourself smiling.

Just a little.

And that scared you more than you’d like to admit.

Jay wasn’t used to trying.

He was the type who drew attention just by existing. Whether it was the way he carried himself in a casual but confident way or the fact that he and the ENHYPEN boys owned the campus stage every open mic night, Jay never had to chase.

Until now.

And he was discovering something about himself he didn’t quite expect: he kind of liked the chase.

“You’re smiling like a weirdo,” Sunoo said as Jay tied his guitar string for the second time that afternoon.

Jay glanced up, amused. “I’m always smiling.”

“No,” Sunoo said flatly. “You usually smirk. This is different.”

“Maybe I’m in a good mood.”

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Or maybe you’re catching feelings for Miss I-Don’t-Care-About-ENHYPEN.”

Jake and Heeseung, sprawled out on beanbags in the corner of their practice room, perked up at the mention of you.

“She still pretending you don’t exist?” Heeseung teased.

“Actually,” Jay said, strumming a lazy chord, “she thanked me for the coffee today.”

“A miracle,” Jake said with a dramatic gasp.

Sunghoon laughed. “So what’s your next move, Romeo?”

Jay didn’t answer right away.

The next morning, you walked into the library and paused.

There was a note taped to your usual table. Neat handwriting, familiar.

“I figured you'd be here by 8:15. Here’s a bookmark for that Kafka book you pretend not to like.
—J.”

Beneath the note was a handmade bookmark, the paper folded carefully, decorated with tiny doodles of books and stars.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Okay, that was... unexpected.

You glanced around, half-wondering if he was watching.

He wasn’t.

Not that you could tell, anyway.

In the following days, Jay’s presence became a constant but not overbearing. Thoughtful, even.

He’d walk with you to class, sometimes in silence, just matching your pace. He started asking genuine questions about your hobbies, not just the typical flirty stuff. When you mentioned your part-time job at the campus bookstore, he actually showed up there, bought a poetry collection, and asked for a recommendation.

“Something that’ll make me sound deep,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, but gave him one anyway.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the attention.

In fact, that was the problem.

You were starting to enjoy it a little too much.

Which scared you.

Jay Park was... trouble. A walking heartbreak. And you weren’t naïve. You knew his reputation. You heard the stories. The girls he dated for a week, sometimes even less. Girls who swore they were special, only to become a footnote in his playlist.

You didn’t want to be a song. You wanted to be real.

One afternoon, after the shared elective, Jay caught up with you outside the campus café.

“Wanna get coffee?” he asked, casually as ever.

“I can’t,” you said, shifting the strap of your bag. “I have chem lab.”

“I’ll walk you there then.”

“Jay...”

He stopped.

There it was. Hesitation in your voice. A pause that wasn’t just about your schedule.

“I’m not trying to play games,” he said carefully.

“I know,” you said. “But I don’t know what this is.”

Jay looked at you, really looked. And for a moment, the bet, the boys, the teasing it all felt far away.

“This is me trying to know you,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

And damn it. You believed him.

Later that night, in the ENHYPEN dorm, the energy was chaotic as always. The group had just wrapped up band practice, instruments strewn everywhere, empty soda cans rolling on the floor.

Jay sat tuning his guitar when Jake threw a pillow at him.

“You’ve been real quiet lately,” Jake said. “Bet going too well?”

Jay didn’t answer.

Sunoo flopped down beside him and grinned. “We’ve been watching you go soft in real time. It’s cute.”

Jay smirked. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” Sunoo teased. “You used to ghost girls after three texts. Now you’re sending bookmarks?”

“Let him cook,” Heeseung said, smirking. “The bet’s still on.”

Jay’s jaw tightened slightly, something no one noticed.

The next week, you and Jay found yourselves assigned as partners for a short group project in your elective.

“I didn’t rig it,” Jay said, hand raised innocently.

You just shook your head. “Convenient, though.”

You both spent an afternoon working in the courtyard, laptops open, papers scattered. Jay was surprisingly focused, thoughtful, even brilliant when he wanted to be.

“You’re smarter than I thought,” you said at one point.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was stupid?”

“I thought you were... a distraction.”

He leaned back, arms crossed. “And now?”

“Still a distraction,” you admitted. “But a smart one.”

You both laughed.

And in that moment, something shifted.

The air between you changed.

More real. More dangerous.

That night, Jay stared at the ceiling from his bunk.

Sunghoon was snoring. Jake was mumbling something in his sleep. Sunoo was already out cold with a face mask on.

But Jay was wide awake.

The bet had started as a joke. Something to pass the time. An ego boost.

But now?

Now he wasn’t sure where the game ended and where the real feelings had begun.

It was supposed to be just another day, another shared project, another coffee run, another awkward attempt at small talk between you both.

But for some reason, today felt different. Maybe it was the soft breeze blowing through the trees as you both sat on the grass outside the campus library, or maybe it was the way Jay was looking at you, not with the usual cocky grin, but with something softer, more genuine.

“You’re quiet today,” you said, looking up from your laptop screen. “Usually, you’re making some kind of sarcastic comment.”

Jay’s smile was slow, almost hesitant. “I’m just... thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he said, and immediately regretted it, but his voice remained steady. “I mean, we’ve been hanging out a lot, and you’re still not like other girls. It’s... it’s confusing.”

You frowned. “Confusing?”

He shrugged, dropping his gaze to the ground. “Yeah. Usually, when I talk to someone, they try to impress me, or... make me want them. But you’re different. You just... you don’t care. You don’t care about what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. You didn’t know whether you should be flattered or worried.

“You’re not used to that?” You asked carefully.

“No. And it’s... kind of a relief.”

You blinked at him. There was a moment of silence, where the world around you both, the chatter of students passing by, the rustling leaves in the trees seemed to fade out. It was just you both and Jay’s soft vulnerability that you weren’t used to seeing.

“I don’t play games,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how to do that. But I’m not pretending when I say I like spending time with you. I’m not just doing this because of a bet.”

That hit you harder than you expected.

For the first time, you felt the weight of the situation. The bet. The game. The promises made behind your back. But in that moment, all of that seemed so distant.

“You can’t just say that,” you said softly, leaning back on your elbows. “I’m not a prize, Jay. I’m not something to win over and leave behind when you get bored.”

He swallowed, his expression tightening. “I know. But I’ve never felt like this before, and I can’t just turn it off.”

You shifted your gaze, looking away for a moment. You were quiet as your mind raced. The complexity of what was happening between you both, the way Jay’s words seemed too genuine to ignore. It felt real. It felt too real.

“Do you think I’m some kind of fool?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. “That I can’t see through you?”

Jay’s heart clenched. “No, I don’t think you’re a fool. I think... I think you’re the one person I can’t figure out. And that scares me.”

You wanted to respond, but instead, you found yourself looking at him, really looking. There was something in his eyes, a raw sincerity that you hadn’t expected. It was like the mask had slipped for a second, and what you saw was a person who was both deeply complicated and strangely simple at the same time.

Before you could process what was happening, Jay leaned forward, closing the gap between you both. He hesitated for just a moment, his breath catching as he searched your eyes for any sign of hesitation.

And then, as if the pull between you was too strong to resist, his lips met yours.

It was gentle at first, hesitant, like you were both testing the waters. Jay’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, and before you even realized it, you were kissing him back, the connection between you both sparking something neither of you had expected.

Your hands instinctively reached up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your touch. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as if your feelings had finally found a way to manifest. But even as the moment stretched, something inside you was tugging at you. A nagging reminder that this was Jay. The same Jay who played games, who charmed everyone, who didn’t believe in staying around for anything more than the fun.

You pulled back slowly, breathing heavily.

“Jay...” your voice was shaky, the tension of the kiss still hanging in the air. “We can’t... I don’t know what this is.”

Jay looked at you, eyes wide, chest still heaving from the kiss. “I know. But I want this to be real. I don’t want to be the guy who uses you. I don’t want you to think I’m playing with you.”

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to steady your racing heart. You looked down at him, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admitted. “You’re... confusing. You say you want to be real, but everything you’ve done... it’s all been part of some bet.”

Jay stood up, too, his expression conflicted. “I know. I messed up. But this isn’t just about the bet anymore. It’s about you and me, and I can’t pretend like I don’t care.”

You shook your head, your heart pulling in two directions. “I can’t be just another game to you, Jay.”

He stepped closer, his voice softening. “You’re not. I swear.”

But you couldn’t get past the doubt. The feeling that you were falling for someone who didn’t know what love meant.

“Just... give me some time,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I need to think.”

Jay nodded, a tightness in his chest. “Okay. I’ll give you time. I won’t push. But I’m not going anywhere.”

That night, Jay lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, but this time, the thoughts that swirled in his mind weren’t about the bet, or the game, or even the money. They were about you.

The kiss had meant something. He had never kissed someone and felt it so strongly. The connection wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. He didn’t know when it had started to happen, but now he couldn’t stop it. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: he had to make things right. He had to show you that what he was feeling was real.

And that meant putting everything. The bet, the boys, the pride aside.

He had to prove that he was serious.

It had been a week since the kiss, and everything had shifted.

Not dramatically. No dramatic declarations, no whirlwind romance. But the energy between Jay and you had changed.

You were softer around him now. Smiling more. Letting him walk you to class without complaint. Sometimes, you’d even initiate the conversation. There was something vulnerable in the way you looked at him now, like you were searching for proof that he meant what he said.

And Jay? He was trying. For real.

He hadn’t said anything to the others. Not about the kiss. Not about how he hadn’t even thought of the $10,000 since that day in the grass. Not about how every time he saw your name light up on his phone, his chest tightened and not in a bad way.

For once in his life, Jay wasn’t thinking about the end goal.

He was thinking about you.

“Let me guess,” you said one afternoon, sipping your iced tea as you sat together under a tree between classes. “You used to be the type to ghost girls after one date.”

Jay winced. “Ouch.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased. “You have the energy.”

He glanced at you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I used to be... worse than that.”

“So what changed?”

Jay looked away for a second, eyes on the clouds above. “You.”

The words were quiet, almost too soft for you to catch.

But you heard them.

And you didn’t know what to do with the way they made your heart ache in a good, dangerous way.

Later that week, Jay invited you to dinner.

“Just some pasta,” he said. “Nothing fancy. We’ll eat and listen to music.”

You hesitated.

It wasn’t just a date. It was a step into his world.

“You live with the other band members, right?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“So I’d be meeting all of them?”

“Probably,” Jay admitted. “But they won’t bite. They’ll just act like dorks and try to impress you.”

You laughed, still unsure. But there was something reassuring in Jay’s tone. He wasn’t pressuring you. He was just... offering a glimpse into his life.

“Okay,” you said eventually. “I’ll come.”

That Saturday night, you showed up at the ENHYPEN dorm in a casual sundress, hair loose around your shoulders. The apartment was louder than you expected. Guitars leaned against the walls, speakers buzzing with background music, and the faint scent of overcooked garlic in the air.

Jay opened the door with flour on his cheek.

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I tried to cook.”

“You tried?” You said, laughing as you stepped inside.

The other members were gathered around the kitchen, making it look like a chaotic frat-boy sitcom. Jake was stirring something that looked suspiciously burnt, Sunghoon was filming for their Instagram story, and Sunoo was adding way too much grated cheese to the pasta.

“Y/N!” Jake grinned. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh no,” you muttered playfully. “I should be scared, huh?”

Sunoo jumped in. “We promised Jay we’d behave. So we’re only gonna embarrass him a little.”

Jay groaned. “Ignore them. They’re just mad I’m the charming one.”

You smiled through it all— the teasing, the glances, the awkward introductions. But part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off.

The way the boys exchanged subtle looks when Jay wasn’t watching.

The quick silences that followed your name.

And something about Sunghoon’s voice when he said, “You’re lucky. He usually doesn’t keep anyone around this long.”

It was probably just nerves. Or maybe they were just being protective friends.

But the unease stuck to your skin like humidity.

Still, you pushed it down.

Because Jay was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

And that meant something.

Over the next few days, things felt even easier.

He started bringing you little things. Your favorite energy drink, sticky notes with dumb quotes, flowers he said he “borrowed” from the quad. He texted you goodnight. Called you after class. Held your hand in public.

For the first time in your life, you felt like you were falling for someone.

Really falling.

And that terrified you.

One evening, you sat on your dorm bed, headphones in, rereading an old book you loved. Her roommate, Yunjin, glanced over.

“You’ve been glowing lately,” Yunjin said, chewing her gum.

You smiled softly. “It’s... Jay.”

“Oh. Jay Jay?”

“Yeah.”

Yunjin blinked. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I.”

“You think it’s serious?”

You hesitated.

“I think it could be.”

Meanwhile, at the ENHYPEN locker room, the air was thick with post-practice exhaustion. Guitars were packed up, amps unplugged, and someone was spraying cologne like a war crime.

“She’s got it bad,” Jake said, tossing a towel into his bag.

“Totally head over heels,” Ni-ki added.

Jay didn’t respond, changing in silence.

“Looks like you won the bet,” Sunghoon said, half-laughing. “She’s yours.”

Jay stiffened.

Jake smirked. “Three-month deadline’s this weekend, by the way. Time to cash in.”

Sunoo leaned back against the wall. “You’ve gotta break up with her or the bet doesn’t count.”

“Yeah,” Jake added, tone light but loaded, “unless you’re catching real feelings for the emotional fool?”

Laughter filled the room.

Jay didn’t join in.

But they didn’t notice that you had just turned the corner into the hallway, holding a coffee tray — a surprise.

You had been walking to meet Jay after practice. Just like always.

But the words froze you in place.

“Break up with her.”

“The emotional fool.”

Your fingers clenched around the tray.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

You waited until the laughter died down. Until you heard Jay’s voice, quieter than the rest.

“I’ll handle it.”

Your chest caved in.

You turned and walked away without a sound.

The coffee tray hit the trash can on your way out.

That night, Jay texted you.

“Can we meet this weekend? I want to talk.”

You replied like nothing was wrong.

“Of course :)”

Because you needed to know just how far he was willing to go with the lie.

Saturday arrived faster than you expected.

You had barely slept the past two nights.

Your smile still came easily in front of your friends. Your laugh sounded normal. You didn’t cancel on Jay. Didn’t send a dramatic message. Didn’t even let the heartbreak show in your eyes.

Because you needed to know what kind of man Jay Park really was.

Would he confess? Would he fake it? Would he say he loved you and walk away laughing once the curtain fell?

You wore a simple outfit. Your favorite jeans, a soft cardigan he once said made you look “too cute to focus.” Your makeup was minimal, but your walls? Those were steel.

You waited for him under the tree near the music building— your usual spot.

Jay arrived a few minutes late, guitar case slung across his back, hair tousled from the wind. He smiled when he saw you.

But you noticed it immediately.

The guilt.

It lingered just behind his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You look... perfect.”

You forced a smile. “You too.”

You both walked together to the quieter side of campus where no one really went on weekends. A few trees, an old bench. The sun was starting to set.

Jay paused before sitting, looking at you like he wanted to memorize your face.

“I’ve been thinking about what to say,” he started. “But I can’t script it.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s okay.”

“I didn’t expect to fall for you,” he said. “When I first started talking to you... it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Your chest tightened.

“And?” You asked, tone light.

Jay exhaled.

“There was a bet,” he admitted, finally. “It started before we really knew you. It was dumb. I didn’t think it through.”

He was watching your face carefully. Trying to read you.

You blinked at him, playing dumb. “A bet?”

“Yeah. Me and the guys...” He trailed off. “They thought you weren’t interested in us. That you were different. So they dared me to charm you. For three months. I said yes.”

“And did you?” Your voice cracked despite your control. “Charm me?”

Jay hesitated. “I wanted to. But then... I actually started falling. It wasn’t a game anymore.”

He stepped closer. “I swear. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. But now it’s real. Every second. Every kiss. I meant it.”

You blinked up at him, swallowing the knot in your throat.

Then, he did it.

He cupped your face gently, like you might break and whispered, “I love you.”

His lips touched yours— soft, slow, desperate.

And for one second, your world tilted.

You kissed him back.

Because some stupid part of you still wanted to believe.

But then you remembered it all.

Jake’s voice. “She’s got it bad.”

Sunghoon’s laugh. “She’s yours.”

Sunoo’s teasing. “Emotional fool.”

Jay’s whisper. “I’ll handle it.”

You pulled back. Your breath shook.

Jay frowned. “Y/N?”

Your palm hit his cheek before you could stop yourself.

The sound cracked through the air.

Jay staggered back, stunned.

“You really took it that far, huh?” Your voice wasn’t loud but it was ice.

“Was the prize not enough? Did someone raise the stakes for a fake love confession, Jay?”

Jay froze. “What are you talking about—?”

“I heard everything,” you snapped. “The locker room. Your little pep talk. Your friends laughing like I was just another girl to conquer.”

Jay’s stomach dropped.

“I was on my way to surprise you. With coffee,” you added bitterly. “So congratulations. You fooled me. Completely.”

“Y/N, please,” Jay stepped forward, panicked. “Let me explain—”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you said sharply. “You don’t get to explain betraying someone who trusted you.”

“I did fall for you,” he said, desperate. “It’s not about the bet anymore. I was going to tell them I wasn’t doing it. I never took the money. I meant what I said—”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “Don’t you dare say you love me again.”

His face fell, silent.

“You knew what you were doing,” you whispered. “You played the long game. Got me to let you in. And you lied.”

You turned before he could say another word.

This time, you didn’t look back.

The next week, everything changed.

You stopped replying to texts. Skipped the usual classes. You started sitting farther away, surrounded by new friends.

You even changed your route to avoid the music building altogether.

Jay noticed.

So did the others.

In the ENHYPEN dorm, the mood had shifted drastically.

Practice was quieter. Meals were awkward.

Jake was the first to break.

“We were idiots,” he muttered, staring at his untouched plate.

“Speak for yourself,” Ni-ki mumbled, though he didn’t sound proud either. “I told you guys it felt wrong after the second week.”

Sunoo looked up. “She won’t even look at me when I pass her on campus.”

“I tried saying hi,” Heeseung added, voice low. “She flinched.”

Jungwon, who had mostly stayed neutral, finally spoke. “You think we can fix it?”

“No,” Sunghoon said. “But we owe her.”

Jake rubbed his face with both hands. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

“She’s not just some girl,” Sunoo said. “She cared about us. Even me. And I didn’t even try to stop it.”

They turned to Jay who hadn’t spoken in minutes.

His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t been sleeping. Eating. Smiling.

“She was real,” Jay whispered.

Jungwon stepped forward. “Then prove it. Make it right.”

“How?” Jay asked, voice hollow.

Jake stood up. “We tell her everything. No games. No excuses.”

Sunoo nodded. “And you tell her the truth.”

Jay looked at them, really looked.

And he realized something.

He’d already lost you.

But maybe, just maybe, he could at least show you that not everything had been a lie.

The days that followed felt like static.

People moved around you, laughing, studying, asking questions in class, but you weren’t really in any of it. You went through the motions, your smile thin, your words rehearsed.

Only Yunjin, her roommate, noticed the difference.

“Did something happen?” she asked one night, glancing up from her laptop.

You just shook your head. “I’m fine.”

But your unread messages, all from Jay, most left on read, said otherwise.

On a Wednesday afternoon, you were shelving books during your bookstore shift when someone cleared their throat behind you.

You turned, half-expecting a customer.

Instead, it was Jake.

He wasn’t smiling.

He had no guitar slung across his back, no air of cocky charm. He looked... guilty. Genuinely guilty.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

You didn’t respond.

Jake looked down, then back up. “Just five minutes. Please.”

You glanced at the clock. Shift ended in fifteen. Against your better judgment, you nodded toward the door.

You both sat on the bench outside, the one shaded by ivy and far from the quad’s noise.

Jake let out a shaky breath. “We messed up.”

You stared ahead, not looking at him. “That’s an understatement.”

“I’m not here to defend it,” he said quickly. “Or to excuse it. I just... I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

You finally looked at him, your face unreadable.

Jake continued, “The bet was real. We all laughed. We all thought it was harmless. And Jay — he said yes.”

“I know,” you said coldly.

“But he wasn’t supposed to catch feelings,” Jake said. “None of us thought he would. Hell, he didn’t think he would. But then something shifted. He started defending you. Stopped talking about the bet. Missed practice. Got quiet. Then... he kissed you.”

Jake paused.

“And that’s when we all realized something changed. But instead of supporting him, we kept pushing the joke. Pretended it was still on. Even though he already backed out.”

Your throat tightened. “So you knew.”

Jake nodded, ashamed. “Not right away. But when we did... we still didn’t stop. We just let him keep pretending it didn’t matter.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

“You called me an emotional fool,” you said. “I heard it all.”

Jake’s face crumpled. “I know. And I hate myself for it.”

Silence hung between you both like a storm cloud.

After a beat, he added, “He never took the money. We offered it. We pressured him and he refused. He wanted to tell you the truth. But he was scared. And stupid.”

You stood slowly. “I believed him.”

“I think he believed you, too,” Jake said. “That’s what makes this worse.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “Tell your friends I don’t want anything to do with any of you.”

Jake nodded, accepting it. “We’ll leave you alone. But I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

As you walked away, you didn’t look back.

Jake sat alone on the bench for a long time after.

That evening, Jay sat in the dorm’s tiny kitchen, untouched tea going cold on the table.

Heeseung walked in, grabbed a water bottle, and looked at him. “Jake talked to her.”

Jay’s heart jumped.

“And?”

“She’s angry. She told him to leave her alone.”

Jay didn’t answer.

Ni-ki entered next, quietly washing dishes without a word.

Sunoo sat beside Jay. “We ruined something good,” he said. “We all did.”

Jay nodded slowly. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Jungwon, leaned against the doorframe, finally said, “Then maybe it’s not about fixing it. Maybe it’s about showing her that what you said... meant something. Even if she never takes you back.”

Jay looked up at him, broken. “What if she never forgives me?”

“Then you live with that,” Jungwon said gently. “But you still tell her everything.”

The next few days passed in a blur.

Jay didn’t reach out.

Not once.

But not because he didn’t want to.

He was scared.

Not of rejection but of proving that what you’d had was truly over.

You, meanwhile, were withdrawing from everyone.

You skipped open mic night. Missed elective class. Ignored DMs from Sunoo and Heeseung.

You saw Ni-ki walking toward you once near the dining hall and turned around before he could say anything.

It wasn’t that you wanted to punish them.

You just didn’t trust yourself not to forgive them too easily.

And you couldn’t do that again.

On a rainy Friday, a small box showed up in your dorm mailbox.

No return name. Just a short note in Jay’s handwriting:

“For the parts of you I couldn’t protect.
I hope you’ll still protect them, even if it’s without me.”

Inside was the bookmark you had once made for him, now laminated, wrapped in soft linen.

And underneath it, a folded paper.

A printout of a bank transfer receipt.

$10,000 → Returned to ENHYPEN Band Fund

The note at the bottom:

“I never wanted the money. I only wanted the girl who believed in me.”

You closed the box with trembling hands.

Your heart hurt.

And yet... somehow... it also breathed.

For the first time since it all fell apart.

It had been days since the box had arrived.

You didn’t touch it for the first few hours after finding it. You left it on your desk, staring at the simple letter, the printout, the laminated bookmark.

But then, when the dorm grew quiet late that night, you opened it.

The words hit you harder than expected.

You wanted to hate Jay. You wanted to scream and burn everything he gave you. To throw it in his face and say you never needed any of it.

But then you read his words.

“I never wanted the money. I only wanted the girl who believed in me.”

You closed your eyes, the letter burning against your skin.

Meanwhile, in the ENHYPEN dorm, Jay was doing what he always did when things got bad: he distracted himself with work. He wasn’t playing guitar, didn’t even care about the band’s new setlist. All he could focus on was the fact that the day was slowly passing, and he hadn’t heard from you.

Not once.

He'd kept his distance because he didn’t want to overwhelm you. Because he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Not yet. Not after what he’d done.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.

Jake: You still haven’t talked to her?

Jay stared at the message for a long time before responding.

Jay: No. I don’t think she wants to hear from me.

Jake: Don’t make that decision for her. Go talk to her.

Jay stared at the screen, heart aching. Could he really face you again? Could he apologize in a way that mattered?

Jake had been the only one to genuinely try to help. Even if their stupid bet had started everything, Jake’s apology, his willingness to own the mess they’d made, had been the first thing that made Jay feel like maybe... just maybe... things could be fixed.

But fixing this? Fixing you?

He didn’t know if it was even possible.

The next morning, you were sitting at the coffee shop, laptop open in front of you. You hadn’t checked your messages in a while. Just been too overwhelmed by everything.

Then, the message from Jay appeared on your phone.

Jay: Can we talk? I need to say something.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching. You stared at the screen, conflicted. After everything, were you ready to face him?

You looked at the time. He’d sent the message around 8 a.m., and it was already nearly noon.

You took a deep breath, fingers hovering over the keyboard. And then, with a shaking hand, you replied.

Y/N: I don’t know if I can handle hearing more lies.

Jay’s response was quick.

Jay: No lies. Just the truth. Meet me at the bench by the quad in an hour?

Your chest tightened. You weren’t sure if you should go. But something deep inside you told you needed to.

When you arrived, Jay was already there sitting on the same bench where you both shared your first coffee date. His guitar case was next to him, but he wasn’t holding it. His eyes were bloodshot, his face hollow.

He didn’t look confident. He didn’t look like the usual, cocky Jay.

He looked... vulnerable. And that scared you more than anything.

You stopped a few steps away from him, your arms crossed in front of you like a shield.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “But if you’re planning on telling me you don’t deserve to lose me, don’t bother.”

Jay flinched. “I deserve everything you throw at me.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, the movement shaky. “You’re right to be angry. You’re right to hate me for how I played with your feelings. I used you for something selfish, and I hurt you.”

“You hurt me, Jay,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“I know,” he said, his voice tight. “But I can’t take it back. I can’t change what I did. All I can do is tell you the truth.”

You glanced away, eyes blurry. “And what truth is that?”

“That I started the bet because I thought you were just like every other girl in the world. I thought I could charm you, use my stupid reputation, and have it be a joke. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You looked at him again. His eyes were wide, almost pleading.

“The truth is,” he continued, “I fell in love with you. For real. For real, Y/N. It was never a game after the first week. I never cared about the money. I didn’t even care about the bet anymore.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep pretending?”

“Because I was afraid.” Jay’s voice shook. “I was afraid I’d lose you before I even had a chance to tell you the truth. And then when I heard how you were... pulling away... I thought maybe you wouldn’t ever forgive me. I didn’t think I deserved your forgiveness.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t even give me a chance to choose.”

Jay took a deep breath. “I know. I was stupid. And I won’t make excuses for it. But everything I said to you, everything we shared. I meant it. I still do.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jay continued, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. For every lie, for every moment I wasn’t honest with you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to hold yourself together. “I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t expect you to have an answer right now. I just... I needed you to know.”

For a long moment, you didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, your heart torn between anger, sadness, and an aching hope you didn’t want to feel.

Finally, you whispered, “You can’t just expect me to forget everything.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m asking you to believe that what I feel for you is real.”

You looked at him, your hands trembling. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, Jay. I don’t know if I can just... pretend nothing happened.”

He nodded, his face pale. “I’ll give you all the time you need.”

You both sat in silence after that. No more words. No more promises. Just the sound of your breathing, the wind rustling the leaves above you.

Time moved differently after that conversation.

Jay didn’t text. He didn’t call. He didn’t even look at you during class.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t mind the silence.

You needed it.

Because silence meant space and space meant you could think.

And thinking was something you hadn’t been able to do properly since the night you heard everything fall apart in that locker room.

Three weeks later, life had resumed in small ways. You smiled again, not because you had to, but because it was slowly becoming genuine again. You walked to class without your chest tightening. You joined a study group again, laughed with Yunjin more, and spent less time looking over your shoulder.

But Jay?

He was still everywhere.

Not physically. He had kept his word. But emotionally? He lingered in your playlists. In the notes tucked in your planner. In the quiet walks across campus where he once made you laugh so hard your eyes watered.

And yet, you hadn’t spoken to him since that day.

One Thursday afternoon, Sunoo found you by the campus café. He wasn’t loud, or overly cheerful, not like before. He just handed you a warm matcha latte with your name spelled correctly on the cup.

Your favourite order.

“I thought you might need one,” he said, eyes uncertain. “You don’t have to say anything.”

You took the drink quietly.

Then you nodded. “Thank you.”

Sunoo smiled softly, not with relief, but with something like hope.

He left without pushing further.

Later that same day, you found a message in her email inbox from the ENHYPEN Music Club:

Subject: Open Mic — Theme: “Second Chances”

All students welcome. No judging. No winners. Just words and music.

Come if you want. Share if you can.

The sender?

Jungwon.

You stared at the subject line for a long time.

“Second Chances.”

How ironic.

The next evening, you sat with Yunjin in your shared dorm room, the soft glow of string lights casting lazy shadows against the walls.

“I don’t get it,” Yunjin said. “You still love him, right?”

You hesitated, curling your knees to your chest. “I don’t know.”

Yunjin raised a brow. “Do you hate him?”

You paused. “I want to.”

“But you don’t.”

You sighed. “I miss who I thought he was. But I also miss who he became.”

“Which one’s real?”

“I’m starting to think... both.”

Meanwhile, in the ENHYPEN dorm, Jay sat on the floor of their cluttered living room, guitar in his lap, lyrics in his notebook untouched.

He hadn’t performed since the night before everything shattered.

The others watched him from the kitchen, speaking in low voices.

“He’s not the same,” Ni-ki said.

“No one is,” Heeseung muttered. “But he’s... trying.”

Jake nodded. “Let’s just keep giving him space. He’s doing the right thing by not forcing anything.”

Sunghoon leaned on the counter. “He’s writing something.”

Sunoo added, “Yeah, but it’s not for us.”

Jungwon looked down at his phone, at the RSVP list for the open mic event.

One name had just been added: Y/N.

He smiled quietly to himself.

Two days later, it was the Open Mic Night.

The auditorium was dim and warm, with soft golden lights overhead and a small stage in the center of the room. No crowds, no pressure, just raw music and honest words.

You sat near the back, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, a journal in your lap.

You didn’t plan to perform. Just watch.

Until your name was called.

Your breath hitched.

You looked toward the booth, where Jungwon stood by the soundboard, smiling gently.

You hadn’t signed up.

But he had.

“Only if you want to,” he mouthed from across the room.

You stared at the stage for a long time.

Then, slowly, you stood.

Your legs shook slightly as you walked up. Your heart thundered in your ears.

You sat on the edge of the stool, took a breath, and opened your journal.

“I wasn’t planning on sharing anything,” you began, voice soft but steady. “But... this one’s been living in my head for a while.”

You didn’t sing.

You just spoke.

“It was supposed to be a joke,
a punchline wrapped in a smile,
I was the girl unfazed,
too smart to fall,
too stubborn to play.

But you walked in like a storm in disguise,
all charm, all calm,
and somehow,
I let you in.

You didn’t just break my heart.
You undid it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
With words I thought were true.

And maybe I was a fool.
Or maybe I just believed that somewhere,
beneath the layers,
there was something real.

You told me I changed you.
But you changed me too.

So this isn’t revenge.
It’s not even goodbye.
It’s just...
me finding my voice again.”

When you stepped off the stage, the room was quiet.

Then a soft ripple of applause.

No cheers. Just honest hands meeting in support.

But you didn’t stay to talk. You walked out quietly, slipping through the side door.

Only you didn’t notice the boy leaning against the wall just outside.

Jay.

He had heard every word.

The door clicked shut softly behind you.

You didn’t see Jay right away. The night air was cooler than you expected, and your thoughts were still buzzing from what you’d read aloud.

But when you stepped further into the courtyard, your heart stopped.

He was there.

Leaning against the brick wall just beyond the stage door, hands tucked in the pockets of his black hoodie, face tipped slightly down. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t smiling.

He had heard everything.

And he looked like it broke him.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then Jay lifted his gaze.

His eyes were glassy, and there was no trace of that confident boy who once strolled through campus with a smirk and a guitar.

Just Jay.

Just him.

“Your words,” he said softly, “hurt more than any slap ever could.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I deserved them,” he added, stepping closer slowly, like he was afraid you might vanish. “Every single line. Every pause. Every look.”

You didn’t move. “I didn’t write them to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said. “But the truth does that sometimes.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t the awkward kind. It was weighty, like the air between you both was full of things neither of you had said yet.

Finally, you found your voice. “Why were you out here?”

He gave a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “I wasn’t supposed to come. I thought maybe hearing you tonight would give me closure, or... I don’t know. Peace?”

He looked at you then. “But it didn’t. It just made me realize I never wanted to stop hearing your voice.”

Your heart twisted painfully. “Jay…”

“I’m not here to ask for another chance,” he said quickly. “I swear, I’m not. I just… I wanted to look you in the eye and say it. One more time. No games. No music. No frat-boy persona.”

He stepped closer, hands shaking slightly. “I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

“And not because I’m supposed to, or because I feel guilty. But because knowing you, really knowing you, made me want to be someone better. Someone who deserves you.”

You swallowed. “And yet... you still made a choice.”

He nodded slowly. “I did. And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

The honesty in his voice made something crumble inside you.

You stepped forward, just a little.

“I loved you, too,” you whispered. “That’s what made it so cruel. I chose you. Even when I had no reason to believe I should.”

Jay’s eyes filled, but he didn’t look away.

“I kept asking myself,” you continued, “if what we had was real. Or if it was all just part of the game.”

“It was real,” he said fiercely. “Maybe not from the beginning. But after that second week? I didn’t care about the bet. I just wanted to be around you. To make you laugh. To see you smile because of me.”

You looked at him then.

And you saw it.

The sincerity. The remorse. The ache.

He wasn’t lying.

He hadn’t been, maybe for a long time.

But trust wasn’t something you could just hand back overnight.

“I’m not ready to forget,” you said softly. “And I’m not ready to jump back in.”

Jay nodded. “I don’t expect you to. I just wanted you to know… I’d rather have your hatred than your silence. Because even when you’re mad at me, I know it’s real.”

That made your eyes sting.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the bookmark which was now worn at the edges.

“I kept it,” you said. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

He smiled faintly. “Because deep down… you still believed in me?”

“I wanted to,” you said. “But now I need you to believe in yourself. Without needing me to fix you.”

Jay’s chest rose and fell slowly.

“I’ll wait,” he said. “If it takes a month. A year. More. I’ll wait. Even if you never come back.”

Her voice wavered. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll still be better,” he said simply. “Because of you.”

And with that, he took a step back. Gave you space. Gave you a choice.

For the first time in weeks, you breathed a real, deep breath.

Then you said it.

“Give the money to someone who needs it.”

Jay blinked. “What?”

You met his gaze.

“The band fund? Give it away. Help a first-year. Buy instruments for someone who can’t afford them. Do something good with it.”

Jay’s lips parted, then slowly curved into something small. Something grateful.

“I already started,” he said. “The day I got it back.”

And for the first time since it all began, you smiled.

It was soft. It was sad.

But it was real.

“Good,” you whispered. “Then maybe… you’re not completely hopeless after all.”

Two months later, autumn came and went like a whisper.

Leaves turned gold, assignments piled up, and midterms passed without drama. Campus slowed. Things quieted.

And in the quiet, you began to breathe again.

You no longer flinched at the sound of a guitar in the quad. You could walk past the ENHYPEN table in the dining hall without freezing. The ache hadn’t disappeared, but it had settled. It was no longer sharp, just something that lived in your chest like a memory.

You still hadn’t spoken to Jay.

And Jay hadn’t tried to reach out again either.

But you saw him sometimes across campus, in the distance, or in the back of a lecture hall. He looked… lighter. Not loud. Not performative. He started volunteering at the student rec center, according to Yunjin, and hosted songwriting workshops with Jungwon on Saturdays.

His band had changed, too. ENHYPEN still performed, still filled rooms, but there was something different now. Softer. More grounded.

You had stopped running from their music.

In fact, sometimes you listened to it.

One chilly morning in December, you stepped into the campus café to grab your usual hot chocolate with cinnamon and oat milk.

When you turned around, you saw him.

Jay.

Standing by the window in a navy peacoat, black turtleneck, and those familiar silver rings. He hadn’t seen you yet. He was reading something on his phone, earbuds in.

And you realized something that stopped your breath for a moment:

You weren’t scared to face him anymore.

So you took a step forward.

Then another.

He looked up at the movement.

Your eyes met.

And he smiled, not wide, not bold, just… warm.

Real.

“Hey,” he said quietly, pulling one earbud out.

“Hey,” you replied.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in soft awkwardness and something like nostalgia.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here this early,” he said, hands tucked in his pockets.

“I needed warmth. And sugar,” you smiled faintly.

Jay let out a breathy chuckle. “Still the same order?”

You lifted her cup. “Still the same me.”

He tilted his head. “Not exactly.”

You blinked. “No?”

“You feel different now,” he said. “Like you’ve grown further than I could ever catch up to.”

The words stung but not painfully. More like the closing of a chapter.

“I had to,” you said honestly. “You made me grow up faster than I wanted to.”

Jay nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

A pause. People moved around, the café bustling with early winter energy.

Then he asked, voice tentative, “Do you still write?”

You nodded. “More than ever.”

“That makes me happy,” he said softly.

You sipped your drink. “And you?”

He smiled gently. “Writing. Teaching. Actually listening to people now.”

“And the band?”

“They’re still my brothers,” he said. “But we’ve all changed. I think we needed to.”

“Good,” you murmured.

Another beat of silence.

Jay glanced down. Then back up. “I don’t want to mess with your peace. But… would you ever want to catch up sometime? Just… talk. Not with expectations. Not with apologies.”

You looked at him for a long moment.

And then you did something you hadn’t done in a while.

You smiled truly, without hesitation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I’d like that.”

Jay looked almost stunned. Like he hadn’t let himself hope this could happen.

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Okay. Um… coffee next week?”

You lifted your cup. “Already beat you to it.”

You both laughed.

And it wasn’t bittersweet.

It was just… good.

A week later, you both met at the café again. Talked about music. Classes. Sunoo’s new obsession with scented candles. How Ni-ki dyed his hair silver for no reason. How Jake had started dating a film major and now swore he was a “serious actor.”

You both laughed like friends.

Talked like people who had loved, hurt, healed and learned.

Jay didn’t try to reach for your hand. He didn’t ask for more.

And you didn’t give it.

Not yet.

But as you stood outside under a string of fairy lights later that evening, he looked at you this time not with regret, but with quiet admiration.

“I’m really proud of you,” he said.

“I’m proud of you,” you replied.

And then soft as falling snow, you added:

“Maybe we had to fall apart... to learn how to come back together.”

Jay looked at you like you’d just given him the world.

But this time, he didn’t try to claim it.

He just walked beside you as you headed down the path together.

Not rushing.

Not forcing.

Just… walking.

Side by side.

One year later, at the university’s spring concert, ENHYPEN performed a new song.

It was soft. Acoustic. No spotlight. Just them.

And Jay’s voice, gentle and sure:

“She came like quiet lightning,
Left like ocean tide,
But somewhere in her storm, I found my calm.

And if forever’s never promised,
I’ll still write her name in every song.”

In the third row, you sat with Yunjin, a gentle smile on her lips.

And when your eyes met from across the stage, Jay didn’t wink.

He didn’t smirk.

He just smiled.

And this time, you smiled back.

The applause faded slowly, like waves retreating from shore.

Jay stood still, fingers loosening from the strings of his guitar, breath catching in his throat.

Not because of the crowd. He was used to that.
But because of you.

Third row.
Soft smile.
That same look he remembered from the first time you heard him sing.

But different now.

There was peace in your eyes. No sharp edges. No ghosts. Just warmth… and a kind of forgiveness that didn’t need words.

He’d take that over applause any day.

Later that night, he sat in the dorm living room alone, guitar resting against the couch, stage makeup wiped off, hoodie sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The others were out celebrating, but he had stayed back. He needed quiet.

He needed to let it sink in:

You had come.

You’d heard the song. Stayed for the whole set. Smiled at him.

Not the girl from last semester, broken-hearted, betrayed, guarded.

But the girl he fell in love with.

The one who wore her truth like armor and still made space for joy.

Jay rubbed a hand over his face, laughing softly to himself. “You idiot,” he muttered. “You almost lost her completely.”

He remembered the day the bet started, Sunghoon’s smirk, Jake’s casual voice saying “She’s too serious, too perfect. I dare you to break through.”
He remembered accepting, not to be cruel, but because some part of him already felt drawn to you.

The bet was just his excuse.

But somewhere between your annoyed eye rolls and nervous laughter, somewhere in those late-night convos after class, when you rambled about obscure literature or why matcha lattes were superior, something in him unraveled.

You weren’t just a challenge.

You were everything he didn’t know he wanted.

And then he ruined it.

He hadn’t taken the prize money. Never even looked at it.

Instead, he used it to start a campus music scholarship which was anonymous, small, for students who couldn’t afford gear or classes.

He never told you.

It wasn’t about proving anything anymore. It was about being someone he could live with.

Someone you might trust again, even just a little.

Jay leaned back on the couch, letting his head fall against the cushion, the ceiling spinning gently above him. His voice was still raw from the performance.

But it had been worth it.

That was the first time he sang something he meant.

Not for the crowd.

Not for the band.

Just for you.

The night he wrote the song, it was raining outside, soft, steady, the kind of rain that blurred the windows and made the campus feel smaller.

Jay sat on his bed with his journal open, fingers hovering over the page.

He had written half a dozen songs since everything fell apart. Angry ones. Apologetic ones. Longing ones.

But none of them had felt right.

Until this one.

She came like quiet lightning,
Left like ocean tide,
But somewhere in her storm, I found my calm…

His pen trembled after that line.
Because it was true.
Even in the mess , even in the fallout, you had centered him.

Back in the present, Jay stood and crossed the room to his desk.

He picked up a photo strip you had once left behind in his guitar case, one of those goofy booth shots with Yunjin. You were laughing in every frame.

Unfiltered. Happy. Radiant.

That’s the version he wanted to remember you by.
Not the one who walked away with tears in her eyes.

But the one who chose herself, even when it hurt.

He slid the photo into the side of his journal.

And beside it, he scribbled one last line:

If loving her was a lesson,
I hope I never graduate.


In ENHYPEN’s shared dorm, one Saturday evening in spring, exactly one and a half year after The Bet began, it was very frenzied.

The furniture’s mismatched. The air smells like burnt popcorn. Someone’s blasting a 2000s throwback playlist off a Bluetooth speaker. It's loud, chaotic, and deeply homey.

You are here.

And this time, you’re here because you want to be.

“Okay, who put mustard in the popcorn again?”

“It was Ni-ki!” Sunoo gasped, scandalized. “He’s an agent of culinary chaos.”

“It’s fusion,” Ni-ki defended, half-laughing from his spot on the floor. “Respect the artistry.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Jungwon muttered, nudging the bowl away.

You sat curled up on the couch beside Yunjin and Heeseung, watching it all unfold with a soft smile. A few months ago, this would’ve felt impossible. But now?

Now it felt like healing.

Jay walked in from the kitchen with actual, unflavored popcorn, raising it like a peace offering.

“See? I’ve grown. I bring snacks instead of scandals.”

“That’s personal growth,” you teased, eyes twinkling.

Jay beamed and set the bowl between you both, casually brushing your fingers as he did. You didn’t flinch. In fact, you leaned a little close, just enough to let him know you were still here. Still trying.

Later in the evening, after a chaotic game of charades where Jake accidentally acted out Titanic by flopping dramatically onto the floor and knocking over two pillows and a lamp (“I was the iceberg!” he insisted), the group settled into a calmer rhythm.

Someone dimmed the lights. Heeseung started strumming his guitar quietly in the background. Jungwon passed around cups of hot cocoa with exactly one marshmallow each because rationing is real, okay?

Sunoo sprawled dramatically across the bean bag. “Okay, I’m calling it. This is my soft era.”

You grinned. “What was your previous era?”

“Vengeance.”

Jay nearly choked on his cocoa.

Jake, now curled up with a hoodie over his head, turned to you with a gentle smile.

“You know, we never really got to say it properly,” he said. “Back then.”

You looked at him. “Say what?”

He glanced around at the others. Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Ni-ki, Sunoo. One by one, they all nodded.

“We’re sorry,” Jake said. “All of us. For the part we played. For the looks. The jokes. For not stopping it when we could’ve.”

Sunghoon added, quieter, “We really didn’t think you’d be… real.”

“And that’s on us,” Heeseung said. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

You felt a tightness in your chest you didn’t realize was still there.

But you looked around at these boys, these chaotic, growing, fumbling humans and you didn’t feel anger anymore.

Just… relief.

“I forgave you all a while ago,” you said. “But hearing that still matters.”

Sunoo leaned over dramatically to rest his head on your lap. “Group absolution, unlocked.”

Jay looked at you from across the couch, eyes soft, thumb brushing the inside of his mug and mouthed thank you.

You just smiled.

Hours later, after board games and story-swapping and another failed Ni-ki “experimental snack” moment (wasabi marshmallows. Why?), you stood at the door, shoes in hand.

Jay walked you out.

You both stood in the hallway, under dim lighting and sleepy quiet.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “More than okay.”

He hesitated, then offered, “I know we’re still… figuring us out. But I’m really glad you’re part of the group again. It feels right.”

You looked up at him. “It does.”

Then, after a pause, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the popcorn.”

Jay blinked, stunned, then laughed under his breath, ears turning pink.

“Anytime,” he said. “No mustard, I swear.”

You turned and started down the hall, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands.

Jay watched you go, heart warm.

This wasn’t a grand ending.

No dramatic love confession. No emotional storm.

Just something better.

A do-over.
A new song.
Something real.

And this time, they were all in harmony.

The end~

(Where do I find myself a man like Jay😭)

[ot7archives]

where are you sweetie... i miss you sm TT

Hello sweetie. I missed you so much too. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you’re so dear to me you know. I’m so sorry I’ve been mia. My health hasn’t been the best lately. And also hee’s news blew up on me and I’ve been trying my best to stay sane and protest and handle life at the same time. So sorry for replying so late to you. How are you doing? Take care and stay hydrated. Lots of love to you! 💜

[ot7archives]

Even The Quiet Hurts Sometimes

Summary: You love him loudly. Always have. Maybe too much. Jay never made you feel like it was a problem until the day he didn’t know you were standing outside the door. One overheard joke. One crack in everything you thought was safe. And now you’re loving him in silence, wondering if you were ever wanted the way you loved. He doesn’t know what changed. But you do.

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, established relationship, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, clingy gf, communication, romantic angst, angst with a happy ending, reassuring bf Jay

Word count: ~4.2k

Note: Hi! I am so happy that my previous fic got over a 100 notes. I am so so thankful! 🥺🫶 This response kinda gave me the confidence to actually post a work that was completed and in my drafts. While the story is of a very cliche trope, this is my take on it. I hope you all like and enjoy it. Please do let me know if you’d like to see more of this. Thank you once again.

You weren’t sure when you became this clingy. Maybe it was just the way you loved— loudly, fully, with your whole heart. Or maybe it was because Jay made you feel like it was okay to be that way. He never once pushed you away. In fact, he’d pull you in closer.

You were his girlfriend. The clingy one. And he was yours— the patient, calm, quietly affectionate one. The one who always seemed to enjoy your affection, who welcomed your hugs even when he was sweaty from practice or half-asleep after a schedule.

So, when your work trip came up, you didn’t think twice about surprising him before your flight. You were only going to be gone a few days, but it felt like forever. You had texted him that morning, pretending you were already heading to the airport.

Instead, you’d asked the cab to wait outside HYBE for just ten minutes, just enough time to run upstairs, find him, hug him once and whisper a proper goodbye.

The hallways of HYBE felt oddly quiet for late afternoon. You took the elevator to the practice floor and tiptoed toward the familiar training room. You peeked through the glass to find Jay inside with the rest of Enhypen. They were laughing, all sprawled across the floor, drenched in sweat, clearly taking a break.

You reached for the door handle but paused.

Jay was speaking.

“My girlfriend is so clingy,” he said, laughing, voice light and teasing.
“I swear, she’d probably come here just to say bye before her flight or something.”

Your heart stilled.

Another voice, probably Sunghoon’s, chimed in, “She would, wouldn’t she?”

Jay laughed again. “She would. It’s so annoying sometimes. I don’t get a moment of peace, man.”

The others laughed, but you couldn’t hear them anymore.

Your fingers trembled on the door handle. You let go.

You stumbled back, trying not to draw attention, your eyes already stinging. A sob pressed against your chest, but you bit it back. Not here. Not now.

You turned and rushed toward the washroom down the hall. Inside, you locked the door and leaned over the sink, gripping the edges like they were the only thing holding you up. Your reflection in the mirror was pale, eyes wide, lips trembling.

Annoying.

He said I’m annoying.

The word echoed again and again, ringing louder than his laughter.

You had always known you were clingy. You texted him too much, hugged him too tight, asked to see him even during his busiest days. But Jay never once made you feel like it was too much. He let you love him the way you did. He said he liked it.

Maybe he lied.

Maybe he never wanted to hurt you, so he smiled through it but deep down, it was suffocating him.

You covered your mouth to stop the sob that finally escaped. Your cab was still waiting.

You didn’t even check your face before leaving the bathroom. You just walked straight out of the building, got into the cab, and texted Jay once you were seated.

[Y/N 🐰]: on the way to the airport now. have a good day at practice 💛

The reply came quickly.

[Jay 🐯]: thanks babe!! have a safe flight. text me when you land 😘

That was it.

He didn’t know you were just a few feet away moments ago, standing outside the room, hearing the words that sliced right through you.

The flight passed in a haze.

You barely remembered getting on board or the hotel you checked into when you arrived. But your brain kept looping those words. So annoying. Don’t get a moment of peace.

It wasn’t just what he said, it was the laughter. The way he brushed you off like a joke. The way no one disagreed.

Was that really how he saw you?

The first few days of the trip, you made yourself hold back.

You texted him daily, like always but your messages were short. Polite. Emotionless.

No cute photos, no voice notes, no “I miss you so much I could die”s. Just:

[Y/N 🐰]: morning. hope you slept well.
[Y/N 🐰]: heading to my meeting now. ttyl.
[Y/N 🐰]: landed back in the hotel. was a long day.

Jay didn’t seem to notice at first. He replied sweetly, called you whenever he could, and even sent food delivery to your hotel once. You picked up his calls when he rang but didn’t initiate any yourself.

When he teased you gently one night over FaceTime with a “Where’s my clingy girlfriend gone?” you just smiled and said, “Maybe I’m just tired.”

He didn’t press it.

And you were thankful.

Because if he knew the truth that you had been spiraling ever since overhearing him he might have just reassured you out of guilt.

You didn’t want pity. You just wanted to understand.

Were you too much?

Maybe distance was good. For both of you.

When you landed back home, HYBE had given Jay the day off. You didn’t even have to ask. He was already at your apartment, waiting with open arms and a stupidly excited smile on his face.

Normally, you would’ve jumped into his arms, wrapped yourself around him like a koala, kissed him breathless.

This time, you stepped into his hug and held him tightly… but quietly.

“I missed you,” you murmured into his chest, feeling tears threaten again.

“I missed you more,” he whispered, kissing your hair.

“I’m really tired. I think I’ll shower and lie down for a bit.”

You felt him hesitate, but he nodded. “Okay, babe. Want me to order in dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, already walking away.

You didn’t see the confused crease forming between his brows.

In the days that followed, you pulled away even more.

You still kissed him good morning. Still cuddled on the couch. Still replied to his texts.

But your affection had changed.

It was measured. Careful. Held back. Almost as if you were scared to overdo it.

And Jay noticed.

Jay had been trying to convince himself that nothing was wrong.

At first, he chalked it up to jet lag. Then maybe work stress. You had just come back from a full-on business trip, after all. And still, you were warm, affectionate, kind. Still you.

Just… less.

You didn’t linger with your hugs. You didn’t sneak into his lap when he was watching TV or ask to hold hands while walking down the street. You still responded to his “I love you”s but always with a soft smile or a quiet “You too.”

And what unsettled Jay most was that you didn’t seem upset.

You weren’t cold or angry or ignoring him. You were… normal. Just a little too quiet. A little too reserved. Like someone walking across thin ice, afraid that one wrong move would make it crack.

And Jay didn’t know why.

“Everything okay with you two?”

Heeseung’s voice pulled Jay out of his thoughts one afternoon as they cooled off outside the dance studio.

Jay blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been spacing out for the past hour, man.”

Sunghoon looked up from his water bottle. “Did you two fight?”

“No,” Jay said automatically.

Because you didn’t fight. You never fought. You were the clingiest person he knew—but never demanding or dramatic. Just soft and sweet and maybe too gentle for someone like him.

He ran a hand through his damp hair.

“No fight. She’s just… different lately.”

“Different how?” Heeseung asked.

Jay hesitated. “I don’t know. She’s quiet. She doesn’t… I don’t know. Cling.”

Sunghoon laughed. “You miss her being stuck to you like Velcro?”

Jay smiled faintly. “Yeah. I do.”

It got worse in the next few days.

Not by much but enough that he noticed.

Your hugs lasted only a few seconds. You stopped cuddling into him at night unless he pulled you in himself. You smiled a lot but it didn’t always reach your eyes.

Jay caught himself staring at you more often than not. Trying to read your face. Trying to understand what changed.

You were always good at hiding when you were hurting. But he knew you well enough to sense something was off.

So, one night, when you were brushing your hair after a shower, he finally asked.

“Are we okay?”

Your hand paused mid-stroke. “Yeah. Of course.”

“You sure?”

You turned slightly to look at him. “Why are you asking that?”

Jay moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. Just feels like… something’s different.”

You smiled. And it hurt him how convincing it was.

“We’re both busy lately,” you said. “Maybe it’s just that.”

Jay nodded slowly. “Okay.”

But his gut told him that wasn’t it.

A few days later, Jay’s manager stopped by the practice room to drop off some documents. They exchanged a few casual words, laughing about scheduling and performance outfits.

Then, as the manager turned to leave, he paused.

“Oh! By the way, I think I saw your girlfriend here last week.”

Jay blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, sometime last week? You guys were on break. I was heading up to a meeting and thought I saw her in the hallway. Looked like she was crying, actually. But I figured I must’ve been wrong. Thought she was out of the country, wasn’t she?”

Jay’s blood ran cold.

“What day?”

The manager scratched his head. “Uh… maybe Tuesday? Or Wednesday? Not sure. Why?”

Jay’s chest tightened.

Tuesday.

That was the day of your flight.

That was the day he had been joking around with the guys in the practice room. The day he’d laughed about how clingy you were. The day he’d said—

“She’d probably come here just to say bye before her flight or something.”

“It’s so annoying sometimes. I don’t get a moment of peace, man.”

His breath caught.

You had come.

You heard him.

Oh God.

Jay stood up so suddenly his water bottle toppled over. The other members looked at him in surprise.

“I have to go,” he muttered, already grabbing his phone.

You were curled up on the couch when the door opened.

Jay didn’t knock. He never did. But this time, the energy he brought into your apartment was different.

Urgent. Heavy.

You turned around, confused. “Jay?”

He looked like he’d just sprinted through a storm. His hair messy, shirt slightly damp from sweat, chest rising and falling like he hadn’t stopped moving since the studio.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just stared at you like his heart was breaking right there at the door.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, standing up slowly.

“You came to HYBE before your flight.”

The air thickened. You didn’t respond.

“You were outside the practice room,” he said, voice low. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

Still, you didn’t speak.

Jay crossed the room in three long steps and stopped in front of you. “Y/N… why didn’t you tell me?”

You looked away. Your throat burned.

“I wasn’t supposed to hear it,” you said quietly. “You didn’t mean for me to.”

“But I still said it,” Jay whispered. “And I’m so sorry.”

You clenched your jaw, blinking fast. “Did you mean it?”

“No.” His voice cracked. “I mean—I said it. And maybe there was some truth in the joke. But not the way you think.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes shimmering.

“Then explain.”

Jay exhaled slowly.

“I was tired that day. We were joking around. And yeah, I said you were clingy. But it was dumb. Stupid. I didn’t mean it to sound like a complaint. I didn’t mean it like you were a burden.”

You didn’t say anything.

Jay stepped closer. “Do you know how empty it feels without you clinging to me all the time?”

That surprised you.

He continued, “I miss you barging into my day with twenty texts. I miss you hanging off my arm. I miss you falling asleep on my shoulder even when I told you I was too sweaty.”

A shaky laugh escaped you.

“I’ve been walking around like an idiot wondering why my own girlfriend suddenly feels… distant,” he said. “And it’s because I hurt you. Without even knowing it.”

You swallowed hard.

“I didn’t want to be too much,” you whispered. “I thought maybe you were just too nice to tell me to back off. And then I heard that, and I… I couldn’t un-hear it.”

Jay pulled you into his arms.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “you are not too much. And if I ever feel overwhelmed, I swear I’ll talk to you about it like an adult. Not laugh about it behind your back like a coward.”

You buried your face into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop loving me the way you do. I like it. I love it. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

You were crying now. Silently, but openly. Your fists clutched the back of his shirt.

“I missed you,” you mumbled.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “The real you.”

Jay stayed the night. He held you until you fell asleep. And when you woke up, he was still there, watching you with a look so full of guilt and affection, it made your chest ache.

But even after his apology, something still lingered.

You tried. You smiled more. Hugged him longer.

But you were hesitant. Still afraid of slipping into being “too much” again.

Jay noticed.

So he did the only thing he could.

He doubled down.

Jay hadn’t stopped trying since that night.

You could feel it in every small gesture, every extra text, every meal he cooked for you (even if it was just ramen), every time he pulled you closer in bed when he thought you were asleep.

He never outright said, “Please go back to being clingy,” but it was in the way he lingered after hugs, the way he sent little updates about his day hoping you’d reply with your usual excited rambles. It was in the way he’d pause before hanging up a call, waiting, just waiting, for you to say “Wait, don’t hang up yet.”

But you didn’t.

Not yet.

You couldn’t help it. Even though you believed him, believed the apology, believed that he loved your affection, it was hard to silence that voice in the back of your head.

What if he just said that to make you feel better?

What if he only missed it because it was gone?

You didn’t want to return to being your old self if it meant smothering him. And you didn’t want to ask for reassurance constantly either. That would make you even more clingy, wouldn’t it?

So you stayed somewhere in the middle.

You loved him quietly. Carefully.

And Jay, slowly but surely, began to unravel that quiet.

It started with the small things.

He sent you selfies, not just the polished, fan-facing ones, but blurry shots of him mid-bite at lunch, or with half of his face smushed into a couch pillow.

[Jay 🐯]: rate this hair from 1 to “should I just shave my head”

Or—

[Jay 🐯]: me thinking about you. also about cake. mostly you tho

Sometimes you replied. Sometimes you left him on read. But he didn’t stop.

Then he brought home your favorite pastries one evening.

You smiled, a little surprised. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just missed your smile when you see these.”

You felt your heart crack a little. You hadn’t lit up the way you used to. Not since that day.

Then came the soft ambushes.

You were brushing your teeth when he wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Miss this,” he mumbled through his reflection.

You tried to laugh, mouth full of foam.

When you rinsed and turned to face him, he was still there, looking at you like you hung the moon.

“You don’t have to hold back,” he said softly.

You looked down. “I’m trying not to… smother you again.”

Jay sighed. He lifted your chin gently with one finger so you’d meet his gaze.

“You never smothered me,” he said. “You just… made my days brighter. And warmer.”

A long silence passed.

You looked at him, then reached forward and poked his cheek. “You’re really not mad I used to cling to you all the time?”

Jay smiled. “I loved it. I was just being an idiot around the guys. Trying to sound funny and cool.”

“You’re terrible at that.”

He laughed. “I know.”

And then you hugged him.

Properly. Tightly.

Like the old you would’ve.

He melted into it immediately, arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

“I missed this,” he whispered into your hair.

You pressed your face into his neck. “Me too.”

But it wasn’t all better overnight.

There were still moments when you’d pause before reaching for his hand. Still moments where your fingers hovered over the “call” button on your phone, wondering if you were doing too much again.

Jay never stopped noticing.

So he made it his mission to rebuild what had cracked.

One evening, you were curled up on the couch reading, and Jay sat beside you holding his phone. A few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

[Jay 🐯]: miss you.

You glanced at him. He was right beside you.

He grinned and sent another.

[Jay 🐯]: miss my clingy koala too

You blinked at the screen, heart stuttering.

Then he reached out and pulled your legs onto his lap.

“I’m giving you a chance to cling again,” he said casually, flipping through Netflix.

You stared at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered but your voice was warm, your chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

He looked over and smiled. “But you love me.”

You rolled your eyes.

And climbed into his lap.

A week later, Jay had a short out-of-town schedule. You went to drop him off at HYBE.

You hesitated outside the building, remembering that day. Your chest tightened a little.

But Jay was waiting at the entrance this time. As soon as he saw you, he ran over and threw his arms around you.

“I knew you’d come say bye.”

You smiled against his shirt. “Do you want me to?”

Jay leaned back just enough to meet your eyes. “Yes. Every time.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

He kissed your forehead. “And I’ll be starving for affection.”

Later that night, Jay sent you a voice note from his hotel bed.

“Babe. You left a hoodie here. It smells like you and now I’m lying in bed like a loser sniffing your sleeves. Hope you’re happy. Also, I miss you. And I hope when I get back, you’ll jump on me like the clingy little koala you are. I need that. Seriously.”

You laughed to yourself, cheeks heating.

You recorded a reply:

“That’s what you get for saying I’m annoying behind my back. 😤 But yes. Prepare to be clung to.”

He replied in a heartbeat.

[Jay 🐯]: that’s my girl 🥹

Jay’s trip only lasted three days, but you found yourself counting the hours until he returned.

Maybe it was the way he kept checking in, texting you the dumbest memes, or updating you about every little thing he ate. Or maybe it was because, for the first time since everything happened, you felt like your old selves again, playful, chaotic, and full of love.

You'd been cautious for so long, trying not to step over some invisible line.

But Jay had erased it completely.

When you picked him up from HYBE that evening, Jay didn't even wait for you to unbuckle your seatbelt before dragging you out of the car and into a tight embrace.

You squeaked in surprise. “Jay!”

“I told you I’d be starving for affection,” he mumbled, lips brushing your ear. “And I meant it.”

You laughed, heart warm and full. “Did you miss me that much?”

He pulled back and cupped your face in both hands. “I missed you so much that I used your voice notes as lullabies and told Jake I was suffering from cuddling withdrawals.”

“Poor Jake.”

Jay smirked. “Poor me.”

Then you kissed him.

And maybe it was just a kiss to the world, but to you, it felt like a reset. Like everything between you had settled again. No more walking on eggshells. No more holding back.

You were home again. In him.

In the days that followed, the shift between you two was impossible to miss.

The subtle distance you had placed between your hearts was gone. You clung again, softly, playfully, and sometimes even more than before.

Jay didn’t just welcome it. He mirrored it.

He reached for your hand more often. Held you longer in the mornings before you got out of bed. He surprised you with coffee deliveries, forehead kisses, and random “I love you” texts at 3AM.

One afternoon, while he was cooking, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind and rested your cheek on his back.

“Koala mode again?” he teased.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed. “You said I’m allowed.”

“You’re encouraged,” he corrected.

You peeked up at him. “So I’m not annoying?”

He turned off the stove, dried his hands, and spun around to face you.

“No,” he said seriously. “But even if you were, you’d be my annoying.”

You grinned.

Then, just to mess with him, you whispered, “I might text you thirty times tomorrow while you’re at practice.”

“I’ll reply to all thirty.”

“And I might kiss you in front of your members next time.”

“Good. Then they’ll stop calling you fake for being ‘less clingy.’” He gave you a look. “Yeah, they noticed too.”

You gasped. “No way.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “Jake said he almost cried when you left a room without hugging me once.”

You laughed, burying your face in his chest.

Jay held you closer.

“I’m sorry again,” he murmured. “For hurting you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And thank you. For making me feel safe again.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You never lost that place. You just forgot where it was for a while.”

A few weeks later, you surprised him at HYBE again. This time with coffee for the whole group and a massive bear hug for Jay the moment he stepped out of the practice room.

Sunghoon whooped dramatically. “She’s BACK!”

Heeseung pumped his fist. “Balance has been restored!”

Jay just wrapped both arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world and said, “My girlfriend came to say hi. Be jealous.”

Jake fake gagged. “Gross. But also… finally.”

You smiled into Jay’s shoulder.

It felt good to be back.

That night, after dinner, Jay curled up beside you on the couch and tapped your nose.

“I never told you this,” he said softly, “but when I first met you, I knew you were going to love hard. I could feel it.”

You looked at him. “Is that a good thing?”

Jay nodded. “The best.”

He ran a finger along your jaw gently.

“You make me feel loved all the time. Even when you're annoying.”

You glared. “Jay.”

He laughed. “I mean in a good way.”

You crossed your arms. “There’s no such thing as good annoying.”

He leaned in, kissing the side of your neck. “Sure there is. It’s the kind that keeps me warm. Keeps me grounded. Reminds me that someone wants to be around me, even when I’m tired or grumpy.”

You softened.

“I used to think I’d need a lot of space to feel okay in a relationship,” he continued. “But then you happened. And I realized I don’t want space. I want you. Every weird, clingy, dramatic bit of you.”

Your eyes shimmered.

“You’re going to make me cry again,” you murmured.

He smirked. “Then cry on me. I like when you do that too.”

You shoved him playfully, and he dragged you into his lap, tickling you until you were breathless and smiling through tears.

And later, when the apartment was quiet and you were lying tangled in each other under the sheets, Jay whispered, “Thanks for not giving up on us.”

You kissed his chest where your head rested.

“I never could.”

One rainy morning, Jay was rushing around getting ready for another early schedule when he noticed you sleepily padding after him, wrapped in his oversized hoodie.

He turned just as you flopped face-first onto the couch.

“Do you want me to cancel and stay home?” he joked.

You made a noise that sounded suspiciously like yes.

He chuckled and walked over, crouching down in front of you.

“Clingy again?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

You yawned. “Always.”

Jay leaned in and kissed your nose.

“Good.”

Then, with a grin, he added, “You’re lucky I love it.”

You pulled him down into one more hug.

And when he left, he did so with your warmth still clinging to his clothes and your love still blooming quietly in his heart.

The end~

[ot7archives]

1k notes🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much!

[ot7archives]

im soo late...but merry christmas and happy new year girly

Wish you a very happy new year and merry Christmas too cutie 💜💜how are you doing? 🥺 I get so happy when I see your message.

[ot7archives]

Moonstruck— Part 1

Part 2 | Main list

Seoul’s late summer heat pressed against your skin as you wandered through the winding streets of Hongdae. You had come to the city for a change of pace, a temporary break from the monotony of your small-town life, from the looming expectations and relentless routines. Music played from the corners of the street, a mix of indie guitars and K-pop choruses layered with the hum of chatter and laughter.

You weren’t even supposed to be here. Your original plan had been to visit a friend near Busan, but a booking mishap left you with a last-minute Airbnb in Seoul and an extra day to yourself. With nothing more than a Spotify playlist and a camera slung over her shoulder, you ducked into a small, quiet bookstore tucked between a bubble tea café and a record shop.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside. The air smelled of paper and cinnamon, oddly comforting. Shelves loomed around you, some crammed with books in English, others lined with vibrant Korean paperbacks. You tugged down your cap and mask a little, hoping to blend into the calm like another local.

You weren’t expecting anyone famous. You especially weren’t expecting him.

In the far corner of the store, half-hidden behind a rack of art books, stood a tall guy in a black baseball cap, hoodie up despite the heat. He was flipping through a photography book, expression unreadable behind a sleek mask. Something about him caught your attention. He had a kind of subtle presence that couldn’t be explained, only felt.

And then he turned his head.

For the briefest second, your eyes met. You quickly looked away, heart skipping. That couldn’t be… could it?

You dared another glance. His brows, his jawline, the hint of bleached hair under the hood. You blinked. No way.

That’s Jay from ENHYPEN.

Your hands suddenly felt too big for your body. You stepped back, knocking into a shelf. A loud thump echoed through the silent space as a book tumbled off and hit the floor. The boy—Jay—looked up.

Cursing yourself inwardly, you bent to pick it up, face warm.

"You okay?" a low voice asked in English.

Your breath caught. His voice was calm, low, and somehow more intimate than the dozens of interviews you’d watched him in. His accent was familiar with the kind of Korean-American drawl that made English feel lazy but still sharp.

You nodded quickly, lifting the book and placing it back. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He tilted his head slightly, then gave the barest of nods and returned to his book.

It could’ve ended there.

But you, heart pounding and curiosity overpowering common sense, moved to the same section. Not too close. Just enough to catch the title he was reading: Photographing Light: The Art of Shadows. You had read it once, back in college. You smiled at the coincidence.

"You like that one?" You asked, trying to sound casual.

Jay glanced at you, eyebrows raised under his cap. “Yeah. Didn’t expect to find it here.”

You nodded. “It’s pretty underrated.”

His eyes lingered on you, like he was trying to figure you out. A fan? A tourist? A stranger who somehow didn’t scream or fumble for a selfie?

“You into photography?” he asked.

You held up your camera. “Kind of. Hobbyist level.”

A beat passed. Then, in a rare, quiet moment of spontaneity, Jay closed the book, tucked it under his arm, and said, “Mind if I see your shots?”

You blinked. “You… want to see my photos?”

He shrugged. “If you’re okay with it.”

Half-convinced you had entered a dream, you scrolled through your camera roll and handed it over. Jay took the camera carefully, his eyes scanning the screen. A few landscapes, some quiet street shots, an empty bench under cherry blossoms.

He nodded once. “You’ve got an eye.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Thanks. That means a lot… especially coming from you.”

There it was. The reveal.

Jay looked up again, expression unreadable.

“I’m a fan,” you added quickly, not wanting to seem creepy. “But I wasn’t trying to intrude.”

Something shifted in his eyes. The tension eased, just a little. “You handled it well. Most people don’t.”

You smiled, unsure what else to say.

“I’m Jay,” he said softly.

You blinked. “I know,” you replied before you could stop yourself, then winced. “Sorry, that sounded weird.”

He actually chuckled—a soft, short sound that barely left his lips. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was testing it.

Another silence passed, this one less awkward. Outside, the sky began to darken into a watercolor blend of purples and oranges.

Jay handed your camera back. “Thanks for the distraction.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, smiling. “You too.”

You turned to leave, your heart pounding from just that.

But then—

“Hey,” he called gently.

You turned back.

“You… staying in Seoul long?”

“A few weeks,” you said. “Why?”

He hesitated. Then, in that quiet, cool tone of his: “Just wondering. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

You walked out of that bookstore with a heart full of confusion and adrenaline. You didn’t know that you would see him again and not just at a distance, not as a fan in a crowd.

Fate had other plans. Plans that would twist, burn, bloom, and break your heart in ways you couldn’t imagine.

But for now, all you knew was that Jay from ENHYPEN had asked to see your photographs.

And maybe, just maybe, this trip to Seoul wasn’t so accidental after all.

The encounter with Jay stayed with you longer than you liked to admit.

For days after, you replayed it in your head, remembering his voice, the way he held your camera like it was something fragile, the way he said your name. It was the kind of memory that didn’t make noise, but echoed anyway.

Still, you had other things to focus on. Like the fact that your freelance work barely covered your stay in Seoul. Or that your student loan notifications were piling up like digital vultures in your inbox.

So when you got the email, you almost didn’t open it.

From: BELIFT LABS
Subject: [CONFIDENTIAL] YOU'VE BEEN SELECTED — 1-Year ENHYPEN Immersive Project

You froze.

Your hands trembled slightly as you clicked it open.

Congratulations, Y/N.

After careful review of your submission to our "Music Meets Life: A Fan's Perspective" photography and lifestyle competition, you have been selected as one of the three global fans invited to participate in an exclusive year-long creative residency program with ENHYPEN in Seoul.

You will live in a separate unit within the ENHYPEN dorm building, contribute to behind-the-scenes content, fan engagement campaigns, and document the life of artists from an everyday perspective.

NDA and orientation details attached.

You stared at the screen, then read it again.

One year. With ENHYPEN. Living in the same building.
This wasn’t a fan dream. It felt absurd. Unreal. Impossible.

You hadn’t even expected your submission to go anywhere. You remembered taking those shots—candid moments of people listening to music in parks, cafés, alone on subway trains. You wrote a small blurb about how music fills the spaces in people’s lives quietly, like light through window blinds.

Apparently, someone had liked that enough to change the course of your year and maybe your life.

Two weeks later, you stood outside a modern high-rise near Hannam-dong, your suitcase in one hand, a binder of contracts and confidentiality agreements in the other. The building screamed exclusivity with glass, steel, and silence. The kind of place you only see in magazines or behind-the-scenes vlogs.

You were met at the entrance by a staff member, Ms. Park, who wore a sleek blazer and a no-nonsense expression.

“Y/N-ssi,” she greeted. “Welcome to the ENHYPEN residential building.”

You bowed nervously. “Thank you.”

“The boys live on the top two floors. You’ll be in the attached guest unit next door on the 16th floor. It’s completely private but connected via the studio corridor.”

She swallowed. “So I’ll see them... often?”

Ms. Park gave a rare smile. “You’ll be working with them. Eating with them. Living near them. Yes, you’ll see them.”

It didn’t feel real until you stepped into the elevator.

The dorm’s private guest unit wasn’t huge, but it was clean, warm, and filled with sunlight. Hardwood floors, minimalist décor, and a small desk where you’d edit your photos. A few prints from your own submission were already framed on the wall.

Ms. Park handed you a digital keycard and a laminated floor plan. “Orientation’s tomorrow. For now, just rest. Oh—and the boys are aware you're here. Don’t be startled if you bump into someone.”

You smiled, nerves bubbling like soda in your chest. “Got it.”

You barely slept that night.

The next morning, you wore a plain white tee and jeans, tying your hair up loosely. You didn’t want to look like a fan. You wanted to look like a professional. Whatever that meant when your workplace involved idols with millions of fans and zero privacy.

At 10 a.m., you were led through the studio hallway to the main dorm lounge.

And there they were.

All seven members of ENHYPEN.

They were seated on the couch, casual and sleepy-eyed, dressed in oversized hoodies and shorts. Sunoo sipped from a massive mug of tea. Ni-ki was half-asleep. Heeseung was typing on his phone. Jungwon noticed you first and stood.

“You must be Y/N,” he said kindly.

You bowed deeply. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”

One by one, they greeted you, some politely, some playfully. Sunghoon gave you a small smile. Jake joked about your accent. Sunoo complimented your shoes. Heeseung nodded at you with that soft-lidded gaze that seemed to read everything.

And then—

Jay walked in from the kitchen.

Time slowed.

He was wearing a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair messy from sleep, holding a bowl of cereal. His eyes landed on you like they had in the bookstore but this time, there was something different in them.

Recognition. Surprise. And something quieter. Unspoken.

“…You,” he said, eyebrows lifting.

You gave a small smile. “Hi again.”

Jake looked between them. “Wait, you two know each other?”

Jay just blinked. “We met at a bookstore. Couple weeks ago.”

“Whoa,” Ni-ki muttered. “That’s kind of romantic.”

You laughed awkwardly, your cheeks warming.

Jay sat down on the far end of the couch, not saying much more. But his eyes flicked to you once, then again and lingered for a heartbeat too long.

The first few days were a blur of schedules, project briefs, staff introductions, and boundaries. You were told you’d be a creative observer like a fly on the wall with a camera, blending into their world but never crossing certain lines.

But blending in with ENHYPEN was easier said than done.

They were loud, chaotic, deeply bonded, and endlessly entertaining. There were dance practices at midnight, ramen battles in the kitchen, arguments about video games that ended with pillow fights. You couldn’t help but smile behind your lens as you documented it all.

You were careful with Jay.

He was quieter than the rest, more guarded. He didn’t mind the camera, but he didn’t seek it either. He had a habit of sitting on the balcony alone late at night, hoodie pulled over his head, music leaking softly from his earbuds.

One evening, you sat beside him on the floor outside, not saying anything. He didn’t ask you to leave.

After a long silence, he said, “You still carry your camera everywhere.”

“It’s part of the job,” you replied.

“You’d carry it even if it wasn’t.”

You looked at him. “You’re right.”

Jay didn’t look at you, but you caught the edge of a smile on his lips.

Weeks passed.

And the longer you stayed, the more you began to see Jay not as Jay from ENHYPEN, but as a man—a complicated, thoughtful, sometimes grumpy, sometimes sweet, real person. The kind of person who brewed coffee for the whole dorm without saying a word. Who fixed your closet door when it squeaked. Who asked if you had eaten when no one else did.

And slowly, terrifyingly, you began to fall.

Not in a fangirl kind of way. But in a way that kept you up at night. That made your heart twist when he laughed at someone else’s joke. That made you wonder if he looked at you just a little too long sometimes.

Maybe it was just your imagination.

Or maybe… it wasn’t.

By the time a month had passed, you had developed a rhythm in the dorm.

Wake up early, review footage or photo edits, eat breakfast with whichever members were awake, then follow their schedule, dance practice, studio sessions, hair and makeup fittings. At night, you’d back up your files, shower, and spend time journaling, editing, or collapsing on your bed with aching legs and a head full of unspoken thoughts.

The members treated you like part of the furniture now, familiar and present, but not intrusive. Jake made you laugh. Sunoo gave you skincare advice. Heeseung asked for help picking captions. Even Ni-ki, notoriously wary of new people, called you “Noona” without hesitation now.

But Jay…

Jay remained a different kind of quiet.

He wasn’t cold. Not unfriendly. Just… reserved. With you, especially.

You noticed the small things. How he always acknowledged you with a nod when he entered a room. How he didn’t speak much during group meals unless someone asked him something directly. How his eyes lingered on your camera when you pointed it at others but not when you pointed it at him.

You didn’t know what to make of it.

Until the night you found him in the practice room at 2 a.m.

You had come down to grab a bottle of water from the vending machine. But the moment you heard soft music, something jazzy, moody, drifting from behind the glass door of the practice room, you paused.

Curiosity got the better of you. You peeked in.

Jay was alone.

The room was dark except for the mirrored wall’s overhead light. He wore black sweats, a fitted shirt, and had a towel hanging around his neck. His hair was damp, sticking slightly to his forehead.

He was dancing.

But not like you had seen him on stage. Not sharp and powerful, not choreographed. This was fluid. Almost vulnerable. His movements were like smoke—controlled, deliberate, full of feeling. His body moved like he wasn’t performing for anyone. Like the music was pulling the truth out of him.

You stood there, unmoving, completely spellbound.

Until—

“I can feel you watching.”

You froze. Jay turned slightly, not stopping the music.

“I’m sorry—” you started.

“It’s okay,” he said, breath slightly heavy. “You can come in.”

You hesitated but stepped in slowly, sitting down by the mirror wall, camera forgotten in your hand.

Jay kept dancing for a while. Then, when the song ended, he collapsed onto the floor beside you, grabbing his water bottle and chugging half of it in one go.

They sat in silence, their breaths syncing up.

“You’re good,” you said softly.

Jay glanced at you, eyes unreadable. “That wasn’t meant for anyone to see.”

“I didn’t mean to watch.”

“But you did.”

You bit your lip. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then he said, “It’s different, right? When you dance for yourself versus dancing for the world.”

You nodded. “Like breathing versus performing.”

Jay looked down at his hands. “I forget what breathing feels like sometimes.”

That sentence lodged itself in your chest like a splinter.

“I hope you don’t forget for long,” you said gently. “You’re still human. You deserve to breathe too.”

Jay turned to you, surprised. Then he looked away, as if afraid of what might show in his eyes.

“…Thanks,” he murmured.

It wasn’t just a thank-you.

It was something else.

After that night, something between you both shifted.

Not loudly. Not all at once.

But slowly, like a tide changing.

You’d exchange glances at breakfast. Jay would linger near your editing desk, watching without saying anything. Sometimes, you’d find him waiting in the hallway when you went to get coffee, pretending it was a coincidence.

Once, in the studio, as you sat reviewing photos, Jay leaned over to see one and your shoulders touched. Neither moved. Your skin burned where his arm brushed yours.

“Do you ever get tired of looking through a lens all day?” he asked quietly.

“Sometimes,” you said. “But it also helps me see things I’d otherwise miss.”

Jay nodded slowly. “What do you see when you look at me?”

The question caught you off guard.

You could have lied. Could have played it off.

But something in his tone—soft, curious, unguarded—made you speak honestly.

“I see someone who’s trying really hard to stay whole in a world that keeps breaking pieces off him.”

He blinked. Swallowed. Looked away.

You could’ve sworn his eyes shimmered for a second. But then he laughed, low and quiet, and whispered, “You’re dangerous.”

And walked out.

That night, you laid awake, staring at the ceiling.

Jay wasn’t just a celebrity to you anymore.

He was a person.

A man who danced in the dark when no one was watching. Who forgot how to breathe. Who noticed the little things. Who looked at you like he saw something no one else did.

And that terrified you.

Because you didn’t know what he saw when he looked back.

It started with the little things.

Jay would pass you a glass of water during dance breaks, silent but intentional. His eyes would seek yours in crowded rooms, never lingering too long but always long enough. His hoodie, once forgotten on the couch, would be left near your spot on the studio floor. When you sneezed once, he was the only one who quietly slipped a tissue into your hand without saying a word.

No one else seemed to notice. But you did.

Because you noticed everything when it came to him.

It was a Wednesday evening when it happened.

You had spent the whole afternoon filming rehearsal footage for an upcoming behind-the-scenes series. The boys had been training for hours, sweat-soaked and exhausted. You crouched near the mirror, adjusting your lens, when Jay jumped mid-routine and his foot landed too close to your camera bag.

You moved to shield it—

And slipped.

“Careful!” he called out sharply, reaching forward.

It happened fast. One second your foot skidded, the next Jay's hand gripped your wrist firmly, steadying you before you hit the floor.

Your eyes met. His hand stayed on your arm. Warm. Strong. A little too long.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice lower than usual.

You nodded quickly, heart thudding. “Yeah. I just—I didn’t want your foot to land on my lens.”

Jay gave a soft exhale, eyes scanning your face briefly as if checking for invisible bruises. Then he nodded once and let go.

But his touch stayed with you.

Even after you packed up, even after the rest of the night blurred into editing and ramen and group laughter, your skin still tingled where his fingers had held you.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the shared kitchen, pouring yourself a mug of chamomile tea. The dorm was quiet, most of the boys already asleep.

You leaned against the counter, letting the steam rise into your face, trying to ease the flutter in your chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You turned. Jay was leaning against the doorframe, hoodie zipped halfway, arms folded.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Too many thoughts.”

He stepped in silently and grabbed a cup from the shelf, standing beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Want to talk about them?”

You smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

Jay poured himself hot water and opened a tea sachet, eyes on the rising steam. “You don’t have to say everything. Just the part that’s the heaviest.”

You stared at him. That wasn’t something people said. Not in real life.

“You talk like you read poetry before bed,” you murmured.

He chuckled softly. “I don’t. Just insomnia wisdom, I guess.”

You sipped your tea. “Then what’s the heaviest part for you?”

Jay didn’t answer for a long time.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Sometimes I think... if people saw the real me—the unfiltered version—they wouldn’t like him as much as the one they cheer for.”

You blinked. Your throat tightened.

“I don’t think that’s true,” you said.

He turned to you. “How do you know?”

“Because... I’ve seen the real you,” you said. “At least parts of him. And I like him more than the one on stage.”

Jay’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. His eyes flicked down to your lips, just once, before he looked away quickly.

“Dangerous words,” he muttered.

“No,” you said gently. “Just honest ones.”

The silence that followed was thick with something electric. Not quite romantic. Not yet. But charged. Like something unspoken was sitting between you both, waiting for someone to be brave enough to reach for it.

But Jay didn’t. And neither did you.

Over the next few days, more little things happened.

Jay started choosing the seat next to you during group meals.

He handed you his headphones one evening and asked, “What do you hear in this mix?” like your opinion mattered.

You caught him watching you laugh during a game of UNO with Ni-ki and Sunoo, his expression unreadable.

Once, as you both walked side by side to the rooftop to shoot a sunset timelapse, his fingers brushed against yours. Neither of you moved away.

He never said anything. Never flirted. Never touched you again.

But you were beginning to break under the weight of things left unsaid.

That weekend, you caught yourself writing his name absentmindedly in your journal.

Jay. Jay. Jay.

Not “Jay from ENHYPEN.”
Just Jay.

A man. A person. Someone whose hands felt safe. Whose voice soothed you. Whose presence made you feel more seen than anyone ever had.

You closed your notebook and leaned your forehead against the wall, exhaling slowly.

You were falling in love with him.

And you didn’t know how to stop.

The rain had been falling all afternoon.

Heavy and steady, it blurred the view outside the dorm’s studio window. You sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, camera beside you, watching drops race down the glass like they were in a competition neither of them could win.

The dorm was unusually quiet. The boys were all out for a filming schedule. Only Jay and you had stayed behind. He had a mild fever and you had been asked to monitor edits for the upcoming mini-documentary.

You both hadn’t spoken much since the kitchen tea conversation. Or rather, you had spoken, but every sentence felt like it was walking a line. As if one wrong word would push you both over the edge of something fragile.

And maybe… that was what you were scared of.

That you were already on the edge.

That you had fallen.

And you weren’t sure Jay was falling with you.

You glanced behind. Jay sat on the couch, knees drawn up, a blanket thrown over his lap. His phone sat untouched beside him. He wasn’t watching anything. Just staring out the same window you were.

His face looked softer when he didn’t know he was being watched. The kind of softness that made you want to reach out and ask if he ever let anyone hold his sadness.

“Can I ask you something?” You said suddenly, the words escaping before you could second-guess them.

Jay looked over, slow and quiet. “Sure.”

You hesitated. “Do you ever... feel like you’re not supposed to feel anything real in this place?”

He tilted his head. “You mean the dorm? Or the industry?”

“Both.”

Jay was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I do.”

There was a pause. And then he asked, “Is that what’s happening to you right now?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because your throat was tight. Your hands were cold.

You looked down at them, clenched in your lap, then up at him.

“I think I’m falling for you, Jay.”

You didn’t whisper it. Didn’t sugarcoat it.

It hung in the air like thunder before lightning, slow and loud and impossible to take back.

Jay’s breath visibly caught.

And in that split second, everything felt fragile. Like a single word from him could either save you or shatter you.

“I—” he started, but then stopped. His jaw clenched slightly. He stood up and turned toward the window.

That movement said more than words could.

You stood too, pulse racing, tears stinging behind your eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just... I needed to tell you. Because I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel it when you look at me. Or when your hand brushes mine. Or when you say things that feel like poetry at 2 a.m.”

Jay didn’t turn around.

You swallowed, voice trembling now. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for anyone here. Especially not you. But I did. And I don’t want to make things weird or uncomfortable. So I’m going to move out.”

That made him turn.

“What?” he said, eyebrows furrowed.

“I asked the staff this morning. They’re arranging a space near the production office downtown. It’ll be easier for me to work from there. Less distracting. For both of us.”

His expression changed then. It wasn’t confusion anymore.

It was panic.

“You’re leaving?” he said, quietly, like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him until now.

You nodded, tears finally slipping free. “I don’t want to ruin this dynamic. I know how precious your bond is with the guys. I’m just... a guest here. A fan who got lucky. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” he said, sharply. “Don’t say it like that. Like what you feel is wrong.”

You looked at him, heart aching. “Then why won’t you say anything?”

He stared at you, jaw tight, fists clenched.

“Because I don’t know how,” he said finally, voice breaking. “I’ve spent so long learning how to hide everything I feel, Y/N. For the sake of the group. For the cameras. For the fans. And then you showed up, and suddenly I didn’t want to hide anymore. But I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks now.

“You make me feel like I can be a real person again,” he whispered. “Not Jay the idol. Just... me. Park Jongseong.”

You took a shaky step forward. “Then why did you let me think I was the only one feeling it?”

“Because if I let myself want you... if I let myself have you... I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep you.”

His voice cracked then, and he looked away like the vulnerability physically hurt.

You stepped closer, until you were standing right in front of him. “You already have me, Jay. I’ve been yours for weeks. And I didn’t even realize it until it hurt.”

He looked at you, really looked, and for the first time in weeks, all the walls dropped.

Every single one.

His hands reached up slowly—uncertain, trembling—and gently cupped your face. His thumbs brushed tears away as if it pained him to see them.

Then he pulled you into him.

Not with urgency. But with need.

The hug was everything. Warm and desperate and quiet. His arms wrapped around you like he was trying to memorize your shape, as if he didn’t believe you were real until now.

Your hands gripped the back of his sweatshirt, knuckles white.

You both stood like that for minutes. Just holding. Just breathing.

No kiss. No promises. No declarations.

Just presence.

Just you both.

That night, you didn’t pack.

Jay didn’t leave your side.

You didn’t sleep together. You both didn’t even lie on the same bed. But you both stayed in the same room until morning. Talking softly. Sharing everything that had gone unsaid for weeks.

And when the sun rose, golden and full of promise, Jay looked at you like you were his favorite truth.

“We’ll take this slow,” he said, voice hoarse. “But we’ll take it. Together.”

The dorm felt different after that night.

Not louder. Not awkward. Just... different.

Jay wasn’t suddenly more affectionate, or obvious, or reckless. He was still quiet, still careful. But now, when he looked at you, there was no more hesitation. No more masking. His gaze lingered longer. His hand would rest on your lower back as you walked past each other. His voice softened when he said your name.

And you?

You were finally breathing again.

Everything about your connection had felt like a waiting room before, like you were stuck holding your breath, waiting to be called into something real. But now that you had stepped into it, it didn’t feel like fireworks or thunder.

It felt like a sunrise.

Slow. Quiet. But full of warmth.

You both kept things secret, of course.

Too many eyes, too many risks. But the members noticed. Or at least, they felt something shift.

Heeseung once smirked when he saw Jay hand you a bottle of water and gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Jake raised an eyebrow when Jay got up to sit next to you during movie night without a word.

Ni-ki said nothing, but you caught him giving you a rare approving nod when you passed him a plate of strawberries during breakfast.

But it was Sunoo who cornered you first.

One evening, as you stood in the hallway outside your room editing photos, he walked up, hands on his hips, eyes sparkling.

“You like him,” he said, like it was a fact.

You blinked. “I—what?”

“Jay. You like him. And I think he likes you back. So just… take care of him, okay?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “Sunoo—”

“I’m not asking for details,” he said, softer now. “He doesn’t trust easily. But he trusts you. That means something.”

You nodded slowly. “I know.”

Sunoo smiled, wide and mischievous. “Good. Because if you break his heart, you’ll have six very dramatic boys to deal with.”

Jay surprised you the next weekend.

It started with a note slipped under your door:

Noon tomorrow. Casual clothes. Bring your camera. Don’t ask questions.

And a little drawing of a heart with sunglasses.

You showed up in jeans and a cardigan, your hair braided loosely, your camera bag slung over your shoulder. Jay was waiting downstairs in a black t-shirt and khaki shorts, holding two iced coffees.

You both didn’t take the usual dorm van.

Instead, rented a small car and drove south, out of Seoul, through winding coastal roads, into a quiet beach town far from the noise and neon of their world.

The windows were down. The breeze was warm. And Jay was relaxed in a way you had never seen him before.

His hand rested on the gearshift between you both, fingers brushing yours once… then staying.

You both didn’t say much. Just smiled. Just existed.

It was enough.

The rooftop sat above a tiny, hidden café just across from the ocean. The owner was a friend of Jay’s family, an older woman with salt-colored hair and kind eyes who didn’t seem fazed at all by who he was.

“You brought your girlfriend, finally,” she said in Korean, handing Jay a set of keys. “She’s pretty.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly. Jay just grinned and squeezed your hand.

“Come on,” he whispered.

You climbed the narrow stairs to the rooftop and the view took your breath away.

Endless sea. A low sun painting the horizon in gold and lavender. Seagulls drifting on the wind. A small speaker sat on the table, a blanket spread out with snacks and two pillows.

“You did all this?” You asked, voice hushed.

Jay shrugged, a little bashful. “I thought you deserved something peaceful. Something just for us.”

Your throat tightened.

You sat. Ate strawberries. Drank soda. Took pictures of each other. Jay shyly turning away at first, but then letting you capture him fully, no stage persona, no makeup. Just him.

As dusk began to fall and the first stars peeked through the indigo sky, Jay stood up and held out his hand.

You looked up at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Dance with me,” he said softly.

Your eyes widened. “Here?”

He nodded, eyes warm. “I asked the world for one night where no one was watching. It gave me this.”

Then he tapped on his phone.

A familiar melody began to play through the speaker.

Moonstruck.

By ENHYPEN.

Your breath caught.

You knew the song. Of course you did. It was hauntingly beautiful with melancholy yet full of yearning. And tonight, with the waves below and stars above, it felt like it was written just for you both.

Jay gently pulled you to your feet and placed one hand on your waist, the other in your hand.

You moved slowly.

There was no choreography. Just swaying. Just holding. Just being.

You rested your head on his shoulder. His chin came to rest lightly against your hair.

Neither of them spoke.

There was nothing left to say.

Until Jay pulled back slightly and looked at you.

“Y/N.”

You met his gaze.

“I’m in love with you.”

The world stilled.

Your heart cracked open like lightning had struck it clean.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t gasp.

You just smiled.

And whispered, “I love you too.”

Jay exhaled. Then leaned forward, slowly, giving you time to move. But you didn’t. You tilted your head just enough to meet him halfway.

Your lips met in a kiss that didn’t rush or crash.

It lingered.

It whispered every word you hadn’t said before.

His hand slipped to the back of your neck. Your fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt. Your bodies melted into one another under the open sky, the music still playing, the waves clapping gently below them.

The kiss deepened.

But only just enough.

When you both finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Jay smiled.

“Worth the wait,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Every second.”

You fell asleep wrapped in a blanket on the rooftop that night, heads resting against each other’s shoulders.

The stars blinked above them.

The ocean sang below.

And your hearts, once tangled in fear, now beat freely, together, finally.

You didn’t speak much on the drive back.

Not because there was tension but because silence no longer felt like an absence. It felt like comfort.

Jay kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles into your jeans. You looked out the window, the city lights of Seoul slowly blooming in the distance, your heart still soaring somewhere over the rooftop where he’d kissed you for the first time.

You’d crossed something that night. Some invisible boundary neither had dared to touch before. And now, the only thing left between you both was the quiet hum of anticipation.

When you stepped into the dorm building, it was almost midnight. The air felt still, as if holding its breath for them.

The boys were asleep.

Their part of the world had gone dim.

But your heart? It glowed.

Jay looked at you as you reached your door. He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes drinking you in like you were something too beautiful to look at all at once.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked quietly, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask if you were sure.

He just nodded.

And stepped inside.

Your room smelled faintly of lavender and camera film. The bed was neatly made. A small candle flickered on the shelf by the window. You kicked your shoes off by the door, then turned to find Jay still standing there—uncertain now, like the threshold between outside and in had turned into something sacred.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said softly, walking closer. “This doesn’t have to mean anything more than what you want it to.”

He met your eyes. “But what if I want it to mean everything?”

Your breath caught.

Jay reached up, cupping your cheek, and pressed his lips to yours again.

This time, it wasn’t tentative. It was warm. Grounded. Familiar now but no less electric.

His fingers slid behind your neck. Yours curled into the hem of his hoodie. The kiss deepened, then slowed. Then deepened again. As if you were both memorizing the shape of this new beginning.

Jay pulled back first, his breath uneven.

“Y/N,” he murmured, eyes searching yours. “We can stop anytime. You can stop me anytime. I don’t want this unless it’s us. All of us. Emotion. Trust. Love. Not just... this.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I want you, Jay. Not just the idol. Not just the boy on a rooftop. I want the you who makes ramen at 2 a.m. The you who dances when no one’s watching. The you who holds me like I matter.”

Your voice trembled. But your resolve didn’t.

“I want all of it. Every messy, scary, quiet, beautiful part.”

Jay exhaled slowly, like that was the answer he’d been waiting for his whole life.

And then, together, you both moved toward the bed.

He didn’t rush.

There was no urgency. No tearing at clothes or desperate breathlessness.

Only reverence.

You reached for the hem of his hoodie and tugged it upward. Jay helped you, arms raised, and it fell to the floor with a soft rustle.

Your hands moved slowly across his chest, tracing collarbones, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

He kissed your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, his hands gentle, tentative, reverent. Like he wasn’t just touching your skin. He was thanking it.

You undressed quietly, never breaking eye contact for long. Every piece of clothing that fell was like another layer of fear shedding from your bodies. Vulnerability laid bare but safe.

When you both finally lay back on the bed, bodies pressed together, skin against skin, you felt it fully.

Not desire. Not just love.

Belonging.

Jay hovered above you, one hand stroking the side of your face. His voice was low, ragged. “You’re everything, you know that?”

You nodded, eyes shining. “So are you.”

He kissed you again.

And slowly, lovingly, you both joined.

The room was filled with soft sounds of breath, the rustling of sheets, the occasional whispered name. It wasn’t wild or intense. It was sacred.

Jay moved slowly, eyes on you the entire time. His forehead pressed to yours, hands holding you tightly but gently, as if anchoring you to this moment.

And you didn’t hold back.

You touched him like he was something precious. Told him he was beautiful. Let tears fall freely when it overwhelmed you. And Jay kissed them away without a word.

You both reached your high together, quietly, tenderly, tangled in each other like the world outside had ceased to exist.

Afterward, Jay rolled onto his side and pulled you close, wrapping both arms around you.

You buried your face in his chest, your fingers drawing shapes along the curve of his shoulder.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Because you didn’t need to.

Eventually, Jay kissed the top of your head and whispered, “Are you okay?”

You smiled against his skin. “I’ve never been more okay.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t ever want to be without you now.”

You looked up at him. “We’ll make this work?”

He nodded, eyes soft and unwavering. “Even if the world tries to break us—I’ll choose you every time.”

And you knew, in that moment, that what you both had wasn’t fragile anymore.

It was real.

And strong.

And worth fighting for.

It began with the smallest questions.

Where do we go from here?

Will this last once the world finds out?

What happens to love when it’s not protected by a rooftop and moonlight anymore?

But it wasn’t the questions that hurt.

It was the fact that neither of you knew the answers.

The days after your first night together were tender, dreamlike even.

Jay would sneak small touches in the hallway—a brush of fingers, a squeeze on the wrist, a secret smile that only you could decode. You would leave him folded notes tucked into his lyric book, silly doodles and soft words only you could share. He started humming around you more often. You found him dancing in the living room at midnight to your favourite songs.

Every moment was laced with the magic of new love.

But reality was patient.

And it waited quietly… until it found the right crack to slip through.

You noticed the shift when Jay began to get quieter around the others.

He was never loud, but now… he was muted. Distracted. Always checking his phone, replying to company texts late at night, taking calls in the hallway with a low, tense voice.

You didn’t want to ask at first. You didn’t want to pressure him.

But one night, as you both sat on the dorm’s back balcony, sharing a blanket and two bowls of tteokbokki, you finally asked.

“What’s going on with you lately?”

Jay blinked, then glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

“You seem... off. Like you’re somewhere else when you’re with me.”

He sighed, pushing a piece of rice cake around with his chopsticks. “It’s nothing bad. Just... company pressure. They’re starting to talk about comeback season. They want me to be careful. To stay focused.”

Your stomach twisted. “Focused... as in no distractions?”

Jay hesitated.

“Are we a distraction?” You asked, voice quiet.

His jaw clenched. “You’re not. But to them, everything that isn’t the job is.”

You didn’t say anything.

And that silence hurt more than any argument ever could.

Later that week, you were invited to attend a high-profile networking dinner as a guest of the label’s creative team. You weren’t technically staff but you were close enough to be included. Jay didn’t know you were going.

You wore a soft grey satin dress, minimal makeup, your hair pinned loosely to the side. You looked elegant, polished, like you belonged.

But the moment you stepped into the luxury hotel ballroom, you felt so out of place.

Everyone looked... wealthy. Effortlessly so. Laughter floated in the air like champagne bubbles. Conversations swirled with names you barely recognized, of designers, producers, sons and daughters of CEOs.

No one looked at you twice. No one saw you.

Until you saw him.

Jay.

Dressed in a sleek black suit, standing near a marble bar, speaking to an executive from the marketing division.

His smile was practiced. Polished. Confident.

You didn’t go to him.

You just watched.

Because in that moment, you saw the version of Jay that didn’t belong to you.

The version the world wanted. Expected.

He hadn’t told you he’d be there.

He hadn’t even known you’d be there.

But you watched him from a distance with his arm around a CEO’s daughter for a photo, his polite bow to a group of industry elites, his fingers adjusting his watch like muscle memory.

And you realized:

This is his world.

And you were not a part of it.

That night, back in your room, you sat on the floor with your laptop open and your camera card still untouched. Your hands were trembling. Your chest felt tight.

Jay knocked on her door just past midnight.

You didn’t answer.

He knocked again. “It’s me.”

You got up slowly and opened it. His face was confused, concerned.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were at the dinner?”

“I didn’t know you’d be there,” you said.

A pause.

“You looked... different,” you added.

Jay looked at you like he didn’t understand. “Different how?”

“Like you didn’t belong to me.”

Jay’s expression changed then. Hurt. Sharp. “You think I don’t belong to you?”

“I think you belong to a world I’ll never fit into,” you said, voice cracking. “And tonight just reminded me of that.”

Jay stepped in quickly, hands reaching for you. “Don’t do that. Don’t create a line between us that doesn’t exist.”

“But it does exist, Jay,” you whispered. “You grew up flying business class. I grew up skipping meals. You walk into those rooms and everyone already knows your name. I walk in and get mistaken for staff.”

His hands dropped to his sides.

“You love me now,” you said. “But what happens when the reality of who I am starts to embarrass you? What happens when I don’t know which fork to use at a dinner, or how to greet your CEO’s family, or what words to use in interviews when the press finds out?”

Jay’s face was unreadable.

And that hurt more than if he’d shouted.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he said slowly.

“But one day, you might be,” you said.

And for the first time in weeks Jay didn’t say anything to stop you.

You both slept apart that night.

And for the first time, love didn’t feel like a sunrise.

It felt like storm clouds—heavy, waiting to burst.

You hadn’t meant for the fight to get so big. You’d only meant to explain the knot twisting in your chest. The fear that kept whispering you didn’t belong in the glittering world he lived in, the one full of cameras, crowds, and expectations she could never live up to.

But when you’d said, “One day you’re going to realize I don’t fit, Jay… and you’ll let me go,” something in his face had cracked.

Hours later, when he finally finds you on the quiet balcony overlooking the city, he doesn’t hesitate. He just pulls you into his arms tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through the spaces between his fingers if he loosens even a little.

“Don’t say things like that,” he murmurs into your hair, breath shaking. “You think I don’t know the pressure you feel? That I don’t see how hard this is for you? I’m the one who should’ve said something sooner. I’m the one who should’ve made you feel safe.”

You swallow, fingers curling weakly into his shirt. “Jay… your world is so big. And loud. And I’m just… me. I don’t want to be someone you regret choosing.”

He pulls back then, just enough to cup your face. His eyes are glossy, desperate, soft in a way they never are when cameras are around.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice breaking with honesty. “I love you. Not the version of you who smiles beside me, not the version the world imagines you are. You. The person who talks too fast when she’s nervous. Who forgets where she set her phone every five minutes. Who thinks she’s too small for my world when she’s the only thing real in it.”

Your breath stutters. “Jay…”

He reaches into his pocket, hands trembling, not from fear, but from certainty so bright it almost hurts to look at.

“I’ve been carrying this for a while now,” he confesses. “Waiting for the moment you’d believe me. Waiting for you to see yourself the way I do.” He opens the small velvet box between them. “Marry me. Please.”

The city hums below you both, distant and unimportant.

Your heart is pounding too fast, too hopeful, too scared. His world is still enormous. It still terrifies you.

But his hands are warm around yours. His love is steady. And you realize you don’t need to fit his world perfectly.

You just need to fit beside him.

“Yes,” you whisper, tears catching at the edge of a shaky smile. “I’m still scared… but yes. Yes, Jay.”

His relief is immediate—crashing, overwhelming—and when he kisses you, it feels like choosing, like home, like a future you never thought you were allowed to have.

The wedding was quiet, hidden, and achingly beautiful. The kind of moment that felt too gentle for the world outside.

It took place in a private garden on the outskirts of Seoul, tucked between low green hills and trees swollen with spring blossoms. Only the members were there, a handful of trusted staff, and a few family members who knew how to keep a secret. No reporters. No lenses. No noise.

Just petals drifting like snow, sunlight trembling through the branches, and two people holding each other as if letting go might break the earth open.

Jay cried when you walked down the aisle.

Not from nerves.

Not from pressure.

But because he truly couldn’t believe that someone like you had chosen him. Every vow he spoke seemed pulled from a place deeper than breath, deeper than language. And every moment he looked at you felt like a promise he wanted to spend the rest of his life keeping.

Your honeymoon on Jeju was a string of soft days you didn’t know you’d treasure so fiercely later. You rented a small house by the shore, close enough that the ocean sounded like it was breathing with you.

Mornings unfolded slowly, coffee on the porch, hair still messy, sunlight warming your knees. Afternoons were for wandering the coastline, sharing ice cream, taking polaroids that ended up scattered across the coffee table like fragments of a dream. Nights were quiet, tender, full of whispered laughter and the kind of closeness that made the world shrink to just the two of you.

Jay touched you like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You laughed more than you had in years.

For a moment, you both believed you’d made it, that life had finally given instead of taken.

But the world was not finished with you.

It had only just begun unraveling.

It happened one month after returning to Seoul.

Jay came home late from a group schedule, cheeks still pink from cold air, hair tousled from a long day of interviews and cameras. You’d made dinner for him— kimchi stew simmering on the stove, warm rice, and the sweet tofu he always asked for.

But when he walked in, he didn’t smile.

He didn’t kiss you.

He didn’t even greet you.

He just placed his phone on the counter with a hollow clatter, the screen lit with notifications that kept blinking like warnings.

You turned from the stove. “You okay?”

Jay lifted his head, and for the first time since the day you married him, his eyes weren’t soft.

They were cold.

Unfamiliar.

“What did you do?” he asked quietly.

Your hands stilled over the rice bowl. “What are you talking about?”

He approached you slowly, tension wound tight through every movement. “My bank account. It’s been emptied. The card’s frozen. My private savings. Everything is gone.”

Your stomach dropped. “Gone? How—?”

“You had access,” he said sharply. “I gave you the password when we booked the honeymoon. Only you and the company ever had it.”

You blinked in disbelief. “Jay, I didn’t—”

“Tell me the truth.” His voice rose, raw and shaking. “Right now.”

You stepped forward instinctively, your voice trembling. “I didn’t take your money. Why would I do that?”

Jay let out a laugh. It was bitter, disbelieving, a sound that didn’t belong to him. “Six hundred million won doesn’t just vanish. Someone transferred it. Someone who had the password.”

“Then check the logs,” you pleaded. “Call your agency. Ask the bank. Do anything. Just don’t look at me like I’m—”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he cut in. “You said it yourself once—you never belonged in my world. Maybe this was your way of evening the playing field.”

The words struck like a blade to the ribs.

You stumbled back as if physically hit, your breath catching.

“You think I married you for your money?”

Jay didn’t answer.

And somehow, that silence hurt more than any accusation he could have spoken aloud.

You packed a bag that night.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t ask where you were going.

Didn’t ask if you were okay.

And when you opened the front door, one hand still clutched around your wedding ring, you turned back one last time and whispered:

“I loved you like I didn’t know how to stop. And you threw that love under suspicion and fear.”

Jay didn’t move.

So you left.

Days passed.

You stayed with a friend from the production team in a spare room with no heating and bad cell signal. The scandal hadn’t gone public, but you could feel the unraveling inside you .

You stopped eating properly. Cried in the shower. Slept with your face buried in a sweater that still smelled like Jay.

And then, one morning, your fingers trembled as you held the pregnancy test in the bathroom.

Positive.

The room spun.

You sat on the floor for two hours, knees tucked into your chest, tears soaking into your sleeves.

The one person you wanted to tell… was the one who now saw you as a thief.

You called him.

He didn’t pick up.

You texted: “Please. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. It’s not about the money.”

No reply.

You went to the company building, stood outside the entrance, and waited four hours in the rain until he walked out.

When he saw you in a drenched, pale, shaking state, he still didn’t soften.

He just pulled his hood lower and walked straight past you.

“Jay,” you whispered.

He turned back, jaw clenched.

“If you’re here to manipulate me again, don’t.”

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

The words felt like glass breaking in the air.

Jay froze.

But then he took a slow step forward, expression unreadable. “And now you’re using that to avoid charges?”

You flinched. “What?”

“You think I’ve never seen this story play out before? You steal, then cry, then say you’re carrying my child so I won’t press charges.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes. “Jay, I didn’t take your money. I don’t want your fame or your wealth. I just wanted you.”

Jay stepped back.

Cold.

Final.

“My lawyer will send over a contract. You’ll sign that you’re relinquishing any financial claim—now or in the future. You’ll also agree to divorce. I want legal confirmation that if you ever give birth to this child, they’ll never have a claim to my name.”

The world stopped.

The air left your lungs.

“And if I refuse?” You choked out.

Jay’s gaze was blank. “I’ll file a police report.”

And then he turned away.

This time… forever.

The apartment was too quiet.

You lay curled on a borrowed mattress on the floor, your phone screen dimmed beside you. The room smelled like old wood and liniment. The fan clicked every third rotation. The air was heavy with silence and nausea.

Seven weeks pregnant.
No husband.
No job.
No home.

You pressed your palm against your stomach, gently, like you were trying to convince yourself that there really was something living inside you. Something worth surviving for.

Outside, the city moved on without you.

The contract arrived two days later.

A slim manila envelope. No return address. Just a soft click as it was slid under the door like a ghost dropping a curse at midnight.

Inside: a printed stack of paper. Clean, clinical, heartless.

Clause 3.1: The signee (Y/N) acknowledges that she relinquishes all claim, present and future, to the estate and personal assets of Park Jongseong.

Clause 4.6: The signee shall return all funds, gifts, housing, travel costs, and other monetary advantages extended during the marriage.

Clause 5.3: In the event of childbirth, the signee waives any financial, legal, or custodial claim to Mr. Park Jongseong.

You read it once. Then again.

And again.

By the fourth time, your vision blurred.

This wasn’t just a divorce. It was erasure.

A legal deletion of every kiss. Every “I love you.” Every moment that once made you feel like you belonged somewhere.

You signed it on a Wednesday. Your hand trembled the entire time. Your stomach turned. You vomited halfway through. Then came back to finish the last page.

You gave back everything. The ring. The necklace. The cardigan that still smelled like him. You wired yourr savings into a temporary account the company had created to collect repayment.

And when you handed the envelope to the courier—

You felt like you had died.

The pregnancy was hard.

Unbearably so.

Morning sickness became all day sickness. Your blood pressure dropped dangerously low by the second trimester. Your friend’s tiny apartment had no elevator, and you often sat halfway up the stairs, wheezing and sobbing, unsure if you’d make it to the top.

You did freelance editing jobs from bed, just enough to pay for prenatal checkups. You walked everywhere. Ate what you could afford. Skipped meals some nights to afford iron supplements.

Every time you thought of calling Jay, you remembered the way he had looked at you.

Like you were nothing.

Like you were less than nothing.

In the eighth month, the baby stopped moving for an entire day.

You sat in a public clinic for six hours, hands over your stomach, whispering prayers to every god you could remember from childhood. When the ultrasound tech finally said the heartbeat was fine, you burst into tears in front of everyone.

You apologized.

No one blamed you.

The baby was born at 3:12 AM on a cold, rainy night.

The hospital bed was thin. Your legs shook with exhaustion. Your throat was raw from screaming. There was no one holding your hand. No one waiting with flowers. Just one nurse who squeezed your shoulder afterward and whispered, “You’re so strong.”

It was a boy.

He had Jay’s eyes.

And Jay’s mouth.

You named him Eun-jae — 은재 — meaning kindness preserved, even in hardship.

[ot7archives]

Moonstruck— Part 2

Part 1 | Main list

The first few months were a blur.

Diapers. Fevers. Colic. Bills. Exhaustion so deep it made you hallucinate. You fell asleep sitting up. Once, you passed out standing in the shower with Eun-jae in a crib nearby.

But you never once regretted keeping him.

Because when he laughed, he sounded like hope.

And when he held your finger in his tiny fist, you felt like you still mattered in a world that had discarded you.

Almost one year after Eun-jae’s birth, you were walking back from a grocery run, the child strapped to your chest, plastic bags cutting into your palms, when a familiar voice shouted your name across the street.

You froze.

Sunghoon.

And behind him—

Heeseung. Jungwon. Jake. Ni-ki.

They ran towards you, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon asked breathlessly. “Is that...?”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

Eun-jae stirred against your chest, yawning, nestling closer.

Jungwon stepped forward. “Is that Jay’s…?”

Your eyes welled up. You looked down at your baby, kissed the top of his head, and said softly, “Yes.”

The boys stared. Shocked. Heartbroken.

“We thought…” Jake swallowed. “We thought you left.”

“I did,” she said. “Because I wasn’t wanted.”

Jay heard about it three hours later.

He was at HYBE’s headquarters, reviewing track edits when Heeseung barged in without knocking.

“You need to sit down.”

Jay barely looked up. “What now?”

“It wasn’t her,” Heeseung said.

Jay blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“The account. The money. They caught the real thief. It was someone in Finance. Internal leak. The company knows. They’re announcing it quietly.”

The floor shifted under him.

“No…” Jay whispered.

“You were wrong, Jay,” Heeseung said, voice thick. “And she paid the price. Alone.”

Jay stood, chest rising fast. “Where is she?”

“She doesn’t want you near her,” Jungwon said, appearing in the doorway. “And frankly, I don’t blame her.”

Jay’s hands trembled.

“She has a son,” Sunoo said from behind them. “Yours. She didn’t lie about being pregnant.”

Jay’s knees buckled.

And for the first time since the rooftop, Jay Park cried the way a man cries when he realizes he has destroyed the only thing that ever truly loved him.

Jay didn’t sleep for three nights.

He tried. Laid in his apartment. The same one you’d both once filled with laughter and soft music and shared toothbrushes and stared at the ceiling until sunrise. His phone burned in his hand, screen open on the only number that ever mattered.

But he couldn’t bring himself to call.

Because what could he say?

"Sorry I accused you of stealing my life?"
"Sorry I made you sign your child away like a contract clause?"

There were no words strong enough. No apology big enough.

But he still had to try.

The first time he showed up at your building, you didn’t answer the intercom.

The second time, you buzzed him in.

Not because you wanted to see him.
But because you deserved the right to look him in the eye and not flinch.

Jay stood outside your door in a plain hoodie, cap low over his forehead, a white envelope in his hand.

When the door opened, he almost didn’t recognize you.

You looked... calm. Not weak. Not angry. Just... quiet.

Your face was leaner. Your hair was tied back. And in your arms, cradled in a faded yellow blanket, was his son.

Jay’s breath caught.

Eun-jae had his eyes.

And his tiny mouth was shaped in the exact curve Jay had once seen in the mirror every morning.

“Hi,” Jay whispered.

You didn’t smile. “What do you want?”

He swallowed. “To talk.”

You stepped aside silently, and he entered the small apartment.

It was clean but worn. Walls lined with baby photos, piles of diapers in a laundry basket, a secondhand crib pushed against the window. A half-eaten banana sat on the coffee table next to a teething toy.

Jay felt like he had stepped into a world he was never meant to leave, only now it wasn’t his.

You sat gently on the couch, rocking the baby who was already starting to fall asleep.

Jay stood like a stranger in his own home.

“Say what you came to say,” you said softly.

“I was wrong,” Jay began, voice hoarse. “You didn’t take anything from me. Someone at the company confessed. It was all handled internally, but I found out this week. I also found out that you weren’t lying about being pregnant either.”

You didn’t respond.

“I didn’t know how to come here and say that. Because ‘sorry’... it’s not enough.”

“You’re right,” you said. “It’s not.”

Jay nodded, eyes stinging. “But I still need to say it. I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. For accusing you. For choosing suspicion over trust. For not believing in you. And for not showing up when you needed me the most.”

Silence.

“I’ve hated myself every minute since I found out,” he said. “You were the only person who ever saw me beyond the fame, beyond the cameras. And I destroyed that.”

You finally looked at him.

“I begged you,” you said quietly. “I stood in the rain outside your building. I told you about your child. I cried. I begged. And you treated me like trash under your shoe.”

Jay’s throat closed.

“I didn’t even want your money,” you continued, voice trembling. “I signed everything away. Paid back what I could. I would’ve raised Eun-jae in a box on the street before taking anything from you.”

You looked down at your son, your voice growing stronger.

“You don’t get to walk in here now and pretend we can fix it with flowers and guilt.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Jay said, stepping closer. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just want to be in his life. To try. To learn how to be a father. To do something—anything—that shows I haven’t completely failed.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t about you anymore. This is about him.”

Jay nodded. “I know.”

“He’s not a trophy. He’s not a photo-op. He’s not a charity case to ease your guilt.”

“I know that too,” Jay whispered. “I just... I want to earn it. Both of you.”

For the next few minutes, they sat in silence.

Jay stared at the baby. Eun-jae blinked once, yawned, then curled deeper into your chest.

“He doesn’t know me,” Jay whispered.

“No,” you said. “He doesn’t.”

“Do you think... he ever could?”

You looked at your son. Then back at Jay.

“I don’t know.”

And for now, that was the only answer you could give.

Jay came back the next day.

Not with flowers. Not with apologies.

With baby formula, new diapers, a secondhand picture book, and a quiet look that said: I’m here. I’m not running.

He offered to help clean bottles. You let him.

He offered to sit with Eun-jae while you took a shower. You hesitated. Then said yes.

It wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was a beginning.

Some nights, you still cried.

When the baby fell asleep and you found yourself looking at Jay, really looking, and remembering how it felt to fall asleep next to him without wondering if he'd ever hurt you.

Some nights, he cried too.

When you left the room with Eun-jae, and he’d see an old photo of you both tucked into a drawer. The way you once looked at him like he was your whole world.

Now, you looked at him like a warning sign.

But he came back. Every day.

Even when you didn’t speak. Even when you told him to go. Even when you reminded him of every terrible thing he’d done.

Because Jay had finally learned something he should’ve known all along:

Love is not a promise you speak once.
It’s a promise you prove every single day even when it hurts.

It began with the small things.

Jay started showing up every morning at 8 a.m., sharp.

Not with an entourage. Not with stylists or gifts.

Just himself, hair still damp from a rushed shower, sleeves rolled up, a quiet smile on his face, and the same words every time:

“What do you need today?”

The first week, you barely let him hold the baby.

You didn’t trust him yet. Not with diapers, not with feedings, and especially not with the soft, breakable heart of your son. Jay understood. He never argued. He stayed on the floor, across the room, sometimes just watching silently as you soothed Eun-jae’s cries and whispered lullabies into his hair.

But every now and then, you caught Jay watching with eyes so full of longing, you had to look away.

One morning, you were washing bottles when Jay’s voice broke the quiet.

“Can I try to feed him today?”

You looked up from the sink, blinking. Eun-jae was curled in your arms, squirming sleepily after his bath. He smelled of baby powder and lavender lotion. He was warm. Safe.

Jay’s arms were stretched out, palms open.

“I won’t mess it up,” he said gently. “I’ve been watching. I’ve been reading. I promise.”

You studied him.

His hoodie was stained with a bit of formula. His hair stuck out oddly on one side. And yet, for once, there was no mask. No performance.

Just Jay — nervous, sincere, trying.

You exhaled. And handed him your son.

Jay sat down slowly on the sofa, cradling Eun-jae like he was holding a snowflake that might melt if he breathed too hard.

The bottle trembled slightly in his hand as he offered it to the baby’s mouth.

To your surprise, Eun-jae latched on immediately.

Jay blinked.

“He’s... eating?”

You smiled faintly. “Babies have a sense for love. He knows.”

Jay didn’t look up.

But you saw the way his throat bobbed. The tears he refused to let fall.

Over time, things began to shift.

Jay learned how to change diapers. Clumsily, at first but then with a precision only desperation and love could teach. He started bringing groceries. He cleaned the kitchen without being asked. Once, when you got food poisoning, he stayed up all night rocking the baby while wiping your forehead with a damp towel.

He didn’t ask for recognition.

He just showed up.

Again and again.

And somehow… the days didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

One night, after Eun-jae finally fell asleep, Jay stayed behind to fold laundry.

You came out from her shower, your wet hair dripping down your back, and paused in the doorway. Jay was hunched on the floor, surrounded by tiny socks and onesies, meticulously matching every pair.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly.

“I want to.”

You hesitated. “You should rest.”

He looked up at you then, eyes rimmed with fatigue, but clearer than you’d seen in months.

“I sleep better knowing I did something to make your day easier.”

You stared at him.

This wasn’t the Jay who once left you on a sidewalk in the rain.

This wasn’t the Jay who walked away from the woman carrying his child.

This was someone different.

Someone... learning.

The walls didn’t crumble all at once.

They cracked slowly, subtly.

You began letting him carry Eun-jae in the mornings. You stopped double-checking everything he did. One day, you caught yourself laughing when Jay tripped over a toy and dramatically fell onto the couch, clutching a rubber duck like it was a mortal wound.

Laughter. From you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard it come from your own mouth.

On Eun-jae’s first birthday, Jay brought over a homemade strawberry cake.

It was lopsided. The icing was uneven. But the single candle flickered in the dim light of the apartment like a little flame of forgiveness.

You both sang quietly together — just the three of you.

No cameras. No gifts. No grand celebration.

Only love.

Raw, quiet, and earned.

After Eun-jae had fallen asleep, curled in a blanket on the couch, you and Jay sat on the balcony with mugs of tea.

The city lights blinked below. A breeze brushed past them.

“I missed this,” Jay said softly.

You looked at him. “What?”

“Sitting beside you. Existing without noise.”

You said nothing.

But you didn’t move away when his fingers brushed yours.

And that silence… said everything.

The next morning, Jay arrived with a framed photograph.

You frowned as he handed it to you. It was a picture of Eun-jae, taken without you noticing, sitting on a park bench with sunlight in his curls.

You looked at it for a long moment.

Then realized there were three frames in the bag.

The second photo was one of yours standing in the kitchen, tired but smiling, your son strapped to your chest.

The third… was of all three of you.

Jay had captured it with a timer. On the floor, surrounded by toys, Eun-jae in his lap, you leaning back against him mid-laugh.

You looked like a family.

Because, in a way, you were becoming one again.

That evening, when Jay got up to leave, you walked him to the door.

As he turned to go, you reached out and for the first time since it all shattered, gently touched his wrist.

He froze.

“You’re doing okay,” you whispered. “I thought you should know.”

Jay swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

You nodded, then closed the door softly behind him.

And inside, with your son asleep in the other room and your heart a little less heavy, you stood in the hallway and finally let yourself breathe.

Not because you were in love again.

But because you were no longer afraid.

The first time Jay held your hand again, it wasn’t romantic.

It was instinct.

You were at the local clinic for Eun-jae’s checkup. The waiting room was full of crying toddlers and sleepy mothers. You looked pale, your head resting against the wall. The baby had been fussy all night, and your body was clearly running on fumes.

Jay noticed your fingers trembling as you filled out the forms.

Without thinking, he reached over and wrapped his hand gently around yours.

Warm. Steady.

You flinched slightly, startled.

But you didn’t pull away.

You walked home in silence that evening.

Eun-jae was asleep in his stroller, soft breaths rising in rhythm with the quiet click of the wheels. The sky was low and pink, dusted with lazy clouds and the scent of oncoming rain.

You walked slightly ahead.

Jay lingered behind, watching the way the light danced on your profile. The same face he once kissed beneath beachside stars now wore the subtle armor of experience. The same eyes that once shimmered with shy hope now held a quiet wariness.

But still they were your eyes.

And he still wanted to get lost in them.

At the apartment, you leaned against the doorframe after unbuckling Eun-jae’s shoes.

“You’re learning,” you said.

Jay blinked. “Learning what?”

“How to be patient. With him. With me.”

Jay smiled faintly. “You’re worth the wait.”

You held his gaze for a second too long.

Then nodded and turned away. But Jay noticed the hint of pink rising in your cheeks.

A week later, something shifted.

It was subtle.

A late evening. Eun-jae was already asleep. The two of you were sitting on the balcony again. The same place you’d once fallen in love over shared tea and stolen glances.

Jay brought over a blanket, draped it across your shoulders, then hesitated before sitting beside you.

For once, it wasn’t awkward.

Just quiet. Familiar. Like muscle memory you had both forgotten but your hearts still remembered.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked softly.

You didn’t look at him. “About what?”

“What we’d be like now, if I hadn’t… ruined everything.”

You were silent for a long time.

Then: “Sometimes. But not in the way you think.”

He tilted his head.

“I don’t daydream about what could’ve been,” you said. “I try to accept what is. I try to find peace in the now. Because if I think about what we lost... I’ll never stop mourning.”

Jay nodded slowly.

And then, because it felt safe to ask: “Do you still feel anything... for me?”

You closed your eyes.

“I feel... something. I don’t know what to call it yet. But it’s there. Quiet. Careful. And very, very tired.”

You both didn’t touch for weeks after that.

But the air between you changed.

He brought your favorite kind of seaweed chips without asking. You began texting him photos of Eun-jae doing silly things during the day. He started staying longer after bedtime. You started laughing more when he was around.

One night, Jay brought over his guitar.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s this for?”

“I’ve been writing something,” he said, settling on the couch. “Just for me. For you. For him.”

He began strumming. A soft melody. Gentle. Unfinished.

Then he started to hum, voice low and unpolished. Vulnerable.

“I broke what we built with hands too afraid…
But you stayed behind in the ruins we made.
And now I see light where I once saw shame…
You’re the story that forgives my name.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth.

Tears threatened to fall.

But this time, they didn’t sting.
They healed.

Later that night, after Jay left, you stood in the hallway outside your son’s room.

You thought about the man he had once been. The man who had walked away without flinching. The man who made you cry yourself to sleep for months.

And then you thought about the man who now showed up every morning.

Who folded baby clothes like sacred offerings.

Who stayed up reading parenting books under dim lights.

Who looked at you like he was still learning how to breathe in your presence.

And for the first time since your world had shattered, you thought:

Maybe... he’s almost home.

Not just in your apartment.

But in your heart.

It had rained all afternoon.

Not the heavy, angry kind of rain. Just a gentle drizzle, tapping against the windows like a lullaby.

Eun-jae had fallen asleep to it quickly with his arms sprawled out, his little chest rising and falling like a tide. You tucked the blanket around him, kissed his forehead, and slipped out of the room on silent feet.

Jay was already in the kitchen, putting away the dishes he hadn’t been asked to clean.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching.

“You know,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, “you weren’t this useful when we were married.”

Jay glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “Well, back then I thought love meant big gestures. Now I know it means doing the dishes without being told.”

You laughed genuinely. Lightly. And Jay froze for a second.

Because that sound… God, he had missed that sound.

After tea, you both sat on the floor of the living room. A soft playlist played from your phone, and a flickering candle made shadows dance across the faded wallpaper. The apartment was still modest, but it felt full of warmth, of stories, of quiet things that mattered.

Jay leaned back against the couch.

You sat beside him, cross-legged, a half-empty mug cradled in your hands.

You both talked.

About your son’s latest babbles. About the little song he had started humming. About the way he liked to reach out for Jay’s hand now, how his tiny fingers gripped Jay’s thumb like he’d always known it belonged to him.

Then you talked about nothing.

Books. Breakfast preferences. The weirdest dreams you’d both had that week.

It was easy, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jay looked at you while you laughed about some silly thing, and his smile faded slightly.

Not out of sadness.

But out of something softer.

Something older.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked quietly.

You looked up. “Of course.”

“I used to be afraid of stillness,” he admitted. “Like if things were too quiet, something bad would happen. I think… maybe that’s why I pushed people away before they could leave.”

You didn’t speak.

Jay’s voice dropped lower.

“But now… sitting here with you, just breathing the same air, it’s the first time stillness hasn’t scared me.”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then, slowly, you reached out and took his hand.

It was a simple thing.

But it felt like a new chapter opening.

You both sat like that for a long time.

Fingers intertwined. Silence between you no longer awkward, but intimate.

Your head dropped lightly to Jay’s shoulder. He stiffened for half a second. Then melted.

His free arm wrapped around you instinctively, holding you like something precious. Not possessively. Not even romantically.

Just… safely.

You exhaled.

Your cheek against his shoulder. His heartbeat slow and steady against your ear.

No words passed between you for a while.

Just shared breath.

It was Jay who broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know we’re not… us. Not like before. And maybe we never will be. But if this — sitting here like this — is all I ever get with you again, I’ll still be grateful for it.”

You lifted your head.

Your faces were close. Closer than they’d been in over a year. The space between you was measured in heartbeats.

Your eyes searched his.

“I used to think love was about promises,” you whispered. “But maybe it’s just about this. Showing up. Being here.”

Jay nodded slowly. “Then I’ll be here. Every time.”

A pause.

And then you moved forward.

Soft. Hesitant.

And gently pressed your forehead to his.

Jay closed his eyes.

Your breaths mingled in the space between.

Neither of you moved for a long time.

No kiss.

No words.

Just skin against skin. Grief against healing. Forgiveness against guilt.

And love.

So much love.

Later, when you pulled away and whispered, “Goodnight,” Jay didn’t ask for more.

He just stood up, kissed your hair softly, and left.

And you stood at the door long after he’d gone.

Eyes closed.

Hands still tingling from the weight of his.

That night, you dreamt of him holding your son’s hand on a beach at sunset.

And in the dream, Jay looked back at you and smiled.

The same way he used to smile before the world broke you.

But this time, in the dream… you weren’t broken anymore.

It started with a text.

Jay: “Would you go out with me?”

You stared at your phone, blinking twice.

It wasn’t like him to text something like that.

Not lately, anyway. Not with such simplicity. Not with such hope.

You replied carefully.

“Go out where?”

Jay: “Anywhere you’ll let me. As long as it’s just us.”

You waited an hour before answering.

“Okay.”

And that was how, on a cloudy Saturday afternoon in late spring, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror, smoothing your hair with trembling fingers, wondering why your heart was racing like you were nineteen again.

Jay showed up exactly on time.

Wearing a navy blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows and carrying a small bouquet of white daisies.

You opened the door and blinked.

He smiled, holding the flowers out like an offering.

“For you,” he said. “They reminded me of the day we met.”

You took them silently.

The memory hit like a wave. The first time you’d seen him in person, the surreal chaos of moving into the dorm, your hands full of luggage and nerves, his laughter ringing in the hallway.

“You were wearing blue then, too,” you said softly.

Jay grinned. “Maybe it’s my lucky color.”

You both took a walk near the Han River first.

Not crowded. Just quiet. Wind brushing over the water, the occasional bicycle bell ringing in the distance.

You didn’t talk much at first, just walked. Side by side. Occasionally bumping shoulders. Occasionally letting silence stretch comfortably between both of you.

Jay bought you tteokbokki from a street cart and handed you the first bite on a toothpick like he used to.

You accepted it. Your fingers brushed.

Something fluttered in your stomach.

He licked spicy sauce off his lip, then looked at you.

“You used to say this was your guilty pleasure after a bad day.”

You smiled. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything,” he said, voice low.

After the river, he took you to a rooftop garden near the edge of the city.

The view wasn’t dramatic, not like the beaches or the mountains, but it was peaceful. The kind of place you could sit in for hours and not feel the need to speak.

There was a blanket laid out. A small speaker. A thermos of jasmine tea.

Jay poured you a cup.

“It’s not a grand gesture,” he said. “I figured we’ve had enough of those.”

You looked out at the skyline, the way the buildings flickered against the growing dusk.

“This is perfect,” you whispered.

The sun began to set.

Colors spilled across the sky— blush pink, burnt orange, soft purple.

Jay leaned back on his elbows, watching you instead of the view.

You noticed.

“What?” You asked, a little breathless.

“You,” he said. “You look like someone I used to dream about before I even knew I loved you.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Jay...”

“No, let me say it,” he said gently. “You don’t have to say it back. But I’ve been holding it in for a year now. And it’s time.”

He sat up, turned to face you.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t desperate.

It was true.

“I never stopped,” he added. “Even when I was wrong. Even when I was stupid. Even when I broke us.”

You looked at him. Really looked.

At the man who once made you feel like a goddess.

At the man who once made you feel like nothing.

At the man who had fought every single day since then to earn back your trust and your heart.

“I still don’t know what the future looks like,” you said. “And I’m scared.”

“I am too,” Jay admitted.

“But…” you continued, reaching out, your fingers brushing his, “I think I want to find out. With you.”

His breath caught.

You didn’t move closer yet.

Just sat, your hands slowly finding each other in the space between.

And for the first time in over a year, the weight between you both lifted.

The speaker buzzed faintly.

Jay reached over and tapped it.

A soft beat began to play.

He looked at you, smiling.

“Do you remember this song?”

You tilted your head.

The melody was familiar. Warm. Bittersweet.

Moonstruck. Their song.

The one they danced to in the dorm that night long ago when everything was still new and innocent.

Jay stood slowly, offered his hand.

“Dance with me?” he asked.

You hesitated, then smiled.

And stood.

Your hands found each other naturally.

He held your waist gently.

You rested a hand on his shoulder.

And they began to sway under the open sky, to the soft notes of a song that once held all your memories.

No steps.

No choreography.

Just movement.

Just emotion.

Just you both.

Jay leaned his forehead against yours.

“I’ve missed you every day,” he whispered.

“I know,” you replied.

Your lips brushed his cheek.

His hands held you tighter.

And then—

You both kissed.

Finally.

Not rushed.
Not forced.
Not messy or frantic.

Just soft.

Earnest.

The kind of kiss that says I’m home now.

When you both pulled apart, you had tears in your eyes.

Jay cupped your face gently.

“Whatever comes next,” he said, “we face it together.”

You nodded.

“No more running?” You whispered.

“Never again.”

The drive back from the rooftop was quiet.

Not awkward. Not uncertain. Just quiet in the kind of way that says we’ve already said what matters.

Jay kept glancing at you at red lights — not out of expectation, but out of awe. Your fingers rested gently in his, and even that small touch felt sacred.

Like something that had once been lost to time… had finally been returned.

When you reached your apartment, you invited him in without saying a word.

Eun-jae was asleep in his crib.

The glow from the hallway nightlight spilled across the floor like soft silk. You peeked in briefly, brushing a hand over your son’s back with practiced tenderness. Jay stood at the doorway, watching you, his heart impossibly full.

You turned to him then.

“I want you to stay,” you said, voice barely a whisper. “But not just for tonight.”

Jay’s eyes flickered. “You’re sure?”

You nodded.

“I’m tired of loving you in pieces. I want to stop holding my breath.”

Jay stepped forward.

And without another word, he kissed you.

This time, it was different.

Not the electric, impulsive fire of new love.
Not the frantic passion of two people trying to forget pain.
But something gentler. Deeper.

Something that said: I know where you’ve been. And I’m not going anywhere.

You both moved slowly, as if touching each other for the first time again.

He kissed your cheeks, your jaw, your collarbone. Paused at every place he’d once taken for granted. His hands trembled slightly as they found the hem of your shirt.

“Tell me if anything’s too much,” he whispered.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I trust you.”

Clothes fell quietly to the floor.

No rush.

No scripts.

Just skin on skin — warm, human, alive.

Jay kissed every scar he’d helped put there.

Every place you’d taught herself to protect.

You clutched him like you were anchoring yourself to something real.

Because you were.

You had once made love to him in innocence.

Now, you were making love to him with eyes wide open, fully aware of what he could break, and fully willing to choose him anyway.

You both didn’t speak much.

Only soft murmurs:

“I missed you.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m here.”
“I’m not afraid anymore.”

And when you finally moved together, it wasn’t fireworks. It was ocean tide, slow, strong, inevitable.

Your breaths tangled. Your fingers laced. Your bodies curved into each other like puzzle pieces long separated by time and silence.

Afterward, you didn’t rush to dress. Didn’t check your phones. Didn’t say anything grand.

Jay lay beside you, brushing hair from your face as the ceiling fan hummed above.

“You’re everything,” he whispered. “Everything I ever wanted. Everything I ruined. And somehow, still... everything I have.”

You blinked back tears.

“You’re not the man I fell in love with,” you said softly. “But I think… you’re becoming the man I was always meant to love.”

In the quiet afterward, Jay reached over to your nightstand and pulled out a small envelope.

You frowned.

He handed it to you, his voice shaking slightly.

“I wasn’t going to give you this yet. I wrote it after the night you first let me see him. I didn’t think I deserved to say it out loud.”

Inside the envelope was a letter. Handwritten. Honest. Raw.

You opened it and read.

"To the mother of my child, the love of my life,

I failed you. In every way a man can fail someone. I didn’t believe you. I walked away. I made you fight battles I was supposed to stand beside you for.

And still, you became a mother so full of strength and light, it humbled me.

You built a home out of ruins.

You raised our son with grace I didn’t earn.

And somehow, when I came back, bruised and begging, you didn’t slam the door.

You made me prove it. And I will keep proving it.

Not just with words. But with every morning I wake up beside you. Every bottle I warm. Every lullaby I hum. Every small kindness I never gave you the first time.

I don’t want a second chance.
I want a forever chance.

— Jay”

You folded the letter slowly, hands trembling.

You didn’t say anything.

Instead, you leaned in and kissed him again.

No hunger.
No drama.
Just certainty.

That night, you both fell asleep tangled in each other, not because you had to, but because there was finally nothing left between you both but peace.

Mornings were different now.

There was no grand announcement, no formal “we’re back together,” but things shifted in a thousand quiet ways.

Jay was there when you woke up — shirtless, sleepy, hair sticking up in ten different directions, making coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You watched him from the kitchen doorway one morning, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“You know,” you said, “you still don’t know how to make that coffee the way I like it.”

Jay turned, grinning. “That’s because I keep hoping you’ll let me watch you do it again.”

You rolled your eyes and took the cup from him anyway.

It was awful.

You drank it with a smile.

Eun-jae had started babbling more, walking faster, and reaching for his father’s hand with more confidence every day. He would toddle into the living room, toy in hand, and wordlessly plop it in Jay’s lap with wide, expectant eyes.

Jay always stopped what he was doing, always, and played.

You watched him once from the hallway, arms folded across your chest, tears pricking at your eyes. Not because it was perfect, but because it was happening.

Because you remembered the months where you rocked your son alone, tears running silently down your cheeks at 2 a.m., begging the universe to just let someone help you carry the weight.

Now, Jay was there. Quietly, patiently, with open arms.

You still had trouble believing it sometimes.

You both took things slow.

Jay didn’t move in right away.

He stayed three nights a week, sometimes four, never overstaying, never assuming.

“Tell me when it’s okay,” he’d say softly at the door, bags in hand. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t answer with words. Just pulled him inside and held his hand longer each time.

One night, as you were folding laundry together, Jay asked the question that had been lingering in the air for weeks.

“Are we telling anyone?”

You paused mid-fold. “You mean… the world?”

“I mean everyone,” he said. “ENHYPEN. My parents. Your family. Our fans.”

You hesitated.

The last time your love went public, it had turned into a scandal. Headlines. Rumors. DMs from strangers who thought they understood your life.

You bit your lip. “What if it happens again?”

Jay looked at you, serious now. “Then we tell them the truth this time. That love is messy. That we made mistakes. But that we came back to each other because we meant it.”

You folded a tiny pair of baby socks and whispered, “Okay. Let’s do it right this time.”

ENHYPEN were the first to know.

Jay brought you and Eun-jae to the dorm for a quiet dinner. The other members — Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, all of them — stared at the child in his arms, stunned.

“You really have a kid?” Sunoo blurted out, eyes wide. “That’s so cool but also... insane.”

“He’s beautiful,” Jake said, kneeling beside Eun-jae, gently wiggling his fingers to make the baby laugh.

Heeseung just gave Jay a long look.

“You happy?” he asked.

Jay nodded. “The most I’ve ever been.”

Heeseung smiled. “Then we’re happy for you.”

You felt your shoulders drop for the first time in years.

Going public with fans was different.

Jay released a handwritten letter, posted on ENHYPEN’s official fan café. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t defensive.

It was honest.

"I once let go of someone who mattered more than anything in the world, because I was afraid. I let fear turn into blame. And blame into silence. But love — real love — doesn’t disappear just because we mess up."

"This is me, no stage lights, no filters. Just a man learning how to love his family, and asking for the space to grow into that man without shame."

The response was more supportive than he expected.

Some fans were shocked. Some were confused.

But many, many, said the same thing:

"Thank you for telling us the truth."
"We support your happiness."
"We love your little family already."

A few weeks later, your family came to visit.

Your mother cried when she saw Jay again. Not out of joy. Not out of anger.

Just the complicated ache of watching her daughter walk through fire and still manage to find light.

They sat at the dinner table, Jay helping serve food, bouncing Eun-jae on one knee, and your mother watching the whole thing with careful eyes.

“He’s changed,” she whispered later that night, as they washed dishes side by side.

You nodded. “So have I.”

Your mother wiped her hands on a towel, then touched your cheek.

“I’m proud of you.”

One evening, as you sat in bed, Jay reading aloud from a children’s book for practice, you curled beside him half-listening. You whispered something against his shoulder.

“I want you to move back in.”

Jay froze.

Then turned to you, slow.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, eyes soft. “Not because I miss the convenience. But because… this time, I know we can build something stronger.”

Jay smiled.

Not the boyish grin from their early days.

Not the tired smile from the months of guilt.

This was different.

This was home.

“I’d like that very much,” he whispered.

And in the next breath, without fanfare, without noise, you whispered:
“I love you.”

It began with an envelope.

Plain. White. Tucked into the mailbox between a credit card ad and a parenting magazine.

Jay saw it first, on his way in from a grocery run. He almost tossed it aside, assuming it was junk, until he saw the return address:

Seoul Metropolitan Civil Court.

He paused.

Then opened it.

And his heart sank.

That night, you were in the living room with Eun-jae, coaxing him into his pajamas while humming a lullaby. You looked up as Jay walked in, pale, envelope in hand.

“Something wrong?” You asked gently.

Jay didn’t answer right away.

He just handed it to you.

You took it, brows furrowing.

And then, as your eyes scanned the lines of legal jargon, your face changed, drained of all color.

“…It’s the debt contract,” you whispered.

Jay sat down across from you, rubbing his temples.

“I thought… I thought it was void after—”

“It wasn’t,” you said, quietly. “I signed it. Every page. It was notarized. No clauses of reversal unless a court intervenes.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Real.

Months ago, when Jay had wrongly accused you of stealing from his bank account, he’d drawn up legal documents in rage. One stating you could never claim financial support, another demanding repayment for every expense during your marriage, and another… tying any future child to a clause of non-benefit.

You had signed them all.

Not out of guilt but out of exhaustion. Defeat. A need to escape the pain.

Neither of you had followed up after reconciliation.

Until now.

Apparently, the firm Jay had used at the time had initiated an automated collections process before the case had been manually closed.

It had made its way through the system.

And now, here it was — a court-mandated summons.

Jay buried his head in his hands.

“I did this,” he said. “I did this to you.”

You sat still.

Composed.

But your hands shook.

“I knew this might happen eventually,” you said softly. “But I didn’t want to ruin what we were rebuilding by bringing it up. I thought… if I just ignored it long enough, maybe it would go away.”

Jay looked up, eyes red.

“You shouldn’t have to ignore it. You shouldn’t have had to suffer in silence for something I caused.”

He stood abruptly, pacing the room.

“I’m calling my lawyers. First thing in the morning. I’ll reverse everything. I’ll pay the fees. I’ll make sure you never see another document like that again.”

You stayed quiet.

Then, very softly, you said, “I don’t want you to fix it.”

Jay froze.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to erase it just because it’s inconvenient now. You wrote those words. You signed that paper. I lived by it. It shaped me. And I don’t think it should just disappear because you feel sorry now.”

Your voice didn’t rise. It didn’t shake.

But it was the most powerful thing you had said since he returned.

Jay looked at you, heart splitting open.

“I don’t want to forget what you did,” you continued, eyes brimming. “Because then I’ll start to forget how hard I fought to survive it. And I’m proud of that fight. Even if it came from pain.”

Jay sank slowly to his knees in front of you.

“I know saying sorry isn't enough.”

You reached forward placing a hand on his cheek.

“I don’t want ‘sorry.’ I want truth.”

You both sat like that for a long time. The man who once broke you, on his knees; the woman he wronged, looking him in the eye with grace he didn’t deserve.

And then you took a deep breath.

“But I also know this,” you said. “You’re not that man anymore. And I’m not that woman. So we don’t erase what happened. We just… rewrite how it ends.”

Jay looked at you, voice raw.

“How do we do that?”

You stood slowly, went to the table, and opened a drawer.

Pulled out a red folder filled with your own documents, countersigned receipts, records you had kept quietly for over a year.

“I’ve been paying back what I could,” you said softly. “Little by little. Some months were harder than others.”

Jay stared at you, speechless.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he whispered.

“I know,” you said. “But I wanted to prove, mostly to myself, that I could.”

You stepped closer.

“I want you to file for reversal of the legal debt, yes. But not because I’m weak or because I need saving. I want you to do it because you need to let go of the man who wrote those contracts.”

The next day, you both went to the firm together.

Jay walked in with your hand in his, a stern fire in his eyes.

He sat across from the same attorney who had drafted the papers nearly two years ago, and said: “Undo it. All of it. And this time, write it properly, that she owns half of everything I have. And that our son will never know a single day without security.”

The lawyer blinked. “You’re… serious?”

“Deadly.”

You squeezed his hand beneath the table.

You left the office later that evening with new paperwork.

Signed.

Stamped.

Equal.

And when you stepped into the sunlight together, Jay looked at you and said:

“I don’t want to just fix what I broke. I want to build what we never had the first time.”

You smiled.

Tired. Relieved. Free.

“I want that too.”

That night, you pulled out a dusty shoebox from your closet.

Jay tilted his head. “What’s that?”

You opened the lid slowly.

Inside were a dozen letters — unsent, unopened, some stained with tears. Letters you’d written during the separation. When you didn’t know if you hated him or still loved him. When you were terrified. When you were strong.

Jay reached for one.

You stopped him.

“Not yet,” you said gently. “Someday.”

He nodded.

Because this time, he would wait for everything — your pain, your truth, your heart.

You slept that night with Eun-jae tucked between both of you, soft breaths rising and falling, hands fisted in both your shirts.

And in the stillness, with moonlight painting their skin in silver, Jay whispered:

“Whatever we lost... we kept the most important thing.”

You turned her head, eyelids fluttering.

“What’s that?”

He kissed your temple, gently.

“Each other.”

It started as an idea over breakfast.

A quiet Sunday morning. Eun-jae was painting something unrecognizable with yogurt on his high chair tray, Jay was making eggs with one hand, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading aloud from a parenting blog.

“Did you know,” you said, “that toddlers who travel early form stronger family attachments?”

Jay turned from the stove, egg spatula in hand. “Is that your subtle way of asking for a vacation?”

You grinned. “Depends. Would you say yes?”

Jay looked at you, then at their son, his cheeks smeared with yogurt, babbling happily to himself.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think we could all use a little ocean breeze.”

You left on a Friday morning, early.

Just the three of you, crammed into Jay’s car, luggage in the back, the GPS softly humming directions toward a small seaside village on the southern coast of Korea.

No press.

No stylists.

No distractions.

Just air.

Just road.

Just love.

The town was quiet, kissed by sea salt and sunlight.

The rental was small. It had two bedrooms, a balcony, and sliding doors that opened directly onto the beach. You stepped inside and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

Eun-jae ran from room to room, shrieking with delight, before immediately trying to eat a seashell from the floor.

Jay scooped him up and laughed. “Parenting never takes a break.”

“But this?” You said, twirling once in the middle of the room. “This is what peace feels like.”

Jay watched you spin. Smile. Shine.

And in that moment, it hit him again, like it always did.

He was still falling in love with you.

You spent your days barefoot in the sand, chasing Eun-jae up and down the shoreline, collecting rocks and broken coral. Jay built a crooked sandcastle while your son destroyed it with squeals of delight. You took photos, hundreds of them, capturing every moment with an urgency only a mother could understand.

At night, you all sat on the balcony.

Eun-jae asleep between both, tucked into his crib.

Jay poured wine into two mismatched mugs. The sea murmured in the distance.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt like this,” You said, eyes closed, head resting on his shoulder.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m allowed to be happy.”

Jay didn’t speak.

He just turned, and pressed the gentlest kiss to your hair.

On the third night, just before sunset, Jay took your hand.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

You blinked. “Where?”

“The beach. Just us.”

You looked at the baby monitor, then at him.

“He’ll be fine,” he added. “It’s just a short walk. I want to show you something.”

You left quietly, the monitor tucked into your pocket, the sky melting into gold behind them.

The sand was warm under their feet. The ocean stretched endlessly before them, dark blue and eternal.

Jay pulled something from his pocket.

A small velvet box.

You stared.

“Jay…”

He opened it.

Not a ring.

Not yet.

Inside, nestled in satin, was a tiny gold locket.

Simple. Elegant. Engraved with both your initials on one side. You lifted it carefully.

When you opened it, there were two tiny photos.

One of Jay.

One of Eun-jae.

“Something to wear close to your heart,” he said quietly. “So you never forget who it belongs to.”

Tears filled your eyes.

He reached out and clasped it around your neck.

Then leaned in close.

“I’m not proposing,” he said. “Not yet. Not until you’re ready. But I’m telling you this now, so there’s no doubt.”

He pulled back, cupping your face in both hands.

“You’re my forever.”

Your lips parted.

A wave crashed in the distance.

“I used to think forever meant perfection,” you whispered. “But now I know… it just means not walking away. Even when it’s hard.”

Jay smiled.

“Then we already have forever.”

You both kissed then.

Not tentative.

Not searching.

Just two people who had fought their way back to each other, finally standing still long enough to just feel.

And when he pulled away, laughing a little, crying a little, you whispered:

“We’re really doing it, huh?”

“Doing what?”

“Building a life.”

Jay took your hand, laced their fingers together.

“No,” he said.

“We’re living one.”

That night, as you returned to the rental, Eun-jae was still sound asleep, hand curled into a tiny fist above his head.

Jay watched him for a long time.

Then turned to you and said, “Someday, we’ll have to tell him everything.”

You nodded. “When he’s old enough. When he can understand that love isn’t always clean. But it’s always worth fighting for.”

Jay kissed your shoulder.

And for the first time in years, neither of you felt afraid of what came next.

The proposal wasn’t grand.

It didn’t happen on a red carpet, or during a concert, or in front of cameras.

It happened on a Tuesday.

In their kitchen.

A year to the day since they came back from the beach.

You woke up to the sound of water boiling and the faint hum of soft music. You padded out into the kitchen still half-asleep, rubbing at your eyes, wearing one of Jay’s old oversized shirts and a pair of leggings that had seen better days.

Jay stood at the stove, back to you, humming to himself, hair still messy from sleep. He turned when he heard you.

“Morning,” he said with a crooked grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “You made breakfast?”

“Attempted to,” he said, setting two plates on the table. “The toast may be illegal.”

You laughed, settling into a chair.

Jay poured tea into your favourite mug — the one that said “Tired but trying.” You took it with a murmur of thanks, still unaware.

Until you saw it.

Tucked beside the plate of eggs, right on the napkin.

A small velvet box.

Your breath caught.

Jay watched you, eyes warm.

“You always said you didn’t want a big moment,” he said softly. “So I thought I’d give you something small. Something us.”

You reached for the box with trembling hands, heart already racing.

Inside was a ring.

Simple. Elegant. Gold, like the locket he’d given you.

And engraved on the inside, barely visible:

“Still choosing you.”

You looked up, eyes shimmering.

Jay knelt beside her chair, taking your hand in both of his.

“I’ve loved you in every way a person can love someone,” he began. “In silence. In anger. In grief. In awe. And every version of love has led me back to you.”

You blinked rapidly.

“I don’t want perfect,” he continued. “I just want you. Every version. Every season. Every morning. For the rest of my life.”

A beat passed.

The kitchen was quiet except for the water still hissing in the kettle.

You exhaled.

And whispered, “Yes.”

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

Just certain.

Jay slipped the ring onto your finger, stood, and pressed his forehead to yours.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

You didn’t need to.

The wedding came quietly three months later.

A garden ceremony, tucked beneath a canopy of golden trees. Only close friends and family. No press. No public announcements.

Just love.

Eun-jae toddled down the aisle as the world’s clumsiest ring bearer, one shoe missing, a flower crown on his head that he’d refused to take off all week.

You wore a simple off-white dress with tiny embroidered flowers.

Jay couldn’t stop looking at you.

You couldn’t stop crying.

And when you both said your vows, both wrote your own.

Jay's voice cracked halfway through.

“You made a home out of a broken thing.
You carried our child when I couldn’t carry myself.
You forgave me when I didn’t deserve it.
And still — still — you stand here, loving me.
I vow to never stop becoming the man you see in me.”

You took a deep breath before hers.

“You shattered me.
And then you came back and helped rebuild every piece.
Not by promises. Not by words.
But by showing up.
I vow to keep choosing you. Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts.
Because the love we’ve built, this honest, messy, extraordinary love, is the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”

You kissed through tears.

And laughter.

And the sound of Eun-jae clapping for no particular reason.

Your honeymoon was a weekend at the same beach where he gave you the locket.

You didn’t need anything more.

Just quiet. Just salt in the air. Just feet buried in the sand again, side by side.

At night, you both danced on the shore to no music.

Jay whispered, “Do you ever think about everything we survived?”

You leaned your head on his chest.

“All the time.”

“Do you regret any of it?”

You thought for a moment.

“No,” she said. “Because without all that… we wouldn’t be this.”

Jay kissed you slowly, like a promise.

And for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like you were starting over.

It felt like you both were finally home.

Six years later

The house was louder these days.

Toys on the floor. Crayon marks on the walls. The smell of breakfast waffles and baby lotion in the air.

Eun-jae was seven now, tall for his age, serious when he wasn’t being hilariously stubborn, and sharp-eyed like his mother. He was in the middle of reading a picture book to his little sister on the living room floor, while you sat on the couch folding laundry and humming softly.

Jay stepped into the doorway, pausing to take it all in.

His world.

Everything he’d nearly lost.

Everything he’d been lucky enough to win back.

Later that evening, as the kids fell asleep, Jay tucked Eun-jae into bed.

“Appa?” the boy asked, blinking up at him.

Jay brushed his son’s hair gently. “Yeah, Jae?”

Eun-jae paused. “Can I ask you something real?”

Jay smiled. “Always.”

The boy sat up slightly, voice quiet.

“What does it mean to love someone forever?”

Jay stilled.

Then slowly sat down at the edge of the bed.

“That’s a big question,” he said.

Eun-jae nodded. “I heard it in a movie. And I… I thought maybe you’d know.”

Jay looked at him. This boy who carried both his mistakes and his redemption in his eyes.

And then, he answered.

“Forever isn’t perfect, Jae. It’s not about always being happy or never fighting or doing everything right.

It’s about showing up when it’s hard.

It’s saying ‘I was wrong’ even when it hurts your pride.

It’s about choosing the same person again and again, not because you have to… but because you want to.”

Eun-jae blinked slowly. “Is that what you and Eomma do?”

Jay nodded.

“Every day.”

After he tucked him in and kissed his forehead, Jay returned to the living room where you were sipping tea and watching the sky darken outside the window.

He sat beside you.

You leaned into him naturally.

“Long day?” You murmured.

“Best kind,” he said, pulling your feet into his lap. “Eun-jae asked me what ‘forever love’ means.”

You looked at him with a knowing smile. “And what did you say?”

Jay met your gaze, eyes soft.

“I said it’s what you gave me when I least deserved it.”

You reached over, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

And quietly said: “Then I guess we’ve been doing it right.”

Later that night, after the children were fast asleep, Jay opened the bottom drawer of their shared dresser.

Inside, still wrapped in tissue paper, was the shoebox of letters you had written during your separation.

You’d told him he could read them when it no longer hurt.

And tonight, he knew.

It was time.

He unfolded the first letter.

“I still sleep on one side of the bed.
I don’t know why.
Maybe part of me still believes you’ll walk in.
Or maybe… I’ve just accepted that the ache has shape now. And I sleep beside it like an old friend.”

He read them all.

One by one.

Cried.

Laughed at one where you’d angrily called him "a man-shaped disaster with great cheekbones."

And at the last one, he stopped.

It was dated the night before you gave birth.

“I’m not writing this for you to read someday.
I’m writing it because I need to remember I lived through it.

I did this without you.
But if you ever come back, really back, you’ll have to be the one to carry the next chapter.
Because I’m done bleeding.

The next pages are for healing.
For softness.
For us, if there’s still an us.”

Jay closed the letter.

And with it, he finally forgave the last piece of himself still caught in guilt.

In the morning, you found the box sitting on your nightstand.

A note on top.

“Every letter made me love you more.

Thank you for never closing the book.

We’ve still got pages to write.

— Yours, J.”

And so you lived.

Not perfectly.

Not effortlessly.

But truthfully.

Through scraped knees and birthday parties.

Through nightmares and promotions.

Through hard conversations and long drives.

Through laughter so loud the neighbors complained.

Through love, in all the ways that mattered.

~The end

[ot7archives]

Five More Minutes

Summary: Just Jay and you, wrapped up in your little bubble of quiet moments, where everything feels special simply because you're together.

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, cutesy, comfort fic

Word count: 900

Note: Hi! This is a very self indulgent domestic fluff that I felt like writing due to the cozy weather lately. I hope you all like and enjoy it! 💜

It’s a quiet morning. The kind that feels stolen, soft sunlight slipping through the blinds, the air still heavy with sleep. The apartment smells faintly of laundry detergent and the coffee you brewed earlier, though neither of you has touched it yet.

Jay’s sprawled on the couch, hair a sleepy mess, hoodie sleeves too long, and you’re tucked under his arm like it’s the most natural place in the world. His phone keeps lighting up on the coffee table with schedules, messages, reminders, but he hasn’t moved to check it. Not yet.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” you mumble, your voice muffled against his chest.

He hums, a low sound that rumbles through you. “Mhm. In five minutes.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

Jay tilts his head to look at you, eyes half-lidded and soft in that way they get only when he’s completely at ease. “Five minutes felt too short,” he says, his voice rough from sleep, “so I added twenty.”

You roll your eyes, though your fingers are already tracing lazy circles on the fabric of his sleeve. It’s impossible to argue when he looks this peaceful. No cameras, no lights, just Jay.

“Manager-nim’s gonna hunt you down,” you tease.

He chuckles, finally reaching up to smooth your hair. “Then I’ll tell him it’s your fault. You wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Wow. Throwing me under the bus?”

“Exactly.” His grin turns a little lopsided, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But you’d save me anyway.”

And the worst part? He’s right.

Jay finally sighs, sitting up just enough to grab his jacket from the armrest. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” But he doesn’t stand right away. Instead, he looks at you again, eyes soft, almost shy despite everything and leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’ll wait for me?” he asks quietly.

You nod. “Always.”

He grins, like that word alone could carry him through the day.

And just before he leaves, sneakers squeaking slightly against the floor, he calls over his shoulder, “Five minutes after I get back, we’re watching that movie you picked.”

You laugh. “You mean in twenty-five?”

“Maybe thirty,” he admits, smile widening. “I’ll make popcorn to make up for it.”

The door clicks shut, the sound lingering in the stillness. You glance at his forgotten coffee on the table, steam long gone but the mug still warm, and somehow it feels like he’s still there.

Maybe that’s the thing about Jay. Even when he’s gone, the room still feels a little bit full.

The apartment is quiet again, hours later. The kind of quiet that hums. You’ve half-finished dinner, left a plate covered for him on the counter, and curled up on the couch with that movie you were supposed to wait for.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but the couch is warm, the sound of the rain outside is gentle, and before you know it, your eyelids give up the fight.

The sound of the door unlocking wakes you. It is soft at first, then the muffled thud of sneakers being kicked off. You blink slowly, half-dreaming, and there he is: Jay, hair damp from a quick shower at the studio, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes heavy with exhaustion but shining anyway when he sees you.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice low enough not to disturb the peace of the room. “You waited up.”

You rub at your eyes, sitting up just enough to make space for him. “Barely,” you admit, yawning. “You said five minutes, remember?”

He chuckles, walking over. “I always say that, don’t I?”

Jay drops onto the couch beside you, his body sinking into the cushions with a quiet sigh. You feel the tension in him melt away little by little as he leans his head on your shoulder. The faint smell of his shampoo, clean and familiar, fills the space between you.

“You ate?” you ask, knowing the answer before he shakes his head.

“Didn’t get the chance.”

You nudge his arm. “There’s food on the counter.”

“I’ll get it later,” he murmurs, voice already softer, slower. “Just- let me stay like this for a bit.”

You don’t argue. You never do when he asks like that. Instead, you pull the blanket around both of you and let him sink deeper into your side. He hums in appreciation, one arm coming around your waist, fingers resting lightly against your hoodie like he’s anchoring himself there.

“You worked hard today,” you whisper.

He hums again. “Mm. It was a good day. Just… long.” Then, after a pause, “I kept thinking about this.”

“This?”

“This,” he says again, squeezing your hand. “You. Home. Quiet. I like that it’s still waiting for me.”

You feel your chest tighten, warmth spreading slow and sure. “Always will be,” you say, and you mean it.

Jay doesn’t reply this time. Hjust presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, lingering there until his breathing evens out. His hair tickles your skin, his hoodie’s sleeve is bunched in your hand, and the rain outside keeps time for both of you.

Somewhere between the movie credits and the patter of rain, you glance down at him, already asleep, mouth slightly open, utterly at peace.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

“Five minutes,” you whisper, echoing his words from the morning. “But you can have twenty.”

The end~

[ot7archives]

A Little Love, A Lot of Comfort

Summary: You thought an arranged marriage meant awkward dinners and polite smiles. You didn’t expect it to mean a husband who buys you ice cream, stays up for movies, and holds you through the pain. Maybe love doesn’t need fireworks, just Jay, and the warmth he brings.

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, arranged marriage, comfort, fluff, soft romance, domestic fluff, emotional intimacy, first love, developing relationship, warm and wholesome, soft boy Jay, Jay being a green flag (wbk), period comfort fic

Word count: ~4.1k

Note: Hi! Thank you for motivating me by liking my previous work. I’m very grateful for it. This is a small comfort fic I wrote. I’m working on something more lengthy but life is happening so it’s gonna take a while. I hope you all like this in the meantime. If there is anything you wanna see me write about please let me know. I’ll try to. 💜

The soft hum of the ceiling fan is the only sound in your shared apartment when you open your eyes. The pale light of dawn seeps through the thin curtains, painting the room in muted gold. You hear movement from the other side of the room, the rustle of fabric, the faint clink of a watch being fastened, and the subtle scent of cologne that has, over the last month, come to mean Jay.

It’s strange how quickly a scent can become familiar. Comforting, even.

“Morning,” his voice comes, deep but gentle, the way it always is before he fully wakes up.

You manage a small smile. “Morning.”

Jay stands by the dresser, adjusting his tie. He looks composed, neat as always. The perfect picture of someone who knows what he’s doing, someone who was probably ready for marriage long before you were. He glances at you briefly in the mirror, and the corner of his lips lifts just a little. It’s shy, tentative like he’s still unsure if smiling at you is something he’s allowed to do freely yet.

“You don’t have to get up now,” he says, reaching for his watch. “You looked tired last night.”

You hum in response, trying to sit up but wincing when a sharp pain twists low in your abdomen. It’s that dull, throbbing ache that you’ve known since your teens, the kind that doesn’t listen to logic or medication. You mask the pain with a quick inhale, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“I’ll get up soon,” you mumble. “Need to go to work, too.”

He nods, slipping on his jacket. “You’ll have breakfast before leaving?”

“Yeah,” you lie easily. “Of course.”

You can feel his eyes on you for a second longer than usual, as if he wants to say something else, maybe ask if you’re alright, but he doesn’t. That’s how it’s been since the wedding: small silences filled with almost-questions, the kind that hover between two people still learning how to fit into each other’s worlds.

When he finally heads for the door, he pauses, hand on the knob. “I’ll be back by seven,” he says softly. “Text me if you need anything.”

You nod again, forcing another faint smile. “Okay. Have a good day, Jay.”

“You too.”

The door closes with a quiet click, and just like that, the apartment feels too big again, the silence pressing against your ears. You stay there for a moment, staring at the empty space he left behind, before curling back under the blanket, pressing a hand to your abdomen as another cramp ripples through you.

You whisper to yourself, “It’s fine. Just another day.”

But it isn’t. Not today.

By the time the clock hits nine, you’re supposed to be halfway through your commute with coffee in one hand, headphones in, pretending to be functional.

Instead, you’re curled up on the couch in your oversized sweatshirt, a half-filled hot water bag resting against your stomach, the muted hum of the TV doing its best to distract you from the pulsing ache inside your body.

It’s one of those days. The kind where every cramp feels like a wave, rising and crashing without warning. You’ve had bad cycles before, but this one… this one feels like your body’s waging a quiet war.

You reach for the pain patch you’d bought last month, stick it onto your lower abdomen, and wait. Ten minutes later, it does almost nothing. The painkillers dull it a bit, but not enough. You sip warm water, then curl tighter into the couch, pressing the hot bag harder until it almost burns.

“Why today?” you mutter to no one, your voice small against the sound of a drama rerun playing on TV.

You think about calling in sick and after another sharp cramp that has you squeezing your eyes shut, you finally give in. You text your manager, “Not feeling well today. Taking the day off.”

It feels like a tiny relief, though guilt flickers somewhere behind it.

You switch off your work notifications and let yourself drift into a lazy rhythm. The day moves slowly. You nap, wake up, eat a few bites of the instant noodles you’d made, and then reach for the chocolates in the fridge. The sugar helps. A little comfort, small and familiar.

When afternoon light spills across the room, you’re lying on the couch surrounded by snack wrappers and an empty mug of hot chocolate. You think, fleetingly, about Jay.

He’s probably at work, neat suit, quiet voice, polite smile. You remember the way he always checks if you’ve eaten before he leaves in the mornings. He doesn’t say much, but the way he folds your laundry when you forget, or leaves a note reminding you to drink water- those small things have started to mean something.

It’s strange how care can be so quiet.

You sigh, pressing the hot bag against your stomach again. “He’d probably think I’m so dramatic if he saw me like this,” you whisper, almost laughing at yourself.

You picture his reaction, maybe that small frown he gets when he’s confused or worried. You’ve seen it once or twice, and somehow, it always makes your heart clench.

By the time the sun starts to dip below the horizon, the pain has eased just enough for you to sit up and switch on the lamps. You pull your hair into a messy bun, look at the clock - 6:42 p.m. Jay will be home soon.

And that’s when the panic hits.

The apartment looks like a snack tornado hit it. You shuffle to the kitchen, groaning softly as you gather wrappers and dishes, trying to make it look less like you’ve spent the whole day fighting for survival.

You’re still holding the half-empty chocolate bar when you hear the sound of keys turning in the lock.

Jay’s home.

Your heart skips. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because you don’t want him to worry, or maybe because you’re still learning how to let him see you like this.

You take a deep breath and turn toward the door just as it opens.

The door opens with its usual soft click, and Jay steps in with the faint chill of the evening following him. He looks the same as he did this morning: tie slightly loosened, hair a bit tousled from the long day, his expression calm but tired.

“Hey,” he says, voice low as he closes the door behind him. “You’re home?”

You straighten up quickly from the couch, trying to look less… pathetic. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a small smile. “I, um, took the day off.”

His brows rise, just a little. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer too fast, then soften your tone. “Just- wasn’t feeling too great this morning. Thought I’d rest.”

Jay nods, slipping off his shoes and hanging his coat neatly on the rack. You watch him quietly; he’s always so methodical, so put-together. Even his small movements carry that calm steadiness that you envy sometimes.

He glances at the coffee table that has the evidence of your day: the empty mug, the snack wrappers you missed, the rumpled blanket. His lips twitch in what might be amusement.

“You’ve had quite the day off, huh?” he teases lightly.

You laugh weakly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, something like that.”

He doesn’t press, just hums and disappears briefly into the kitchen. You hear the fridge open, then close, and when he returns, he’s holding two bottles of water. He hands you one wordlessly before sitting down on the couch beside you. The space between you is close but not touching, the kind of distance that still feels charged with awareness.

Jay looks at you for a moment, studying your face. “You don’t look too great,” he says, tone gentle but honest. “Want to skip cooking tonight? We can order something.”

You blink, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. “You don’t mind?”

He shakes his head, already pulling out his phone. “Not at all. What do you feel like eating?”

You hesitate. It’s small, but the fact that he’s asking, that he notices something off, makes your chest tighten a little. “Maybe… something warm? Comfort food?”

He glances up, meeting your eyes. “Ramen?”

You smile faintly. “With extra eggs?”

He chuckles under his breath. “Got it.”

Within minutes, he’s ordering, not just ramen, but your favorite side dishes too, and when he thinks you’re not looking, you catch him adding your favorite brand of ice cream to the order. Your heart does a quiet, inconvenient flip.

When the food arrives, you both eat at the low table, knees almost brushing, the warmth from the steaming bowls filling the quiet apartment. You find yourself relaxing more than you expected. Jay keeps the conversation light, talking about a coworker’s mix-up at the office, about a street musician he passed on his way home.

He doesn’t ask about your day again, doesn’t push. And somehow, that feels like the kindest thing of all.

After dinner, he leans back against the couch, looking thoughtful. “Want to watch a movie?” he asks. “Something funny maybe? Or do you want to pick?”

You hesitate, the dull ache in your abdomen starting to pulse again. “I think something light would be good,” you say softly. “Just… to take my mind off things.”

He nods, grabs the remote, and settles beside you as the movie starts to play, some old rom-com you both vaguely remember. The room fills with soft laughter from the screen and the glow of the TV.

And for a while, you almost forget the pain. You almost forget that you’ve been trying to hide it.

Almost.

But as the night deepens, and the cramps return sharper and meaner than before, you find yourself curling slightly inward, pressing your hand against your stomach. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

Jay laughs quietly at something on-screen, then pauses. His expression shifts.

He’s noticed.

You tell yourself to stay still. To breathe through it. To not make a sound.

But the pain is relentless tonight. A twisting, heavy ache that makes your eyes sting. You shift slightly, trying to ease it, pressing a pillow against your stomach, willing yourself to focus on the movie instead.

Jay laughs again, but when you don’t respond, his voice fades mid-sentence.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?”

You blink quickly, wiping at the corner of your eye before he can see. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Just… tired.”

He studies you, the glow from the TV reflecting in his eyes. “You sure? You look pale.”

You give a weak smile, trying to deflect. “It’s fine, really. Just a long day.”

Another cramp hits, sharp and mean, and this time, you can’t hide it. Your breath catches, your fingers clench around the blanket. A quiet, involuntary sound escapes you.

Jay immediately pauses the movie. “Hey, wait-” he starts, worry breaking through his calm tone. “You’re not fine. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head quickly, heart pounding with embarrassment. “It’s nothing, really, I just-”

“Y/N.” His voice is firm but gentle. “Tell me.”

You hesitate, eyes dropping to your hands. This isn’t something you ever imagined explaining to him. You’ve only been married a short while, polite dinners, small talk, hesitant touches when passing each other in the hallway. This kind of vulnerability feels too much.

But the pain doesn’t let you stay silent anymore.

“I’m…” You swallow hard. “I’m on my period.”

Jay blinks, processing, and you rush to add, “The cramps just get really bad sometimes. It’s not a big deal, it’ll pass.”

The words sound small, apologetic. You hate that they do.

Jay’s expression softens immediately, the worry deepening into something warmer, gentler. “You should’ve told me earlier,” he says quietly. “You’ve been in pain all day?”

You nod, biting your lip. “It’s not always this bad. I tried to handle it.”

He exhales, the kind of breath that sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “Okay. Just- stay here for a second, alright?”

Before you can ask what he’s doing, he gets up and disappears into the kitchen. You hear cabinets opening, the faint rush of water. A few minutes later, he returns with a hot water bag, your painkillers, and the half-finished chocolate bar you’d been eating earlier.

You blink at the sight, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” he says, quiet but certain. “Here.”

He hands you the water bag first, and when you press it against your stomach, the warmth is instant relief. He sits down beside you again, close enough that your knees brush. Then, carefully, he offers you the painkiller with a glass of water. You take it silently, trying not to let your hands shake.

For a while, neither of you speak. The only sound is the movie resuming softly in the background. Then Jay shifts slightly, turning toward you.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s go to bed. You’ll be more comfortable.”

You nod, letting him guide you to your feet. He places a steady hand on your back as you walk, not too close, not too hesitant. Just… warm. Safe.

In your bedroom, he helps you lie down, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders. He sets the chocolates on the nightstand and the hot water bag back on your abdomen. Then, without a word, he turns off the overhead light, leaving only the dim bedside glow.

You watch him quietly, your chest tight. He’s moving around with such quiet care, like he’s afraid to disturb you, like every small gesture matters.

When he finally lies down beside you, there’s a pause. The kind that hums with newness, with the question of is this okay?

You shift closer, unconsciously seeking warmth. Jay hesitates, then carefully wraps an arm around your waist, his palm resting over the blanket.

The heat of his touch seeps through, soothing in a way the hot bag never could. He starts rubbing gentle circles over your stomach, slow and steady.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice a low whisper near your ear. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Something in you breaks at that. All the quiet strength you’ve been holding onto all day dissolves. Your eyes fill again, but this time, it’s not just from pain. It’s from the softness of it all. His care, his gentleness, the way he’s here even though you never asked him to be.

You turn slightly, burying your face in his chest. His heartbeat is steady under your ear.

Jay’s hand moves up to stroke your hair, his other arm pulling you a little closer. He whispers again, almost absently, “You did well today. Rest now, okay?”

You don’t even realize when your breathing evens out. The pain dulls, your muscles loosen, and the world slips away in the warmth of his arms.

For the first time since the marriage, it doesn’t feel like you’re sharing space with a stranger.

It feels like something is quietly, irrevocably changing.

When you wake, the first thing you notice is the sunlight filtering through the curtains. It was warm, golden, and too soft to belong to early morning. You must’ve slept longer than usual.

The second thing you notice is him.

Jay is lying beside you, still half asleep. His arm is draped loosely around your waist, fingers lightly curled against your hip, his breathing slow and even. His hair falls messily over his forehead, a rare sight, you realize, because you’ve only ever seen him composed, neat, perfectly put together.

You don’t move at first. You just lie there, staring at the way the sunlight touches his face, at how peaceful he looks. It hits you then, how different this feels.

Last night isn’t something you can file away as a small act of kindness. It wasn’t a polite gesture. It was real. Gentle. Human.

And it’s the first time since your arranged marriage that you’ve felt like you belong next to him.

You shift slightly, the movement stirring him awake. His arm tightens instinctively before he blinks, eyes opening slowly. When his gaze lands on you, a soft smile touches his lips, sleepy and unguarded.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “You okay?”

You nod, smiling back. “Better,” you admit. “Much better, actually.”

He looks relieved, really relieved. “Good,” he says quietly. “You scared me last night.”

You flush a little, your cheeks warming. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to make it awkward.”

Jay’s brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face. “Awkward? You were in pain.”

“I know, but…” You hesitate, picking at a thread on the blanket. “We’re still… figuring things out. I didn’t want to dump something like that on you.”

He watches you for a long moment before sighing softly. “You don’t have to hide things from me, you know.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s a hint of something vulnerable beneath it. “I know this marriage wasn’t something either of us planned, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

You look up at him then, really look. There’s no hesitation in his gaze now. Just warmth.

“I know,” you whisper. “And… thank you. For last night.”

He smiles, the kind that starts small and then reaches his eyes. “Anytime.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It’s full of things unsaid, of quiet beginnings. You realize you’re still lying close to him, your fingers brushing his wrist. When he notices, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he shifts closer, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand.

“You should rest more,” he says softly. “Do you want breakfast? I can make something.”

You chuckle lightly. “You cook?”

“Not well,” he admits, laughing too, “but I can manage pancakes if you promise not to judge.”

You grin, warmth spreading through you, not just from his words but from the effort, the way he’s trying.

“I’d like that,” you say.

He nods and reluctantly pulls away, stretching before heading to the kitchen. You watch him go, heart doing that quiet flutter again. The pain in your stomach is still there, but it’s gentler now, bearable.

You sit up, leaning against the headboard, wrapping the blanket around you. From the kitchen, you hear faint clattering and Jay muttering under his breath, something about burning the first pancake. You smile to yourself.

It’s domestic and imperfect, but it feels right.

When he returns, he’s holding two slightly uneven pancakes on a plate, wearing an expression that’s half proud, half sheepish. “Don’t laugh,” he warns.

You take a bite. It’s not great, but it’s not bad either. You make a show of considering it. “Not bad, chef Jay.”

He smirks, sitting beside you. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small laugh, “but I appreciate the effort.”

He looks at you for a long moment then, his gaze soft but searching. “You really do look better,” he says quietly. “I was worried I’d overstep last night.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t. You… made me feel cared for.”

Jay exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”

You reach out then, it’s instinctive, and place your hand over his. “You did,” you whisper.

The air between you shifts again, delicate and new. Jay squeezes your hand gently, then lets it linger there, a small promise in the space between your palms.

Later, as you finish breakfast, you find yourself leaning against him again on the couch, the same spot where the night before had unravelled into quiet intimacy. The difference now is that the silence feels comfortable, shared.

You glance up at him, your voice soft. “Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to try,” you say, almost a whisper. “With this… marriage. With us.”

His expression changes, surprise first, then something deeper, something tender. “Me too,” he says. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles, slow and genuine, and pulls you gently into his arms again. His hand finds yours, his thumb tracing small circles over your skin like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And as the morning stretches quietly between you, the soft rustle of the curtains, the faint warmth of sunlight, the fading ache of yesterday, you realize that maybe love doesn’t always begin with fireworks.

Sometimes, it starts with care. With gentle hands, warm blankets, and whispered words in the dark.

And sometimes, it begins with a hot water bag and a boy named Jay who stayed when you needed him most.

Three months later, the apartment feels different.

Not because the furniture has changed or because the sunlight falls any differently through the curtains but because the air itself feels warmer now. Lived-in. Shared.

Your mug sits beside his on the breakfast table, his tie draped over the back of a chair, your sweater hanging from the arm of the couch. Tiny things, scattered like pieces of two lives that have begun to intertwine without either of you noticing exactly when it happened.

Jay hums softly as he moves around the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower, sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes with surprising ease now. You can’t help but smile. He’s improved a lot since that first disastrous morning.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, catching your gaze with a half-grin. “I told you I’d get better.”

“You did,” you tease. “Still not as good as mine though.”

He laughs, setting a plate in front of you. “One day, I’ll make you admit otherwise.”

You grin, taking a bite, and realize this is what comfort feels like.

The kind that comes from learning someone’s rhythms: how he always hums when he’s focused, how his right eyebrow twitches when he’s pretending not to smile, how he automatically reaches for your hand when you’re crossing the street together.

Jay sits beside you now, sipping his coffee, scrolling lazily through his phone. You lean your head on his shoulder, a soft habit that’s formed naturally over the last few weeks.

“Big day today?” you ask, tracing small circles on the back of his hand.

He shakes his head. “Just meetings. You?”

“Nothing major,” you say. “Though I might stop by the store on my way home.”

He nods. “Need me to pick you up later?”

You smile. “You’re too good to me, Jay.”

He shrugs, pretending nonchalance, but his lips curve up. “You make it easy.”

You stay like that for a while. The quiet between you filled with morning sounds and a comfort that no longer feels new but beautifully familiar.

Then Jay sets down his cup, glances at you, and tilts his head slightly. “Hey,” he says softly, “are you feeling okay today? No cramps or anything?”

You blink, surprised. “You remembered?”

He nods, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Of course. You looked miserable last time. I told myself I’d make sure you never had to go through that alone again.”

Your chest tightens, eyes stinging a little with warmth. “You really didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” he says simply, the same words he used that night.

It hits you again how steady he is, not loud about his care, not dramatic. Just there. Always there.

You reach out and cup his cheek lightly, your thumb brushing against his skin. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Jay smiles, soft, real. “Maybe I do.”

You lean forward, and this time, you don’t hesitate. You kiss him. It is a low, unhurried, full of everything you haven’t said in words. When you pull back, he’s still smiling, his hand finding its familiar place against your waist.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says. “I think we’re getting pretty good at it.”

You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah. Pretty good.”

Outside, the day begins, the distant noise of the street, the smell of coffee, the gentle hum of life continuing. Inside, everything feels still, safe, and right.

And as Jay presses a quick kiss to your temple before heading out, you realize that love didn’t rush in all at once.

It grew slowly, quietly, through care, through laughter, through the kind of mornings that feel ordinary but are anything but.

The kind of love that started with a small act of kindness on a painful night and became the softest, surest part of your life.

The end~

[ot7archives]

Home Was You All Along

Summary: Loving him was easy. Watching him fall for your friend was not. But when he turns to you for help, silence becomes your only shield.

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, friendship, feelings, angst with a happy ending, realisations, temporary unrequited love, misunderstandings, confessions

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Hi! This is my first time writing a fic so please be mindful. I hope you like it! Thank you in advance. I'm still trying to figure out how tumblr works as l've only been a reader all along. 😅💪

The evening sun filtered lazily through the curtains of your room, painting faint gold stripes across your desk where notebooks and scattered pens lay abandoned. You should have been working on your assignment, but your phone buzzed with a notification, pulling your attention away.

Jay.

Your lips curved almost instinctively at the sight of his name. It was something small, just a meme he’d found funny enough to share, but it was enough to make your heart stutter. That was the dangerous thing about Jay: he didn’t even have to try. Every careless smile, every teasing remark, every unprompted message made your chest ache in ways you could never put into words.

You both had been close for years, the kind of friendship that felt natural, like slipping into a warm sweater. He was someone you could lean on without thinking, someone who remembered the little things- how you hated cucumbers, how you preferred cold coffee even in winter, how you hummed when you were focused. And somewhere along the way, your affection for him had spilled over into something deeper, something you had tried to press down, afraid of breaking what they had.

So you stayed quiet.

Your fingers tapped quickly against your phone screen as you replied, playing along, masking your feelings the way you always did.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a meme or some joke.

Jay: hey can i ask u smth?

You blinked at the message, brows furrowing slightly. You typed back.

Y/N: of course. what’s up?

The reply came almost immediately, as though he had been waiting.

Jay: how do u confess to someone?

You froze. Your stomach lurched violently, as though the floor had been yanked from beneath you. Of all the things you thought he might say, this wasn’t one of them. You stared at the words for a long moment, your pulse roaring in her ears.

Your heart whispered desperately, please let it be me, please.

But your mind, the part that had guarded itself all these years, knew better.

Swallowing hard, you forced your fingers to move.

Y/N: um… i think the best way is just to be straightforward. like don’t play games. just be honest about how you feel.

There was a pause. You could almost picture him on the other side of the screen, nodding thoughtfully, lips pressed together.

Jay: makes sense.

Jay: do u like someone?

The question made your breath hitch. You could almost hear the playful lilt in his voice, the way he always teased you when he suspected something. He probably didn’t mean it seriously, it was Jay, after all. But the words still tightened like a fist around your chest.

You hesitated, then typed carefully.

Y/N: …yeah.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Jay: ohhh 👀 who??

Your throat tightened. You stared at the blinking cursor, at the endless white space waiting for your answer. How easy it would be to just say it - you. it’s you, it’s always been you.

But the thought of his silence, or worse, his laughter, stopped you cold.

Y/N: can’t say. not yet.

Another pause.

Jay: did you confess?

Your lips pressed together into a thin line. You thought of the dozens of times you almost had, the moments when your heart raced so hard it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it. The words had always hovered on the edge of your tongue, but you never had the courage to let them fall.

Y/N: not yet. someday, maybe. when i’m brave enough.

The dots appeared again.

Jay: i like your friend.

You felt the air leave your lungs. Your hand went numb where it held the phone. The words stared back at you like tiny daggers, digging straight into your chest.

Your friend.

Of course.

Of course it couldn’t be you.

Your fingers trembled as you typed a reply, the kind you had mastered over the years- casual, unaffected, like you were nothing but a supportive friend.

Y/N: oh? really?

Jay: yeah. i wanna confess to her. can you help me?

The pain bloomed sharper this time, curling inside your ribs. Still, you typed back with a steadiness you didn’t feel.

Y/N: of course.

And that was how it always went: you swallowed your feelings down and smiled as though your heart wasn’t breaking.

The following days passed in a blur.

You tried to convince yourself that nothing had changed, that Jay asking you for help was just another one of their countless conversations, just another topic you’d laugh about later. But you knew better. Every time your phone lit up with his name, your pulse stumbled for all the wrong reasons. You had once cherished those notifications, the way your heart would flutter at every ding. Now, it felt like a warning bell.

Because every time he texted, you knew it wasn’t for you.

He wanted advice. He wanted your insight. He wanted to talk about your friend.

And you, stupidly, hopelessly, gave it.

“Okay, so… do you think she’d prefer something casual or like, a big gesture?” Jay’s voice crackled through the phone late one evening.

You lay sprawled on her bed, the darkness of your room making it easier to keep your voice steady. You clutched the phone against your ear with one hand, your other fist gripping the sheets tightly.

“I think…” You hesitated, swallowing against the dryness in your throat. “She’s not really into dramatic stuff. She’d probably like it if you just… kept it simple. Sincere.”

“Simple and sincere,” Jay repeated, humming as though testing how the words tasted. “Yeah, that sounds right. She’s kind of like that, isn’t she?”

You forced a smile, one he couldn’t see. “Yeah.”

There was a pause, then Jay’s warm laugh filled your ear. “Man, you’re the best, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your chest constricted painfully, but you managed a small laugh. “Guess I’m just a professional love coach now.”

“Exactly!” He chuckled. “I owe you big time. When I finally confess and it works out, I’ll treat you to dinner or something. My treat.”

Your eyes stung. You closed them quickly, forcing a light tone. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Dinner.

But not with you.

That night, you turned your phone face-down on your nightstand and buried your face in her pillow, finally letting yourself cry where no one could see.

The worst part was your friend.

It wasn’t that you blamed her, after all, it wasn’t her fault Jay had chosen her instead of you. And it wasn’t as though your friend was doing anything wrong by replying to his texts, by laughing at his jokes, by being friendly. But you couldn’t help the ache that gnawed at your insides whenever you saw them exchange quick glances or caught your friend grinning at her phone.

You noticed things you wished you hadn’t.

The way your friend’s screen lit up, Jay’s name flashing across it.The way she typed back quickly, thumbs moving fast, like she didn’t want to keep him waiting. The way she smiled faintly at whatever he’d said.

It was harmless. Innocent. But to you, it felt like being split open slowly, piece by piece.

Your friend knew, in a vague, surface-level way, that you liked Jay. You’d told her once in a quiet, passing moment, brushing it off as a silly crush so it wouldn’t sound like the truth. Maybe that was the mistake! Not making her understand the depth of it, the way your heart beat differently because of him.

So of course your friend thought nothing of replying to him eagerly. Of course she didn’t notice the way your chest clenched every time you saw it.

And you couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

Because what would you even say? Stop texting him, because I love him? Stop smiling at your phone, because every time you do, I feel like I’m dying a little inside?

No. You couldn’t.

So you smiled. You laughed along. You pretended.

One afternoon, as you sat across from your friend at your usual café spot, your phone buzzed. You didn’t reach for it, but your friend did, glancing down at her own screen before grinning.

“Jay’s so funny,” she said casually, thumbs moving across the screen.

You sipped her iced coffee slowly, letting the cold numb your tongue. “Yeah. He is.”

“He was telling me this story earlier—” Your friend giggled, typing something out before looking back at you. “He’s actually really sweet, isn’t he?”

Your grip on your cup tightened. Forcing a light chuckle, you nodded. “Yeah. That’s Jay.”

Your friend smiled faintly, almost sheepish. “He asked me a weird question though. Like… what kind of gestures I like. I didn’t really know what to say.”

Your stomach dropped. You managed a small smile, pretending it didn’t feel like your ribs were caving in. “Well, if you answered at all, then he probably got his answer.”

Your friend tilted her head curiously. “Do you really think so?”

You nodded, the words escaping before you could stop them. “If you’re replying keenly, then… you’re definitely interested in him too.”

The look on your friend’s face was unreadable, maybe thoughtful, maybe uncertain? But you didn’t stay on it. You dropped your gaze back to your drink, willing the lump in your throat to disappear.

Inside, something cracked quietly.

Over the next week, you began to pull away. Slowly, carefully, so it wouldn’t seem obvious. You replied to Jay’s texts later than usual, making excuses about being busy. You stopped sharing little details about your day, the kind of things only he would laugh at. You skipped hanging out with your friend when youcould, citing exhaustion or assignments.

It wasn’t that you wanted to lose them both. But you didn’t have it in your heart to watch them inch closer while you stood by, pretending you were okay.

Distance, you decided, was safer.

If you could just keep away long enough, maybe the ache in your chest would dull. Maybe you could breathe again without it hurting.

Maybe, one day, you could smile at Jay the way you used to, as just a friend.

But for now, all you could do was retreat, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of your feelings but silence.

The days grew longer, and the silence between you both stretched wider.

It wasn’t abrupt. You didn’t vanish from Jay’s life overnight. You were too careful for that. Instead, it was little things, subtle enough that he might not notice unless he was paying attention. And for the first few days, he wasn’t.

Where you used to reply to his texts within minutes, now you took hours. Where you used to send him random thoughts in the middle of the day, a picture of a cute dog you passed on the street, a song you thought he’d like, now you only answered when spoken to. Where your calls had once stretched late into the night, sometimes ending with both of you dozing off to the sound of each other’s breathing, now you made excuses to hang up early.

You told yourself it was for the best.

It wasn’t fair to cling onto him when your heart couldn’t take it anymore. Not when he was so clearly focused on someone else.

So you practiced letting go.

One evening, Jay texted you:

Jay: u alive?

Jay: u’ve been kinda quiet lately

You stared at the messages, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. You could almost hear the teasing lilt in his voice, the half-worried, half-playful way he always said things like that. For a moment, you nearly typed the truth.

I’m quiet because it hurts to watch you fall for someone else.

But instead, you forced your fingers to type something safer.

Y/N: yeah just busy. lots of assignments this week

A minute later, his reply came.

Jay: ahhh that explains it. don’t overwork yourself tho. make sure u rest.

Your chest tightened at the familiar warmth in his words, the kind of casual concern he tossed at you so easily. The kind that had made you fall for him in the first place.

You stared at the message until the screen dimmed, your reflection faint against the glass. “Don’t worry,” you whispered into the empty room. “I’m already resting from you.”

With your friend, it was harder.

You didn’t want to seem petty, didn’t want to risk revealing just how much everything hurt. So you smiled when they met, nodded along to conversations, and listened quietly when your friend mentioned Jay.

But the more you pretended, the more you realized how exhausting it was.

One afternoon, your friend waved her phone with a grin. “Jay sent me this ridiculous voice note earlier. Want to hear it?”

Your stomach twisted, but you forced a polite laugh. “Maybe later. I’m kinda tired right now.”

“Oh, sure.” Your friend tucked the phone away without fuss, clearly oblivious.

And that was when you knew for certain that you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep standing in the same spaces, smiling like nothing was wrong, pretending you weren’t breaking apart inside.

So you pulled back even more. Declined invitations. Took longer to reply. Skipped out on plans with vague excuses.

It was cowardly. But it was the only way you knew how to protect what little of yourself you still had.

One night, you sat at your desk staring blankly at the glowing laptop screen. You had an essay open, but the words blurred together until they meant nothing. Your phone sat silent beside you.

You realized, with a dull ache, that Jay hadn’t texted all day.

It shouldn’t matter. You had wanted this distance. You had built it yourself. And yet, the silence pressed heavy against your chest, leaving you restless.

Your mind drifted back to his laugh, to the way he used to send you goodnight texts without fail, to the little moments that once made your days brighter.

You wondered if he missed you at all.

Maybe not.

Maybe he was too busy thinking about your friend.

Jay noticed sooner than you expected.

It was a late Friday night when he called, his name flashing across your screen. You stared at it for a long moment, debating whether to answer. In the end, habit won. You swiped to pick up, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Finally,” Jay sighed dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d ghosted me.”

You forced a small laugh. “You’re too dramatic.”

“I mean it, though. You’ve been… I don’t know. Different.” His voice softened, losing its usual teasing edge. “Is something wrong?”

Your throat tightened. You had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in your head, the chance to tell him everything- how much you liked him, how much it hurt, why you had been pulling away. But now that it was here, the words stuck stubbornly in your chest.

“No,” you said after a pause, steadying your voice. “Just busy. That’s all.”

Jay was quiet for a moment, as if he didn’t quite believe you. But then he chuckled lightly. “Alright. I’ll let you off the hook this time. But don’t forget you’ve got me, okay? You can tell me if something’s up.”

You closed your eyes, gripping the phone tighter. “I know.”

And you hated yourself for lying.

Weeks passed like this. You grew skilled at pretending, at weaving excuses and plastering smiles, at slowly fading from their lives without making it obvious. You told yourself it was temporary, that once you got over him, once the ache dulled enough, you could go back to being normal. You could be his friend again without it hurting.

But deep down, a small, bitter voice whispered: what if you never get over him?

You shoved the thought away and smiled anyway.

Because if there was one thing you had learned, it was that pretending was easier than breaking.

Birthdays had always been easy occasions for you . You loved celebrating others, picking out thoughtful gifts, making cards, being the kind of person who remembered the little details. But when Heeseung’s invitation popped up on your phone, you found yourself staring at it longer than you should have.

Heeseung: hey y/n!! having a small thing at the dorm this weekend for my bday. come thru pls 🥳 everyone will be there

Your chest tightened at those last words. Everyone. That meant Jay. And your friend.

You typed, deleted, retyped a dozen variations of polite excuses. Sorry, can’t make it. Got assignments. Family dinner. Not feeling well. But each one felt flimsy, and Heeseung wasn’t the type to let go easily.

Y/N: i don’t know, heeseung. i might be busy.

Heeseung: busy?? on my bday?? wow fake friend vibes 😤

Heeseung: pls y/n just come by for a bit. i’ll be sad if you don’t.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. Trust Heeseung to guilt trip you without even trying.

In the end, you sent the one response you knew he’d latch onto.

Y/N: okay. i’ll come. but only for a little while.

Heeseung: yesss!! bestie of the year award 🏆 see u then!!

You dropped your phone onto your bed and exhaled slowly. You had a few days to prepare, to figure out how to smile convincingly, how to stand in the same room as Jay and your friend without falling apart.

You told yourself it would be fine. One evening, that was all. And then you could retreat again.

The dorm was already buzzing when you arrived. Music drifted down the hallway, muffled laughter spilling from behind the door. You hesitated outside for a moment, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your sweater.

It had been weeks since you’d seen them all properly. Weeks since you’d seen him.

You forced yourself to knock lightly.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Heeseung’s bright grin. “Y/N!” He pulled you into a quick hug before you could even respond. “You came! I knew you wouldn’t abandon me.”

You laughed softly, easing into the familiarity of his warmth. “Happy birthday, Heeseung.”

“Thanks. Come in, come in.” He ushered you inside, the air instantly filled with chatter and music. The living room was crowded. Jake and Sunghoon were arguing over some game, Jungwon and Riki were at the snack table, Sunoo was half-dancing, half-laughing near the couch.

And then there was Jay.

He was leaning against the wall, drink in hand, talking to someone. His head tilted slightly as he listened, dark hair falling into his eyes. The same easy smile, the same warmth in his presence that you had once found so comforting.

Your eyes met across the room.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled.

Your chest squeezed, but you forced a small smile, which was polite, distant, the kind you’d give to an acquaintance instead of someone who once knew your heart inside out. Jay blinked, as if surprised, before his lips curved into a hesitant smile of his own.

And then you turned away.

You spent most of the evening weaving through small conversations, sticking close to Heeseung when you could. It was easier that way. He was animated enough to distract you, pulling you into laughter, introducing you to new people who had dropped by.

Every so often, though, your gaze drifted unconsciously toward Jay. He didn’t seem to hover near your friend the way you expected. In fact, your friend wasn’t even there. That was something that sent a flicker of confusion through you.

Still, you kept your distance. It was safer that way.

At some point, Heeseung leaned close to you, his voice low enough to cut through the music. “You okay?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You’ve been… weird tonight. Smiling, but not smiling. You know what I mean?”

You opened your mouth, ready with some vague excuse, but Heeseung beat you to it.

“It’s about Jay, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

Heeseung sighed, giving you a look that was gentler than you expected. “Y/N. I’m not blind. You think I don’t notice the way you two orbit around each other? Something happened.”

You swallowed hard, looking away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Heeseung said firmly. “Because whatever you think is going on, it’s not what you think.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Jay and your friend? They’re not together. They were never together.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest. “What…?”

“Your friend told him,” Heeseung continued carefully. “She said she knows you like him. And that she can’t be with him because she doesn’t feel that way about him. She was clear about it.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. “She… told him?”

“Yeah. And Jay—” Heeseung hesitated, glancing toward where Jay stood on the other side of the room, his gaze lingering subtly in their direction. “Jay hasn’t been himself since. He keeps looking at you like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.”

Your stomach churned, a storm of emotions crashing inside you. Shock. Confusion. A flicker of something dangerously like hope.

But then you remembered the countless nights you’d cried yourself to sleep, the way you had watched him chase someone else while you broke quietly on the sidelines.

Hope was dangerous.

Heeseung gave your shoulder a light squeeze. “Talk to him, Y/N. You deserve to hear it from him.”

You nodded weakly, though your throat felt too tight to speak.

Across the room, Jay was still watching you.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t look away.

The noise of the party blurred around you, the laughter, music, the clink of glasses, but you felt suspended outside of it, as if the world had dimmed and narrowed down to a single thread: Jay’s eyes on you.

He didn’t look away when you met his gaze. Not this time.

Something in his stare unsettled you, the same way thunder rumbles low on the horizon before a storm. It was steady, unreadable, but charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

And then Heeseung nudged you gently, his voice calm but firm. “Go. Talk to him.”

Your lips parted to protest, but the words caught. Because maybe you wanted to. Maybe you needed to.

With your pulse hammering, you slipped away from the group. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jay push off the wall, following at a careful distance. You both moved wordlessly, as though some invisible string guided you both, tugging you down the hall until you found yourselves in an empty bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And silence fell.

You stood near the edge of the bed, arms crossed loosely over your chest as if to shield yourself. Jay lingered by the door, hands shoved in his pockets, gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you want to look anywhere else.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you both felt heavy, thick with all the things left unsaid.

Finally, you exhaled shakily, breaking the stillness. “You don’t have to say anything, Jay. I get it.”

His brows furrowed. “Get what?”

“That you don’t like me back.” You forced your voice steady, though your chest tightened with each word. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve known for a while now. Me liking you… it doesn’t have to ruin anything between you and my friend. I’ll talk to her, make sure she gives you a fair chance—”

“Stop.” His voice was sharp, cutting through your ramble.

You froze, blinking at him.

Jay took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Why would you tell her to give me a chance?”

“Because…” You swallowed hard, willing your throat to loosen. “Because you like her. And she’s good. She’d treat you well.”

Jay stared at you for a long, disbelieving second. And then he let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N. I don’t like her. I never did.”

Your breath caught. “But… you said—”

“I thought I did,” he admitted, voice low and raw. “I thought maybe that’s what I was feeling, because she’s kind and she’s your friend and it seemed… safe. But it took hearing her rejection, it took hearing that you liked me, for me to realize what’s been in front of me this whole time.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt. “Jay—”

He took another step toward you, closing the distance. “It’s you. It’s always been you, Y/N. I just— I was too stupid to see it clearly until now.”

You shook your head quickly, panic rising. “No. Don’t do this. Don’t say that just because she rejected you. I don’t want to be—” Your voice cracked. “I don’t want to be your second choice.”

Jay’s face twisted, as though the words wounded him. He moved closer still, until he was right in front of you, his voice breaking with urgency. “You’re not. God, you’re not, Y/N. Don’t you see? You’ve never been second to me. You’re— you’re the only one who knows me. The only one who listens, who gets me without me even saying anything. The one I think about first when something good happens, and the one I want to talk to when everything sucks.”

Your eyes burned. You shook your head again, retreating half a step. “You’re only saying this because you don’t want to lose me. But that’s not the same as wanting me.”

Jay’s jaw tightened. He reached out, gently but firmly catching your wrist before you could move farther away. The warmth of his touch seared into your skin.

“It is the same,” he said, voice steady despite the storm in his eyes. “I don’t want you because I’m afraid of losing you. I want you because I—” He faltered, searching your face. “Because I love you, Y/N. And I’ve loved you longer than I even knew how to admit.”

Your breath hitched violently. The words felt unreal, like something you’d dreamed about too many times to believe now that they were spoken aloud.

But the years of silence, of watching him from the sidelines, of swallowing your own feelings, they all clashed against the hope that flickered to life.

You pulled your wrist back slowly, shaking your head once more. “I… I can’t. Not like this. I need to think.”

“Y/N—” His voice broke, but he didn’t try to stop you this time as you slipped past him, your chest burning with every step.

Because no matter how much you wanted to believe him, no matter how much your heart screamed his words were true…

You weren’t ready to trust that you weren’t just the consolation prize.

Not yet.

The following days were suffocating.

You replayed his words over and over again, the way he’d looked at you, the rawness in his voice when he said he loved you. A part of you wanted to cling to them, to cradle those words like fragile glass. But another part, the part hardened by months of aching silently, of watching him chase someone else recoiled.

You couldn’t be naïve. Not again.

So you avoided him.

It wasn’t hard at first. You ignored his texts, skimmed his missed calls, mumbled excuses when your friend suggested group hangouts. Each time, guilt twisted in your gut, but the thought of seeing him, of hearing him insist again, of feeling yourself crumble was worse.

But Jay was nothing if not persistent.

The first gesture was small.

One morning, you opened your locker at school to find a note tucked between your books. His handwriting was messy but familiar.

You don’t have to talk to me. But I’m not going to stop reminding you that I mean what I said.

Beneath it, a doodle of a tiny bear holding a heart.

You stared at it for a long time, your throat tightening, before folding it carefully into your notebook.

The second gesture came a few days later.

You were leaving the library late, exhausted and carrying more books than you probably should. Outside, rain had begun to fall, soaking the pavement in shimmering sheets. You groaned softly. You hadn’t brought an umbrella.

And then, as if on cue, someone held one over your head.

You turned, startled, to find Jay standing there. His hair was damp, strands plastered to his forehead, but his smile was steady.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said simply.

Your chest clenched. You wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop making it harder, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you walked silently beside him, the umbrella shielding both.

When you reached your bus stop, you turned quickly. “Thank you.”

Before he could reply, you stepped onto the bus, leaving him standing in the rain.

From the window, you glanced back once, just once, to see him still watching you leave.

The third gesture was harder to ignore.

You came home one evening to find a package waiting at your doorstep. Inside was a hoodie which was soft, oversized and in your favorite color. Tucked into the pocket was another note.

I remember you said you didn’t have any comfy hoodies of your own. Thought you might like this. No strings attached.

You pressed the fabric to your face, inhaling its faint new-cotton scent, your eyes stinging. For so long you had worn his hoodies, clinging to the warmth of something that wasn’t yours to keep. Now here he was, giving you something of your own but still, somehow, from him.

You folded it neatly and placed it in your drawer, untouched. You weren’t ready. Not yet.

But Jay didn’t stop.

He didn’t bombard you with declarations. He didn’t demand answers. Instead, he lingered quietly at the edges of your life, steady and patient. He still sent you memes like he used to, even when you didn’t reply. He checked in with short messages - Eat yet? Good luck on your exam. Don’t forget your umbrella today. Never asking for anything in return.

And slowly, painfully, you felt the walls you had built begin to crack.

Because actions didn’t lie.Because Jay, in all the ways that mattered, was still Jay.

One afternoon, you bumped into him near campus. You had been trying to duck into a café unnoticed, but of course fate had other plans.

“Y/N,” he said softly, as if afraid you’d run.

You froze, coffee cup warm in your hands. “…Hey.”

You both stood there awkwardly for a moment, the silence between you different now, not empty, but filled with unspoken weight.

Finally, Jay scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not asking you to believe me right away. I just…” He trailed off, searching your face. “I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re ready to hear me. And even then, if you don’t feel the same… I’ll still be here. As your friend.”

Your throat tightened painfully. “That’s not fair, Jay.”

“What isn’t?”

“You can’t… you can’t say things like that. You can’t act like you’re okay with losing me when I know you’re not.”

His eyes softened, the corners crinkling faintly. “Then don’t make me lose you.”

You inhaled sharply, looking away before your tears could betray you. “I need time.”

“You can have all the time you want,” he said gently. “I’ll wait.”

That night, you sat on your bed holding the hoodie he’d given you. You slipped it on tentatively, the fabric warm against your skin. It wasn’t his, not directly, but it carried him somehow, his thoughtfulness, his care.

For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to cry without trying to stop it. Not from heartbreak, but from the terrifying possibility that maybe, just maybe… he really meant it.

It had been weeks since the party, and your life had slipped into a strange rhythm.

You told yourself you were fine. You went to class, did your assignments, met your friend for coffee, came home and curled up in your new hoodie. From the outside, everything looked normal. But inside, your thoughts circled endlessly around the same person, the same words, the same question: Did he really mean it?

Jay’s presence hadn’t faded, no matter how you tried to distance yourself. He lingered everywhere, in the half-finished memes clogging your inbox, in the hoodie folded neatly on your chair, in the way Heeseung looked at you like he knew too much.

And then one evening, the quiet cracked open.

You were leaving the library again, a stack of books cradled in your arms, when you heard your name.

“Y/N.”

You turned, startled, and there he was standing just outside the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes fixed on you with a steadiness that made your chest tighten.

Your first instinct was to retreat, to murmur an excuse and walk past him. But something in his expression was not desperate, not demanding, just… earnest that rooted you in place.

“…Jay.”

He swallowed, stepping closer. “Can we talk? Just for a little bit. Please.”

Your lips parted to refuse, but the quiet pleading in his tone disarmed you. Against your better judgment, you nodded.

You both ended up in the small park across from campus, the benches damp from an earlier drizzle. You sat stiffly at one end, clutching your bag to your chest. Jay settled at the other end, angled toward you but not too close, as if giving you space.

For a moment, neither spoke. The air smelled faintly of wet earth, the only sound the soft chirp of crickets.

Finally, Jay exhaled. “I know you don’t believe me. And I don’t blame you. I hurt you without even realizing it, and I don’t expect you to just forget that because I said a few nice words.”

Your throat tightened, but you stayed silent.

He glanced at you, his voice quieter now. “But I need you to understand. When I said I love you, I meant it. And I can prove it.”

Your brows furrowed, skeptical. “How?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the ground as if gathering his thoughts. Then, slowly, he began.

“Do you remember that night I called you because I couldn’t sleep? It was months ago. I said it was insomnia, but the truth is, I was just… restless. And you stayed on the phone with me, rambling about the most random things until I laughed myself tired. That was the first time I realized I didn’t just like having you as a friend. I needed you.”

Your chest tightened painfully. You remembered that night, the way you’d whispered stories into the darkness, relieved when his breathing finally evened out.

Jay continued, voice steady but soft.

“Or that time you brought me soup when I was sick, even though I told you not to bother. You sat there, scolding me for not resting enough, making me laugh when I felt like crap. I remember thinking… God, who else would do that for me? Who else would care enough to show up like that?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes burning with quiet intensity. “You’ve always been there. Always. And I was too blind to admit what that meant.”

Your breath caught, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You shook your head quickly. “That doesn’t mean you love me, Jay. It just means you value me as a friend—”

“No.” His voice was firm, almost sharp. “It’s more than that. You think I didn’t notice how my mood shifts when you’re around? How my day feels incomplete if I don’t hear from you? How every good thing feels better when I share it with you?”

Your defenses wavered, trembling like thin glass. “But you said you liked her—”

“I thought I did,” he admitted, leaning closer now. “Because I was scared. Scared that if I admitted it was you, and you didn’t feel the same, I’d lose you completely. So I tricked myself into believing maybe it was someone safer. Someone I wasn’t terrified of losing.”

Silence pressed heavy between you both.

Jay’s voice cracked as he whispered, “But it was never her. It’s always been you.”

Your tears spilled before you could stop them. You pressed a hand to your face, shaking your head. “You don’t understand… I’ve loved you for so long, Jay. And watching you chase her, watching you text her, laugh with her... it killed me. I don’t want to be some… backup plan you settled for.”

Jay’s eyes softened, filled with something raw and aching. He reached out slowly, hesitating before gently brushing his fingers against yours.

“You’re not a backup plan. You’re the plan, Y/N. The only one.”

Your breath hitched violently.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see it,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I hurt you. But I swear to you! Every part of me wants you. Not because you’re convenient, not because someone else said no. Because you’re you. And I love you for that.”

The sincerity in his voice, the quiet desperation in his eyes, it cracked something deep inside you.

You stared at him for a long moment, trembling, before whispering, “I… I don’t know if I can trust this yet.”

Jay nodded slowly, as if he expected that. “Then don’t. Not yet. Let me prove it to you. However long it takes.”

His hand remained near yours, warm and steady, an anchor you weren’t ready to hold but couldn’t quite pull away from either.

And for the first time, you allowed herself to believe, just a little, that maybe you weren’t his second choice.

Maybe you were his only one.

Time became a strange thing after that night in the park.

Jay had bared his heart, left it trembling and open before you, and yet he hadn’t asked for an answer. He hadn’t pressed. Instead, he did what he promised: he waited.

And waiting, you realized, could sometimes be the loudest proof of love.

Days blurred into weeks, and though you tried to keep your distance, Jay slipped into your life in ways you couldn’t shut out. Not with grand gestures, not with suffocating confessions but with constancy.

If your bag looked heavy, he carried it without asking. If you mentioned craving a snack, it somehow appeared in your locker the next morning. If you had a late night of studying, he sent you a good luck text that you found when your alarm went off.

Little things. Quiet things. The kind that added up until your walls began to crumble piece by piece.

One evening, you found herself sitting in your room, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. You paused on your chat with Jay, full of his half-answered messages and your own silences.

You thought about how easy it would be to text him back, just once. About how much you wanted to.

And before you could stop yourself, your fingers moved.

Did you eat?

Your heart pounded as you hit send, biting your lip until it almost hurt. You told yourself you didn’t care if he replied. You told yourself it was just habit, muscle memory.

But when your phone buzzed a minute later, you nearly dropped it.

Not yet. Wanna join me?

You stared at the screen, torn between laughing and crying. Typical Jay seizing even the smallest crack you gave him, not with desperation, but with gentle hope.

For a long moment, you hovered. Then, quietly, you typed back:

Maybe tomorrow.

And though it was only two words, you knew it meant everything.

Tomorrow came faster than you expected.

You both ended up at your favorite noodle place, tucked into a booth by the window. The air between you both was strange, heavy with all the unspoken things, but lighter too, as if something fragile had shifted.

Jay didn’t push. He asked about your classes, your projects, the book you were reading. And you found yourself answering, laughing even, like old times.

At one point, you caught him staring at you, chopsticks paused midair.

“What?” You asked, cheeks warming.

Jay shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing. Just… missed this.”

Your heart squeezed so tightly you had to look away.

It went on like that. Small steps, slow and careful. Coffee breaks that turned into long walks. Study sessions where he dozed off beside you, head tilted against his arm. Shared silences that no longer felt awkward, but comfortable.

And yet, a part of you still hesitated. Still wondered if you were just a replacement, if the ghost of what almost was would always haunt you both.

It wasn’t until one late night that your doubts finally broke.

You both were sitting on the rooftop of the dorm, the city lights glittering below like scattered stars. You hugged your knees to your chest, the hoodie he’d given you wrapped around you. Jay sat beside you, quiet, your shoulders barely touching.

“Why me?” You asked suddenly, your voice small.

He blinked, turning to you. “What do you mean?”

“You said you thought you liked her. You could’ve chosen her. You almost did. So… why me?”

Jay was silent for a long moment. Then he leaned back, eyes on the sky.

“Because you’re the only one who feels like home,” he said finally, his voice low, certain.

Your breath caught.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” he continued. “But every time something good happened, you were the first person I wanted to tell. Every time something bad happened, you were the only person I wanted beside me. I tried to convince myself it was just friendship, but the truth is… it’s always been more.”

He turned then, meeting your gaze fully. “There’s no world where I’d rather be with anyone else. Not her. Not anyone. Just you.”

Tears stung your eyes. You bit your lip, shaking your head. “You say that now, but what if—”

Jay reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, grounding.

“No ‘what ifs.’ Not anymore,” he whispered. “I love you, Y/N. I’m not scared to say it. And I’m not going to stop proving it, every single day, if that’s what it takes.”

Your walls finally cracked, crumbled, shattered.

You let out a trembling laugh-sob, your tears spilling freely now. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his forehead resting against yours. “But I’m your idiot.”

And before you could second-guess, before your doubts could claw their way back, you leaned forward and kissed him.

It was soft, tentative, filled with all the words you hadn’t dared to say. And when Jay kissed you back, tender and sure, you knew, truly, finally knew that you weren’t a second choice.

You were his first, his only, his beginning.

Weeks later, as you both walked hand in hand down the familiar streets, you glanced up at him and smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest was gone. Replaced by something steady, something warm.

Something that felt like forever.

And when Jay squeezed your hand tighter, you believed it.

The end~

[ot7archives]

When Words Cut Deep

Summary: Jay and your argument takes a sharp turn when you collapse in pain, fearing for your baby. What he thought was a cry for sympathy turns into panic as he rushes you to the hospital. With the baby safe, Jay’s guilt forces him to face the damage done. Can he make things right before it’s too late?

Tags: ENHYPEN Jay x reader, established relationship, mild angst, fluff, pregnant reader, angst with happy ending

Word count: ~1.3k

Note: Hi! I wanted to try writing something that came to me as a random daydream and something tiny, hence this. I hope you all like it. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes in advance! :)

The apartment had never felt so small. Every word Jay spoke landed like a slap, each syllable sharp, cutting into you as if he were aiming straight for the softest parts of your heart. You stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying to keep your calm in the face of everything going wrong.

But it wasn’t working. Not anymore.

“Y/N, you’re doing this again. You’re twisting everything I say like it’s some personal attack on you,” Jay’s voice was hoarse, his tone more impatient than you’d ever heard. His usually steady gaze now burned with frustration, and his fists were clenched at his sides as though he was holding back a storm.

You exhaled, a shaky breath. The last thing you wanted was to fight. But this? This wasn’t about a simple disagreement anymore. It was like your entire relationship had fractured in a way you couldn’t undo. Jay’s words felt like daggers to your heart, each one piercing deeper than the last.

“You don’t listen to me, Jay. You never listen!” You felt your throat tighten, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m not a mind reader. I don’t know how to handle you when you’re like this. I need you too.”

Jay ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And you think I don’t know that? But you make everything harder than it has to be. You just keep… pulling away, and then blaming me for it.”

Your chest tightened painfully, a tight knot in your stomach forming, but the ache wasn't from the argument alone. The cramps were back, sharper now, ripping through you in waves. You gasped involuntarily, clutching at your belly as the pain intensified, radiating from your abdomen like an electric current.

You barely noticed Jay’s reaction at first. The words still burned on the tip of your tongue as you bent slightly, trying to breathe through the cramping pain. The pressure felt too heavy, too sudden, and it knocked the wind out of you.

“Y/N?” Jay’s voice was quieter now, though there was still an edge to it. “What’s wrong with you now?”

You struggled to stand up straight, pressing your hand to your stomach. “I-I don’t know,” you managed to say, breathless. “It hurts. Please, Jay… I— I think something’s wrong with the baby—”

At those words, everything seemed to come to a screeching halt.

Jay blinked, his face twisting in disbelief. "Wait… What? Are you serious right now?" He looked at you, confusion clouding his features, but that harsh frustration was still there. He thought for a moment- just a moment- that this might be some kind of play for sympathy, a way to divert attention from the argument.

“Y/N, really?” His voice was incredulous, almost angry. “You think this is the right time to pull that card? We’re fighting, and you’re going to pretend like you’re in pain?”

The words felt like a slap across your face. You wanted to scream, to defend yourself, but the sharp, agonizing pain in your abdomen kept you rooted in place. You could hardly breathe. Every intake of air felt like a struggle.

“Jay…” you whispered, your voice breaking, tears welling up. "Please… I can’t—"

And just like that, the coldness in his eyes disappeared. Gone. All of it. His face paled as he quickly dropped to his knees, reaching out for you with trembling hands. “Oh, my God. Y/N, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—" His voice cracked, guilt flooding his chest in waves. "Please… I didn’t mean—"

But the pain didn’t stop. It only got worse, making it hard for you to even keep your eyes open, your breath becoming erratic. Jay’s hands were shaking as he gently, but quickly, lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“I'm sorry," he kept repeating, his voice cracking. "I didn’t… I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you were just trying to get sympathy, but I was wrong. Oh, God, I was wrong.”

You were too dizzy to argue, too exhausted to say anything. The only thing you could focus on was the pressure in your stomach, the constant throbbing pain, and Jay's frantic whispers against your ear.

“Just hold on, okay? We’re going to the hospital, right now,” Jay said, his voice ragged. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. To the baby. Just hang in there, please.”

The world felt like it was spinning as Jay hurriedly dialed for an ambulance, his voice shaking with fear. He barely let go of you, holding you close as though he were afraid if he blinked, you’d slip away from him.

The ambulance ride was the longest few minutes of your life. With every bump and jolt of the vehicle, the pain seemed to come in waves, leaving you gasping for air, your hand clutching Jay’s like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I was an idiot,” Jay murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. His words were filled with desperation, with raw emotion that you hadn’t heard from him in a long time. “I never should’ve treated you like that. I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ll make it right. I swear, I will. Just… just stay with me. Stay with the baby. I can’t lose either of you.”

His words were a lifeline, but your mind was clouded, consumed with fear. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pain and the thought of the tiny life inside you. Your hands shook as you gripped his tighter, trying to ground yourself.

The hospital was a blur of white walls and sterile lights. Nurses hurried you through the process, the urgency of the situation clear in their brisk movements. Jay didn’t leave your side for a second, his face pale with worry, eyes locked on you, never straying.

“Y/N, I’m right here. Just breathe. You’re going to be okay. The baby’s going to be okay.”

Hours seemed to pass before the doctor finally came back with the news. You had been overexerting yourself, stressing yourself out too much. It had triggered the cramps, but there was nothing seriously wrong with the baby. The doctor reassured you, telling you to rest and take things slow.

Jay exhaled in relief, his body finally relaxing as he held your hand, kissing it softly. He stood at the edge of your bed, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, his eyes filled with guilt.

“I can’t believe I thought you were faking it,” Jay said, his voice rough, almost breaking. “I thought I was right. I thought… I thought you were manipulating me. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You gave him a tired smile, reaching up with your free hand to touch his face. “It’s okay. Just… promise me you’ll listen next time. Promise me we’ll talk and not just… fight like this.”

Jay nodded immediately, his eyes brimming with sincerity. “I swear. I swear, Y/N. We’ll talk. I’ll listen. I won’t ever make you feel like this again. You’re everything to me. I’ll never make that mistake again. You and the baby are my world.”

You didn’t have the energy to say more, but somehow, his words were enough. As the tension between you two began to melt away, Jay leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Jay,” you murmured, the words feeling heavier than they ever had before.

For the first time in a while, there was peace. Real peace. And it felt like you could breathe again.

The end~