Al (on hold)

trying to survive

[seohotbinnie]

IMPORTANT!

hello! decide to put this blog on hold until i get at least a little bit of feedback from the works i have put up until now. although i appreciate the likes and reblogs, i’d love to hear your thoughts so i wont be posting any more works until i get some comments about my works and writing style. thank you everyone who has read them until now 💖

[seospicybin]

CLARITY.

Seungmin x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: One night, you accidentally found a diamond ring hidden in the closet. Naturally, you assume your boyfriend, Seungmin, is going to get on his knee and pop the question. Since then, every dinner, every date, every tender look from Seungmin feels like it could be ‘the moment’ — until it isn’t. (22,6k words)

Author's note: It's been a while since my last Seungmin fic so I hope you enjoy this fluffy (and just a tad bit angsty fic) ❣️

You aren’t just good at your job—you are brilliant.

Vice President at one of the most prestigious firms in the city, your days are built on back-to-back meetings, business proposals, and decisive strategy calls. You thrived in it all. There is something intoxicating about the fast-paced rhythm and high-stakes negotiations, the weight of your signature at the bottom of a multimillion-dollar deal.

You walk through skyscraper hallways like you belong there and you do. Still, no matter how polished your days looked in heels and tailored blazers, the part you always looked forward to most is coming home.

Your apartment—shared with your boyfriend of five years—sits high in a sleek building that towered above the glittering city skyline. From the floor-to-ceiling windows, you can watch the sun melt into orange and gold behind the glass silhouettes of the skyline, the lights of the world flickering to life beneath you.

You toe off your shoes at the door, setting your bag down on the console table. You roll up the sleeves of your silk blouse and head to the kitchen. You start by washing your hands, hair loosening from the tight twist it lived in all day.

Cooking helps you unwind. You grab the ingredients for dinner and hum a little tune as you chop and stir, your voice mixing with the soft jazz playing from the portable speaker.

It’s simple and domestic in a way that feels earned. Because even with all your success, all the accolades and titles and salary numbers most people your age only dreamed of—you still cherished this: a quiet evening while anticipating for your boyfriend’s return.

You’re just setting the table when you hear the sound of the door unlocking. Keys jingling, then a soft click and then he’s there.

“Smells like someone’s trying to win girlfriend of the year,” Seungmin calls out as he steps inside, the familiar edge of exhaustion softened by affection.

You glance over your shoulder and smile, finding Seungmin dressed in navy suits. The jacket already draped over one arm, tie slightly loosened at the collar. His hair is a little tousled, like he ran his hands through it on the elevator ride up—his version of unwinding.

“I thought I already won that last year,” you say, setting down the last plate.

“You did,” he grins, shrugging off his bag and making his way to you. “But I like that you’re not getting complacent.”

He leans in to press a sweet kiss to your cheek. It’s gentle, but it says everything—I missed you, I see you, we’re here now.

Seungmin is just as much a force in his world as you are in yours. A high-stakes corporate lawyer known for his razor-sharp mind and unbeatable composure in the courtroom. He thrives under pressure, commands rooms without raising his voice, and has the kind of reputation that even senior partners take seriously.

That’s what you have in common, really. The ambition. The passion. The shared understanding that success isn’t something you luck into—it’s something you grind for. But even more than that, you both believe that relationships, like careers, needed investment. Time. Intention.

So, you make time. No matter how late your meetings run or how chaotic his court schedule gets, you always come back to this: dinner, together. Phones down, minds open, hearts soft.

You both eventually settle at the table. The city glows outside the window behind him, casting golden light over his features as he fills your glass with wine.

“So,” he says, resting his chin in his hand, eyes trained on you, “tell me everything. Wins, losses, scandalous office gossip—what’s the highlight reel today?”

You laugh, reaching for your fork. “Well, let’s just say the intern who accidentally CC’d the entire company on her resignation email now has a fan club.”

He chuckles, and just like that, the stress of your day begins to peel away. This is how the two of you survive the whirlwind—by anchoring yourselves in these moments.

And in moments like this, you can’t help but think: if you were to spend the rest of your life exactly like this, it would still be more than enough. You just didn’t know how much that thought would start to shift soon.

-

Later, the two of you move in sync, the way only people who know each other’s routines by heart do.

You're in the bathroom now, side by side at the sink. You’re patting toner into your cheeks while Seungmin brushes his teeth, bent slightly over the sink in a faded gray tee and sweatpants that sit a little too low on his hips.

You catch his reflection in the mirror. His hair is still slightly damp from his quick shower, and he gives you a lazy smile, foamy toothpaste making him look younger than usual.

It’s such a simple moment, but it feels like home.

You turn to grab your moisturizer just as he leans in to spit, and your shoulders bump. “Oops, sorry,” you say, voice soft.

He tilts his head slightly, flashing you a half-smirk. “Shoulder check me again and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh and nudge him again, just because you can.

By the time you finish up and head to the bedroom, the city has quieted. The only sounds are the faint traffic several stories below and the rustle of sheets as you both climb into bed. You propped up by a pillow against the headboard, a book resting open in your hands. You’re halfway through a paragraph when the bed dips beside you.

Seungmin crawls up from the foot of the bed, slow and catlike, until he’s beside you, leaning over with a soft, almost mischievous smirk. His lips press to your cheek, featherlight, then to your jaw. You don’t look up from your book, but the corners of your mouth curve.

“Hi,” you murmur.

He hums a greeting into the space behind your ear, then kisses just below it. “How far in are you?” he asks, voice muffled slightly against your skin.

“Chapter fourteen,” you reply, flipping the page. “The main character just found out her sister’s been lying to her for, like, five years.”

He lets out a thoughtful little noise, lips drifting lower—along your jawline, then to your neck, pausing to linger at that one spot that always makes you squirm. “Sounds dramatic,” he says, his voice a little too casual for someone currently distracting you from the plot.

“Very,” you say, holding back a smile. “I would be more into it if someone wasn’t trying to seduce me with neck kisses.”

“I’m not seducing you,” he murmurs, now kissing down the curve of your shoulder. “I’m appreciating you.”

Then, he pauses. “Wait… are you using a new lotion?”

You finally glance at him, raising a brow. “Yep.”

He leans in and inhales lightly near your shoulder. “Smells like coconut.”

Your smile grows. “Correct. Bonus points for identifying the scent.”

“I’ll collect them later,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin before resuming his trail of kisses, slow and lazy, like he’s in no rush at all.

You try—really try—to keep your eyes on the page, but Seungmin makes it nearly impossible. His lips keep moving—down your shoulder, along your collarbone, ghosting over your chest with featherlight kisses that trail heat in their wake. You shift slightly, book still in hand, but your focus has long since slipped through your fingers.

“Seungmin,” you murmur, half a warning, half a sigh.

“Keep reading,” he says softly, voice low and teasing near your waist. “Don’t mind me.”

You let out a quiet whine, a protest laced with laughter, but you don’t stop him.

Seungmin doesn’t stop either. His mouth continues its slow descent, inch by inch, kisses landing on the curve of your stomach, your hip, then lower still. The hem of your sleep shorts shifts as he settles between your legs, nudging the fabric aside, his breath warm against your skin. Then his fingers hook around your underwear, and in one smooth motion, he tugs it down.

You glance away from your book now, heart skipping, only to find him looking up at you with that wild, naughty glint in his eyes.

“You worked hard today,” he says, lips brushing the inside of your thigh. “Let me help you relax.”

A soft laugh escapes you, caught between amusement and desire. “Is this a reward system now?”

He smirks, eyes never leaving yours. “Mm-hmm.” He nods, slowly, smug and sweet all at once. “Positive reinforcement.”

Your cheeks flush, but your smile grows with it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he replies, pressing one last kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You shake your head, biting back a smile, and with a quiet breath, you let yourself lean back fully against the pillows, parting your legs for him.

He looks up at you one more time, a soft, knowing expression on his face—affection woven seamlessly with desire. And in that look, you feel it again: how much he sees you, how much he chooses you. Every time.

Despite having Seungmin’s head between your legs as he pleases you with his mouth, you try to keep your eyes on the page. The words blurring slightly as you breathe through the sensation building between your legs from the way he licks and sucks, flicking his tongue on the right spots.

The book trembles faintly in your grip, your fingers tightening around it each time Seungmin’s mouth moves just right. He’s slow, attentive—almost too much so. Then he hums against your drenched cunt. A deep, satisfied sound that vibrates through your core, making you gasp softly.

He pauses for just a beat to say, “God, I missed this.”

Your head tips back against the headboard, a breathless laugh slipping past your lips. “You missed going down on me?”

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even try to play coy. “Yeah,” he says, looking up at you with that maddeningly proud smile. “Think about this sweet, little pussy all day.”

You let out a quiet, incredulous chuckle, your free hand covering your face for a second before falling to your side. “You’re so—”

“I know.” He kisses your inner thigh again, grinning into your skin. “Lucky for both of us, I get to do something about it now.”

You give up on the book entirely, dropping it to the side, pages folding shut as your body arches instinctively toward him. Your hand slips into his hair, fingers curling as he gets back to work, tongue and lips relentless, methodical in the way only Seungmin can be when he’s determined to ruin you.

It doesn’t take long for him to do that. You’re a mess beneath him—moaning, trembling, your fingers fisted in his hair like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the world. Each movement of his mouth feels more precise, more purposeful, like he’s reading every sound you make, every shiver that ripples through you.

The way you fall apart under him only drives him further. He’s focused—relentless in that quiet, devoted way of his, like this is something he needs to do for you.

Your breath catches, hips stuttering beneath his hands as your body tightens, and you manage a desperate, shaky whisper of his name. “Seungmin—Oh...”

He hums with his mouth full of your wet cunt and it sends another wave through you.

That’s all it takes. You come with a soft, broken cry. Your thighs trembling around him, hand tugging sharply in his hair as your back arches off the bed. He holds you through it with mouth still coaxing every last flicker of pleasure from you until you’re gasping, limp and boneless against the sheets. Only then does he pull back, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression soft and smug all at once.

“You okay?” he casually asks, crawling back up beside you, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your forehead.

You can only nod, eyes half-lidded, breath still catching in your throat.

He smiles and leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple, then one to your lips—gentle and full of the affection that’s always been the heart of what you share. “Reward systems,” he murmurs, chuckling. “Highly effective.”

You’re still catching your breath when you shift slightly, your body pressed against Seungmin’s side, cheek resting on his chest. He’s warm and steady beneath you, arm draped lazily around your waist like he’s content to stay like this for hours, but you’re not done with him just yet.

You glance up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “You know,” you murmur, voice low and playful, “you work hard too. Day and night.”

His eyes flick down to meet yours, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, hand drifting down, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. You palm his cock gently, feeling the way his body reacts to your seductive touch—quick and eager, the tension building beneath your fingers as you give his length slow, gentle strokes. “I think you’ve earned a reward too.”

Seungmin exhales sharply, his muscles tensing as he watches you with growing interest.

“Go on,” you add with a smirk, fingers curling ever so slightly. “Collect your bonus points.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes narrowing with playful warning. “Dangerous game you’re playing.”

But you only smile wider, hand continuously stroking him. “I like high stakes,” you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss just below his jaw.

Seungmin groans softly, hands gripping your hips. “So do I.”

He hovers above you, his face close, breath mingling with yours. He repeatedly rubs the tip of his cock between your folds, letting your essence drenching every inch of his throbbing length. The longer he does it, the more you anticipate it. When he finally pushes in, the sheer size gives you that delicious stretch, making you moan in both pain and pleasure.

“I know you can take it,” he murmurs as he pushes the remaining length with such intensity that a cry slips out of your parted mouth.

The two of you taking a moment to savor it — the feeling of connecting to one another, physically and emotionally. He runs his hand down your front and then rests it on your abdomen.

He looks at you, his eyes heavy with both lust and love. “I'm going to move now, yeah?” he asks, his gaze tender yet smoldering.

With that, your bodies move together in a slow, steady rhythm—his hips rolling into yours, his chest brushing yours with every thrust. His forehead rests gently against yours at first, and the low sounds he makes—those quiet, breathy groans, the occasional broken whimper—fill the silence between kisses like a melody only you were meant to hear.

You reach up, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead, fingertips lingering on his temple. “Seungmin,” you whisper, voice trembling from pleasure, “you make me feel so good.”

His eyes flutter open at that, gaze locking with yours. The look he gives you is raw, open, like he’s trying to say everything he feels without words. He takes a mouthful of your breast, tongue swirling around your hard nipple before he lets go with a popping sound.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, breath catching as he sinks into you again. “Every time.”

The pace turns slower yet deeper, drawing out the tension between you, making every movement feel more intimate, more intense. He keeps his eyes on you, like he wants to remember every expression, every sound you make.

You moan his name again, soft and needy, and he shudders above you, his control slipping just a little. He presses his lips to your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder like he can’t get close enough, like he wants to memorize your skin.

He keeps moving like that—changing pace, adjusting his angle—until you're gasping beneath him, your nails digging into his back as your legs tighten around him. And when he finally lets himself go, buried deep inside you with a choked, desperate sound, you feel it in every part of you—not just the heat, not just the tension snapping, but the emotion behind it.

Because with Seungmin, it’s never just physical. It’s love, every time. And he makes sure you know that with his hands, with his body, with the way he holds you after.

-

The scent of freshly ground coffee and melting butter fills the kitchen. Sunlight streaking through the blinds in warm, golden bands. The city is just beginning to wake outside, but inside your apartment, it’s slow and quiet—the kind of morning that only belongs to weekends.

You’re standing by the stove, slowly stirring scrambled eggs, carefully watching their texture. They’re just starting to come together, soft and glossy, not too dry. You tilt the pan slightly, flicking your wrist the way Seungmin always says brings out the perfect consistency.

Behind you, Seungmin stands by the counter, completely focused on the kettle. He holds the thermometer just above the water, brow furrowed, waiting for the precise number to hit before pouring it over the coffee grounds in steady, slow circles.

You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk. “You’re acting like you’re defusing a bomb.”

He doesn’t look up. “That’s because good coffee is a must in this household.”

You laugh under your breath and return to the eggs, taking them off the heat just before they finish cooking, leaving them soft, just how he likes them. You add a pinch of salt, a bit of cracked pepper, then plate them while he finishes pouring the last of the water into the carafe.

By the time you both sit down at the small dining table, everything is quiet again. Coffee, eggs, toast. Then you clink your mugs together in a mock toast before taking your first sip.

“This is nice,” you murmur, resting your cheek in your palm as you watch him butter a piece of toast like he’s doing brain surgery.

He glances up with a soft grin. “Mm. Still think I make better eggs than you.”

“You do,” you admit, stealing a bite from his plate anyway. “But I’m still the fun one.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No argument there.”

Weekends are sacred in your relationship. An unspoken promise to reconnect after a long week of endless meetings, deadlines, and case files. Sometimes that means spending the whole day together—brunch, errands, movies on the couch, lazy evenings tangled up in each other. Other times, it means giving each other space. Because loving each other also means understanding that you are your own people, too.

“So,” he says between sips of coffee, “baseball game starts at five. Jisung's meeting me there. Should be back before midnight.”

You nod. “Yes, I remember cause you’ve been talking about it all week.”

He gives you a little look—half proud, half sheepish. “I might yell.”

“You will yell,” you say knowingly, grinning. “Just don’t get too carried away and angers everyone around you.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Not my fault they made that stupid call in the seventh inning.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you sip your coffee.

“And you?” he asks. “Still doing that girls’ night?”

“Mhm. Marion’s coming over later. We’re doing the full thing—masks, sugary cocktails, probably something embarrassing on Netflix.”

Seungmin raises a brow, mock serious. “Try not to drink too much and gossip about me behind my back.”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “I could do that.”

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re lucky I like you, you know.”

You nonchalantly shrug. “I know.”

And just like that, the rest of the morning unfolds in soft conversation and shared glances—two people perfectly in rhythm, building a life that’s equal parts warmth, work, and a little bit of mischief.

-

Marion shows up right on time, wearing loose linen pants and a graphic tee, sunglasses still perched on her head despite the setting sun. The moment you open the door, she throws her arms around you.

“God, it feels like forever,” she says into your shoulder.

You hug her tightly, laughing. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly. Forever.”

When she pulls back, she holds up a brown paper bag with a smug grin. A long-necked wine bottle is very visibly poking out the top, along with what looks like a skincare sheet mask box and possibly a pint of ice cream tucked at the bottom.

“I brought the essentials,” she says proudly.

You eye the wine and nod in approval. “You understood the assignment.”

Behind you, Seungmin is just finishing up, adjusting the hem of his jersey and tossing on a cap that matches it perfectly. He steps into the entryway and flashes Marion a grin. “Hey, Marion.”

“Hey, Seungmin,” she replies. “You look like you’re about to fight someone over a bad pitch.”

“Not ruling it out,” he immediately replies, grin widening. Then he turns to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you lift your chin to meet him.

He kisses you fully, just shy of teasing. It’s the kind of kiss that says I'll miss you, even if you’ll be apart for just a few hours. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead briefly against yours. “Don’t drink too much,” he murmurs.

You chuckle. “No promises.”

He shakes his head, muttering under his breath like he’s half-exasperated, half-entertained. You lean in and plant a quick kiss on his jaw, grinning. He always looks too cute when he’s annoyed in that quiet, worried way of his.

The two of you move toward the front door, and as he puts on his sneakers, he glances over his shoulder. “Marion, I expect my girlfriend is still in one piece when I'm back, yeah?”

Marion doesn’t miss a beat. “Can’t make any promises. But if I do, I’ll probably just take a bite out of her.”

You laugh, watching them with a shake of your head. Seungmin’s tying his laces, but he’s smiling. Once he’s done, you reach for his wrist, tugging him gently back toward you. You press one more kiss to his lips—longer this time.

He sighs into it, like he doesn’t actually want to go, and you whisper, “Have fun.”

But Seungmin squints at you, narrowing his eyes. “You. Don’t have too much fun.”

You can’t help but laugh again. “That also, I can't promise,” you say, for the second time.

He rolls his eyes, muttering something in mock defeat, but there’s that charming smile again as he lifts a hand in farewell and steps out the door. You watch it close behind him, the quiet clicking into place like a soft punctuation mark.

When you turn back around, Marion is already in the kitchen, holding up two glasses of mimosas with a satisfied grin.

“Cheers to nights in and no boys allowed,” she says.

You take your glass, clinking it against hers. “Cheers.”

-

It starts with the idea of “just one cookie.”

One cookie turns into an attempt to make a whole batch. That turns into realizing neither of you have measured anything quite right. That turns into the first tray coming out entirely too dark on the bottom. Marion swears they’re “extra toasty,” but even she admits the crunch sounds suspicious.

Now, you’re both leaning against the counter, wine glasses half-full again, laughing as the second batch bakes and this time with the timer actually set and taken seriously.

“You know,” Marion says between bites of a still-warm cookie from the improved batch, “I always thought Seungmin was super serious when I first met him. Like, scary lawyer energy. And then you told me he sleeps with one sock on because he can’t stand it when both feet are warm.”

You nearly choke on your wine. “Oh my God—don’t expose him like that.”

“I like him, but come on,” she laughs. “That’s a little unhinged.”

You nod, grinning. “He says it’s about temperature regulation, but I think he’s just stubborn.”

Marion wiggles her fingers dramatically. “Genius boy logic.”

You swirl your glass, smiling softly into it. “Honestly, sometimes he says things that are so dry I don’t know if he’s joking or judging me. But then he breaks and laughs at his own joke for like, a full minute. It’s the cutest thing.”

“That’s criminally cute.” Marion nudges your arm. “You’re so gone for him.”

You shrug, but the smile on your lips betrays you. “I really am.”

She sighs, setting her glass down and hopping up to sit on the edge of the counter. “Isn’t it crazy? Like, we’re at that age where we’re not just dating people who are fun. We’re dating people who we could actually see in our lives for a long time.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, nodding. “And somehow it still feels just… easy.”

Marion sips her wine before nodding in agreement. “That’s so true.”

“What about you and Leo?”

“Oh God,” she groans in mock embarrassment. “He’s convinced he can dance. And he can’t. At all. But he’ll do this horrible little shoulder wiggle every time he brushes his teeth and makes eye contact with himself in the mirror.”

You both burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the kitchen as the smell of sweet dough fills the air again. The timer goes off, and this time, the cookies come out golden and perfect. You each grab another and lean against the counter again, barefoot and tipsy, warm with wine and sugar and the feeling of knowing someone who knows you.

In this moment, everything feels light and easy. Well, until Marion spills her mimosas on the couch. You’re both laughing about it while you rummage through the linen closet in the hallway, muttering about how everything in this apartment magically disappears when you actually need it.

You’re halfway to tipsy and elbow-deep in a search for extra towels. You tug at a thick stack of folded tablecloths near the back, pulling them forward and— thunk.

Something small and soft hits the hardwood floor at your feet. You blink and look down. A square velvet box sits there, deep navy in color. Your brows knit together as you crouch down, curiosity tugging at your fingers as you pick it up and open it.

Inside, nestled in the cushioned lining, is a ring. Not just a ring. That kind of ring. Gold band. A classic cut diamond. Undeniably meant for a certain question and a promise.

“OH MY GOD,” Marion shrieks behind you.

You nearly drop the box as you jolt in surprise, whipping your head around to find her standing in the hallway, eyes wide, hand over her mouth like she just watched a K-drama twist unfold in real time.

“What?” you ask, still crouched, heart hammering, your voice weirdly flat compared to the chaos in your chest. “What is this?”

Marion walks over in slow, careful steps, like she’s approaching something sacred. “Are you serious? Are you serious right now?”

You look down at the ring again. It sparkles faintly under the hallway light. “I mean… it’s a ring. But—”

She lets out a dramatic gasp. “You dummy! It’s your ring!”

You blink up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Marion throws her hands up, pointing down at the velvet box. “That is an engagement ring. That’s a proposal ring! Look at it—it’s literally from that high-end designer boutique. I recognize the box! And the cut of the diamond—come on, that is classic proposal energy.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. You look at the ring again, mind slowly catching up with her words. “I mean…” you start, hesitating, “he hasn’t said anything. And it was just in the linen closet, not like… hidden hidden.”

“Oh my God,” Marion groans. “It was between tablecloths and towels. Do you think he’d just toss a ring like that there if it wasn’t meant to be a surprise?”

You fall silent, your gaze dropping to the ring again.

She crouches beside you now, her voice softening. “He’s going to propose to you. He probably has a plan. Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment. Or maybe he’s just… trying to figure out how to keep it a surprise because he knows you’ll pick up on it.”

You don’t want to get your hopes up. You really don’t. But the ring is stunning. The kind of ring Seungmin would pick—classic, simple, elegant. You remember how he once made a comment about how you always liked things that lasted. And now it’s sitting in your palm, blinking at you like a secret trying not to be found.

Your chest flutters. Hope blooms slowly, cautiously. “Maybe he is,” you whisper.

Marion grins, eyes misty with excitement. “Girl… he is.”

And for the first time that night, you’re not tipsy on wine, but on possibility. You stay crouched there a second longer, staring down at the ring as if it might suddenly explain itself.

Marion is still next to you, practically vibrating with excitement when you finally whisper, “What do I do?”

She grabs your shoulders like she’s about to shake you. “You put it back.”

“What?” you ask, slightly confused.

“Put. It. Back.” She points emphatically at the linen closet. “Exactly where you found it. Pretend you never saw it.”

You glance at the velvet box in your hand again, hesitant. “What if he notices?”

Marion grins. “Then you say nothing, act innocent, like you have no clue he’s about to propose and marry you. And probably cry when he does it.”

You slap her arm, laughing in disbelief. “Stop.”

She only cackles harder as you carefully tuck the box back between the tablecloths and towels where it had been hidden, adjusting the folds to make it look untouched. You close the linen closet gently, almost like it’s sacred now.

The moment the door clicks shut, Marion shrieks again, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh my God, you’re gonna get married!” she says, grabbing your hands.

“Marion,” you hiss through a laugh, trying to hush her. “We don’t even know if that’s what it is.”

She ignores you entirely. “I mean, we need to think colors. Do you want something classic? Romantic? I can already see you in an off-shoulder satin gown—”

“Okay, stop,” you say again, cheeks burning, waving her off as you walk back toward the kitchen. “Nothing’s confirmed.”

She follows you, still buzzing. “But it will be. I know that man. Seungmin is calculated, strategic. If he bought that ring, it’s happening. You're gonna walk into brunch one day wearing that thing and act like you’re surprised. You better start practicing your gasp.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart’s thudding inside your chest, louder than before. You try to brush it off and try to tell yourself that maybe it’s not what it looks like. That maybe it’s a ring for something else, or a decoy, or a mistake. But your fingers still feel the weight of the velvet box.

And no matter how hard you try not to let it take over your thoughts… You can’t help but wonder. What if it is?

-

You pause at the doorway of the bathroom, watching him from behind. Seungmin is standing by the sink, toothbrush in hand, head slightly tilted as he brushes with quiet focus. The dim bathroom light casts gentle shadows on his back, the lines of his shoulder blades, the slope of his neck, the soft dishevel of his dark hair. You find yourself staring, studying the way the fabric of his white tee stretches across his shoulders, the curve of his jaw in the mirror’s reflection.

Sometimes, in mundane moments like this, you still can’t believe he’s yours.

He spits, rinses, then glances up and catches your eyes in the mirror. A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Stop watching me, you creep.”

You laugh softly, stepping forward. “But I’m your creep.”

He shakes his head in amusement as you walk up to him, not caring that he’s now smoothing moisturizer over his face. You slip your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest, melting into his warmth.

He doesn’t even hesitate to wrap his free arm around you, pulling you in closer as he continues gently patting his face with the tips of his fingers.

You tilt your head back slightly, watching him. You could say it now. Ask about the ring. About the velvet box in the linen closet, about what it means. The words press lightly at the back of your throat, but you swallow them down.

Not now. You tell yourself. Because you know Seungmin. He doesn’t rush anything and he’s never made you feel like something was missing. Maybe it’s not the right time, or maybe he is waiting for the right moment. And if it never comes? You’d still choose him. Like this. Like now.

His eyes drop to yours suddenly, as if sensing the thoughts spiraling in your head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You shake your head with a smile and bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand rubbing up and down your back in slow, comforting circles. “Marion must’ve made you drink a lot, mmh?”

You scoff into his neck. “That’s the whole point of a girls’ night in.”

He hums in agreement, reaching for a tube of lip balm with one hand and applying it methodically.

You pull back a little just to watch him, lips pursed, face content and freshly moisturized. “Did you miss me too?” you teasingly ask.

He caps the tube and places it down, then cups your jaw with one hand, tilting your face up so your eyes meet. “Of course I missed you,” he answers without a beat.

You scoff at that. “Lie. You forget about everything whenever you watch a baseball game.”

Seungmin lets out a soft chuckle and then he kisses you. It’s tender and slow, thumb brushing lightly along your cheekbone as he deepens it just enough to make your heart skip. Just enough to remind you how much he means it, even if he doesn’t say much. Even now, after almost five years together, his kiss still makes your chest flutter.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are warm, lips curved in that subtle smile of his. “Let’s go to bed.”

You nod but don’t let go. Instead, you jump up, wrapping your arms and legs around him. And he catches you without missing a beat, grunting slightly in surprise. You press a quick kiss to his lips, giggling into it.

Seungmin steadies you, arms securely around your thighs, and gives you that amused grin. “You’re such a big baby.”

Then he gives you a light, playful slap on the butt and carries you out of the bathroom.

You smile against his shoulder, already half-asleep in his hold, completely at peace and content with everything you have. And quietly hoping for what might come next.

-

The week passes in a blur and somewhere along the way, the memory of the ring tucked between the tablecloths and towels fades to the background, replaced by spreadsheets and strategy decks and late nights staring at your laptop until your eyes burn.

By Friday afternoon, you’re buried in emails when your phone starts buzzing on your desk. You glance at the screen. Seungmin.

It’s rare that he calls when you're in the middle of work. You frown slightly, sliding your finger across the screen and lifting it to your ear. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

You expect the worst—something urgent, a change of plans, maybe even bad news. But instead, you hear a soft chuckle on the other end.

“I’m fine,” Seungmin calmly says, “Just wanted to let you know that we’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh?” you say, slightly surprised. “What’s the occasion?”

There’s a brief silence, and then you can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s a surprise.”

Before you can press him for more, he hangs up. You lower the phone slowly, staring at it like it might offer an explanation. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself. You don’t want to assume. But your thoughts are already spinning.

A surprise dinner. On a Friday night. No reason, no hints. And suddenly, the memory of that ring box floods back in. Could it be?

You exhale slowly, catching yourself before your imagination runs completely wild. Even if it’s just a regular dinner, you tell yourself, there’s no harm in looking good.

You press the intercom button on your desk. “Hey, Jess? I’m going to step out early today.”

Your assistant’s voice crackles through. “Sure. Want me to clear your schedule for the rest of the day?”

“Yes, please. Something came up. I have... an event tonight.” You smile to yourself.

The moment you end the call, you grab your bag, already planning a visit to the boutique two blocks down. Maybe get something simple yet chic and elegant.

Whatever this night holds, you want to be ready. Just in case.

-

The vanity light glows softly, casting a warm sheen over the organized chaos of your skincare and lipsticks. Your hair is still wrapped in a towel, damp strands clinging to your neck, and your makeup is only halfway done.

In your hand is a champagne flute. Or, well... mostly champagne. You’d started with the idea of a pomegranate spritz, but at the last second, you’d added another splash—or two—of champagne. For courage. For nerves. For what might be happening tonight.

You take a long sip, eyes darting to the hallway. And then, as if your feet move on their own, you walk toward the linen closet. It’s stupid, maybe. But a part of you just wants to know. You’re not trying to ruin anything, you just want confirmation. Or reassurance. Or some kind of sign that your hope isn’t misplaced.

You slowly open the door, the quiet creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the apartment’s stillness. Your hand slides between the stacks of towels and tablecloths, fingers searching the familiar spot, seeking the edge of that velvet box. But all you touch is folded fabric and the smooth, empty wood of the shelf beneath.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You push the towels aside, check the corners, even lift a few things just to be sure. It’s gone. The ring box isn’t there. Your heart lurches.  A rush of adrenaline floods your chest, so fast it’s almost dizzying.

It’s happening. It has to be.

You scramble to put everything back just the way it was, flattening the towels, smoothing out the tablecloths, trying to erase any trace of your little search mission. Just as you shut the closet door with a quiet click, you hear the jangle of keys at the front door.

You make a quick dash to the bedroom, practically throwing yourself into the chair at your vanity. You unwrap your towel, tossing it aside, and reach for your foundation with shaking hands, trying to look like you haven’t just been rooting through a closet like a hopeful maniac.

A moment later, you hear footsteps. Then Seungmin appears in the doorway, still in his sleek work attire except that his tie now slightly loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair a little tousled from the wind outside.

You meet his eyes in the mirror and smile, trying to keep it casual. “Welcome home,” you sweetly greet.

He walks up behind you, leans down, and presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “You smell good,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile against your skin.

You hum softly as he places another kiss on your jaw, your cheeks warming at that.

He straightens, gently tugging at your robe’s collar in that playful way of his. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

And then, with a grin, he adds, “And I’m using your fancy body wash. The expensive one.”

You chuckle under your breath. “So long as you smell like me by the end of it, I won’t complain.”

He winks, already backing toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he disappears behind the door.

You exhale slowly. Your heart is thudding so hard it echoes in your ears, and your reflection is practically glowing with excitement, nerves, and disbelief.

He took the ring. He’s taking you out to dinner. And yet, you still don’t know.

But God, you hope.

-

The city glides by in a blur of golden streetlights and muted reflections in the car windows. Seungmin’s hand rests on the wheel, his other on the gearshift, navigating familiar roads with the kind of effortless ease that only comes from years of doing life together. You sit in the passenger seat, hands folded on your lap, your eyes darting to the glowing dashboard clock—7:08 PM.

He hasn’t said where you’re going so you try to puzzle it out in your head, thinking through every restaurant the two of you have been to. If it’s the Italian place downtown, maybe it’s just a regular Friday night date. But if he’s heading toward the hills, toward the rooftop spots or places with skyline views, then maybe— You shake your head and try to stay calm.

The hum of the engine fills the silence between the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just… charged. And then the car slows, stopping at a red light.

Seungmin glances over at you, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and takes your hand gently, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. The touch is soft and thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything at first, just laces his fingers through yours and holds on. Then, casually, like he’s not slowly unravelling you, he asks, “You hungry?”

You swallow the nerves that are caught in your throat and manage a nod, smiling back. “Actually? Famished.”

At that, Seungmin pulls a dramatic face and squints at you. “Don’t tell me that’s because you drank your weight in pomegranate spritz before dinner.”

You wince with a small laugh, but this time, instead of teasing him back like you normally would, you just shake your head and bite your tongue. You’re afraid if you say too much, he’ll notice the way your voice shakes. The way your hands keep fidgeting in your lap. The way your eyes keep drifting to the glove compartment where, maybe, a ring box might be tucked away. So, you stay quiet.

Seungmin just squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing along your knuckles, and keeps his eyes on the road. Just then, the light turns green and the car moves forward.

Belle Vue. It's the restaurant. The kind of place where people wear tailored suits and sleek dresses and speak in hushed tones over candlelight and wine that costs more than your electricity bill.

Seungmin pulls up to the valet, shifts the car into park, and glances over at you. His expression is unreadable, calm in that effortlessly cool way he always is. You school your face into something neutral just as the valet opens your door.

“Good evening,” the young man says, and murmur a thank-you as you step out, smoothing your dress and clutching your purse a little tighter than necessary.

Seungmin walks around the car, handing the keys over with a quick nod before he turns back to you and reaches for your hand. And together, you walk into the restaurant and the maître d’ looks up with a smile as you approach.

“Reservation under Seungmin Kim,” Seungmin says smoothly.

The host glances at the list, nods, and gestures with a polite smile. “Right this way.”

You trail after him, heart pounding in your chest like it’s trying to beat out the truth. The restaurant is beautiful and intimate. Each table lit by the soft flicker of candlelight, crystal glassware gleaming, then the host stops.

Your table is by the window. The one that offers a stunning view of the city skyline, glittering like a dream just outside the glass. It's the kind of table people book months in advance. The kind of table people get proposed to at. You sit down slowly and carefully, like one wrong move might shatter the moment.

Seungmin takes the seat across from you and thanks the host, who gives a small bow before slipping away.

The signs are everywhere. The view. The reservation. The tone of the night. You barely hear Seungmin when he speaks. “Are you okay?”

You glance up to find him watching you. Not suspiciously, but curiously. Like he knows something’s off. You laugh too softly and wave it off with a smile. “I think it’s the pomegranate spritz. I drank too much while getting ready.”

He squints at you, giving you that signature unimpressed look. “I told you not to drink before dinner.”

You flash a grin, but your fingers tighten slightly around your water glass. “I know. I deserve the lecture.”

He lets it go with a mock sigh and leans back in his seat, casually scanning the menu as if he didn’t just lead you into the most romantic restaurant in the city on a Friday night, sitting across from you looking godly attractive and every bit the man you’ve built a life with.

You nod to yourself, trying to stay composed, but even as the waiter comes by and pours water into your glasses, all you can think is: This could be it.

-

Dinner flows surprisingly well, despite the nerves bubbling just under your skin. Seungmin, as always, is composed. He’s cutting into his entrée with the same precision he approaches everything. He tells you about a new case at work, one that’s been dragging for weeks, and you listen with your chin propped on your hand, your glass of wine untouched for the past few minutes.

The conversation slips easily from work, to life, to a recent player transfer on his favorite baseball team. His voice lights up when he talks about it, and you smile at the familiar passion in his tone—the way he gets animated about stats, potential lineups, strategy.

And then, mid-sentence, he pauses and looks at you. Really looks at you. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says softly.

A smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at your dress. “I snagged the last one in the boutique. Lucky find.”

Seungmin shakes his head slowly. “It’s not the dress. It’s you,” he says. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You’ve received compliments from him before. Lots of them. Casual, playful, sincere. But this one… this one land differently. Maybe it’s the quiet conviction in his voice. Or the way his hand reaches across the table and wraps around yours, fingers fitting together like they always do. Maybe it’s the way his eyes hold yours—tender, thoughtful, like he’s memorizing the moment.

You smile, cheeks warming as you gently squeeze his hand. And then you let your eyes roam over him, fully appreciating the sight before you. Seungmin in a tailored black suit, his white shirt perfectly crisp beneath it, collar resting just right to frame the sharp line of his jaw.

“Look at you,” you murmur, letting your voice drop just enough. “Sitting there looking like a main entrée.”

You smirk as you lower your voice and teasingly add, “I can’t wait to take that white shirt off of you tonight.”

Seungmin leans back in his seat, giving you a slow, dangerous grin. “Let's see if you're lucky tonight.”

You grin back at him, playful and smug, but your heart is racing now—not because of the banter, but because the night is almost over.

As the waiter reappears and begins clearing the plates, he asks, “Are you ready for dessert?”

You barely register the question as you're lost in your head. “Excuse me,” you say quickly, offering a polite smile as you slide your chair back. “I need to go to the restroom.”

Seungmin nods, lifting your hand for a brief kiss before letting you go. “Don’t take too long.”

You nod as you get up from your seat. But as you walk toward the restrooms, your stomach twists. The dinner is nearly over and if he’s going to do it—if tonight is the night—then it’s happening soon.

In the restroom, you lean over the sink, both hands braced on the cool marble countertop, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look stunning—anyone would say that. But your face is tense, your eyes a little too wide, your lips pressed tightly together like you’re holding in a thousand thoughts that don’t have anywhere to go. You inhale. Exhale. Shake out your hands like you’re about to give a keynote speech in front of a thousand people.

This is ridiculous. You’re not even sure if it’s happening tonight. Still, the nerves are real. Palpable. You reach for your purse to find your lipstick, but instead, your fingers brush against your phone. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you tap Marion’s name and press it to your ear.

She doesn’t pick up on the first call. You curse under your breath and hit redial, pacing a slow circle around the restroom. This time, she answers, slightly breathless. “Sorry! I missed the first call—I’m having dinner with Leo. What’s up?”

You don’t even hesitate and blurt out. “I think Seungmin’s going to propose tonight.”

There’s a pause and then a sudden shuffle on the other end of the line. You hear her muffled voice excusing herself before a door shuts in the background, and then—

WHAT?” Marion says quickly. “Now tell me everything. Start from the top.”

You press a hand to your forehead. “Okay, so… he called me this afternoon out of nowhere. Said we’re having dinner tonight. Wouldn’t tell me where. Just that it’s a surprise.”

Marion gasps.

“And then,” you continue, pacing again, “I was getting ready and I—okay, I checked the linen closet. The ring box’s not there anymore. It’s gone.”

“Oh my god.”

“And then he takes me to Belle Vue. Best seat in the house. Full skyline view.” You glance at your reflection again, voice growing quiet. “And the way he looked at me tonight, Marion… I don’t know. It felt like something. Something big.”

There’s a beat of silence before Marion lets out a shriek of joy so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. “I KNEW IT! I knew he was going to propose soon! Everything—literally everything—makes sense!”

You laugh, nerves bubbling over again. “But I... I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“Girl,” Marion says, her voice dropping into dead-serious mode, “he took the ring out of the closet. He brought you to a place that takes a month to book. And he’s looking at you like you hung the stars. What else could it be?”

You rub your temple, heart racing. “What do I even do if he does?”

“You keep breathing,” Marion says firmly. “You apply a fresh coat of lipstick. Fix your hair. And start practicing your surprised-but-still-glowy-yes-face.”

You snort softly. “Right.”

“I’m serious! I expect a full report by the end of the night. Don’t you dare leave me hanging.”

“Okay, okay,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Love you. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. Just say yes.” She hangs up with one final squeal, and you sigh as you slip your phone back into your purse.

You want to brush it off, laugh it away. But… maybe there’s nothing wrong in being prepared. So you do exactly what Marion said. You blot and reapply your lipstick. Fluff your hair. Practice your smile in the mirror and feel your heart flutter in your chest. You take a final breath to steady yourself, then step out of the restroom and walk slowly, carefully, back toward your table.

Seungmin’s already there, sitting tall with his black suit pristine under the golden glow of the restaurant lights. He looks up the second you appear and smiles. “There you are,” he says. “Dessert’s here.”

You return his smile as gracefully as you can manage and settle back into your seat, murmuring a polite thanks to the server as they place a second silver spoon beside your plate.

The dessert is gorgeous. Artfully plated with swirls of ganache, caramel glass, and something delicate and dusted with powdered sugar. The kind of thing that would usually make you beam with delight. You take a bite and it’s perfect. Silky, rich, melt-on-your-tongue perfect. And yet, your stomach is still in knots.

The air around you feels like it’s waiting for something. Like you’re waiting for something. You sit quietly, your spoon gliding through the dessert, letting yourself hope for just a few more seconds.

Seungmin glances at you from across the table. Then he chuckles. “You got real quiet.”

“It’s the dessert,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Too good to talk through.”

He nods, still smiling, like nothing’s out of the ordinary. And then, his hand disappears into the inner pocket of his jacket.

This is it. This has to be it. Your heart skips. Your whole body stills. You watch, barely breathing, your fingers tightening around your spoon as he pulls something from behind the lapel.

But it’s not a velvet box. It’s his card wallet. He places it on the table, sliding the bill check toward himself. “Figured I’ll take care of it now,” he says casually, flipping it open to slip in his card.

And just like that, the illusion unravels. The anticipation that’s been building all night collapses into the hollow space behind your ribs. You lower your eyes to your plate and push another bite of dessert into your mouth just to keep your expression from cracking.

You’re not sure what disappoints you more—that it didn’t happen… or that you let yourself believe it would. You manage a small smile, nodding at nothing in particular as he chats with the waiter. Because this is just a regular night. Just dinner. Just dessert. And the ring? Whatever it was… maybe it was never for tonight at all.

-

The night air is cooler now, the city buzzing gently in the background as you and Seungmin make your way back to the car. He opens the passenger door for you like he always does, and you slip inside quietly, your mind still reeling from the way dinner ended in… nothing.

You fasten your seatbelt, settling in, trying not to let disappointment cling too heavily to your skin. You glance at him as he gets in on the driver’s side, buckles his own belt, and starts the engine.

Before Seungmin shifts the gear into drive, he pauses. He turns to look at you and with that same soft gaze from earlier, calm but with the slightest hint of mischief. Then, he says: “You ready for the real surprise?”

Your fingers still on your lap as your heart stutters. “There’s more?”

He just smiles and for a moment, you don’t say anything. You’re careful now, cautious—wary. You don’t want to spiral again. You don’t want to go through another round of quiet expectations and louder disappointment. But it’s already happening, isn’t it?

Because maybe he didn’t mean to propose at the restaurant. Maybe he wants somewhere more private. More personal. Somewhere it’s just the two of you. Your thoughts start spinning all over again, and just like that… your hopes are up.

You exhale a little laugh, eyes flicking over to him as you lean back against the headrest. “Should I be nervous?”

Seungmin grins as he puts the car in gear, easing the vehicle into motion. “You’ll see.”

You glance at him as he drives, trying to read something from the side of his face. His lips curve in a satisfied little smirk, like he’s proud of himself—like he’s planned something sweet and thoughtful. You want to match his energy, you really do, but your mind is moving too fast.

The car eventually slows in front of a low-lit building, all glass windows and minimalist signage. You squint at it through the windshield—it looks closed. Not a single light flickers inside.

You frown, confused, but Seungmin just turns off the ignition and steps out like he knows exactly what he’s doing. You follow, heels quiet on the pavement. “What is this place?”

“Trust me. You'll love it,” he says with a small grin, already walking ahead.

The door is shut. The hallway inside is dark, empty. You hesitate as he holds it open for you, a hand gently placed on the small of your back as he leads you inside. And then, the door at the end of the hallway opens, spilling warm golden light into the shadows, and a man greets you with a polite smile. “Welcome. Right this way.”

Seungmin glances back at you, still grinning. “Surprise.”

You follow the waiter down a flight of velvet-covered steps, into the glow of a dimly lit jazz club tucked secretly beneath the city. A stage glows at the center, a band tuning their instruments, the soft rustle of glassware and hushed laughter scattered across booths and tables.

Seungmin’s hand remains on your back as he follows close behind, guiding you into a cozy, curved booth lit by a single low-hanging lamp. As you settle in, the scent of citrus and woodsmoke and fresh linen lingers in the air.

The ambiance. The music. The romantic lighting. You take it all in and despite everything—despite how beautiful it is, how thoughtful it is—you feel a dull ache press against your chest. Because this was supposed to be the night. Because you once mentioned in passing how you wanted to come here, how you read about the craft cocktails and the underground ambiance and Seungmin remembered. But… that’s all it is. Just a surprise date night. Just thoughtful. Not life-changing.

He turns to you, resting his arm on the back of the booth. “Do you like it?”

You look up at him and manage a small. “I love it.”

But Seungmin studies you for a second longer than you’re comfortable with. He’s too smart, too attentive not to notice. “You don’t look like you love it,” he murmurs, brow creasing.

You panic a little—not wanting to ruin the moment, not wanting him to feel like he failed at something he worked hard to plan. So you lean forward and pull him in by his collar, kissing him with more emotion than you planned. It’s soft, deep, thankful—and just a little desperate.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you pull back, your hand still on his cheek. “Really. I love it.”

His eyes search yours for another beat and then he smiles, wide and bright, as if you’ve successfully reassured him.

You lean back into your seat, brushing your fingers along the rim of the menu in front of you. “So…” you say, raising a brow. “Does it mean I can have as many cocktails as I want?”

Seungmin lets out a quiet laugh. “Of course,” he says, already flagging down a server. “That’s one of the perks of dating someone as responsible and reliable as me.”

The way he says it with that cocky grin that first won your heart makes you smile despite the weight in your chest. You order something strong and pretty, something with a salted rim and citrus notes. You sip your first drink slowly, savoring the taste as much as the dull numbness it brings because tonight didn’t turn out the way you thought it would.

And you still love him. You still want him.

-

You wake up late the next morning, the light already soft and golden through the curtains. Your head aches faintly, a dull throb behind your eyes, and your mouth feels dry from the cocktails the night before. You roll onto your side, rubbing the sleep off your eyes before getting up.

The moment you step out of the bedroom, you immediately spot Seungmin standing by the stove. He’s still in his navy sweater from the night before, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair is a mess, sticking up in uneven tufts, and his face is bare, just the soft kind of beautiful you’ve only ever seen when it’s just the two of you.

He glances up and catches your eyes. A smile tugs at his lips as he sweetly greets you. “Morning, sleepyhead. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

You hum in reply and have a seat in the dining table. You prop your chin in your hand, watching him move around the kitchen.

He’s calm, efficient, pouring eggs into a pan, flipping toast, sliding cabinet drawers open with ease. He turns back a minute later with a steaming cup in his hand and walks over to you. “Here,” he says gently, leaning down and holding it out. “Coffee first.”

You take the mug from him with both hands, and before you can say anything, he reaches up and cups your face with one warm hand, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Hungover, mmh?” he murmurs with a knowing smile.

You pout, lips pushing out as you nod.

His touch lingers as he brushes your hair behind your ear, gaze full of amusement and affection. “Do you want something for the headache?”

You give him another nod.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of your head, fingers curling softly around the back of your neck. “I’ll go get it.”

You watch him stand and walk off toward the bathroom, his socked feet padding lightly against the floor. And you feel… small. Not in a bad way. In a protected way. Cradled. Cared for.

In that moment, sitting there in his sweater, with the warmth of the cup of coffee seeping into your hands, your head foggy from the night before, you ask yourself how you could possibly be mad at someone who treats you like this.

It isn’t his fault. He didn’t promise anything. He never gave you reason to believe it would happen last night. That was all you. All your wishful thinking, your hope spun too tightly around small signs. You expected something that didn’t belong to a timeline, something he might be holding onto for later.

You hear him returning before you see him. His steps light but steady, then the faint clink of a glass in his hand. He appears by your side, holding a small white pill and a glass of water.

“Here you go,” he says, handing them over.

You take the ibuprofen and pop it onto your tongue, then chase it down with a long sip of water.

Seungmin watches you quietly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. When you hand the glass back to him, he sets it on the table. Then, without a word, he gently pats the top of your head, his fingers trailing lightly through your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs with playful affection. “Took it like a champ.”

Your lips curl into a soft smile, heart fluttering at the way he’s looking at you right now—fond, warm, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His fingers linger, gently caressing your temple.

You gaze up at him and say with a quiet, almost bashful smile, “I feel better already.”

And despite everything you’re holding in, you mean it. Even if your chest still aches, even if the ring never left his pocket, even if last night didn’t turn out the way you dreamed. Right now, with Seungmin beside you like this, brushing your hair and taking care of you with such ease, it’s enough.

Even if it still hurts a little.

-

The scent of freshly baked pastries and espresso greet you as you step into the café. It’s a bright Sunday morning, but you keep your face composed even though you know exactly why Marion asked to meet today. She hasn’t said it outright, but her texts were filled with excited emojis and vague exclamation points. And you’ve been dodging her calls since yesterday. She’s convinced she knows what happened Friday night. And you? You’re still trying to push the embarrassment down far enough not to wear it on your face.

You stop to scan the room and there she is, already seated by the window, her smile wide and warm as she waves both hands at you. You smile back and walk over, forcing your expression into something sunny and relaxed. She stands to hug you the second you’re close, and you go through the familiar motions—press cheek to cheek, squeeze briefly, sit across from her as if everything is normal.

“Hi, you look amazing,” Marion says, practically glowing. “I’ve missed you.”

You chuckle softly and nod. “Missed you too.”

Before she can get a word in, you flag down a waiter, already pointing at the brunch menu. “Let’s order right away. I’m starving.”

You buy yourself a few more minutes, drinking from your water, nodding when she makes a comment about the décor, but it doesn’t last long.

Once the waiter walks away, Marion leans forward with that signature glint in her eyes. “So,” she begins carefully, “how are you?”

You breathe in. Smile. “I’m good— Great. You?”

“I’m… I’m good,” she says, then breaks into that smile, a little brighter than usual. The one that radiates something new, something big, and then—she lifts her left hand.

Your eyes fall to it instantly. A delicate diamond glints under the light, elegant and perfectly set. Your breath stills.

“He proposed,” she beams, barely holding back a squeal. “Leo proposed last night.”

“Oh,” you say, stunned. “Marion…”

“We were just having dinner at home!” she continues, talking quickly, hands flying. “Like nothing out of the ordinary. He made pasta and opened a bottle of wine and then—God—I turned around and he was on one knee. I thought he dropped something! I literally asked him if he lost a contact lens.”

You laugh, even though it catches a little in your throat. “That’s so Leo.”

“I cried like a baby. It was so us. No big gesture, no fancy restaurant. Just home. And him. And this.” She gestures again to the ring, her fingers shaking slightly.

You nod, trying to swallow around the sudden lump forming in your throat. “It’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you.”

And you mean it. You do. But your chest still aches.

Marion reaches across the table and takes your hands. “We’re both going to be brides,” she says, glowing. “Can you believe it?”

Something in you cracks. Just a little. You try to smile, try not to let it show, but she sees it. Marion always sees it.

“Wait. Did… did it not happen?”

You pause and then, softly, you shake your head. “No. He didn’t propose.”

“Oh…” Her voice quiets. “I thought—”

“I did too,” you say honestly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I found the ring, remember? In the linen closet. And then he planned that whole night. The dinner. The jazz club. It just… I really thought…” You trail off, eyes fixed on the table.

Marion squeezes your hands tightly. “Hey. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to.”

You smile at her, small and tired. “I know. I just… I shouldn’t have assumed. That was my mistake.”

“No,” she says firmly. “No, that’s not a mistake. Anyone would’ve thought the same. And maybe he’s just—taking his time. Planning something special.”

You nod, because it’s the kind thing to do. “Yeah. Maybe. And if not… that’s okay too.”

Marion scoffs. “Please. This is Seungmin we’re talking about. Of course he’ll propose to you. The guy practically worships you.”

You want to believe her. You do. But you don’t say anything—just press her hand, smile, and try your best not to let your heart show.

“You know what? Let's ditch the coffee,” Marion says as she gestures the nearest waiter hanging around the table. “Let's order sweet cocktails with the umbrellas.”

-

You come home with your arms full of shopping bags and a headache that the brunch cocktails didn’t manage to blur out. Your shoes click softly against the floor as you step inside the apartment, eyes briefly flicking toward the living room where Seungmin’s seated cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, the screen flashing with bright movement from whatever game he’s playing.

Glancing over his shoulder with a grin, he calls out, “Did you buy the entire mall?”

You don’t answer. Not even a smile. You head straight to the bedroom. The bags thump softly as you drop them near the closet, shedding your jacket and slipping off your shoes like they suddenly weigh too much. You feel too tired to process your thoughts—your conversation with Marion still ringing in your ears, the ring still nowhere in sight, your emotions swinging too close to the edge.

A few moments later, you hear Seungmin’s footsteps approaching. He leans against the doorframe for a beat, watching you, then steps into the room and sits on the edge of the bed. He peeks into one of the bags like a curious cat. “So… how was brunch? Did you have fun?”

“Mm-hmm,” you reply, voice flat as you pull your sweater over your head and toss it aside. “It was fine.”

Seungmin hums, clearly sensing something but not pressing—yet. He reaches into one of the shopping bags and pulls out a folded piece of delicate fabric. “Ooh,” he says, lifting the silky nightdress with a playful raise of his eyebrows. “Nice pick. Are you wearing this tonight?”

You manage a soft chuckle and shake your head. “Maybe.” You take it gently from his hands and tuck it back into the bag.

Seungmin watches you for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” you lie, forcing a thin smile.

But he’s already moving. He reaches for your wrist just as you bend to lift the shopping bags again, tugging you gently toward him. The bags slip from your fingers and land on the floor with a soft thud as he pulls you into his lap.

Seungmin wraps his arms around you as if you’re something precious and fragile, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks again, voice low, gentle.

You hesitate because a part of you want to say it. You want to ask about the ring, the night that didn’t go how you expected. But the fear of sounding demanding coils around your throat like a knot. So instead, you ask the one question that’s been sitting quietly in your heart: “Do you love me?”

Seungmin blinks, startled. And then, with a teasing smile, “You bought all this and none of it is for me? My love just dropped a point.”

You smack his chest—not hard, but enough to make your point. “Be serious,” you whine, your voice tight and unexpectedly shaky. “Please.”

His expression softens immediately. “Hey, hey…” he pats your head, chuckling lightly. “Who are you and what did you do to my girlfriend?”

You smack his chest again, harder this time.

He yelps, but a smile still tugs at his lips. Then, gently cupping your face in both hands, he studies you closely. “You’re not acting like you. You’re usually the one giving me affirmations in the middle of the day. What’s going on?”

You look at him and almost say it. But instead, you shake your head and murmur, “Just answer the question.”

He exhales and smiles at you. The kind of smile that makes everything feel okay for a second. His eyes never leave yours. “Of course I love you,” he says quietly, sincerely. “You know I do.”

And then he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he repeats, like a promise.

You can feel how much he means it. In the way he holds you. The way your heart stutters just hearing the words from his mouth. But before you can melt completely, he pulls back just enough to flash a cheeky smile. “I’ll love you more if you put on that silk dress, though.”

You swat his shoulder—aiming for it, at least—but your hand lands on his jaw instead. He yelps again, a hand flying up to cradle it. “Ow! That hurts!”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss the spot. “It didn’t even hurt.”

“It did, actually,” he pouts dramatically, but he holds your waist tighter, tilting his head slightly to give you better access as your lips trail a few more apologetic kisses along his jaw. Then, gently, your lips find his again. This time, slower. Sweeter.

After everything, this is what you needed. His arms. His quiet, unshakable love. You pull away just enough to look into his eyes. “I love you,” you whisper, this time with everything in you.

Seungmin’s smile is soft and full of warmth. Then he presses his forehead to yours. “I know,” he murmurs.

In that moment, it really is enough. Even if your heart still carries a tiny, unspoken ache.

-

Later that night, you’re wrapped in the familiar quiet of your bedroom, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely audible under the weight of your slow breathing. Seungmin lies behind you, one arm slung lazily around your waist, his fingers tracing light shapes over the silk fabric of your nightdress—the one you didn’t plan on wearing tonight but somehow ended up in anyway. You shift slightly, pressing your back closer to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your shoulder.

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “Comfortable?”

You hum your answer, your eyes fluttering shut. “Mhm. Yeah.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm against your skin. “Guess I’ll have to ruin that.”

His hand slides along your waist, slow and teasing, until it finds your bare thigh peeking through the slit of your nightdress. He palms the skin there gently, his touch both grounding and electrifying. You turn slightly toward him, enough to meet his gaze in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you like you’re something to be cherished and devoured all at once. You lean in, brushing your lips over his, and he doesn’t hesitate to respond. The kiss deepens easily, naturally, as if the day hadn’t worn on you at all. His fingers curl around your hip, guiding you closer, pulling you into his space until you’re tangled together, mouths moving in sync, breathes shared and stolen between kisses.

The silk of your nightdress shifts under his touch, soft fabric slipping aside as his hands roam with purpose, memorizing the curves he already knows by heart. You gasp softly against his lips when his thigh presses between yours, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt, tugging at it with unspoken need.

“You're so hot. How can I not love you?” he whispers, just barely, his voice thick and quiet.

You breathlessly giggle as you're threading your fingers through his hair as he begins to kiss lower, trailing heat down the curve of your throat and over your collarbone. And in the stillness of your shared space, with limbs entwined and hearts laid bare, you let go of everything else. Because in this moment, it’s only him. Only you. Only love.

The room is quiet except for the soft rustle of sheets and the shared breaths between your lips as your mouths meet again, slow and deep and unhurried. Seungmin propped on one elbow as he's leaning over you with that familiar half-smile playing at his lips—the one that always makes your chest ache in the best way.  His hand roams beneath the silk nightdress, slow and deliberate, brushing over your waist, your hip, until it finds its way between your thighs.

You suck in a sharp breath against his mouth as his fingers move lower, his touch gentle but firm, and entirely sure of you.

“Still comfortable?” he murmurs, the words laced with teasing as he palms your clothed sex, his thumb easily tracing your bundle of nerves through the flimsy fabric.

You nod, breathless, your fingers gripping his bicep beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Too comfortable,” you whisper, echoing his earlier words with a shaky laugh.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lower still. His fingers never stop moving against the dampness forming on your underwear, his touch slow and coaxing, driving you quietly out of your mind. He knows your body—knows how to build you up with the softest strokes, how to make your toes curl and your breath catch without a single word.

Your body arches slightly, your head falling back against the pillow as he whispers something against your skin—words that are low and loving, and just a little cocky.

You barely register them because all you know is the warmth curling low in your stomach, the way he’s making you unravel piece by piece while holding you so close, as if you might disappear if he didn’t.

Seungmin continues his exploration, fingers circling on your clit—slow and steady—until you’re clutching the sheets and gasping his name like it’s the only word you remember.

Your breath is uneven, your cheek resting against the pillow as your body melts into the mattress. You feel Seungmin’s weight shift beside you, then the soft press of his lips against your shoulder.

He trails more kisses along your skin, slow and unhurried, until he’s hovering above you, his chest brushing against your back, warm and solid. One of his hands remains on your heating wetness, still touching you, fingers moving with knowing precision, making you shiver despite the heat of his body. “You’re not tired yet, are you?” he murmurs against your neck, the smile in his voice unmistakable.

You let out a quiet laugh, breathless. “Should I be?”

Instead of answering, he presses a slow kiss to the base of your neck, his hand moving just a little firmer now, drawing another soft sound from your throat. Then you feel his hips settling closer, the subtle grind of him against you, the heat of his arousal unmistakable even through the layers of fabric still between you.

He doesn’t say anything, just breathes against your skin, letting his body do the talking. The slow, steady roll of his hips, the way he fits against you, the heat, the hardness. You squirm beneath him, not to escape but to tease back, and he groans low in his throat—a sound that sinks into your bones.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers, voice rough now, his hand still moving, coaxing every bit of response from you as his hips grind against you again, slower this time, deliberate.

You tilt your head slightly to the side, glancing at him from over your shoulder, your lips parted, your body flushed and pliant beneath his. He meets your eyes and there's no more teasing in his expression. Only want. Only love. And the soft weight of him above you feels like the safest place in the world.

You hum softly as Seungmin’s lips continue their gentle exploration of your shoulder and neck, each kiss fluttering against your skin like a secret. His hand never leaves your body, drifting across your stomach before inching lower again. Then, with a breathy chuckle against your ear, he murmurs, “I take it back.”

You smile, eyes still closed. “Take what back?”

“This nightdress,” he says, his voice low and teasing as his fingers slip beneath the hem and slowly tug it upward. “I hate it.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat, soft and breathless, as he continues, “Hate it so much.”

The fabric slides higher as his hands move with purpose, and you oblige with a grin, pushing yourself up slightly so your back meets his chest. You tilt your head against his shoulder, lifting your arms in silent invitation. He takes the cue without hesitation, sliding the dress up and over, tossing it somewhere off the bed without even looking.

Warm hands return to your bare skin immediately, greedy and reverent. He touches you like he’s missed you—even though you’ve been right here the entire time. Fingers trace every familiar curve, rediscovering you with a tenderness that contradicts the hunger simmering in his breath.

His hands come to rest on your chest, cupping your breasts in his hands with gentle insistence, his palms hot against your skin. You gasp as his thumbs brush softly over your sensitive nipples, and your body melts further into his. He leans in, mouth seeking the spot just below your jawline, where he nips and sucks, leaving behind the echo of his affection in the form of wet heat and marks.

You feel boneless in his arms, pliant and undone, every breath you take shivering out of you as he holds you like something he never plans to let go of.

He groans softly against your neck, his hands never still. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

But you do. You feel it in every kiss. Every touch. And as you press your hand over his where it rests on your chest, you whisper back, “I think I do.”

With that, you lower yourself onto the bed, the sheets cool against your warmed skin as Seungmin’s hands glide down your sides slowly, reverently. His fingers catch the edge of your underwear, and in one fluid motion, he eases it down and off, leaving you bare beneath his gaze.

He shifts above you, mouth returning to the soft skin of your neck, where he plants teasing kisses and playful nibbles. You giggle when his breath tickles your ear, your shoulder curling slightly as you squirm beneath him, not from discomfort but anticipation.

“Seungmin...” you whisper out of want, need.

His response is another kiss—this one pressed just below your ear—and then he begins to trail down your spine, every slow kiss leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. When he reaches the curve of your back, his hands settle on your hips, his thumbs stroking slow circles before sliding lower.

You feel him—hot and hard—pressed against your wet cunt, not quite pushing forward, just teasing. Testing. His grip tightens ever so slightly, and you gasp when he slips his cock in between and rubbing it against your wetness, giving just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to satisfy.

“Seungmin,” you whisper, breath trembling. “Please…”

His chuckle is low and indulgent as he leans in, mouth brushing over your ear again. “So needy for me,” he murmurs, almost amused. “How can I not love you?”

And finally, finally, he gives in. He pushes his cock inside you slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving to where his length disappearing into you, savoring the way you take him inch by inch. The breath you release is a stuttering moan, muffled into the pillow beneath you, your hands clutching the sheets as your body adjusts to him.

It stays like that for a moment and when Seungmin deems you're ready for more, he begins moving with the kind of rhythm that feels both intentional and instinctive like he knows your body as well as his own, knows every subtle shift in your breath and how to pull the sweetest sounds from your lips.

Your fingers twist into the sheets, your skin tingling with every deep thrust, and when you turn your head to look at him, he meets your gaze—his dark eyes full of heat and tenderness. That look alone nearly undoes you.

“Seungmin, baby, you feel so good inside me...” you mewl as you look at him with half-lidded eyes.

Without needing to hear it, he can tell just from reading the expression on your face, the way your body arches into his, how your voice catches every time he hits that perfect spot. And he responds the way only he can—his pace changing without warning, suddenly fast, then slowing again just enough to tease, to keep you on edge, to build that need higher. He’s loving you like it’s everything he knows how to do—with devotion in every movement, and passion in every kiss he leaves along your skin.

By the time he finds that final rhythm—deep, fast, overwhelming—you’re a breathless mess beneath him, your moans spilling out freely, loud and broken, as the bed rocks beneath the intensity of it all. You don’t even care anymore if the neighbors hear. He’s lost in it too, letting out low, desperate sounds against your skin, his grip on your hips tightening as if he’s trying to hold on just a little longer.

When the wave crashes, it takes both of you with it.

Seungmin buries himself deep one last time before letting go, his body trembling slightly as he spills his seed inside you, collapsing against your back as the weight of his pleasure and exhaustion hits him all at once. His chest heaves against you, damp skin pressed to yours, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets.

You turn your head just enough to find him, to brush your lips to his. He kisses you back slowly, softly, like he’s still catching his breath. And then, in the quiet that follows, you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

He doesn’t need to say it back right away—you can feel it in the way he kisses you again, in the way he shifts just enough to hold you better, closer. But then, you hear it anyway—soft and sincere, right against your temple. “I love you so much.”

And in that moment, with your bodies tangled and your hearts bare, it’s all you need.

-

The kitchen is a delightful mess—flour dusted across the countertops, chocolate smudged on your wrist, and a mixing bowl dangerously close to tipping off the edge of the sink. You and Marion are both slightly tipsy, giggling over a cocktail shaker that’s lost its lid mid-shake and sent droplets of raspberry gin fizz onto the cabinets.

“Are we even doing this right?” Marion asks, peering into the brownie batter as you try to fold in the chocolate chunks without splashing anything else.

You shrug, your cheeks flushed from laughter and the alcohol. “I mean, if the batter tastes this good, the final result can’t be that bad.”

Marion dips a spoon in and tastes it with a dramatic moan. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You’re both laughing again, this time harder, and she almost knocks over the tray as you slide it into the oven. You set a timer, then lean against the counter, clinking your glass gently with hers.

“To very serious bakers,” you toast.

“And to very responsible drinking,” she adds with a wink.

Once you both settle on the floor with a throw pillow each, the buzz mellowing into that warm, glowy feeling, Marion sighs and rests her head back against the cupboard. “I can’t believe I’m getting married.”

You glance over and smile. “I can. You and Leo are disgustingly perfect.”

She snorts. “We’re just… learning. Growing. Like… I don’t know, good wine or something.” Then she quiets for a second, her voice softening. “I didn’t think I’d feel like this. All the clichés? They’re real. I’ll see him in the kitchen making coffee and suddenly I’m like, ‘God, I want to spend the rest of my life watching this man make terrible pour-overs.’”

Your laugh is soft this time, fond. “I’m really happy for you, Mar.”

She turns to you, eyes shining a little. “And I’m so happy you’re my maid of honor.”

Your chest warms at the words. “I’m going to be the best maid of honor ever. Just watch.”

She grins wide. “And threaten Leo with bodily harm if he ever makes me cry.”

You toast your nearly empty glass with hers again. “That’s a given.”

There’s a pause, a comfortable one, and then Marion leans her head gently against your shoulder. “You’ll be next,” she murmurs.

You don’t say anything right away. Just smile and keep looking at the oven, the faint ticking of the timer filling the silence. You don’t need to answer—not tonight.

Once brownies has cooled down, you take the first bite of the brownie and blink in disbelief. “Wait… why is this actually good?”

Marion’s eyes widen as she chews her own piece. “Did we accidentally summon domestic goddess energy?”

You both laugh, mouths full of gooey chocolate, your cocktail glasses sitting mostly forgotten on the coffee table. The brownies have that perfect crispy edge with a soft, fudge-like center, and it feels like an accomplishment far beyond its baking difficulty—maybe because it’s wrapped in the comfort of laughter, drinks, and easy friendship.

But as the minutes pass and Marion continues sipping, then pouring a little too enthusiastically, it becomes clear that your best friend is crossing the line from tipsy to gone. Her cheeks are flushed, her head wobbles when she moves, and she’s singing along to a song playing from her phone in a voice so off-key, it’s almost impressive.

You, a little lightheaded yourself, shake your head with a smile. “Marion,” you say gently, nudging her. “It’s not even ten-thirty.”

“I’m great,” she declares, wobbling as she tries to stand. “I feel like I could plan a wedding and solve world peace right now.”

“Mhm,” you mutter, looping an arm around her shoulders when she stumbles again. “Let’s aim for just making it to your bedroom without breaking anything.”

She slumps into you, leaning heavily as you walk her slowly down the hall. “You know what we should do?” she says, her words slurring slightly. “We should totally get pregnant together.”

You pause mid-step. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah,” she continues dreamily. “Me and you. Pregnant together. Baby bumps and morning sickness and matching diaper bags. Our babies can have playdates and grow up to be best friends like us.”

You snort, half laughing, half trying not to tip over. “That’s a very... ambitious plan.”

Marion nods solemnly. “Synchronize our cycles. Manifest the future.”

“Okay, Drunk Oracle,” you say, trying not to laugh too hard. “Let’s just start with you getting to the bed.”

You manage to get her onto the mattress in one final push. She immediately curls up into a fetal position, already half-asleep. You pull the duvet over her gently and take a moment to look at her soft, peaceful expression—marriage-bound, impossibly hopeful, and dreaming of coordinated pregnancies and pastel nursery paint.

You reach out to brush a bit of hair from her face and sigh, not entirely sure what to feel. The air is still warm with laughter, but there's a quiet twinge in your chest. You flick off the bedside lamp, casting the room in darkness, and close the door behind you.

With Marion already tucked into bed, you're left with the cleaning task to yourself. You sigh before moving around Marion’s kitchen, cleaning up the mess the two of you made earlier. There’s flour dusted across the counter like a fine layer of snow, smears of chocolate batter dried onto the mixing bowl, and spatulas sitting lazily in the sink. It’s quiet now without Marion’s laughter or the clinking of glasses, and the silence presses in gently, nudging you into your thoughts.

As you rinse the dishes one by one, Marion’s drunken rambling echoes in your head like background music. “You’ll be next. Let’s plan our pregnancies together. Baby playdates. Matching diaper bags.”

You shake your head with a smile, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips. She was drunk. But even so… the picture forms easily in your mind. You and Seungmin. A modest house filled with warmth. Little footsteps running down the hallway. A baby with Seungmin’s eyes and pout. Him in sweats with a sleepy toddler cradled on his chest, the glow of Sunday morning light filtering through the windows. It makes your chest flutter in the softest way.

You’re still standing at the sink, sponge in hand, when the sound of the front door clicks open, shattering your daydream. The soft thud of keys hitting the entry table follows, and then the familiar voice.

“Hey,” Leo says gently as he steps into the kitchen and sees you. “You’re still here.”

You turn and offer a small smile. “Just waiting for my taxi. Didn’t want to leave a crime scene behind.”

He glances toward the living room, then toward the hallway. “She’s out, huh?”

“Out cold,” you confirm with a chuckle. “Didn’t even make it to 10:30.”

Leo laughs under his breath and grabs a glass from the shelf. “That sounds about right.”

You start drying your hands as he fills his glass with water. There’s a beat of comfortable silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the soft rush of water from the tap.

“You can hang out for a bit,” Leo says, taking a sip. “Seungmin would kill me if I let you leave without making sure you got in your ride safely.”

That makes you chuckle. “Sounds like him.”

Leo leans against the counter and tilts his head slightly. “You know… I always thought Seungmin would do it first.”

“Do what first?”

He raises a brow, like it’s obvious. “Propose.”

The word hits you with a weight you didn’t expect, but you try to keep your expression casual. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Leo nods. “I mean—funny story actually. The day I bought the ring for Marion? I ran into him at the jewelry store.”

You look up sharply. “You did?”

“Yup,” he says, smiling at the memory. “I asked what he was doing there and he said—” Leo lifts a hand to mimic air quotes, “—‘just returning something.’ Total deadpan. Didn’t even blink.”

You force a small laugh. “Also sounds like him.”

Leo shrugs, grinning. “But knowing Seungmin? I think he just didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I mean, guy’s got a poker face made of steel.”

You nod slowly, but your heart sinks just a little deeper than before. Because now you're not so sure. Was it really a lie to keep a surprise? Or… was it the truth?

You swallow hard, trying to keep your expression smooth as you offer him a polite smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

But your chest is heavy again, and as you glance at your phone to check the time, you wish more than anything that you hadn’t opened that damn linen closet at all.

-

You fasten the clasp of your earrings as you glance at yourself in the mirror, the morning light slipping through the blinds and catching on the satin fabric of your dress. Marion texted you twenty minutes ago with three exclamation points and an “ARE YOU READY YET” that you haven’t had the heart to respond to. You’re not late—just… taking your time.

Because when you're alone like this, brushing on a little blush and slipping into heels, your thoughts begin to loop again. About the ring. About that empty space in the linen closet. About what Leo said.

He said he was just returning something. But… what if he really was?

It’s been days, and still nothing. No big gestures. No changes in the way Seungmin acts. And you're trying not to let it eat you alive.

You're meant to be excited for Marion today—maid of honor, dress shopping, champagne flutes and dramatic tears—but your head’s a noisy place. You're halfway through slipping into your dress when the bedroom door creaks open.

“Need help?” Seungmin asks from behind, already closing the distance.

You nod, standing still as he gently gathers the zipper at the small of your back. His fingers are warm, smooth, careful. The sound of the zipper sliding up echoes too loud in the quiet room. Once it’s zipped, his arms immediately slip around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder and lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Marion’s stealing you for the whole weekend now, huh?”

You smile faintly at his reflection in the mirror. “Well, I am her maid of honor. This is part of the job.”

He pouts against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be so busy helping her plan stuff. I’ll barely see you.”

You tilt your head, amused. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Doesn’t that just mean no one’s interrupting your video game marathons?”

He frowns like you just offended him. “That’s not the point. I want to play with you too.”

You turn in his hold, facing him, his hands still warm on your waist. For a fleeting second, you want to ask about it. About the ring. About Leo. About the jewelry store. Instead, you lift a hand to cup his jaw, tracing your thumb gently along the curve of it. His skin is soft from shaving, and his eyes are impossibly warm.

You softly kiss him, lingering just enough to let him know you mean it. When you pull back, your hand stays on his cheek as you smile faintly. “Don’t wait up. I’ll probably be out all day.”

Seungmin sighs and lets his forehead bump gently against yours. “I hate it.”

You giggle and break away, reaching for your shoes. “Behave.”

“You behave,” he mutters, clearly not letting go of the pout.

You lean in for one last kiss as you sling your bag over your shoulder and glance at him one more time—and there’s that stupidly cute smile. The one that crinkles his eyes and shows off the dimple in his cheek. The one that made you fall in love with him years ago.

“Have fun,” he says, still holding your hand as you reach for the door.

You smile at him over your shoulder and realize that is why you can never stay mad at him.

-

The second you and Marion step into the bridal shop, you both instantly enveloped in a world of white and ivory and shimmer. The space smells faintly like fresh flowers and lavender. Soft piano music floats in the background, almost drowned by Marion’s giddy gasp as she takes it all in.

Rows of gowns hang like clouds on gold racks, each dress more breathtaking than the last. You follow Marion as she practically skips ahead, already flipping through lace, satin, and embroidered tulle. “This one has your name written all over it,” you say, gently tugging out a sweetheart neckline dress with hand-sewn appliqué.

She lets out a squeal, taking it from you like it’s made of spun sugar. As she continues browsing, her eyes alight with excitement, your mind drifts. You glance around at the other brides-to-be in the boutique—smiling, glowing, radiant in anticipation. However, when you try to ignore it, you feel that sting again. You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten until Marion turns to look at you.

“Hey,” she says softly, as if reading your thoughts. “You okay?”

You give a small nod. Then you sigh and admit, “Leo said something… the other night.”

Marion raises a brow. “Uh-oh.”

So you tell her everything. About Leo bumping into Seungmin at the jewelry store. About how Seungmin said he was ‘just returning something’. About how it’s been swirling in your head ever since. “I keep thinking… maybe he had a change of heart,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe he bought the ring and then changed his mind.”

Marion stares at you for a moment, then she blinks and waves a dismissive hand like she's physically swatting the idea away. “Nope. Not buying that. That man is obsessed with you. I see the way he looks at you like he wants to give you the world.”

You let out a quiet laugh at that, but it's tight.

Marion gently bumps her shoulder into yours. “He probably lied because he’s trying to keep it a surprise. He’s meticulous like that. You know he is.”

“I know,” you murmur. “But I’ve just been overthinking everything. And the longer nothing happens, the more I can’t stop wondering.”

Marion gives you a knowing look, then turns toward the bridal shop staff and says brightly, “I think I’m ready to start trying some dresses on!”

One of the attendants smiles and gestures for her to follow. Marion turns back to you, squeezing your hand before heading off. “Stop spiraling. I’m telling you—it’s coming. Just breathe.”

As Marion disappears into the fitting area, you remain in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by future promises sewn into fabric. Trying to believe that maybe yours is just still in progress.

The buzz of the boutique continues around you. You sit quietly on the velvet cushioned bench, hands resting on your lap as you wait. You’re surrounded by joy, by promise, and still, your mind refuses to settle.

A staff member approaches you with a delicate smile, holding a silver tray with two tall champagne flutes. You take one and thank her, nodding politely as she walks away. You bring the glass to your lips, the bubbly drink cool and crisp on your tongue. You hope it’ll ease the tangle of thoughts knotting in your head but it doesn’t.

You’re halfway through the flute when the curtain rustles, and Marion steps out in her first wedding dress. You gasp despite yourself. She looks ethereal—floating in a sleek A-line gown with embroidered floral details and a delicate train behind her. The sweetheart neckline frames her perfectly, and the way she smiles makes it glow even more.

“Oh my god, babe,” you breathe. “You look… breathtaking.”

Marion beams at your reaction, spinning slowly for you to take it all in. “Right? I didn’t think I’d love this one, but wow—this might be it!”

You try your best to focus, offering compliments, suggestions, small smiles, but your energy is off and you know it.

She disappears again into the fitting room, and one dress after another, she keeps emerging in tulle, lace, satin, sleeves, no sleeves—and all you can manage are soft nods and faint hums of approval. You’re trying. You really are. But your smile slips too easily, your thoughts keep drifting.

When she comes out in a fitted mermaid gown with a dramatic low back and doesn't hear the familiar excited gasp from you, she places a hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes. “Okay. That’s it.”

You glance up at her. “Wha—”

“Get out of your head,” Marion says with a gentle firmness only a best friend could manage. “This is my wedding dress moment. I need you here, babe. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually. All of it.”

Your heart drops a little at her words, not because she’s wrong, but because she’s right. And the last thing you want is to take this moment away from her.

You set your glass down and stand, walking over to her, guilt clouding your expression. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’m really sorry, Marion. I want to be here for you—I am here for you—I just…”

Instead of her usual understanding nod or the warm squeeze of reassurance, Marion stares at you. Her eyes linger for a beat too long, her lips pressed into a flat line. You expect her to soften, to offer one of her teasing but gentle replies.

This time, she lets out a short, sharp laugh, void of humor. “You know what?” she says, voice low but cutting. “Maybe Seungmin did change his mind. And honestly? I wouldn’t blame him.”

You freeze. “What?”

She crosses her arms, still standing in her wedding gown. “This was supposed to be my day. One day. One moment. And somehow, you’ve still managed to make it about you.”

“Marion…” you mutter so low it's almost a whisper.

She cuts you off, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “All week, you’ve been moping, overthinking, spiraling—and I get it, I do, but today is about me. And instead of showing up like my best friend, like my maid of honor, you’re just… wallowing. In something that hasn’t even happened.”

Her words land like stones. Heavy. Sharp. And maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s the part of you that’s still wounded from your own disappointment, but your chest tightens.

You pick up your purse, slowly, trying to keep your face blank, even though it’s already twisting. “Okay,” you say quietly. “I get it.”

“Wait—” Marion starts, her tone flickering with regret already, but it’s too late.

You sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder, blink back the sting in your eyes, and walk right past the mirror-lined walls, the racks of white lace and silk, the staff who glance up with startled looks. You don’t stop until you’re out of the boutique and the glass door swings shut behind you.

You step out onto the sidewalk, the air kissing your flushed skin, and only then do you let yourself exhale. Because you didn’t expect the hurt to come from her. Not today. Not like this.

-

When you step into the apartment, Seungmin looks up from the couch with that familiar glint in his eyes, already ready to tease. “Back already?” he says, setting down his phone. “Did you miss me that much?”

You walk right past him, brushing his shoulder lightly, without a word. Your heels click softly against the floor until you reach the bedroom. The purse slips from your fingers and lands on the floor with a soft thud, and you follow it, collapsing face-first onto the bed. The tears come almost instantly, soaking into the pillow before you even have the chance to catch your breath.

A few seconds later, you hear the sound of footsteps, the creak of the door, and then the bed shifts under Seungmin’s weight as he climbs in beside you.

“Hey,” he says, gently. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You don’t answer. You just keep crying, your chest rising and falling with quiet, shuddering sobs.

Seungmin shifts closer, concern painting every inch of his voice now. “Are you hurt? Did someone—did someone say something to you?” He brushes your hair back, his fingertips feather-light on your cheek, but you still don’t look at him. “Who hurt you, baby? Tell me.”

He gets it, then. Whatever this is—it’s not something you’re ready to talk about. So he doesn’t push. Instead, he slides closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you into the warmth of his chest. You feel his breath against your neck. He presses the softest of kisses to your shoulder, then to the side of your neck, and one more at the edge of your jaw. His hand moves slowly up and down your arm in comforting strokes, no words, just presence. Just him.

“I’m here,” he whispers eventually, voice barely audible. “Okay? I’m right here.”

And maybe that’s all you need for now. Not answers. Not promises. Just this—Seungmin’s arms holding you close as you let yourself fall apart.

By the time your tears have dried, the room is steeped in quiet. Outside the window, the sky has turned deep blue, the last of the evening light fading into night. But inside, Seungmin is still holding you just the same—arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses along the slope of your neck, the curve of your jaw, grounding you with every touch.

“Seungmin,” you croak out, voice raw from crying.

He hums in response, his hand still rubbing slow, gentle circles on your back.

You hesitate, but then ask, barely above a whisper, “Do you think I’m… a selfish person?”

Seungmin stills, then leans back enough to look at you, his brows knitting together in concern. “Why would you ask me that?”

You shift on the bed, turning to face him. He instantly loops his arms around your waist again, pulling you flush against his chest. His hand comes up to brush strands of hair away from your face, wiping at the dampness still lingering under your eyes.

You stare at him, and the words fall out of your mouth again, more fragile this time. “Do you think I’m selfish? Is that... Is that why you don’t want to marry me?”

He flinches slightly—not out of anger, but surprise and then the silence stretches a little, filled with nothing but your shaky breath.

“I found the ring,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible. “The one you hid in the linen closet. It fell when I was looking for a tablecloth.”

Realization flashes in Seungmin’s eyes. His mouth parts slightly. “Oh…” he lets out a soft gasp as it all clicks into place, and a breath escapes him in a long, quiet sigh. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You give a faint, bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with fresh tears. “So it was for me?”

Seungmin cups your face with both hands, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks as he nods. “Yes. It was always for you.”

“Then why did you return it?” you ask softly, searching his face, trying to keep the heartbreak from bleeding through your voice. “Leo… he saw you at the store. He said you told him you were returning something.”

Seungmin lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “I didn’t return it because I changed my mind about you,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I returned it because I found a new one—a better one. One that suits you more.”

You sniffle. “You… did?”

He nods again, still gently stroking your cheek. “Yeah. That first one—it didn’t feel like you. I kept thinking about how you deserve something that really fits who you are. So I exchanged it. I wasn’t trying to lie or confuse you… I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

You fall quiet at that, your chest tightening with emotion—not from sadness, but from the weight of your own misunderstanding. You had made up so many things in your head. So many wrong assumptions.

Seungmin presses his palm to your cheek, coaxing you to look into his eyes. “You’re not selfish,” he says firmly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. “A selfish person doesn’t cook me dinner even when she’s tired. She doesn’t stay up late to watch me play video games or take care of me when I’m sick. She doesn’t let me drag her to baseball games or listen to me talk about player stats for hours.”

You laugh softly, another tear slipping down your cheek.

“You’re amazing,” Seungmin whispers. “You’re strong and kind and honest. You're true to yourself. I love you for all of that.”

Then he smiles, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “If anything… I’m the selfish one.”

You frown in confusion. “Why would you say that?”

He leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Because I want all your love just for me. All of it. Every day. Forever.”

A fresh wave of tears rushes into your eyes, but this time, they’re light and full of warmth. You bury your face in his chest again, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you start crying again—but now, you’re smiling too.

Seungmin kisses the top of your head, his hand slipping into your hair. “You just ruined my proposal plans, by the way,” he mutters playfully. “Guess I’ll have to come up with a new one.”

Despite the storm of emotions, you laugh into his chest, muffled and breathless. “Sorry…”

He chuckles softly. “Not really, though.”

You tilt your head up, looking into his eyes. Everything you need to know is there, written so clearly in the way he looks at you. With love. With certainty.

And when he leans in to kiss you, it’s slow and deep, a promise in itself. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

And in a voice full of all the love you’ve ever felt, you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And that—more than a ring, more than a proposal—is everything.

-

The next morning unfolds slowly, gently—sunlight spilling through the windows, warming the kitchen tiles beneath your feet. There’s music playing softly from your phone, and you’re still in Seungmin’s oversized shirt, sleeves rolled clumsily up your arms, your hair slightly messy from sleep.

Seungmin is beside you, flipping pancakes with exaggerated concentration, while you stir scrambled eggs in the pan next to him. His arm brushes yours every few seconds. You both steal kisses in between chores—on his cheek, on your temple, on the side of your neck—sometimes just for fun, sometimes just because you can. He reaches over your shoulder to grab the pepper and presses a kiss behind your ear on the way, making you giggle and squirm.

There’s a lightness in your chest this morning, a clarity you haven’t felt in days. Because now you know, he’s not going anywhere. He’s here. With you. Choosing you every day.

As you both set the plates onto the table, getting ready to finally eat, the doorbell rings. You pause, glancing at Seungmin. He lifts an eyebrow at you, mouth already full of a bite of pancake. “Who is that?” he says with his mouth full.

You shrug and wipe your hands on a kitchen towel as you pad to the door. When you open it, Marion is standing there. She looks… uncertain. Hesitant. But when her eyes meet yours, she smiles softly and lets out a breath. “Hey.”

You blink in surprise, then give her a faint smile. “Hey.”

Marion hesitates, fidgeting with her hands. “I just—” she sighs. “I’m sorry. For what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

You stay quiet, letting the weight of her words hang in the air for a beat.

“I was overwhelmed with everything,” she continues, “and I didn’t know I was holding all that tension until it snapped. But that’s no excuse. I was wrong. And I’m really, really sorry.”

You look at her and, in her eyes, you see nothing but sincerity. And maybe just the tiniest bit of shame. But your heart is already softened. You’ve cried enough. You’ve carried enough weight. And you don’t want to carry bitterness too.

A small smile curves on your lips. “It’s okay, Mar. It's all water under the bridge.”

Marion's shoulders drop in relief and a big, bright grin takes over her face. She rushes toward you, throwing her arms around you.

You hug her back tightly, burying your face into her shoulder, holding on for just a second longer than necessary. When you pull away, still smiling, you grab her hand and tug her inside. “Come in. Join us for breakfast.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you say, already leading her toward the kitchen. “We made pancakes.”

“Say no more,” she grins. “I’m in.”

Seungmin looks up from the table as you both enter, and he offers Marion a nod of greeting. “Hey,” he says casually. “Hope you like slightly burnt pancakes.”

Marion laughs as she sits down. “I like everything when it’s free.”

The three of you settle around the table, warm plates in front of you, coffee cups steaming gently between sips and bites. The late morning light glows through the window, making everything feel softer, slower, sweeter.

Marion takes a sip of her coffee, hums in appreciation, then glances at Seungmin. “Okay, wait. This coffee? This is actually really good.”

Seungmin shrugs with a cocky grin. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You grin as you pick up your cup. “This is exactly why I want to marry him. He makes good coffee.”

Marion pauses, blinking in a half-surprised, half-delighted way as she shifts her eyes from you to Seungmin. “Wait, what?”

You glance at Seungmin, who’s already giving you a warning squint across the table. You bite back a smile and turn to Marion. “Seungmin’s going to propose soon,” you say, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

Marion gasps, all wide eyes and giddy hands clasped to her chest. “Oh? Really?!”

You laugh and quickly explain, “He already knows we found the ring in the linen closet. It wasn’t that sneaky.”

Marion immediately gasps louder, turning to Seungmin with the most wicked grin. “So you are proposing. And you’ve been dragging it out this whole time?!”

Seungmin groans and drops his fork dramatically onto his plate. “Wow. You two are literally talking about me like I’m not even here.”

“That’s because you took forever,” Marion teases, smirking.

“You know,” Seungmin points his fork at both of you, “I should’ve just proposed in secret and eloped. Peace and quiet.”

Marion leans in, nudging her elbow against yours with a conspiratorial grin. “You know what? Maybe wait until after my wedding to propose.”

Seungmin gapes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she says, smug. “She’s my maid of honor. Which means, until my wedding’s over, she’s mine.”

“She practically owns me,” you say with a laugh.

Seungmin dramatically scoffs, “That explains so much. I always knew something was up. You’ve been using her!”

Marion flips her hair and lifts her chin proudly. “Absolutely. And I plan to keep using her until the very last hour of the reception.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes at her, then looks at you like a betrayed puppy. “Do you hear this? I’m just... background noise now. Replaced. Overtaken.”

You burst out laughing, watching the two of them bicker like siblings. “Don’t worry,” you say, reaching over to rest a hand on Seungmin’s. “You still make the best coffee.”

-

It’s a rare, golden kind of day—the one where everything falls into place. Marion’s out of town, the maid of honor duties are on pause, and for once, your calendar is blissfully empty. Seungmin had insisted that you both take advantage of it, and now here you are, walking into a crowded stadium, your hand snug in his, the warm scent of grilled food in the air, the hum of excited fans filling every inch of the space.

Seungmin’s face is practically glowing as he guides you to your seats. You barely get a chance to settle in before he excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd. When he returns a long moment later, his arms are full—two large beers and a tray of snacks balanced precariously.

You quickly reach for them, steadying the tray so nothing spills. “I don’t know how you made it through that crowd in one piece,” you say with a grin.

“I’m just that good,” he replies, settling into his seat and taking a long sip of beer. “Okay, so here’s the deal—my team’s playing their biggest rival today. It’s going to be intense. Their defense is solid, but if our pitcher holds it down, we’ve got this.”

You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him talk. He’s so passionate, so animated, and you can’t help but smile at the way his eyes light up with excitement. He catches your stare mid-sentence and falters, cheeks warming slightly before he leans over to kiss you, quick and sweet.

You laugh after taking a bite of corn dog. “I was just thinking you look cute when you get all serious about baseball.”

He tries to hide his smile behind his beer, and just as he starts talking strategy again, the jumbotron begins cycling through advertisements, then team previews, and finally, the kiss cam. You watch it playfully, giggling at the awkward and adorable kisses caught onscreen.

And all of a sudden, your face appears. You blink, mid-sip, then turn to Seungmin with a startled laugh. “Oh my god—we’re on the screen.”

He doesn’t hesitate, just leans in and kisses you, and the crowd erupts into cheers as the kiss cam switches to another couple.

Both of you break into shy laughter, your heart thudding with the strange mix of public attention and private affection. “That was embarrassing,” you murmur.

“Why? People liked it,” Seungmin says with a shrug, almost a little too casually.

You give him a suspicious look. “What do you mean ‘people liked it’?”

But before you can question further, the kiss cam cuts back to you two again.

“What? Again?” you ask, shocked, but Seungmin just chuckles and kisses you again.

The crowd cheers louder this time, and you feel your face flush. You pull away, laughing nervously. “Okay, what is happening? Why are we on again—”

Seungmin is already leaning in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours with more intention this time. The crowd roars yet again.

When the camera doesn’t move on after this one, your confusion grows. And then you notice that the words KISS CAM fade away. New words begin to scroll across the jumbotron in big white letters: WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Your brain short-circuits and when you turn to Seungmin, and he’s no longer beside you. He’s on one knee. In his hand, a velvet box—open to reveal a ring you’ve never seen before. A white gold band cradling a stunning cushion-cut diamond, surrounded by the softest halo of pink diamonds. It’s delicate and beautiful and so you. And suddenly the jumbotron, the repeated kiss cams, the look he gave you earlier—clicks into place.

Seungmin looks up at you with those warm, impossibly sincere puppy eyes. He smiles, his voice steady but soft—just for you, even though an entire stadium is listening.

“Will you marry me?”

Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by a wave of cheers and people chanting, “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”

You’re already nodding before the words come out, tears brimming in your eyes as you cover your mouth with trembling fingers. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”

Seungmin’s smile could light up the whole field. He carefully takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your finger with gentle hands. Then he stands, pulls you into his arms, and kisses you as the crowd erupts in wild applause. Fireworks explode across the jumbotron in a burst of color as congratulary words flashing on the screen as confetti cannons go off in the background and strangers all around are clapping, cheering, congratulating.

It’s loud and chaotic and perfect. And right there, in the middle of a packed stadium, you’re holding the only person in the world who matters. And he’s yours.

-

It’s just the two of you now—back in your shared space, the world quiet, and the buzz of the proposal still pulsing through your chest like a second heartbeat.

You’re in bed, wrapped around each other as if trying to make the moment last forever. You’re sitting on his lap, legs looped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair while his arms hold you tightly against him, as though letting go would break the magic.

Seungmin’s lips are on yours in slow, deep kisses that taste like champagne and forever. Your bare skin pressed against his is warm, comforting, electric. You can still feel the outline of the ring on your finger, even as you cradle his jaw between your hands and kiss him again, smiling into it.

There’s laughter between kisses—whispers of disbelief that this is real, that this is happening. That you’re engaged. And you feel it in your bones—the security, the joy, the love so big it hums through every part of you.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you whisper against his lips.

Seungmin chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re not the only one who knows how to keep a secret.”

You smile into the kiss, breath catching slightly when Seungmin pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze lingers, soft and glowing with something deep and unshakable. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he murmurs, like it’s a secret just for you.

Your heart flutters, and the smile blooming on your face feels unstoppable, too wide to hide. You don’t want to hide it anyway—not from him. Not from this moment.

He reaches for your hand, the one now bearing the engagement ring, and lifts it gently to his lips. His kiss is reverent against the band, and somehow that small gesture makes everything even more real.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Gosh, I love you so much.”

He kisses you again, longer this time, his arms tightening around your waist. “I love you. Always.”

Slowly, you lift yourself just enough to allow you to ease yourself down onto his throbbing cock, your breath catching as your body adjusts to the closeness, the stretch, how hard he is inside you. When you fully take all of him, you hum in pleasure and press your forehead against his.

There’s no rush—just stillness and the quiet awe of feeling everything at once. His hands find your hips, grounding you, steadying the soft tremble in your breath. You stay like that for a moment—joined, wrapped up in the warmth of love and commitment and the tenderness of what comes next.

And then, as you begin to move, it’s slow and meaningful—each motion a silent vow, each look shared a quiet promise. You keep your eyes on him, letting him see everything as you make love to him with all of your heart.

Your fingers find his jaw, holding him steady beneath your gaze. “I can’t wait to be yours,” you whisper, voice breaking with emotion. “To have all of you… just for me.”

Seungmin’s thumb brushes over your hip, his breath hitching at your words. His eyes are full of love, of you.

“I already am,” he says softly. “All yours.”

-

The music begins and you take a deep breath before stepping out onto the aisle with the other bridesmaids. The soft rustle of fabric follows your steps, and though you try to keep your focus ahead, you can feel Seungmin’s gaze like a gentle tether, pulling your heart toward where he’s seated.

When you steal a glance at him, there he is. Sitting tall in his suit, his eyes never leaving you, filled with a quiet, radiant pride that sends warmth cascading through your chest. You know exactly what he's thinking because you're thinking it too. One day, it’ll be you walking down the aisle in white and he'll be waiting at the altar, just like Leo is now, with that same kind of look in his eyes. Maybe even deeper.

As Marion appears at the end of the aisle, music swelling to greet her, you look forward again. Leo's reaction is instant and visceral—his breath visibly hitching, eyes already glossy, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches her take each step closer to him. And you, watching him, can't help but imagine Seungmin looking at you like that. One day. Not far from now.

During the ceremony, with Marion’s vows still hanging delicately in the air, you glance across the crowd again. And Seungmin is already looking at you. There's something reverent in his expression, something soft and deep and full. He just mouths it like a sacred promise, “I love you.”

It takes a second to register. Your heart leaps. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You’ve heard him say it so many times, but this… this moment makes it different. It’s not just the words—it’s the truth in his eyes, the forever behind it.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too hard or cry too openly, and you mouth it back through the flicker of your tears, “I love you.”

For a few heartbeats, time feels suspended between you. Just you and him, exchanging silent vows of your own in the middle of someone else’s wedding. And honestly, you can’t wait for your turn.

-

The music has quieted into a soft, dreamy melody. The dance floor is mostly empty now, save for a few lingering couples swaying gently under the glow of string lights and the night sky is dotted with stars. You and Seungmin sit side by side at your table, shoes off, champagne flutes in hand. The bubbly has long gone lukewarm, but neither of you minds. It’s not about the drink—it’s about the moment.

You glance over at him. His tie is loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm draped behind your chair. There’s something so comfortably tender about him like this.

Then come Marion and Leo, walking hand in hand like they haven't been married for just a few hours but for lifetimes already. Marion doesn’t hesitate to plop down in the chair next to you, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she kicks off her heels with zero ceremony. She props her feet up on Leo’s lap, and he takes them in stride, starting to massage them as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

"God, I’m exhausted," Marion groans, leaning back and resting her head on the edge of your chair. "But worth it. You," she says, turning her head toward you, eyes half-lidded and full of gratitude, "are a lifesaver. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Best maid of honor award? Goes to you, obviously."

You laugh, cheeks warm from the champagne—or maybe from the pride blooming quietly in your chest. “I’ll take that,” you say with a grin, raising your glass.

Marion raises hers too, clinking it softly with yours. Then she turns to Seungmin, her gaze suddenly mischievous. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Hurry up with the wedding. She and I have already decided we’re getting pregnant together, so our kids can have playdates and matching Halloween costumes and trauma-bond over how annoying their moms are.”

Seungmin raises his eyebrows, slowly turning to look at you with an exaggerated expression of mock-betrayal. “You’re making pregnancy pacts now?”

You snort into your champagne, nearly choking. “Apparently.”

“She’s already picked out names,” Marion adds matter-of-factly.

“I am petrified,” Seungmin deadpans, but there's a glimmer of laughter in his eyes as he leans closer to you, bumping his shoulder against yours. “I marry you and I get Marion in the package too?”

“It's a buy one, get one,” you say, grinning.

“You’re welcome,” Marion adds.

Leo just chuckles, his fingers still kneading gently into her tired feet. “You’re all insane,” he mutters fondly.

But as the music fades out and the final notes echo across the quieted venue, Seungmin turns to you, his hand brushing over your knee, thumb circling gently. You catch the way he looks at you in that moment—something quiet and sure. Like he already sees that future Marion joked about, and maybe it doesn’t seem so far away anymore.

-

With your maid of honor duty is officially come to an end, you and Seungmin walk hand-in-hand back to your hotel room. Your heels dangle from your other hand, your makeup slightly smudged from the long day, but there's a glow to your skin that has nothing to do with highlighter. It’s been a full day of laughter, vows, dancing, tears and now, just the two of you, the quiet is welcome.

Seungmin swings your hands a little between you. “So…” he begins casually, but there’s a glint of curiosity in his voice. “About what Marion said earlier.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Which part?”

“The part where she said you two are planning on getting pregnant together.” He looks at you like he's testing the waters, but his voice is half-serious.

You burst out laughing. “Please tell me you didn’t take that seriously. Marion was drunk on love and cake.”

Seungmin stops walking, tugging your hand gently so you turn to face him. His expression is still light, but there's something sincere underneath it. “But what if I did take it seriously?” he asks. “What if I actually… want to talk about it?”

You stare at him, caught off guard, your heart tripping in your chest as the mood subtly shifts.

“Like… how many kids do you want?” he asks again, quieter this time.

Your lips part in surprise before you lean into playfulness to mask the sudden emotion curling in your chest. “I don’t know,” you say, squinting at him. “Do I want little Seungmin running around?”

His mouth drops open in mock offense. “Excuse you? Little Seungmins would be adorable.”

“One Seungmin is already a headache,” you tease, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t know if I can handle another one who hogs the blanket and never loads the dishwasher correctly.”

He gasps, affronted. “First of all, I do load the dishwasher correctly. My method is called organized chaos. And second,” he says, stepping closer, slipping his arms around your waist, “I don’t care how many kids we have—one or five—but we should definitely start working on making little Seungmin now.”

Your eyes widen. “Seungmin—!”

But before you can finish, he scoops you up into his arms in one smooth motion, carrying you bridal style down the rest of the hallway.

You squeal and wrap your arms around his neck, laughter spilling out of you as he walks with a cocky grin on his face, clearly enjoying himself. “Put me down!” you whisper-shout, still giggling.

“Too late. You’ve offended me. You must now suffer,” he says dramatically, nudging the hotel room door open with his foot after expertly swiping the key card.

“And what exactly is my punishment?”

He gives you a look that’s half mischief, half promise. “Let’s just say… we’ll see how you feel about little Seungmins after tonight.”

And as the city lights dimmed beyond the hotel windows and the world quieted into the hush of midnight, you found yourself curled against Seungmin’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against your spine.

In that moment, you find a clarity that everything you once feared or doubted had led you here. Not just to a proposal, or a ring, or a kiss under stadium lights, but to something greater: a life built hand in hand, with love that stayed steady through uncertainty, with a future you no longer needed to imagine, because it was already unfolding—right here, beside him.

-

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[seohotbinnie]

okay lemme say this; I LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS 😭😭😭 how domestic it was, how sickeningly sweet it was, HOW THE SEX SCENES WERE EVEN THE SOFTEST !?!?

but i wish the proposal surprise wasn’t ruined 😔😔 BUT IT WAS STILL SO GOOD GOD I LOVE SOFT SEUNGMIN SO MUCH

[seospicybin]

EVENTUALLY.

THEN

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: You and Chris chose future over love once, and it cost you everything you didn’t know how to name. Years later, you wonder if the right person ever truly becomes the wrong time. (11,3k words)

Author's note: From my Patreon's unreleased. I once mentioned that it was meant to be fluff so yeah, expect the spicy part in the later part. But I hope you enjoy this one too ❣️

Mornings always started the same way back then.

You stood in front of the mirror, slipping your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, fixing your hair, backpack already waiting by the door. You were halfway through zipping your bag when the sound of a car horn cut through the quiet. Three rapid honks. Impatient in a way that was never actually impatient. Chris.

You took one last glance around the room to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. Then you grabbed your backpack and ran down the stairs. You made a turn toward the kitchen to snatch the lunchboxes your mom had packed early in the morning before she left to open the bakery—two of them, stacked neatly together. The strap of your backpack slid down your arm as you locked the door, and you safely tucked the keys into your jacket pocket afterward.

On the driveway, Chris was leaning halfway out of the driver’s seat of his car, one arm draped casually over the door. His varsity jacket was slightly rumpled, his hair a little messy, like he’d rolled out of bed and forgotten to tame his wild curls.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said easily, flashing that dimpled grin of his.

You barely acknowledged it and slid into the passenger seat. Instead, you asked, “Did you finish your homework?”

He laughed, already reaching for his bag. “I knew you were gonna ask.”

Chris handed you his notebook without hesitation, like this was just another part of the routine. He started the engine and slowly backed out of the driveway as you flipped through the pages, scanning his answers. He watched you with quiet patience, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as the car glided through the neighborhood streets.

“It’s fine,” you finally said, satisfied, sliding the notebook back into his bag. “You didn’t mess it up this time.”

“See? All thanks to my personal tutor,” he grinned, relief painted across his face. Only then did he pick up the speed of his driving.

The drive to school was filled with half-finished conversations and Chris’s designated going-to-school playlist playing in the background. He parked in his usual spot—right next to the school field. Chris slung his bag over one shoulder and waited on the side of the car for you.

Three steps into the school building, he was already drawing attention as people started calling his name from every direction.

“Chris, my man!” “Hey, Capt!” “Let’s crush it at practice later!”

He responded to all of it with smiles, nods, and a quick joke here and there. Everyone knew him. Everyone liked him.

But honestly, you always dreaded this part—you and him walking the school hallways together. The attention. All the pairs of eyes looking in your direction. The whispered secrets being exchanged when they saw you walking next to him.

In fact, this was the only time you weren’t invisible to the rest of the school, as the girl known only—strictly—as Chris’s nerdy friend.

That was what they called you. Not cruelly—just factually. The girl who helped him study. The girl who’d been around since elementary school. The girl no one imagined he’d ever date—not when there were popular girls openly crushing on him, not when he could have anyone he wanted. And honestly, you didn’t even dare to imagine it either.

In homeroom, you slid into your seat near the front. Chris took the desk behind you, stretching his legs out comfortably. When the teacher wasn’t looking, you felt that familiar weight as he gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Canteen today?” he murmured, launching straight into a discussion about where to have lunch later.

You tilted your head slightly. “Maybe. Or the bleachers if it’s not too hot.”

“Yard?” he suggested.

You hummed while keeping your eyes on your homeroom teacher. “We’ll see.”

He squeezed your shoulder once before pulling his hand away like he always did, like it didn’t mean anything more than friendship.

The bell rang, and the students dispersed, beginning to move toward their next classes. The two of you stood, already knowing what came next. Different classes. Different hallways.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Chris said, slinging his bag back onto his shoulder.

“Don’t make me wait,” you warned him.

“I won’t,” he said with an easy grin.

You watched him disappear into the crowd before turning in the opposite direction, hugging your books to your chest and blending in with the other students, becoming invisible once more.

-

The lunchtime noise buzzed around you, but you were only half paying attention. You sat on the bench just outside the canteen, one leg tucked beneath you, a book resting open in your hands. You’d already read the same paragraph twice, kept getting distracted by the fact that Chris had made you wait despite his promise.

You decided to send another text. Where are you?

Barely a second passed before a shadow fell over the page.

“I’m here.”

Chris’s head appeared far too close to yours, his cheek nearly brushing your temple, his dimpled grin already in place like he’d planned the timing just to scare you.

You jolted, nearly dropping the book. “Chris—!”

He laughed under his breath, settling beside you like nothing had happened.

“You’re late,” you grumbled, snapping the book shut. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Forever?” he echoed, amused. “It’s been, like, three minutes.”

“That’s forever in lunchtime,” you shot back.

He only grinned wider, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the bench. He waited until you finished huffing before turning to you with a softer smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said thoughtfully, and he placed your favorites on the table like a peace offering—a can of sparkling cider and a pack of M&Ms. A carton of pineapple juice sat in front of him.

Then he leaned close and sweetly asked, “Now, can we eat in peace?”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand was already reaching into your bag. You pulled out the two lunchboxes your mother had packed, placing one between you before pushing the other toward him.

Chris’s eyes lit up as he opened the lid, nodding in approval at what your mom had packed for today’s lunch. He practically shouted a thank-you in the direction of your house, palms pressed together dramatically before digging in with unrestrained enthusiasm.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself, just as you opened your own lunch—

“Wow.” A voice cut in.

You looked up to see Aaron and Walcott—Chris’s friends and fellow soccer team members—sliding onto the bench, trays of school lunch in hand.

Aaron stared openly at the lunchboxes, eyes full of envy. “Please, pack lunches for us too.”

You shot him a look. “And what do I get in return?”

Aaron leaned back cockily, cupping his own face with both hands. “You get to see my charming face for free the whole lunch break.”

You groaned because not only were they wearing the same varsity jackets, but they also shared the same level of smugness and cockiness. “You’re all the same, I swear.”

Chris laughed, nearly choking on his food, while Walcott just grinned, stealing a bite out of Chris’s sandwich.

Conversation drifted easily as they talked about practice, the upcoming match, and the soccer match that had happened last night. You listened more than you talked, used to this dynamic.

Then a girl approached and stopped in front of Chris, holding out a cold can of soda. You knew her as one of the popular girls at school—Cheryl. She smiled brightly, eyes fixed on Chris, as she sweetly said, “Good luck on the upcoming match.”

Chris blinked, surprised, then smiled politely as he accepted it. “Uh—thanks. I appreciate it.”

As soon as she walked away, Aaron leaned in with a knowing grin. “Told you, man. She’s into you.”

“Just date her already,” Walcott added, squeezing his shoulder hard.

“Just stop,” Chris said firmly, sliding the soda toward Walcott, who was more than happy to receive it.

That, apparently, was invitation enough for the boys to spiral into teasing and listing the girls who had been hitting on Chris. You focused very intently on your lunch, but inside, you were annoyed by these girls who didn’t even do the bare minimum of knowing that Chris didn’t even drink soda.

When the bell rang, they all stood as you did, gathering your bag and book in your arms.

“We’ll walk you,” Aaron declared.

“I’m fine,” you protested immediately. “I can go alone.”

Your protest didn’t mean anything to them, as Walcott slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you down the hallway. Every time you tried to shake him off, he only tightened his hold.

“Stop,” you hissed.

“Nope.”

You eventually gave up and once again dreaded the way people stared—not at them, but at you. You kept your head down, heat crawling up your neck.

When you finally reached your classroom, you let out a breath of relief, but they lingered in the doorway, waving exaggeratedly, calling your name just to make it worse.

“Have a great class, sweetie,” Walcott shouted teasingly.

Chris grabbed the back of both of Aaron and Walcott’s jackets and pulled them away to make them stop. It was too late. Everyone witnessed it. You groaned, hiding your face as they laughed their way down the hall. However, Chris glancing back once, waving his hand and flashing you his dimpled grin before walking away.

-

After the final bell rang, you made your way toward the field without really thinking about it. Your steps felt automatic, like your body already knew where it wanted to be.

Practice was already underway when you arrived. You could spot him easily — Chris in his school soccer jersey, the fabric darkened slightly with sweat, his dark hair flopping over his forehead as he moved. You slowed near the bleachers, dropping your bag beside you before sitting down.

You watched him juggle the ball effortlessly at his feet—once, twice, three times—before sending it flying cleanly to the other end of the field. He moved with a kind of confidence that only came from years of practice and hard work, from knowing exactly what his body could do. You stayed there for a long moment, feeling content from just watching.

When he finally jogged off to the side for water, you stood and made your way down the bleachers. Gravel crunched softly beneath your shoes as you approached.

Chris noticed you almost immediately. His face lit up in surprise. “You’re still here?”

You smiled, tilting your head. “Just wanted to check if you’re still good.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Rude. I’m amazing.”

You snorted. Hate that he was right.

As he took another drink, his expression softened. “Sorry I can’t drive you home today,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you waved him off easily. “I’ll just take the bus.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood there, the sounds of the field fading into the background and Chris looked at you like he wanted to say something else, like the words were sitting right at the edge of his mouth.

Your fingers fiddled with the strap of your backpack and broke the silence first. “Are you still coming over later to study?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. If practice ends in time, I’ll come.”

“Okay.”

You hoisted your bag higher on your shoulder and took a step back. “Have a good practice.”

“You too—” He stopped himself, smiling. “Be careful on the way home.”

You nodded, turning on your heel.

You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away, the awareness warm and strangely heavy in your chest. You didn’t look back right away. You waited until you reached the edge of the field.

When you finally turned, Chris had already pivoted back toward the game, jogging to rejoin his friends like nothing had happened at all.

And yet, the feeling lingered.

-

You were halfway through highlighting a paragraph in your textbook when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway reached your room. You didn’t need to know who it is.

A moment later, the front door opened, followed by a warm, polite voice, just a little louder than necessary.

“Good evening, Ma’am!”

You smiled to yourself as you kept reading. You could hear him laying it on thick like he always did, thanking your mother for the lunchbox, complimenting the food, promising he ate everything. He had perfected the art of charming adults, and your mom adored him for it.

Footsteps followed soon after, taking the stairs two at a time. Chris didn’t knock but pushed through your bedroom door without ceremony. He dropped his bag by the wall before collapsing onto your bed with a dramatic groan.

“Chris,” you sighed without looking up. “You know you’re supposed to knock.”

He rolled to the side and coyly shrugged. “I know you’re just studying.”

“That’s not the point.”

You stood, walked over, and grabbed his arm, dragging him off the bed despite his half-hearted protests until he was sitting on the carpeted floor.

“No outside clothes on my bed,” you reminded him.

Chris grinned up at you, mischievous. “Then I’ll just take my clothes off.”

You took his bag and dropped it onto his lap. “Start studying,” you deadpanned.

Chris huffed but reaching into his bag. He moved slower now, fatigue evident in the way his shoulders slumped as he pulled out his book. Up close, you noticed his hair was still slightly damp, dark strands falling messily over his forehead. He smelled like soap and his musky cologne you’d grown used to without realizing when it happened.

He leaned back against the edge of your bed, flipping to the page he needed. “This part,” he said, pointing. “I don’t get it.”

You grabbed your notebook and pencils, sliding down to sit beside him on the floor, your shoulder brushing his as you leaned against the mattress too. You walked him through it step by step, slowly and patiently explaining it the way you always did.

Chris really listened. His brow furrowed in concentration, eyes following your pencil as it moved. He asked questions. He corrected himself when he realized his mistake.

You watched him, quietly admiring the effort. You knew he had to be exhausted. School, practice, expectations. And still, he showed up. Still sat on your bedroom floor, trying his best to understand something he didn’t have to care about.

It was one of the things you liked most about him among other things. You just didn’t tell him because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, make him cockier than he already was.

The room was quiet except for the scratch of pencil against paper as you waited while Chris finished the last of his practice questions, knees tucked to your chest, back resting against the bed.

“Are you done?” you asked after a while.

“Not yet,” he answered halfheartedly.

It took longer than it should have. Suspicious, you leaned forward, peering over his shoulder. Chris was lying on his stomach now, notebook angled slightly away from you and he was very clearly not doing math.

You slapped his shoulder. “Chris!”

He laughed, twisting onto his side and holding the notebook up proudly with tongue slightly peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “Look.”

You frowned at the page. “…What is that?”

“A dinosaur,” he said confidently.

You scoffed. “You made me wait so you could draw?”

Before you could scold him further, he flipped the page. “All done,” he said smugly.

You stared at the finished questions, then glared at him. “You could’ve said that instead of wasting my time.”

Your argument dissolved quickly into a mess of laughter and shoving, hands pushing shoulders, legs tangling until you were both rolling on the carpet.

“Kids,” your mom stood in the doorway, shaking her head in amusement, taking in the sight of the two of you wrestling on the floor.

“She started it,” Chris said immediately, index finger pointed at you.

You smacked him lightly on the chest and he yelped in exaggeration.

“Your daughter practicing violence instead of studying,” he added solemnly while rubbing his chest.

Your mom laughed, setting a tray of cut fruit and snacks down beside you. “Behave,” she said lightly before leaving you to it.

Chris wasted no time grabbing a handful of grapes, leaning onto his side with one elbow propped against the floor as he popped one into his mouth. Even with his dishevelled hair and the dark t-shirt rode up his waist, he looked like he’s posing for a magazine.

You quickly shifted your focus back to studying. You picked up your pen and his notebook, carefully checking his answers.

One after another—correct. All ten.

You paused, surprised, then cleared your throat and kept your expression neutral. “Well done.”

Chris smirked, popping the last grape into his mouth. “See? I get it.”

You gathered your things, returning them to your desk but stayed seated on the floor next to him.

Chris rolled onto his stomach and reached for a few crackers, chewing thoughtfully. “Studying after school is boring,” he complained.

“You could hang out with your soccer mates instead. I’m sure they’re much more fun than me,” you teased as you bite into sliced apple.

He turned his head toward you. “How about we go see a movie this weekend?” he asked rather too casually.

You assumed the usual, that Chris will bring along his friends and watch the movie together. He’d done it before. “Oh, yeah. I’d love to hear Walcott’s commentary the whole time,” you said dryly.

He frowned. “No. Just you and me.”

You stopped chewing for a second. “Just… us?”

“Yeah,” he nodded like it was obvious.

You schooled your face to remain calm. You didn’t want to overthink it. You couldn’t. You told yourself it was just two friends going to a movie together. Nothing more.

“Yeah, sure,” you said lightly.

“Cool,” he smiled while subtly nodding. “I’ll pick you up at seven then.”

Later, you walked him out. He charmed your mom once more in the living room before heading for the door, waving at you as he climbed into his car. You stood there until his headlights disappeared down the street. Only then did you go back inside and couldn’t stop yourself from hiding your smile anymore.

-

You stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary, changing in and out of clothes for a few times. All this effort… You told yourself you were just making sure you looked presentable.

A presence lingered at the doorway as you adjusted the collar of your top. Your mother leaned against the frame, watching you with a knowing smile. “Where are you going?”

“To the movies,” you answered, eyes still on your reflection.

“With who?”

“Chris.”

Her eyebrow lifted slowly. Deliberately. “Oh? Is this… a date?” she teased, delighted.

“No,” you answered without a beat and groaned for giving yourself away.

You calmed your face before turning toward her and tried again. “It’s not a date. We’re just going to the movies.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced.

You busied yourself by combing your hair with your fingers. “We’re just friends. That’s all.”

She chuckled softly, then gestured toward your closet. “Date or not, I think you should wear that cute top.”

You followed her finger to the white blouse hanging neatly among your clothes. The one she bought for you as Christmas gift. The one you hadn’t worn ever since.

“Mom…” you groaned for unknown reason.

“I’m just saying,” she said, picking up the laundry basket from your room and took it with her.

You stared at your reflection again, doubt creeping in as you kept glancing at that white top. With a dramatic sigh, you reached into your closet, took the blouse off the hanger, and changed into it.

You know. Just in case.

-

Chris’s car pulled up right on time.

You grabbed your bag and headed for the door, only for your mom to beat you to it. She leaned casually against the frame as Chris stepped out of the car, greeting her with his usual easy smile.

“Hey, Chris,” she greeted him brightly. “You look dazzling.”

The compliment made him a bit flustered as he grinned, ears reddening. “Thanks, Ma’am.”

You hurriedly made your way out of the door before your mom could tease either you or Chris. Or both.

“Have a great time, you two,” she said brightly.

“I’ll have her home before curfew,” Chris promised without hesitation.

Your mom laughed. “Oh, you can take her out all night. I’m fine with that.”

“Mom!” you groaned, mortified.

Chris laughed but before you could recover, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the car.

“Goodnight!” He called over his shoulder at your mom.

You barely had time to protest before you were guided into the car, his hand warm around yours as he opened the passenger door for you.

The car ride to the movies was filled with his voice. Chris rambled easily about the movie options, about how one had better reviews and the other had cooler trailers. You nodded along, half listening, suddenly very aware of how he looked.

He’d dressed nicely in simple dark shirt, blue jeans. His hair was styled, pushed away from his face in a way that made your chest feel oddly tight. And when he leaned over to adjust the volume, the scent of his cologne filled the space between you, familiar but sharper tonight.

Somehow, you thought about what your mom had said and how you told yourself after. Just friends. Still, you wondered if this was really just the two of you going to the movies as Chris kept talking, oblivious, one hand on the wheel as he smiled to himself. You stared out the window, something tugging at your chest and tried not to think too hard about it.

The two of you ended up choosing a rom-com because the other options were horror and thrillers, and despite Chris’s image as this badass, confident soccer captain, he absolutely could not stomach those kinds of movies.

“I’m not watching something that makes me jump every five minutes,” he said flatly.

You smirked. “You can be honest with me and say that you’re scared.”

“I’m sensible,” he corrected.

Tickets bought, the two of you joined the queue for snacks next. What started as a simple decision quickly turned into a heated yet entirely unserious argument.

“We don’t need nachos and popcorn,” you insisted.

“Yes, we do. It’s all about balance,” Chris argued.

“That’s not how balance works.”

Before you could respond, someone stepped into his line of sight.

“Hi, Chris!”

It was Cheryl—the one who’d given him a drink the other day. She smiled, eyes fixed on him and only him, barely sparing you a glance. You were used to it so you did what you always do in this situation, eliminating yourself from it. You stepped forward in the queue, giving them space, and focused on the menu.

By the time it was your turn to order, Chris reappeared beside you, casually slipping an arm around your shoulders.

“Popcorn,” he said to the cashier, “and sparkling cider. And M&M’s.”

You turned to him. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “You always get the usual.”

You scoffed, heat creeping into your cheeks. “Don’t act like you know me.”

He only smiled wider and continued ordering more snacks for him. Then insisted on paying the whole thing.

Inside the theater, you barely had time to sit before Chris was already reaching into the popcorn.

“Hey,” you scolded, lightly slapped his hand. “It’s gonna be gone before the movie starts.”

He pouted dramatically but stopped. “Can I have some of your M&M’s then?”

You poured some onto your hand and handed him a few.

He frowned. “Why are they all brown?”

“Because the colored ones have artificial dyes,” you said seriously. “Bad for your athlete body. I’m basically giving you the best ones.”

He paused, genuinely considering this. Then nodded. “Fair.”

You turned back to the screen just in time to see him lifting an entire handful of M&M’s toward his mouth.

“Chris!” you hissed, grabbing his wrist. “One at a time!”

“Stop scolding me,” he whispered back.

The lights dimmed and everyone in the theatre immediately stopped shifting, turning quiet.

“Shh,” you hurriedly whispered, settling back into your seat.

At the same time, you both let out suppressed laughter, shoulders shaking in the dark. And for the first time that night, you didn’t think about labels. You just leaned back and let yourself enjoy being there with him.

-

The movie played on, soft music filling the theater as the story unfolded. You tried to focus on the screen, on the predictable banter and the slow build between the characters, but Chris kept moving. Not a lot. Just enough for you to notice.

He leaned over to grab popcorn from the bucket resting on your lap, his arm brushing yours every time. At first, you stiffened, then you forced yourself to relax, pretending it didn’t register. His hand settled on the armrest between you, palm turned upward, open and close enough that you were painfully aware of the space it occupied. Too close to be nothing. Too far to be something.

A few times, you felt his gaze on you, and when you glanced back, he looked away like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, his attention snapping back to the screen.

The movie reached the part you knew was coming. The characters finally stopped pretending. They stood too close, voices dropping, eyes searching each other’s faces. When they kissed, it was soft and inevitable, and the theater went quiet in that shared, collective stillness.

You felt warm all of a sudden. You shifted in your seat, trying to act casual, like the scene didn’t affect you at all. Like you weren’t imagining what it would be like if it were you and Chris instead—if his hand on the armrest moved just a little, if he leaned in the way the actor did.

You had to actively tell your brain not to look at him and forced your eyes on the screen instead, heart beating a little faster than it should, telling yourself again and again that this was just a movie. It was the proximity, the dark playing tricks on you.

Still, when Chris’s fingers curled slightly on the armrest, you felt the unspoken invitation to put your hand on his, slipping your fingers between the gaps and intertwining them together.

God, you wondered…

And yet, you didn’t dare to move.

-

When the credits rolled, the lights slowly came back on. You stretched, blinking as the theater filled with movement again.

“I’m going to go to the restroom,” you told Chris, already standing.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said easily.

You nodded and slipped away. Inside, the restroom hummed with the sounds of people shuffling in and out of the stalls, footsteps against tile, the rush of water, the harsh whine of the hand dryer. You ducked into a stall, shutting the door quietly behind you, taking a breath.

The sounds faded one by one until it was quiet. You took a moment to relish everything—the moments you’d quietly shared with Chris in the darkened room. You smiled to yourself as you recalled and questioned everything at once.

Then you heard voices, and you recognized them immediately. It was Cheryl and the friend she’d come to the movie with.

“At first I thought I was seeing things,” Cheryl said with a scoff. “But it was Chris. With her.”

Your stomach tightened, your breath slowed, realizing she was talking about you.

Another girl hummed in response, uninterested but listening.

“I mean—how does that even make sense? What does he even see in her? She’s not… like—” Cheryl trailed off, sounding distracted for a second before finishing the sentence. “She’s not fit for him.”

Your fingers curled against your thigh, nails digging through the denim. You pressed your lips together to keep from making any sound, exposing yourself for listening in on their conversation.

The second girl laughed softly. “She probably thinks she has a chance.”

They giggled, the sound echoing in the quiet room, endlessly mocking you.

“Like some hopeless wannabe Chris’s girlfriend,” Cheryl said with a sharper scoff. “As if.”

“So… pathetic,” the other added and they burst into laughter. Like the words they’d said were harmless. Like the very person they were talking about couldn’t hear it.

You sat back on the toilet lid, heart pounding, staring at the stall door as if it might give you away. You didn’t move. You didn’t say anything, because interrupting would hurt worse. You just waited in silence as your heart grew heavier, sinking deeper and deeper.

Eventually, their voices faded. You heard the door open and close. Then silence.

You waited a few more seconds before stepping out and walking to the sink. You turned the faucet on and stared at your reflection. You looked the same as you always did. The same face Chris had known since you were six. The same girl who packed lunchboxes and tutored him on bedroom floors.

And suddenly, you felt foolish for fixing your hair, for changing your top, for thinking—just for a moment—that this night meant something. What a fool you were to believe someone like Chris would ever look at you that way. To imagine you could be enough. To even let the thought exist.

The doubt spiraled fast, relentless, pulling you under until you couldn’t tell which parts were theirs and which parts were yours. You dried your hands slowly, fought the tears stinging your eyes, swallowed the lump forming in your throat. And when you looked at your reflection in the mirror again, you convinced yourself you were okay and walked toward the door.

Chris was leaning against the wall when you came out of the restroom, phone in hand. He looked up immediately, a smile breaking across his face like nothing in the world could be wrong.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. “Let’s go grab something to eat before we head home? I’m thinking something greasy, so… burgers?”

“I just want to go home,” you said.

He paused, glancing at you. “What? Why—are you sick?”

“No. I think all that romance just made my stomach sick,” you joked weakly and managed a faint smile. “Probably hormones. Or my period.”

Chris grimaced in sympathy, concern flickering across his face before he nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll take you home.”

The drive was quiet, but your head was loud instead—those words replaying over and over, sinking deeper every second. Not fit for him. Wannabe. Hopeless. Pathetic. They echoed until it was hard to hear anything else. Hard for you to ignore.

Chris glanced over at you. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m just sleepy,” you lied easily, staring out the window.

He checked the time. 10.03 p.m. “Wow. Yeah, it’s way past your bedtime.”

You let out a small chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing enough while still avoiding his eyes.

When the car stopped in front of your house, you forced a smile and reached for the door. “Goodnight.”

“That’s it? No goodnight kiss for me?” he teased, dimples sinking deep into his cheeks as he grinned.

You glared at him. “Goodnight, Chris.”

He laughed as you closed the door, and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked toward the house—but this time, you didn’t turn around. You kept walking until you were inside, until the door shut behind you.

Your mom looked up from the living room. “Hey, honey. How was the movie?”

You didn’t answer and headed straight for the stairs, feet heavy, chest tight. Once inside your room, you dropped your bag and collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball as the tears finally spilled over.

Your mom’s footsteps approached, and not long after, the door creaked open. “I didn’t expect you home so—” She stopped when she saw you.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, immediately sitting on the edge of your bed, her hand rubbing slow circles against your back. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Everything, you answered inside your head. Instead, you shook your head, crying harder.

“Are you hurt?” she asked gently.

All over. Yet you shook your head again.

She was quiet for a moment before asking softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You lifted your face just enough to whisper, “I just want to be alone.”

She nodded, understanding without pressing. “Okay. You tell me if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded as you hid your face behind the pillow.

“I love you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaving you alone in the dim quiet of your room.

And you cried and cried until the night felt too big to hold.

-

After that night, you learned how to draw lines.

Not the obvious kind, just invisible ones you kept reminding yourself not to cross. You told yourself, over and over, that you were just Chris’s friend. That you had always been just that, and that it would stay that way. You became good at repeating it until it sounded true.

School kept moving whether you wanted it to or not. Classes piled up, deadlines crept closer, graduation looming on the horizon like something unreal. You threw yourself into your studies because it was easier to focus on grades and schedules than on the way your chest still tightened whenever Chris smiled, or grinned, or leaned too close. Or how he made jokes just to make you smile.

Some part never really changed. You still talked to him every day. He still drove you to school, still had lunch together with you, still texted you memes at midnight like nothing had shifted. And maybe nothing had—not for him, anyway.

You learned to swallow the ache and answer him like everything was normal. Because friends did that.

You watched him live his life—soccer practices, matches, teammates, people who orbited around him so naturally it made you feel like you were standing just outside the frame. You reminded yourself that he was allowed to have a world that didn’t revolve around you, that you weren’t entitled to more.

So you chose yourself instead. You stayed up late to study, headphones in, notes spread out across the table. You started thinking about the future, about colleges, about leaving, about who you could be when high school was finally over. You told yourself that that feelings were temporary, just things you outgrew if you ignored them long enough.

Some days, it almost worked. Other days, you caught him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, and your heart stumbled all over itself. And on those days, you looked away first and locked your heart shut.

You learned how to want him quietly. You learned how to be his friend without asking for more, how to smile without letting it show how much it cost you. And somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that this was safer.

High school would end. You would move on. And Chris would just be someone you once loved in a way you never said out loud.

-

The box of sandwiches was warm against your stomach, the paper bags crinkling softly with every step. Your mom had woken up early to make them because it was something she liked to do as a form of contribution and also because it was the last match of the season—the last time this team would play wearing the school’s colors.

The second you pushed open the locker room door, the noise hit you.

“YEAHHH—!”

Cheers erupted like they’d been waiting for you. It seemed like they had been, in fact, expecting you. Someone whistled. Someone else clapped. Aaron was the loudest of all, already halfway across the room with his arms in the air.

“Our favorite person is here!” he announced, dramatic as ever.

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “Don’t eat them yet. These are for after warm-ups,” you warned, narrowing your eyes while holding the box away from him.

A collective groan filled the room, followed by laughter. You scanned the space out of habit, craning your neck to look between the rows of lockers and through the chaos of a room full of testosterone. You noticed the absence of one person.

“Where’s Chris?” you asked, turning back to Aaron.

He jerked his thumb toward the hallway. “He got called to the coach’s office earlier.”

Your brows knit together, confused and slightly concerned. “Why? Is he in trouble?”

Aaron snorted like the idea was offensive. “Please. Chris? Trouble?”

You hummed, unconvinced, but before you could say more, you gestured toward the door. “Can you help me grab the boxes from the car? There’s more. My mom went all out.”

Aaron’s eyes lit up at the mention of more food. “Say less.”

The two of you headed out to the parking lot, the late afternoon sun hanging low and golden. Aaron hoisted the box like it weighed nothing, chatting as easily as he always did.

“So,” you said casually—maybe too casually—“do you know why Chris was called in?”

Aaron scoffed again, like the answer should have been obvious. “Scouts.”

Your feet skidded to a stop as you used the chance to adjust your grip around the box of cookies. “Scouts?” you echoed.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing back at you, grinning. “He’s been getting offers from universities to join their soccer teams. Big ones. They’ve been watching him for a while.”

Your chest tightened because Chris had never told you any of it. “Oh.”

It wasn’t really a surprise. You’d always known this was coming. You’d seen the hours he put in, the way he treated the field like something sacred. Chris was good. Everyone knew it.

“Do you think he’ll take it?” you asked, even though part of you already knew the answer.

Aaron gave you a look. “Of course he will. It would be stupid not to take it.”

You nodded slowly, your steps falling back into rhythm beside him. “Yeah. Right.”

Chris was smart. He knew what he wanted. He knew how hard he’d worked for this. You pictured him in a different jersey, on a different field, chasing the same dream he’d always had—and instead of sadness, what rose first was pride.

You smiled to yourself as you walked back toward the locker room, because good things were happening to good people. And even if your place in his life had shifted, even if it hurt sometimes, you were still happy for him.

That was what you did. That was what friends did.

-

The bleachers were already packed by the time you and your mom squeezed into a spot halfway up.

It felt like the whole town had shown up tonight. Familiar faces from school, parents, kids with painted cheeks, even shop owners who definitely should’ve still been working—your mom included. She’d closed the bakery early to watch her charming boy, Chris, play his last match defending the school.

“This is a big one,” she said, more to herself than to you.

When the team finally ran out, the crowd erupted. The sound was almost physical, vibrating through the metal bleachers beneath your feet. You leaned forward automatically, eyes sweeping the field, and you spotted him immediately.

Chris jogged out with the rest of the team, jersey clinging to his shoulders, hair already a little wild. Then he slowed, craning his neck, scanning the bleachers like he was searching for something—or someone.

Your heart stuttered when his eyes landed on you and his face broke into that dimpled grin you knew too well, the one that felt like it was meant just for you. He lifted a hand and waved, a little shy despite everything.

You laughed softly and waved back, mouthing good luck with an exaggerated thumbs-up. Your mom squeezed in beside you, also waving and wishing him luck.

He nodded, eyes lingering for half a second longer, before turning back to his teammates and taking his position on the field.

A moment later, the whistle blew and suddenly you weren’t thinking about anything else. You gripped the edge of the bleacher, breath caught in your throat as the ball moved back and forth across the field. You sucked in a sharp breath when Chris nearly scored, your mom clutching your arm at the same time.

When he got tackled, you gasped, half-rising from your seat until he pushed himself back up, shaking it off like it was nothing.

With only a few minutes left in the second half, the ball arced perfectly, Chris moved on instinct, and when it hit the back of the net—GOAL!

You were on your feet before you realized it and the crowd exploded in cheers, whistles, screams. You were shouting too, hands clapping, heart pounding as you watched Chris throw his arms up, his teammates swarming him in celebration. He’d done it. They’d won.

When the final whistle blew, the noise became deafening. The team piled together at the center of the field, laughter and shouts and pure, unfiltered joy spilling out of them.

You watched Chris in the middle of it all, sweat-soaked and glowing, smiling like this moment was everything he’d ever worked for.

And it hit you all at once.

You were happy—so happy—for the way he’d grown into this person, for the way his hard work had finally paid off, for the future opening up in front of him, wide and bright. But tucked into that happiness was a tint of ache.

High school was ending. This chapter was closing. Soon, the paths you’d been walking side by side would start to drift apart, each of you following your own direction. The realization was bittersweet, but even as your eyes burned, even as a tear slipped free, you smiled anyway because this moment deserved joy.

And you let yourself feel all of it at once.

-

The car ride felt much quieter after all the loud, deafening cheers from the soccer match earlier. Your mom hummed along to the song playing on the radio, hands steady on the steering wheel as she pulled into the diner’s parking lot. The neon sign buzzed softly, the place already glowing with noise and a growing crowd.

“Okay, we’re here,” she announced, slowing to a stop.

You nodded, gathering your phone and jacket. You paused with your hand on the door handle, then turned back. “I’ll be back before curfew.”

Your mom snorted. “You’re eighteen. You don’t have a curfew.”

“I’ll be back before curfew anyway,” you said with a grin.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Just have fun. You earned it.”

You pretended to think about it, eyes drifting up as if considering something monumental. “Hmm… nope. I’ll be back before curfew.”

She laughed again, softer this time. “Just be safe, okay?”

“I will.” You leaned over, gave her a quick hug, and murmured, “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, watching you fondly as you stepped out of the car.

The diner was already packed, booths full, laughter bouncing off the walls. As soon as you stepped inside, you spotted Aaron’s girlfriend, Celia, waving both hands enthusiastically from a booth near the back.

“Over here!” she called.

You weaved through the crowd and slid in beside her, passing the time chatting about the match earlier.

A moment later, the front door burst open and the team stormed in like a parade—a sea of blue and black varsity jackets, loud and chaotic. The entire diner erupted into cheers, people clapping and whistling as if the match were still happening. You laughed as Aaron and Walcott hoisted Chris into the air, leading everyone to chant:

“Best captain! Best captain! Best captain!”

Chris groaned, ears and face reddening as he laughed and squirmed. “Put me down—guys—guys—”

They finally released him after throwing him into the air once, and he stumbled back to the ground, still smiling like he didn’t know what to do with all the attention.

Once everyone settled into booths, plates of burgers, fries, and sodas crowded the tables. Chris slid in next to you without thinking, his shoulder brushing yours as he grabbed a fry from his plate.

“Great match!” you praised genuinely, a hand gently placed on his shoulder. “Great play. All of you!”

“Thank you,” Chris said with his mouth full.

“My mom cheered so hard I think she’s legally allowed to adopt you now.”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Whoo! Free bread for life.”

“Not bad, right?”

Still, he couldn’t help himself. “I should’ve passed earlier in the second half. And my timing on that last run—”

You cut him off with a look. “You played great. The team won. That’s the part that matters.”

He exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

With that, he took a bite of his burger, chewing at ease. And you wanted to ask about the scouts or the offers he’d received so far—but you figured it wasn’t the best time. Not here. And definitely not when everyone was celebrating.

Across the table, Aaron and Celia suddenly leaned in at the same time, muttering something to each other before their lips met in an innocent kiss—and when they kissed again, it escalated into a full-on make-out within seconds. You and Chris groaned in perfect sync.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, looking away in disgust.

“Get a room!” Chris groaned as he grabbed a fry and tossed it. It bounced off Aaron’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Aaron laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay—no violence from the captain.”

Celia only giggled as Aaron wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Then he eyed Chris. “After-party at my place?”

Chris shrugged, then tilted his head toward you. “I gotta drive her home. She has curfew.”

You elbowed his side. “I’m eighteen. I don’t have a curfew.”

Chris winced and tried again. “I meant it’s way past her bedtime. She gets cranky.”

You slapped his chest hard enough that he yelped, his hand flying to his heart. “Ow!”

You looked back at Aaron, smiling sweetly. “We’ll be there.”

Aaron leaned back, satisfied. “Cool.”

Chris looked at you, rubbing his chest, eyes bright. “You’re violent.”

You leaned in and grinned, then absentmindedly said, “You love it.”

And for a second, he looked at you like maybe that was true.

-

The celebration continued from the diner to Aaron’s house, as it was the designated hangout place for the soccer team. Chris drove the car slowly, his night drive playlist softly playing through the speakers, the windows cracked open, the night air cool against your skin. You were halfway relaxed when you realized the streets were… wrong.

“Chris, you missed the turn,” you said as you glanced at him.

He didn’t even look at you. He just smirked, one hand steady on the wheel. “Did I?”

“Yes. Aaron’s place is the other way,” you said matter-of-factly.

“I know.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Then where are we going?”

He finally looked over, a crooked grin on his face. “Trust me.”

You scoffed, arms crossing. “That’s not an answer.”

The farther he drove, the more you recognized the road. The old stretch with the uneven streetlights. The public library. The park, and then—

“This is—”

“The elementary school,” he finished lightly as he pulled into the empty parking lot and killed the engine.

The building loomed in the dark, windows black, the flagpole creaking faintly in the breeze. It looked smaller than you remembered and somehow more intimidating at night. You stepped out of the car, hugging your jacket closer as you waited by the door, eyes drifting over the school you’d both attended years ago. Memories flooded in—sticky cafeteria tables, scraped knees, the first time you’d met him.

Chris shut his door and walked over, his grin still firmly in place. He turned on the flashlight on his phone and shone it straight up at his face, casting ridiculous shadows. “You up for a trip down memory lane?”

“You’re so stupid,” you groaned, a smile tugging at your lips.

He laughed, already turning away. “C’mon.”

Despite having no idea what he was planning—and every instinct telling you to ask more questions—you followed him. Past the school building. Past the quiet playground where the swings swayed slightly in the wind. And then farther.

Toward the tree line. Into the woods.

-

The woods felt different at night.

Teachers had warned everyone not to go past the fence, not into the woods—but you and Chris had never listened. You remembered how you used to run through here without a second thought, sneakers crunching over leaves, laughing too loud, convinced nothing bad could ever happen to you. You were braver then. Or maybe just smaller, with less to lose.

“I think we were fearless,” you murmured, following close behind him, your flashlight beam shaking slightly with each step. “We were, like… eight. Wandering around here like it was nothing.”

Chris snorted softly. “Yeah. I’m realizing now this place is actually kind of terrifying.”

You laughed under your breath. “Right?”

You’d been walking for more than ten minutes when the boulder came into view. It was still there, massive and stubborn, perched near the edge of the hill like it had been waiting for you. Memory crashed into you all at once—scraped palms from climbing it, afternoons spent drawing on the rough surface with crayons, pretending the two of you were explorers instead of bored kids.

You shone a light over the surface and swallowed. “I thought everything would be gone.”

“Me too.”

But when you angled the light just right, you saw the faded streaks of color caught in the crevices. Ghosts of crayon. Red. Blue. Yellow.

“This stupid rock,” you whispered with quiet affection as it held so many memories.

Before you could react, hands gripped your waist and lifted you effortlessly.

“Chris—” you yelped as he hoisted you up.

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled.

You scrambled onto the top and scowled down at him. “I could’ve climbed myself.”

He scoffed, already pulling himself up with ease. “Sure.”

You sat side by side, so close your shoulders brushed, legs dangling over the edge. The town stretched out below you, lights scattered like stars fallen to the ground, framed by trees swaying gently in the wind.

“Didn’t know the view looked this beautiful at night,” you sighed in awe.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly.

A cold gust cut through you and you shivered. Without a word, he shrugged off his varsity jacket and draped it over your shoulders. It was warm and smelled just like him. You didn’t argue, but clutched it closed and smiled as you muttered, “Thank you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable and full. But at the same time, it was heavy with things you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“School’s ending soon,” you said eventually.

“Thank God,” he muttered as he leaned back, hands propped against the rock.

“You’re gonna be this huge soccer star,” you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Too famous to remember me.”

He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I heard you got scouted,” you added carefully.

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a slow nod.

“That’s amazing.” You turned to him, eyes bright. “You’re so close to your dream.”

“Mm.”

The faintness of his smile made you uneasy. “You’re taking it, right?”

He went quiet, and you waited patiently for his answer. Inside, you hoped he was only hesitating to share—not because he had bad news.

When he sat straighter and finally looked at you, it felt like the air shifted. Like the world narrowed down to just the two of you sitting on a rock in the dark. He inhaled deeply and held your gaze.

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he blurted quietly.

For a second, the world felt suspended in time and your heart skipped a beat.

“No—” Chris quickly corrected.

The world tilted and your heart dropped.

“I…” He swallowed before finally finishing. “I love you.”

Air caught in your throat. Your heart hurt so good.

He kept going, voice steady but raw. “I love that you’re smart. You care. You see me. You’re patient with me. I love the way you worry about everything. I even love your weird sense of humor.”

You laughed softly, confused, flabbergasted, heart pounding.

Then his hands cupped your face, and he said it again with all of his heart. “I love you.”

The words hung there, fluttering in the air, heavy with everything that hadn’t been said out loud until now. You were still processing when he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were plush and soft against yours, brushing so tenderly, like he was afraid of breaking the fragility of the moment. The kiss was gentle yet certain, like something inevitable finally happening. Your eyes stung, tears threatening, because it felt right in a way you hadn’t known how to want.

Chris pulled away slightly, his thumb swiping across your wet lower lip, his eyes lingering with want before flicking up to yours, searching for permission. You gave him a small nod, and that was all it took. He moved his hand to the side of your face, cradling your jaw as he leaned in once more.

The first press of his lips was innocent until he parted his mouth just enough to capture your lower lip between his. You felt the way he gently sucked on it, the way his warm tongue brushed over your lips, patiently coaxing your mouth open. You caved almost immediately, letting him taste you more.

Chris didn’t rush. He knew how to build anticipation. First, his hand slid to the nape of your neck, holding you there as he tilted his head. Only then did he slip more of his tongue in, deepening the kiss, stealing the air from your lungs with each passing second. It was dizzying, intoxicating—and still, you didn’t want it to stop.

By the time he broke the kiss, you were gasping for air. He smirked in satisfaction like it had been his intention all along. Then he rested his forehead against yours, and the two of you stayed like that for a moment.

“I want to be with you,” he whispered.

Maybe it was because you were still catching your breath, the lack of oxygen clouding your thoughts, that you didn’t immediately question what he meant beyond wanting to be with you like this.

“I want to stay close to you,” he continued, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with such care. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

That was when you saw the fault in his words, and you hesitated to ask, afraid of the answer. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll come with you wherever you’re going,” he said like he hadn’t just committed himself to you.

You should’ve been happy to hear it, to know he was willing to go that far to be with you. Instead, your stomach dropped in shock. “But Chris… what about the scouts, the offers—”

“I won’t take it.”

“No,” you said instantly, pulling back. “No.”

His face fell. “Why?”

“You can’t do that,” you insisted, your voice trembling.

“Yes, I can.”

“We’re eighteen. You don’t know—”

“I do,” he cut in. “I know what I want.”

“But I—I have my own dreams,” you stuttered desperately. “And you have yours. You worked too hard for this.”

“There are other teams—”

“I don’t want you giving this up because of me,” you said, tears spilling over. “I couldn’t live with that.”

“It’s my life,” he argued softly. “I know what I want.”

The wind cut through the trees, colder now, like it was trying to sober you from the moment. You sat there in silence, Chris’s jacket heavy on your shoulders—warm, but weighing on you now.

Part of you thought you should feel happy. You were happy, in some fragile, devastating way. Because your feelings hadn’t been imagined. Because he’d said it out loud. Because he loved you enough to consider giving everything up.

But instead, it hurt.

It hurt because loving you shouldn’t mean sacrifice. Not like that. Not his dream. Not the thing he’d chased with sweat and tears and hard work and every ounce of discipline he had. The thought of him letting it go for you settled in your chest like guilt—heavy and suffocating.

“Chris, please…” you said, your voice trembling with sadness. “Take the offer. Do it. For yourself.”

The silence stretched before you added, pleading once more, “For me. Please…”

He grew quiet, considering it for a long, solemn moment until you saw surrender in his eyes.

“Okay,” he said with a heavy sigh, like it hurt to say it.

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath of relief, telling yourself you were doing the right thing. That this was what loving him looked like.

Still, a quieter, crueler thought slipped in and refused to leave. That someone like him—bright, driven, adored—should never have to choose. That you weren’t deserving of a love that asked him to shrink his future. That letting him go might be the only way to prove you loved him back.

So you sat there, next to the boy who loved you, staring out at a town full of lights, holding onto warmth that already felt like a memory, telling yourself the ache was worth it.

That someday, you’d understand why it had to hurt this much.

-

Graduation day felt unreal. It hadn’t fully sunk in that you had finished high school, that you’d graduated and this part of your life had ended. You were about to step into the real world now.

You loosened the front of your gown as you stepped onto the field, joining the other students greeting their parents. Your mom pulled you into a tight hug and placed a kiss on the cheek, a flower bouquet pressed to your chest as she looked at you with pride and fondness—and a hint of disbelief at the reminder of how much time had passed, how much you’d grown.

“So proud of you,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Thank you, Mom,” you muttered with a smile.

She sniffled and shifted her focus to the camera she was holding. “Let’s take some pictures.”

You stood beside your mom, cap crooked on your head, smiling for pictures you knew she would treasure more than you ever would.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “Chris!”

You turned just in time to see him walking toward you, gown hanging open, hair slightly messed up like always. He smiled when he saw you—soft and knowing, a little careful now.

“Come here,” your mom insisted, already waving someone down to take the photo.

You stood together, your mom wedged snugly between you and Chris, her arms hooked through both of yours. The student holding the camera laughed, counting down before snapping the picture. You smiled automatically, your cheeks aching.

However, your mom wasn’t done when she got the camera back. “Now just the two of you,” she said, ushering herself out of the frame.

You stepped closer to Chris, the space between you shrinking until your arms nearly brushed. He hesitated for half a second before his hand settled at the small of your back.

The touch was light, but it sent a quiet ripple through you—different now that you knew what it meant. You glanced up at him without thinking, and for a brief moment, your eyes met. There was something there, something warm and aching, unresolved.

You looked away first, faced the camera, and smiled. So did he.

Once your mom had taken more pictures than strictly necessary, she turned to Chris, her hands clasped proudly.

“Congratulations, Chris!” she said with a bright smile and a gentle pat on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said politely, his usual charm reserved just for your mom. He took his cap off and teasingly added, “All thanks to your smart, violent daughter.”

Your mom chuckled softly. “I heard about the scout. My God, you’re going places.”

His eyes met yours for a brief moment before he responded to your mom. “Not yet.”

“Yeah, but soon,” your mom corrected. She gave Chris’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as she added, “I wish you good luck, Chris. I really do.”

Chris grinned, dimples showing, eyes crinkling. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

The air was still buzzing with chatter and laughter, but the field grew less crowded as students and their families left in groups. Chris straightened slightly and turned to your mom. “Can I take your daughter for a drive?”

Your mom glanced at you before grinning. “Just take her away as you please.”

You rolled your eyes, though you smiled anyway.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris said, amused.

The car ride was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. It was nice and comfortable, like nothing had changed at all. Chris drove slower than usual, like he was stretching the road on purpose. You watched the town pass by through the window, committing everything to memory—the movie theater, the bowling alley, the diner glowing faintly in the afternoon light. Every place felt like a bookmark in your life.

You turned your head to the side and didn’t even try to hide that you were looking at Chris. One hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, the other on his thigh. His dark curls swayed in the wind slipping through the open window, his pale skin glowing under the sun. He looked calm. At ease. Confident. Like thoughts of the future didn’t scare him one bit. He looked most attractive when he was confident like that.

When he signaled and took the turn toward the elementary school, you already knew where he was taking you, and you let him.

-

The woods were way less frightening, more familiar in daylight. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dust motes floating lazily in the air as you and Chris walked side by side along the path you had taken so many times before.

“It’s not as scary during the day,” you said, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah. Night really does a number on this place,” he agreed.

When the boulder came into view, you let out a small sigh of relief. You took a moment to breathe it in, the town stretching out below you, rooftops glinting under the sun. Warm. Familiar. Home.

You turned to Chris and held your arms out expectantly.

He raised his brows. “Didn’t you say you could climb by yourself?”

You pouted. “Not in a dress.”

With a huff, he gave in immediately, hands gripping your waist as he lifted you up. You settled on top of the boulder, smoothing your skirt just as he climbed up after you without any effort. His white shirt tugged loose from his slacks as he moved, exposing a strip of skin, the hint of abs beneath. You looked away quickly, pretending you hadn’t noticed.

He sat close enough that your arms brushed with the smallest movement—enough to remind you that he was there, real.

“It’s just as beautiful during the day,” Chris sighed, eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“I think I’m going to miss this,” he added softly.

You nodded again, then asked almost wistfully, “Do you think it’ll still be this beautiful when we come back someday?”

“It will still be beautiful,” he said like it was a fact he’d known all along. “Because it survives time.”

You smiled, catching the meaning tucked beneath his words. You chose to believe him.

“I can’t wait for the future,” you said, letting out a soft chuckle. “I can already see you—famous soccer player. National team. Playing the biggest match of your life.”

He smiled, but it faded when you added lightly, “Though honestly, the biggest match of your life is trying to understand a math formula.”

He bumped his shoulder into yours in offense. You yelped, nearly slipping, and his arm shot out instantly, wrapping around your waist and holding you close.

With a mischievous smile, he said, “I can see you in the future too. Being a…” His words trailed off. “Wait—what was your dream again?”

You bumped his shoulder back, carefully this time. He laughed and tightened his hold.

Your heart ached then, because the future was still unknown. There was a very real possibility that you wouldn’t be part of each other’s lives the way you were now.

So you reached for his hand, slipping your fingers between his, intertwining them.

“Wherever we end up,” you said sincerely, your voice trembling just a little, “I hope you’re always happy.”

You swallowed hard, managing a faint smile even though the thought of not sharing a future together was painful to bear.

He squeezed your hand, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles over your skin. “I wish you the same.”

You stayed like that—looking at each other with ache and warmth and everything tangled in between. When tears threatened, you looked away, resting your head against his shoulder. You closed your eyes to hold them back, but they spilled anyway. You wiped them quickly before they could fall.

“You should’ve said it earlier,” you muttered, part scolding, part joking. “We could’ve had more of this. We could’ve planned better.”

He scoffed softly. “Anyone could see it. You were just too stupid to notice.”

You huffed, offended. “How was I supposed to know if you didn’t say anything? I’m not a mind reader.”

The bickering softened, turning into something tender, and then you were both laughing—sad, breathless laughter that felt like relief.

When his eyes found yours again, they were steady and certain. “I love you,” he said, his voice as soft as his gaze.

You felt it everywhere—in your chest, your hands, the way your heart answered before your mind could catch up. “I love you too,” you said.

His smile was warm and full, the happiest you’d ever seen it, like he’d waited his whole life to hear it back from you.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and kissed him. The moment your lips met in a deep, loving kiss, the world felt suspended in time. It was just you and him, sharing everything spoken and unspoken, and everything in between through the kiss. And God, you really hoped it lasted for eternity.

By some miracle, you managed to pull away. You rested your forehead against his, breathing him in.

“I’m surprised you know how to kiss,” he joked softly.

You scoffed. “I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.”

He grinned, dimples deep, and you smiled before resting your head on his shoulder again.

You stayed there like that, hands clasped tight, holding onto something you didn’t know you’d be allowed to keep. Neither of you said it, but you both knew—you were already yearning for each other.

So you held on tighter before you had to let go.

-

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[seohotbinnie]

OH MY GOD JUST WHEN I WAS IN MY EXES TO LOVERS TROPE ERA???? im going to eat this UP

[seospicybin]

LOVE IS BLIND.

PART ONE

Felix x reader. (f,a)

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: You and Felix are contestants in a social experiment where singles meet and date in private pods, allowing them to communicate without seeing each other. (14,1k words)

Author's note: This is it. I'm finally doing another dating show series and I figure that the timing is just perfect cause it's summer of love, baby. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one too ❣️

HOST: Welcome to Love Is Blind. For the next few weeks, singles will date one another without ever meeting face-to-face. Their only chance at connection lies within the pods — where walls separate them, and all they have are their voices. If they fall in love, they’ll get engaged without ever laying eyes on each other. Only then will they meet, move in together, and ultimately decide, at the altar, if love… truly is blind.

-

You fix the strap of your dress for the umpteenth time as a production assistant leads you down a sleek hallway. Your heels click softly against the polished floor, your reflection catching in the walls of tinted glass. Every step brings you closer to a lounge filled with women you’ve never met — women who, in the next few weeks, might be your competition, your confidants, or both.

The door swings open, and you’re greeted by a burst of laughter and the clinking of champagne flutes. The lounge is plush and vibrant, couches arranged in a circle, throw pillows scattered like a showroom catalogue. A bar cart gleams in the corner, already stocked with bottles of prosecco.

“Hi!” someone calls out cheerfully the moment you step inside. A brunette in a coral dress waves you over, her smile wide and welcoming.

You exhale, pushing away the nerves, and make your way into the group. Names and details fly quickly as everyone introduces themselves.

“I’m Laura. A marketing manager.” “Daria. Yoga instructor. I’m here for a real connection, you know?” “Sierra and I’m here because I’m tired. I just want to find my husband. ASAP!”

The three women laugh at that, one of them nodding in agreement. When it’s your turn, you clear your throat, forcing a polite smile as you introduce yourself. “I’m a jeweller. And I guess I’m here for the same reason you all are — to see if this works.”

The other women nod, accepting your answer before the conversation shifts again and more contestants coming. Some of them already sound like best friends, giggling over shared interests, while others sit quietly, scanning the room with thin smiles.

You sink into one of the couches, fingers tapping against your glass. Everyone else seems to carry a kind of bold hope with them — bright-eyed, ready to fall in love with a stranger. You, on the other hand, can’t quite shake the voice in your head reminding you that you’ve been fine on your own for a long time.

-

YOU: I’m not really the kind of person who believes in fairy tales, [sheepish smiles] I’ve always been independent. I’ve built my life on my own, and I’m happy with that. I don’t need someone to complete me. But… [pauses] [glances away] [looks back to the camera] I also don’t want to shut myself off forever. I joined this because— [softly sighs] —I want to give myself one more chance to believe in love. And if this doesn’t work too… oh, well [shrugs] [lightly chuckles]

-

The men’s lounge has darker tones, leather couches, a wall stacked with liquor, beers and wines. A pool table takes space in oner corner of the room.

Felix steps inside, his loafers squeaking faintly against the floor. His long, blond hair is styled neatly, but his hands are shoved deep in his pockets as he takes in the room. A few men are already gathered near the bar, laughing loudly, slapping each other on the shoulders like old friends even though they only just met.

“Yo! New guy!” one of them calls, grinning. “Come join us!”

Felix laughs, a soft sound that rumbles from his chest, and makes his way over. Introductions happen quickly, names flying around with easy camaraderie.

“I’m Rob.” “Shane. I’m a personal trainer.” “Musician. Jim.”

When it’s his turn, Felix scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy under their expectant gazes. “Uh, I’m Felix,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I’m a chef. But… I like cooking just about everything.”

The group hums in approval, one of the guys elbowing him with a grin. “So you’re the one we’ll all be begging to make breakfast for us, huh?”

Felix just shakes his head with a sheepish smile, his accent lacing his words. “We’ll see.”

-

FELIX: People tell me I have this… voice [laughs] [shakes head] like it makes me sound confident. But honestly? I’m not. Not really. I still get nervous around new people. I just hide it well [chuckles] I became a chef because cooking… it’s a way to take care of people. To show love without saying it out loud. And I think that’s what I want here too — someone I can take care of, and who’ll see me for me. Not just my voice, or… whatever people think when they first meet me. [Look at the camera] [exhales nervously] I don’t know if love is blind. But… I want to believe it can be.

-

All the fifteen female contestants have gathered in the lounge and sit comfortably on the curved velvet sofa when the two hosts steps into frame, stopping just on the marked spot, smiling warmly at the contestants before turning slightly toward the camera.

“Welcome to Love Is Blind,” the female host greets, her voice steady with the practiced cadence of someone who’s said these words dozens of times before. She goes on to introduce herself and the male co-host does the same after.

“You’re here because you’ve all been searching for something real. Something deeper than appearances, deeper than the surface-level dating we all know too well,” she begins. Then briefly looks at everyone, letting the words settle before continuing. “Here’s how it works: Over the next ten days, you’ll have the chance to date one another inside our custom-designed pods. You’ll be able to talk, laugh, and share your lives with a stream of potential love interests.”

The male co-host seamlessly takes it over like they rehearsed it beforehand. Maybe the did. “Here’s the catch. Look won’t play a factor here. The only time you’re going to interact is in one of those private pods. You’re going to be separated by one thin wall.”

The girl sitting next to you lowly gasp like it’s only dawn on her now what she’s getting herself into.

“You won’t ever get to see each other. Not until you’ve made a connection so strong… that one of you decides to propose,” he continues.

Everyone instinctively leaning forward with intrigue, including you. The concept seems absurd to you and that people would do this. That you are doing this.

“If they accept,” the female host takes it over again. “Only then will you meet face-to-face for the very first time.”

Your heart dips like you can vividly imagine how it would pan out. Except that your partner is still one big, blurry figure.

“From there, you’ll go on a romantic getaway, live together, meet each other’s families, and plan your wedding. And in just a few weeks’ time, you’ll stand at the altar and decide… whether love truly is blind.”

Just like that? You wonder if it’s that easy. You wonder if it is even achievable at all.You look around and see the other contestants are just as skeptical. But mostly, you notice a mixture of excitement and nerves flickering across their expressions.

The host smiles again, hands clasped in front of her as she brightly smiles. “So get ready. Because the pods… are now open.”

-

YOU: [nervously laughs] I’m terrified. Like, what am I even doing here? I’m supposed to walk into this little room and talk to strangers about, I don’t know, my life, my dreams, my… heart? [shakily exhales]

-

“Because the pods… are now open.”

As soon as the male host announces it, a chorus of reactions fills the men’s lounge immediately — groans, cheers, anxious laughter. Someone downs the rest of his drink dramatically while another mutters, “Oh, we’re really doing this.”

Felix laughs under his breath, though his stomach twists nervously at the announcement.

The group slowly makes their way down the glowing hallway together, footsteps echoing in the glowing hallway. Ahead of them, rows of illuminated pod doors stand waiting.

For the first time since arriving, the reality of this experiment settles heavily in Felix’s chest.

Somewhere behind one of those walls could be someone he might fall in love with. Someone he could potentially marry in a matter of weeks. It sounds insane and yet—

“Good luck, boys,” one of the contestants says, clapping his hands together.

“Go get that wife. Go get that wife. Go get that wife,” the man on his right chants with a fist pumping the air.

Another guy points toward Felix immediately. “He’s definitely leaving with a wife with that voice.”

Felix groans, face heating instantly as the others cackle. “Guys, please.”

“Yeah, bro sounds like he narrates documentaries,” another comments with a teasing chuckle.

Felix doubles over laughing despite himself, shoulders shaking as he hides his face in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright,” someone says between laughs. “Seriously though. Good luck, everyone.”

The group erupts into laughter and soon, it dies down as a soft chime rings through the hallway. One by one, the pod doors begin lighting up.

Felix exhales slowly, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket before stepping toward his assigned pod. His hand pauses briefly over the handle. Then he opens the door and disappears inside.

-

FELIX: This whole thing is crazy when you really think about it. [smiles] But I don’t know. There’s also something exciting about it too. The idea that maybe—behind one of those walls—is someone I could genuinely connect with. I’m not expecting perfection. I just… [pauses] I hope I meet someone who makes me feel comfortable enough to fully be myself. Someone I can laugh with. Someone I can build something real with. [shyly grins] And hopefully someone who likes food. Because that would help a lot.

-

The pod is nothing like you imagined. Maybe because you focused on the word ‘pod’ and automatically thought of all-white small, enclosed space with a desk and a chair. But it’s not that at all. Thankfully so.

The pod is spacious. The wall is soundproofed with one wall is made of glowing, glass-like panel which you assume is where you’re facing when you’re talking. There’s a couch positioned in the middle of it all with cushions, a blanket and a matching ottoman. There’s a cart parked on the side, filled with snacks and selection of drinks from water to soda, even the hard liquor. You go straight for the bowl of candies, hoping that sugar can help you with the nerves.

“Hello?”

The sound is heavy and curious, coming from the other side of the room. You stand, freezing for a second with your hand full of candies. This is it. This is your first date. Blind date.

“Hello,” you reply, hoping to sound casual but also, welcoming as you sit on the couch.

There’s a beat of silence and then—

“So, who’s there?” he asks, there’s an ease to his voice, probably making himself comfortable in his pod.

You pop a jelly bean into your mouth and think for a second. “Hopefully your future wife,” you playfully answer, grinning to yourself.

You’re kind of glad that you can’t see each other or else you wouldn’t even be this relax on the first date.

“Oh, hello, future wife!” He greets, lightly chuckling.

And just like that, the search for the one begins.

The whole day, you’re going in and out of pods, talking with different contestants and taking notes on qualities you sought in their personalities as something to ponder on later. It’s not always a smooth sailing. One guy talks endlessly about his workout routine, another brags about his investments, another tries way too hard to be funny. You laugh politely, asking questions, but your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall more often than not.

On another date, you’re curled into the couch, listening patiently as someone recites his “five-year plan” like he’s reading off a checklist. You nod, offer a thoughtful response, but there’s no spark — just surface-level chatter.

By the time you head back to the living quarter, you’re tired because honestly, you never went on so many dates in one day. Also, because, you feel like you’re giving too much already but the results are far from what you expected.

It’s hard to see that this experiment will be a great success but then again, it’s only the first day.

-

YOU: First day is done and I can honestly say… [subtly shakes head] I haven’t felt a connection with anyone yet. But I don’t think love is something you can force, and I definitely don’t want to rush it. If I’m going to connect with someone, I want it to be real. So yeah. I’m gonna take things slowly. And hopefully… someone here will surprise me. [softly smiles]

-

Felix steps into the pod, his nervous grin so wide it nearly splits his face. He doesn’t even explore the pod but plops onto the ouch, staring at the hypnotic glowing wall like if he will himself enough, he could see the person on the other side of the pod.

“Is someone there?” he hesitantly asks after a while.

“Oh?!” A surprised gasp comes, and then, the warm, slightly high-pitched voice comes again. “Is that you, God?”

Felix’s Australian accent slipping out stronger when he laughs and he must admit that the boys are right, it’s his voice. But he tries not to rely on it as he goes through one date after another.

On one date, he’s listening intently as a girl lists all her favorite dishes, and he leans forward, excitement lighting up his eyes. “Ohh, I’m actually a chef— I could make that for you.”

The girl giggles, but it feels light and playful, but there’s no sparks whatsoever.

On another date, he’s asked about his dream date. He rubs his nape, laughing softly. “Honestly? Nothing fancy. Just cooking together in the kitchen. I guess, that would be nice.”

Later, he’s caught in a long-winded conversation with someone who keeps circling back to her ex. He offers polite hums, but his smile is strained, fingers drumming restlessly on his notebook.

-

FELIX: Day one [pauses] I feel like I talked to so many amazing people, but I didn’t really… click yet. Not in the way I was hoping for. I think I just want something genuine, you know? Someone I can open up to. Not just about cooking or hobbies or—whatever. But really open up. I know it’s still early, but… I just hope I can find that here. [smiles]

-

The next morning, you shuffle into the kitchen still sleepy, dressed in an oversized sweater and lounge pants, only to immediately hear your name being called.

“Finally,” Daria says dramatically from beside the island counter. “Sleeping Beauty lives.”

You laugh softly as she walks over and hooks her arm through yours, guiding you toward the group gathered around the dining table.

“Come sit. Yesterday was emotionally traumatic. We need breakfast support,” she playfully says.

Someone nearby snorts loudly while another contestant, Tabitha, is already pouring orange juice into champagne flutes. Her dark hair is styled in beautiful waves, lips glossy and curled into a smile. If this is a regular dating show, she would have been the first to go home with a man because she’s that beautiful.

“Mimosas at nine in the morning is crazy,” you comment as you sit down.

“It’s self-care,” Tabitha replies solemnly before topping the drink off with champagne anyway.

The atmosphere feels lighter today. More relaxed. Less tense than everyone had been during the first day. Maybe because now all of you understand the rhythm of the experiment a little better. Or maybe because several girls already look suspiciously glowing after yesterday’s pod dates.

You’re halfway through your mimosa when a producer calls your name, signaling your next pod date.

“Good luck!” one of the girls teases as you stand. “Maybe this one’s your future husband.”

You snort softly, having one last sip of mimosa. “That’s a terrifying sentence.”

The girls laugh as you head toward the glowing hallway of pods, your nerves twisting tighter with every step. You push open the door to your assigned pod and settle onto the couch with a quiet exhale. The room is quiet, softly lit, the wall in front of you glowing blue. Then—

“Hello?”

The voice is deep. Ridiculously deep. Warm too, like melted chocolate poured straight through the speakers.

“Oh,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. “That voice is unfair.”

There’s a beat of silence before a startled laugh bursts from the other side of the wall. “Unfair?” he repeats, amusement curling through the word.

“You sound like a movie trailer narrator,” you say, leaning back into the couch. “Like you should be saying ‘coming this summer.’”

His laughter grows louder, bright and genuine. “Oh my god. That’s the first thing you say to me?”

“You started it by sounding like that.”

“I can’t control my voice!” he protests between laughs.

“Mm. Convenient excuse.”

Another laugh. Softer this time. Closer somehow. “Well, for what it’s worth, your voice is nice too,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at the wall instinctively. “You don’t have to lie to flirt with me.”

“I’m serious!” His accent slips out more clearly now, warm vowels wrapping around his words.

Cute. You glance down at your notebook, realizing you haven’t even written his name yet.

“Wait,” you say, laughing lightly. “I’ve been bullying your voice this whole time and I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, right.” He chuckles sheepishly. “I’m Felix.”

Felix. The name suits him immediately. You introduce yourself back immediately.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he warmly says.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard. You’ve had plenty of pod dates already. Conversations that felt rehearsed, awkward, overly polished. But this feels strangely easy like talking to someone you’ve known longer than five minutes.

“So,” Felix says after a moment, “what’s your very important opinion on pineapple on pizza?”

You gasp dramatically. “Absolutely not.”

“What?!”

“That’s a dessert pretending to be dinner.”

“You’re breaking my heart already.”

“You asked.”

“I’m a chef,” he says, mock wounded. “This is devastating for me professionally.”

Your head snaps up. “Wait, you’re a chef?”

“Yeah.”

“Like… a real chef?”

He laughs again. “I think so?”

“Oh, that’s actually really attractive,” you admit before you can stop yourself.

“Oh,” his surprise sounds small and flustered.

You grin immediately, realizing you caught him off guard.

“How many points do I earn from that?”

“Uhm… five,” you playfully answer, still grinning.

“Just five?” he asks, offended.

“You’ll earn more if you tell me what kind of chef are you,” you say, curling your legs beneath you on the couch.

“Mostly pastry,” Felix confidently answers. “But I cook everything. I just really like feeding people.”

The answer comes so naturally that it makes something soften in your chest.

“Feeding people?” you repeat with a laugh. “That sounds very grandmother-coded of you.”

He gasps dramatically. “Excuse you. I’ll have you know I make excellent tiramisu.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, suddenly serious. “Now we’re talking.”

“You like tiramisu?”

“I would genuinely risk my life for good tiramisu.”

Felix bursts into laughter again, loud and delighted. “That’s such a dramatic statement.”

“It’s true.”

“And how many points do I earn from that?” he curiously asks. “It’s gotta be more than five.”

You don’t even hesitate. “Solid ten!”

“Oh, yeah,” Felix cheers, more like a growl than anything.

“I wouldn’t celebrate yet. You only earned fifteen points so far,” you remind him, a chuckle spilled out at the end of the sentence.

“Alright then,” he says playfully. “What’s your ultimate comfort food?”

You hum thoughtfully. “Instant ramen.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You had all the food in the world and picked instant ramen?”

“Okay, first of all, don’t judge me,” you defend immediately. “Second, specifically the spicy kind at two in the morning when life feels terrible.”

Felix laughs softly. “That’s… actually very real.”

“And yours?”

There’s a tiny pause before he answers. “My mom’s brownies.”

The softness in his voice changes the atmosphere instantly. You can almost picture his smile through the wall. “She used to make them whenever me or my sisters had a bad day. So now I make them for other people too.”

“That’s really sweet,” you murmur before you can stop yourself.

A shy laugh comes from the other side. “Thanks.”

The conversation drifts after that — favorite cafés, failed recipes, childhood snacks you both still secretly buy as adults. Felix tells you about accidentally pouring vinegar instead of wine once during culinary school. Then you confess that you once nearly started a fire trying to make pasta after coming home exhausted from work at two in the morning.

“You almost burned your kitchen down making pasta?” Felix asks through his laughter.

“In my defense, I was tired.”

“You forgot the pasta, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Amateur moves.”

His laughter fills the pod completely now, warm and infectious enough that you find yourself laughing with him, shoulders loosening for what feels like the first time since entering the experiment.

And when the chime signaling the end of the date finally rings, disappointment flickers through you before you can hide it.

“Oh,” Felix says softly. “Time’s up already?”

You hate that the little note of disappointment in his voice makes your stomach flip. “Guess so.”

A pause settles between you and then—

“I hope I get to talk to you again,” Felix says quietly.

Something warm unfurls in your chest. “Yeah,” you answer before you can overthink it. “Me too.”

The line disconnects and somehow, the pod suddenly feels quieter than before.

-

YOU: Felix is funny. Like—actually funny, not trying-too-hard funny. [softly laughs] And his voice is… [groans] See? Now I’m sitting here thinking about some guy’s voice. [laughs] Anyway, that was the first conversation that didn’t feel forced. I didn’t feel like I had to perform or impress him. It just felt… easy. And the way Felix talks… I don’t know. It feels warm.

-

Felix practically floats out of the pod.

The hallway feels warmer somehow, lighter, his grin impossible to hold back no matter how hard he tries to bite it down. He ducks his head as he walks back toward the men’s living quarters, the notebook tucked beneath his arm.

He can still hear your laugh in his head. Still picture the way your voice had softened when he talked about his mom’s brownies. Still feel that weird little flutter in his chest every time you said his name.

It’s ridiculous. He’s smiling over someone he’s never even seen before.

The second he walks back into the lounge, a few of the guys immediately notice the expression on his face.

“Ohhh, look at him!” one of them calls from the dining table. “That’s not the face of a man who had a bad date.”

Another contestant points at him accusingly. “Bro’s glowing.”

Felix groans immediately, laughing as he drops onto one of the dining chairs. “Please leave me alone.”

“Nope,” someone says, sliding a glass of wine toward him across the table. “Sit down and tell us everything.”

Felix accepts the glass with an embarrassed grin while the guys gather around, all loose limbs and curious energy after a long day of pod dates.

“So?” one of them presses. “What happened?”

Felix shakes his head once, still smiling to himself before finally admitting quietly, “I think…” He laughs softly in disbelief. “I think I might’ve found my main person here.”

The table immediately erupts in loud, chaotic cheers.

Felix hides his face briefly behind his wine glass, shoulders shaking with shy laughter.

“It’s just—” he starts, trying to explain himself. “Talking to her felt easy. Like… really easy. I wasn’t trying to impress her or think about what to say next. We just clicked.”

“What’s she like?” another guy asks.

Felix leans back in his chair slightly, thinking about it.

“She’s funny,” he says first, almost immediately. “Like, genuinely funny. And she’s really smart too. But not in an intimidating way.” He pauses, smiling softly to himself. “She just feels very… grounded.”

“And hot,” one of the guys teases. “You’re imagining she’s hot, aren’t you?”

Felix groans loudly while the table bursts into laughter again. “That’s literally the opposite point of this experiment!”

“But are you?”

He tries to fight his smile and fails miserably. “I mean… Maybe a little,” he admits with a sheepish shrug.

The guys howl immediately.

“Nah, he’s gone.” “First casualty of the season.”

Felix shakes his head, laughing helplessly while someone raises their wine glass dramatically. “To mysterious pod girl!”

The others quickly lift their glasses too. “To Felix’s future wife!”

“Oh my god, stop,” Felix whines through laughter, though his cheeks are bright red now.

Still, he lifts his own glass with a shy smile, clinking it gently against theirs. And somewhere beneath all the teasing and laughter, something floods his chest.

Hope.

-

FELIX: I know it sounds crazy because it was literally just one conversation [laughs] but… there was something different about her. She teased me immediately, by the way [laughs] Like instantly [laughs] But I liked that. I liked that she didn’t sound overly polished or fake. She just sounded… real. [grins] I really hope I get to talk to her again.

-

It’s been an eventful day for you and it seems like for a few other people too.

You and Morgan are sitting in the dining table, sharing a plate of sliced fruits with a glass of wine. Both in comfortable clothes, no makeup on, just two girls conversing after a day packed with pod dates.

“Jim really is my type,” Morgan shares, picking up a grape from the plate. “First of all, he’s a musician.”

You chuckle at that because you clearly remember the way Jim cracked a dad joke as an opening on a pod date with you. “Yeah, that’s a plus point,” you nicely comment.

“And he said he’s got tattoos,” Morgan continues, her heart-shaped lips curve into a smile. “And that he left spaces on his body for tattoos of his future children.”

“Oh?” you genuinely intrigued by that, not expecting that a person like Jim would have such heartwarming thinking. Then, you playfully add, “Okay, but… on which part of his body?”

Morgan laughs at that, it’s sonorous and filled with cute little snort in between. And it goes on for a minute that she almost spit the grape she’s chewing.

Another girl joins you in the dining table, holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand. You can’t quite recall her name but she’s the only one with a beautiful strawberry blonde hair. “Do you know this one guy with, like, the deepest voice ever?”

Your hand slightly tightens around the stem of your wine glass. “Yeah,” you manage to casually answer.

“Oh my god, wait,” Morgan cuts in after sipping her wine. “Was it the Australian guy?”

“Yes!”

Your stomach twists unexpectedly.

“He sounds unreal,” she continues, smiling dreamily. “And we had such a good conversation earlier.”

You stare down into your wine, suddenly far too aware of how many women are in this room. Of how all of you are dating the same group of men. Of course Felix is talking to other girls. That’s the entire point of the experiment. Still, hearing someone else gush about him leaves an uncomfortable tightness curling low in your chest.

But you’re not losing hope yet. Maybe beside Felix, there really is someone else here worth opening up to.

-

YOU: See, this is why I didn’t want to get attached to anyone right away. [lightly shrugs] But that’s okay. There’s still time. I feel like I’m finally settling into the experiment now. And hopefully… Hopefully I’ll meet more people I genuinely connect with.

-

Felix is smiling before he even enters the pod. It’s embarrassing, honestly.

One conversation with you and suddenly he’s fixing his hoodie twice in the reflection of the hallway glass and wondering if his hair looks stupid despite the fact that you can’t even see him.

The pod door slides shut behind him with a soft hiss. He settles onto the couch, heart already thumping a little faster in anticipation. Then he hears a soft sigh from the other side of the wall and his smile appears instantly.

“Hey,” he greets warmly. “How’re you feeling today?”

A tiny laugh leaves you. “Still a little surreal, honestly.”

Felix leans back against the couch, smiling to himself at your soft, almost sleepy voice. “Yeah, I get that.”

There’s a small pause before he suddenly grins wider. “Guess what.”

“What?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

Your laughter bursts through the speakers immediately, bright and disbelieving, and Felix physically feels his chest loosen at the sound.

God. He likes your laugh so much.

“Are you this cheesy in the morning?” you ask between laughs.

“No, I’m serious!” Felix insists, grinning helplessly now. “I was literally thinking about our conversation all night.”

“Well,” you say playfully, “I’d love to say I’ve been thinking about you too, but another girl already did the job for me.”

Felix drops his head to the side. “Wait, what?”

“There’s apparently a guy with a really deep voice that all the girls are obsessed with.”

Felix groans loudly, dropping his head into his hand while you laugh softly on the other side of the wall. “Oh, no.”

“So,” you continue innocently, “sounds like you’re popular.”

A grin spreads across Felix’s face. “Are you jealous?” he asks teasingly.

Your scoff comes immediately. “No.”

“Mm.”

“I’m just wondering when will it be my turn.”

“You turn for what?”

“To think about you.”

Felix bursts into laughter at that, warm and genuine. Okay. Yeah. He really likes you.

“That’s fair,” he says once his laughter settles. “This is our second date now.”

“It is.”

“And I kind of want to pick up where we left off yesterday.”

Your voice softens immediately. “Yeah. Sure.”

The warmth in your tone lingers with him for a second before Felix shifts slightly on the couch.

“So,” he says curiously, “I know you can cook.”

You laugh. “That’s a very confident assumption.”

“You almost burned your kitchen down making pasta. That means you at least attempted cooking.”

“That’s true.”

Felix grins. “Do you actually enjoy cooking though? Or is it just… a skill you picked up?”

The silence that follows feels different. Felix hears you inhale softly on the other side of the wall before you finally answer.

“I think it became necessary more than anything.”

His expression softens immediately, ears intently listening in on every noise you make on the other side of the pod.

“My mom worked a lot growing up,” you explain quietly. “Like… a lot. So she didn’t really have time to cook when she came home.”

You pause for a second before continuing. “I kind of just learned because I had to. I started cooking for myself when I was around ten.”

Something twists painfully in Felix’s chest. He can almost picture it too clearly — a younger version of you standing alone in a kitchen trying to figure things out yourself. And judging by the slight tightness in your voice, he knows there’s probably much more to that story. But he also knows better than to push.

So instead, Felix smiles softly to himself and asks gently, “Okay, then what’s the first dish you successfully made?”

Your laugh returns, lighter this time. “An omelet.”

“That’s impressive for a ten-year-old.”

“I had it literally every morning before school because it was fast and easy.”

Felix chuckles softly. “Honestly? That’s kind of nice though.”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “It wasn’t bad.”

A comfortable silence settles briefly between you before Felix asks, “What is the one dish that you think is your best?”

You hum thoughtfully. “Probably pasta alla vodka.”

Felix laughs instantly. “You really are a pasta girl, huh?”

“Proudly.”

“Well,” he says confidently, leaning back against the couch, “good thing I’m good at Italian food.”

“Oh, don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’ll make you cook for me every day.”

Felix doesn’t even hesitate. “I’d gladly do it.”

The silence returns but it’s not awkward at all. And when you finally answer, your voice comes softer than before.

“Okay,” you warmly say, “No takebacks.”

Felix laughs that at that and warmth spreads through his chest so suddenly it almost catches him off guard. Because for one stupid second, he can picture you sitting on the counter while he cooks. Your voice filling the apartment. Late-night pasta dinners and warmth that feels achingly domestic. And the craziest part is, he still has no idea what you look like.

The chime signaling the end of the date rings far too soon.

Felix actually frowns at it this time. “Nooo,” he groans dramatically.

Your laughter spills through the speakers again. “You sound genuinely upset.”

“I am genuinely upset.”

“Poor thing.”

“You’ll miss me too.”

“Maybe.”

Felix grins helplessly at the wall until the line finally disconnects and somehow, he leaves the pod feeling even more certain than yesterday.

-

FELIX: I really, really enjoyed talking to her again. I think what I like most is that our conversations don’t feel shallow. Like yeah, we joke around a lot and tease each other, but I also feel like she lets her guard down with me sometimes. Even if it’s just little moments. That’s great. That means that she trusts me, she’s comfortable with me. Do I think we’re building something? [slowly nods] Yeah. I really do. And I just hope she feels the same way about me too.

-

By the time the day’s pod dates are over, the women’s living quarters have settled into a quieter, softer atmosphere. The lights are dimmed low, the girls wander around in oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks, emotionally drained from another day of intense conversations.

You’re curled up on one end of the couch beneath a shared blanket with Daria tucked beside you, both of you nursing half-finished glasses of wine. There’s not to do since they have taken all kind of devices from all contestants.

Daria nudges your foot lightly beneath the blanket. “You seem happier today.”

You glance sideways at her suspiciously. “You say that like you caught me doing something illegal.”

“I caught you smiling at absolutely nothing earlier.”

You snort quietly into your wine glass. “it’s nothing.”

Daria grins smugly before settling deeper into the couch cushions. For a moment, the two of you simply sit there listening to the low buzz of conversation around the room. Then you lower your voice slightly, just enough for only her to hear.

“You know what’s weird?”

“What?”

You stare ahead thoughtfully, fingers playing absentmindedly with the edge of the blanket. “I’m actually glad we can’t see them.”

Daria’s expression softens immediately, understanding flickering across her face. “Yeah?”

You nod slowly.

“I think…” You hesitate briefly, trying to explain the feeling properly. “If I could see them, I’d probably be distracted by stupid things. Whether they’re attractive or how they react to me physically or whatever.”

Daria hums in agreement.

“But like this…” Your voice grows quieter. “It’s weirdly relaxing. Easier to talk about deeper things.”

You laugh softly under your breath. “I don’t usually open up this quickly.”

Daria pulls the blanket tighter around herself as she nods thoughtfully. “Honestly, same.”

She leans her head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “I think that’s why this experiment works for some people. Out there, everyone’s too distracted. Looks, jobs, status, chemistry.”

You glance toward her as she continues.

“But in here?” Daria shrugs lightly. “People actually have to see you. Your personality. The essential part of you.”

Maybe Daria is right and maybe that’s why talking to Felix feels different. Not because he’s charming or because of his stupidly attractive voice, but because when you talk to him, it genuinely feels like he’s listening. Like he’s trying to know you in ways most people don’t bother to.

Daria nudges you again, pulling you from your thoughts. “So,” she says casually, though her grin gives her away completely, “have you actually found a connection with someone?”

You huff softly, already knowing there’s no point pretending otherwise.

“There’s this guy,” you admit carefully. “His name’s Felix.”

The second you say his name out loud, warmth spreads embarrassingly fast through your chest again.

“He’s…” You pause, searching for the right word. “Easy.”

Daria raises an eyebrow.

“Not easy easy,” you clarify immediately, making her burst into laughter. “I mean talking to him feels easy.”

“Mhm.”

You roll your eyes at her expression but continue anyway. “He actually listens when I talk. And I don’t feel like I have to filter myself around him.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around your wine glass as you think about your conversation earlier. About how gently Felix handled the parts of your childhood you almost accidentally revealed.

“He sees me without actually seeing me,” you murmur quietly.

Daria’s teasing expression softens completely then. “That’s kind of beautiful actually.”

Heat creeps into your face immediately. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I mean it.”

You groan softly, hiding part of your face beneath the blanket while Daria laughs beside you.

Still, after a moment, you sigh quietly. “The only problem is…”

“What?”

You stare down into your glass. “I know at least one other girl likes him too.”

Daria hums thoughtfully at that, though she doesn’t look particularly surprised. “Well,” she says simply, “it’s Love Is Blind. Everyone’s dating everyone.”

“I know.”

“And?”

You shrug lightly. “I don’t know. I’m not really worried about it though.”

Which is surprisingly true. Because despite the weird flicker of jealousy from earlier, you don’t actually want to compete for someone’s attention. Not here. Not ever.

If Felix chooses someone else, then that’s that. But if what the two of you have is genuinely real, then maybe it’ll naturally find its way back to each other.

-

YOU: I talked to Felix again today. [shyly laughs] Okay, wow. The fact that his name comes out that easily now is probably a bad sign. I know other girls like him. I mean… obviously. He’s kind, funny, emotionally available, and sounds like that. [laughs] But I don’t really believe in fighting over people. If someone’s meant for you, they’ll naturally come your way. And if Felix and I are actually building something real… [smiles] Then I trust that.

-

By the third day, Felix realizes he can tell when it’s you before you even speak.

It’s something small and subtle. It’s the quiet little sigh you always let out after settling onto the couch. So the second he enters the pod and hears that familiar exhale from the other side of the wall, his lips immediately curve upward.

“Hey,” he greets softly.

Your response comes almost instantly this time, equally gentle. “Hi.”

And there it is again—

That stupid warmth spreading through his chest at nothing more than your voice.

“How’re you doing today?” you ask.

Felix leans back against the couch, smiling to himself. “Honestly?”

“Mhm?”

“I think about you a lot.”

A soft laugh leaves you immediately. “That’s good. Because I’ve been thinking about you too,” you so casually say.

Felix grins wider and teases, “But it’s not your turn yet.”

You groan dramatically. “I get impatient.”

His laughter escapes before he can stop it, low and entirely helpless. And god, the butterflies are worse today. Every time you flirt back, every time you say something that sounds remotely fond, it feels like his heart physically stumbles inside his chest.

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment before Felix speaks again. “This is our third date now.”

You coo teasingly. “Oh? And what do you usually do on third dates?”

Felix doesn’t even hesitate. “I usually ask how many kids do we want.”

Your snort echoes loudly through the pod. “Wow. You’re really forward.”

Felix shrugs even though you can’t see it, grinning shamelessly. “I mean, it’s up to you of course.”

“Oh, how generous.”

“But,” he continues casually, “I do want a big family.”

There’s a suspicious pause from your side of the wall. “How big are we talking?”

Felix hums thoughtfully. “Maybe… seven?”

Your gasp is immediate. Horrified. “SEVEN?!”

Felix bursts into laughter while you continue sputtering dramatically.

“That’s not a family anymore, Felix. That’s a small village.”

“They’d be cute though.”

“Are you planning to make them your little minions in the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Felix says easily.

You groan loudly while he laughs harder.

“Okay, okay,” he relents eventually. “We can negotiate.”

“Three,” you say firmly. “Three sounds perfect.”

Felix smiles softly to himself. “Yeah. Three sounds nice actually.”

The conversation quiets after that, softer now beneath the joking and then your voice changes slightly.

“No matter how many kids I have one day…” You pause briefly. “I just want to make sure they always well-taken care of.”

Felix’s smile slowly fades into something gentler.

“I want to always be there for them,” you continue quietly. “I want them to always feel like they’re loved unconditionally.”

Something in his chest aches immediately. Because he hears the unspoken part beneath your words. The child version of you still lingering somewhere behind them.

And suddenly Felix understands a little more about why you learned to be so independent. Why you hold yourself together so tightly. His voice softens instinctively. “You’d be a really good mom.”

Silence.

“And we’d be good parents. I know we would,” he adds quietly.

The words slip out more naturally than they probably should. But the terrifying thing is he means them. And for a brief second, he actually imagines it. You and him living in a house while tiny footsteps run around the space, children who always know they’re loved. The image etches in the back of his mind without him intending to.

Neither of you speak for a while after that. But it doesn’t feel awkward at all. It’s content. Like something is slowly growing between the two of you in the quiet.

Felix swallows softly before finally speaking again. “You know…” He pauses, searching carefully for the right words. “I came here because I’m not just looking for a wife. Or a partner, exclusively.”

Your breathing quiets on the other side of the wall, intently listening.

“I came here ready for love,” he admits honestly. “Real love.”

His fingers tighten slightly around the sleeve of his hoodie. “And I have so much love in me that I want to share with someone.”

A quiet breath leaves him.

“I like you a lot.”

The confession lands gently between you.

“And I really hope you’re that someone.”

For one terrifying second, Felix thinks maybe he said too much. Maybe too soon. Then he hears the sniffles. His entire expression softens instantly.

And finally, your shaky voice reaches him through the speakers. “I like you too,” you whisper.

Another sniffle. “A lot.”

Something blooms so painfully warm inside Felix’s chest that it almost hurts. Hope. Joy. Relief. They’re all mixed together. His grin spreads helplessly across his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“I really wish I could hug you right now,” he says softly.

Your answer comes almost embarrassingly tiny, almost like a whisper. “Me too.”

Felix smiles so hard his cheeks ache. “You can hug the cushion for me. Pretend it’s me,” he playfully suggests.

Your laugh breaks through immediately, watery and soft from crying. “That’s so lame.”

“But are you doing it?”

Silence hangs for a good minute and then, you finally answer, “Maybe.”

Felix laughs quietly to himself, warmth practically overflowing from his chest now and for the first time since entering this experiment, he thinks he understands why people fall in love in these pods.

-

FELIX: It feels really good knowing she feels the same way. I think before today, there was always this tiny fear in the back of my mind that maybe I was falling harder than she was. [Softly laughs] But hearing her say she likes me too… [lightly shakes head] God. I don’t even know what she looks like yet and somehow, I already care about her this much. [grins]

-

The pod feels unbearably quiet after the date ends. You stay there for a moment even after the line disconnects, curled around the cushion you absolutely did hug despite making fun of Felix for suggesting it. Your chest still feels tight, aching in a way you don’t quite know how to explain. Because no one’s ever spoken to you like that before. Like he’s already imagining a future with you in it.

You press your palms briefly against your cheeks, exhaling shakily before finally forcing yourself to stand. The moment the pod door slides open and the glowing hallway greets you, only then do you realize your hands are actually trembling.

You take exactly three steps into the hallway before another pod door opens nearby.

Tabitha steps out at almost the same time, smiling when her eyes eventually land on you.

“Hey.”

You laugh weakly. “Hi.”

Without even hesitating, Tabitha walks over and loops an arm around your shoulders as the two of you begin slowly making your way down the glowing hallway together.

“Girl, you’re shaking. Are you okay?” she asks immediately, voice tinted with concern.

You glance down at your hands like you’re only now noticing it yourself. “I…” You exhale softly through a nervous laugh. “Opening up is so scary.”

Tabitha giggles immediately, squeezing your shoulder tighter against her side. “Oh no,” she teases dramatically. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

You laugh despite yourself, leaning into her slightly as the two of you continue walking.

“I genuinely might.”

You laugh helplessly while she continues grinning beside you. Not everyone here understands. The emotional whiplash of these pods. The terrifying intimacy of being known by someone you’ve never even seen. And maybe that’s why your chest still feels so fragile right now.

Because somewhere between talking about childhood breakfasts and future children and unconditional love, you accidentally let Felix see parts of you that almost nobody gets to touch and most importantly, he didn’t run from them.

-

YOU: I’m very used to keeping my emotions together. Like… even when I really like someone, I usually hold back for a long time. I don’t put too much emotion into things right away because I think part of me is always trying to protect myself first. [Softly exhales] But with Felix… I don’t know [sheepishly laughs] Talking to him makes me feel safe enough to say things I normally wouldn’t. That conversation today was probably the most vulnerable I’ve ever been with someone.

-

By the next few days, talking to you becomes the easiest part of Felix’s routine.

He wakes up. Think about you. Eat breakfast while wondering if you’re awake yet. Wait impatiently for the pod schedule and then finally, hear your voice again. At this point, he’s pretty sure the guys have noticed too. Mostly because every time your name appears on his schedule, he gets up so fast it’s embarrassing.

Today is no different. Felix enters the pod already smiling to himself, settling comfortably onto the couch with far less nervousness than he had during the first few dates. Because somehow, these conversations stopped feeling like dates. Now they just feel like… you. And him.

“Hi,” you greet softly the second the line connects.

Felix’s chest warms instantly. “Hey.”

“How was your day?”

“Better now.”

You groan immediately from the other side of the wall. “You’re getting smoother.”

Felix laughs proudly. “Thank you.”

“No, that was criticism.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

Your laughter spills through the speakers again, and Felix sinks deeper into the couch cushions, smiling helplessly at the sound.

God. He really likes making you laugh.

“So,” you say after a moment, your tone softer now. “Tell me something about you I don’t know yet.”

Felix hums thoughtfully, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee. “There’s honestly a lot.”

“Okay, mysterious man.”

“It’s true,” he protests through a laugh. “I feel like we always end up talking about you.”

“That’s because you interrogate me emotionally.”

“I do not.”

“You made me talk about my sad omelets.”

Felix laughs so hard he nearly folds into himself. “That’s not emotional interrogation.”

“It kinda was.”

Still grinning, he shakes his head before answering more quietly this time. “I grew up really close to my family. Like… really close.”

Your voice softens immediately. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

A warmth spreads through his chest just talking about them, fondness dripping from his voice. “My mom’s basically the heart of our family. And I’ve always been really close with my sisters too. Our house was loud all the time.”

You laugh softly. “That explains the seven kids.”

Felix grins instantly. “Exactly.”

“But honestly…” He leans his head back against the couch, thinking. “I didn’t always know I wanted to become a chef.”

“Oh?”

“Nah. I wanted to be like ten different things growing up.”

“Please tell me at least one was ridiculous.”

Felix laughs. “Okay, when I was really young, I wanted to be Spider-Man.”

Your laughter erupts immediately. “That’s not a career, Felix.”

“It was to me,” he weakly defends and laughs along with you before continuing. “Then I wanted to be a singer for a while. Then a gamer. Then a taekwondo instructor.”

“Wow,” you say solemnly. “You contain multitudes.”

“Thank you.”

“But how’d you end up becoming a chef?”

The question settles between you and somehow, answering you feels strangely intimate now. Like he’s not speaking through a wall at all. Like you’re sitting beside him on the couch instead.

Felix closes his eyes briefly as he speaks. “I think food was just… always there for me,” he admits quietly. “Cooking made me feel calm. And happy.”

A small smile pulls at his lips as he continues, “And I liked seeing people smile after eating something I made.”

Your voice softens almost immediately. “That’s very you.”

Felix’s eyes open slowly. “What does that mean?”

“You love through taking care of people.”

The words hit him embarrassingly hard. Because somehow, you understand him already. More than some people who’ve physically known him for years.

“Yeah, I think I do,” he agrees, laughing softly, suddenly shy again.

The silence returns but it feels warm instead of empty and Felix realizes something terrifying halfway through your conversation. He doesn’t even notice the cameras anymore when he talks to you. Only your voice. Only you.

-

FELIX: I always look forward to talking to her. [Brightly smiles] But it’s true. I think what surprises me most is how comfortable she makes me feel. With some people, opening up feels scary because you’re worried they’ll misunderstand you or judge you or… [slightly shrugs] Not really get you. But when I talk to her, I don’t feel that way. [Shakes his head] [smiles] That’s becoming really dangerous for me emotionally.

-

The conversation continues easily after that like it always does with Felix now. At some point, you stop noticing the cameras entirely. Stop noticing the walls, the strange artificial glow of the pod around you.

There’s only his voice. Comforting in a way that sneaks up on you slowly. You curl deeper into the couch, knees tucked against your chest while Felix tells stories from his childhood, about his sisters and parents. And listening to the way he talks about his family, with such fondness and warmth, you can tell why he is who he is — kind and gentle. Loving.

“You’re lucky your voice is pretty.”

Felix gasps dramatically. “You objectify me constantly.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head even though he can’t see it and then somehow, the conversation shifts again. “I actually don’t remember a lot about my childhood,” you admit quietly after a pause.

It’s always like this. One moment you’re joking, the next you’re sitting with something fragile between the two of you.

“I think…” You frown slightly, thinking out loud more than anything. “Talking to you lately made me realize something weird.”

“Hmm?” Felix hums gently.

You stare at the glowing wall ahead of you. “I can’t remember ever playing with my parents as a kid.”

Your chest tightens almost instantly afterward, vulnerability creeping up your spine too quickly. So you laugh softly under your breath and shake your head.

“Sorry, I feel like I always come to you with sad stories,” you mumble.

“No,” Felix says immediately. The firmness in his voice makes you pause. “They’re not sad.”

A quiet silence follows before he continues more gently. “They’re part of why you’re strong.”

You quietly swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“And different,” he adds softly. “In a good way.”

You press your lips together, containing your sadness.

“They made you who you are today.”

Something warm blooms painfully in your chest at the way he says it. Like he genuinely means it. Like he sees every complicated piece of you and still sounds fond. You smile helplessly to yourself, trying to lighten the feeling before it overwhelms you again.

“Jeez, Felix,” you mutter softly, playfully. “Stop flirting with me.”

Felix chuckles warmly through the speakers. “I’m serious though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, subtly rolling your eyes.

A comfortable silence settles briefly before Felix suddenly says, “I wish I knew you when we were little.”

Your expression softens instantly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You can practically hear his smile through the wall.

“I think we would’ve played together.”

You snort softly. “Played what?”

“I don’t know. Restaurant probably.”

You laugh immediately. “Let me guess. You’d force me to be your employee?”

“No,” Felix says easily. “You’d be my wife already.”

Your jaw drops open in disbelief while he laughs proudly at your reaction.

“We’d be high school sweethearts,” he continues shamelessly. “Already married by now.”

“With seven children?”

“Exactly.”

You bury your face briefly into the couch cushion as his laughter grows louder.

“And all our kids would help at the family restaurant,” he continues, fully committed now. “Tiny aprons. Tiny chef hats.”

“That sounds like child labor.”

“That sounds like teamwork.”

You laugh so hard your stomach hurts. “You’ve actually thought this through.”

Felix hums smugly. “I have a vivid imagination.”

“Clearly.”

Still smiling, you shake your head fondly before teasing lightly, “Anyway, that’s impossible. We couldn’t have been childhood friends.”

“Why not?”

“You grew up with kangaroos in Australia.”

Felix bursts into helpless laughter immediately. “Not the kangaroo allegations again.”

“I’m just saying. Your best friend was probably a koala.”

“That’s not how Australia works!”

The two of you dissolve into laughter again until your cheeks hurt and your chest feels lighter than it has in days. And when the laughter finally fades away, silence settles softly between you once more.

You stare quietly at the glowing wall ahead of you before speaking without really thinking first. “I think we met at the right time.”

“Yeah,” Felix agrees. “I think so too.”

A beat passes in silence again and he decides to playfully add, “Now all we have left to do is get married and have seven kids.”

You burst into laughter again immediately. “You are unbelievably persistent.”

“No,” Felix corrects casually. “I’m just goal-oriented.”

Your smile grows helplessly wider. “I haven’t agreed to any of this, by the way.”

“True,” he says easily. “But you also haven’t said no.”

Your mouth opens instinctively and then closes again. Because annoyingly enough, he’s right and you’re not even sure you want to say no.

-

YOU: I’m starting to picture him in my future. [Shyly laughs] Which sounds insane because I still haven’t seen him. When Felix talks about the future, it doesn’t scare me as usually it does. I’ve spent most of my life feeling like I had to handle everything on my own. Like depending on people was dangerous because eventually they leave or disappoint you or… You just learn not to expect too much. But when he talks about taking care of people, or building a family, or cooking for me every day… [smiles] It feels really easy to imagine.

-

The men’s living quarter is never silent but somehow, it’s quieter tonight.

Felix sits on the leather sofa with a drink resting loosely in his hand and across from him, Jim leans back in the single sofa with a tired sigh, rubbing both hands over his face.

“You okay?” Felix asks gently.

Jim laughs weakly. “Man, I don’t know.”

Felix does know. This experiment has a way of pulling emotions out of people so quickly it almost feels violent sometimes.

Jim stares down into his drink for a second before finally admitting quietly, “I’m torn between two people.”

Felix remembers Jim ever mentioned a girl he had a pod date with the other day and nods slowly. “Morgan?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s the other one?” Felix curiously asks.

“Laura.”

Felix nods and sips his drink.

A frustrated breath leaves Jim as he leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“They’re both incredible in completely different ways.” He shakes his head. “And I hate that I’m hurting someone no matter what choice I make.”

Felix listens quietly, thumb brushing absentmindedly against the condensation on his glass.

“What if I choose wrong?” Jim asks after a moment.

The vulnerability in his voice makes Felix’s chest ache a little. Because everyone here is terrified of that. Terrified that the person they’re falling for might not actually be their person.

Felix stays quiet for a beat before answering softly, “I think you just gotta listen to what speaks to your heart the most.”

Jim glances up at him.

“Not what makes the most sense on paper,” Felix continues thoughtfully. “Or who you think you should choose.”

He shrugs lightly.

“When you picture your future, whose voice naturally shows up first?”

Jim goes quiet after that, solemnly thinking. Then slowly, he nods. “Yeah,” he murmurs, the real answer remains a mystery.

A small smile tugs at Felix’s lips before Jim suddenly points at him accusingly. “Okay, enough about me though.”

Felix laughs softly. “What?”

“How are things going with you and mystery wife?”

Heat instantly creeps into Felix’s face despite himself. He ducks his head with a quiet laugh before answering honestly. “We’ve just been talking a lot,” he says softly.

His expression grows gentler without him realizing it. “The more I get to know her, the surer I feel about her, about it.”

Jim watches him quietly, no teasing in his face this time. Just genuine warmth.

Felix exhales softly, staring down at his drink. “I think she’s the person I’ve been looking for.”

The words are simple, but they’re honest and real.

Jim smiles immediately afterward, small but sincere. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Something about the simplicity of it makes Felix’s chest tightens. Because the craziest part is, he is happy. Terrified, overwhelmed, emotionally confused half the time, but happy.

“So… are you gonna propose soon?” Jim casually asks.

Felix stills. Not because he doesn’t know the answer. But because hearing the question out loud suddenly makes him wonder why he’s hesitating at all.

What exactly is he waiting for?

He already knows how he feels. Every conversation with you only pulls him closer. Every laugh, every vulnerable confession, every quiet little moment through that wall.

When he imagines leaving this experiment, you’re there automatically now.

So why does the word soon suddenly make his heartbeat spike?

Felix lifts his gaze toward Jim again and this time, when he answers, there’s no uncertainty left in him.

“Yeah,” he says confidently.

A slow smile spreads across his face afterward. “Yeah. I am.”

Jim immediately breaks into a grin before leaning over and giving Felix a gentle slap against the shoulder. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Felix softly laughs, nerves and excitement tangling together inside his chest now.

“Good luck, brother,” Jim says sincerely.

And for the first time since entering this experiment, Felix realizes he’s not scared of the answer anymore.

-

FELIX: I feel like I’ve spent the last few days trying to understand whether what I’m feeling is real or if I’m just caught up in the experiment. But every time I talk to her, things get clearer instead of more confusing. And I think that says a lot. I know what my heart wants. [Smiles] and I’m really sure about her. So yeah [Awkwardly laughs] I think I’m ready.

-

The moment production pulls you aside after breakfast and tells you to get ‘a little more dressed up’ for the pod date, your heart starts pounding. Because there’s only one reason for that. Right?

The thought follows you all the way back to the women’s living quarters. You barely even register Daria asking what’s wrong as you stand frozen in front of your closet, fingers hovering over dresses you packed half-jokingly for a proposal you never genuinely thought would happen to you. Not this fast. Not ever, maybe.

Your pulse thuds loudly in your ears while you finally pick one. You sit in front of the vanity afterward doing your makeup with slightly shaky hands, trying not to spiral while the girls around you immediately catch onto your nervousness.

“Oh my god,” Tabitha gasps dramatically from across the room. “You look terrified.”

“I am terrified.”

Daria narrows her eyes knowingly. “Do you think he’s proposing?”

Your stomach flips so violently you nearly stab yourself in the eye with mascara. “I don’t know,” you say too quickly.

But the truth is—

You do know. Or at least, you feel it. The energy’s been building toward this for days now. Every conversation with Felix growing deeper and more certain. Still, you force yourself not to get your hopes up. Because hope feels dangerous. Hope is the first step toward disappointment.

So by the time you walk down the glowing hallway toward the pods, your chest feels painfully tight with nerves you’re trying desperately not to name. The pod door slides open and somehow, before you even sit down, you know he’s already there. Waiting.

You settle slowly onto the couch, smoothing nervous hands over your dress before speaking softly into the quiet. “Hi.”

The response comes immediately. “Hi.”

Something about Felix’s voice sounds different today. Tighter, a little nervous.

Your lips twitch slightly despite yourself and decide to tease, “You sound cheerful today. What’s going on?”

Felix laughs softly, breathless around the edges. “Sorry, I’m just…” His voice trails off.

And suddenly your heart is beating so hard it almost hurts.

Silence settles briefly between you before Felix speaks again, a little careful this time. “The last few days with you…”

You hold your breath unconsciously.

“Talking to you and getting to know you…” He exhales shakily. “I don’t even know how to explain it properly.”

His honesty wraps around your chest immediately. “I’m so attracted to your personality. Just… who you are. As a person.”

Your eyes sting unexpectedly.

“The way you think. The way you care about people. The way you try so hard to be strong all the time even when I know you’re scared.”

You tightly press your lips together.

“And every time I talk to you, I feel more certain instead of less,” he continues, voice trembles slightly now.

“Like I don’t need to keep searching anymore because…” he pauses to let out a shaky breath. “I found you.”

Your chest physically aches hearing it, at how Felix sounds so open right now. So sincere it almost hurts to listen to. And suddenly, beneath all the warmth blooming inside you, the fear creeps in too. Because if he’s being this honest with you, then keeping parts of yourself hidden suddenly feels unbearably unfair.

You clear your throat before softly call his name. “Felix…”

He goes quiet immediately, listening.

You stare down at your trembling hands. “I was only six when my dad walked out on me. And my mom and I… I remember feeling so confused. Not understanding what it means until later in my life.”

The memory instantly flashes violently through your mind. You inhale shakily, tears already pooling in your eyes. “Ever since then,” your voice crack in between sentences. “I never really learned how to fully attach myself to people emotionally.”

You press the back of your hand to your eyes, embarrassed by how vulnerable you suddenly feel. “I know it’s not fair to quickly assume that you’d do the same. When you’ve been nothing but warm and kind. And good to me.”

A tear slips down your cheek anyway and you quickly wipe it. “I just want you to know that… I’ll always have this fear that people are going to leave eventually.”

The confession trembles out of you helplessly. Your voice grows smaller. More fragile. “And I’m really scared right now.”

Because you are. Terrified, actually. Of trusting someone this much. Of needing them. Of believing in something beautiful only to watch it disappear one day.

You close your eyes briefly, tears slipping free now despite your efforts to stop them. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

The vulnerability hangs exposed between you afterward, raw enough that your chest physically hurts beneath it.

And for the first time since meeting Felix, you genuinely fear what he might say next.

-

YOU: Whenever things start becoming too real emotionally… my instinct is always to pull away. [Shakily exhales] To protect myself. Because if you don’t fully let yourself need someone, then losing them hurts less. And when I get this scared… I close myself off again.

-

Felix’s chest hurts hearing you cry. Not metaphorically. It actually hurts.

Every soft sniffle from the other side of the wall feels like something splintering painfully inside him because all he can picture is you sitting there alone as fear claws at you from the inside out.

And suddenly, everything becomes so painfully clear to him.

This is exactly why he’s here. Not for the experiment. Not for television. Not for some perfect fairytale romance.

He’s here because when he hears your voice crack like that, every part of him wants to protect you from ever feeling abandoned again. To love you so thoroughly that one day, maybe, you’ll stop waiting for people to leave.

But first, he needs you to believe him. He exhales slowly, grounding himself before speaking softly into the quiet. “I know you’re hurt.”

The crying on the other side quiets slightly.

“And I know those fears probably don’t just disappear overnight,” he says, voice grows gentle yet firmer. “But I’m not here to hurt you.”

Your breathing trembles softly through the speakers.

“I want to be with you. I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved.” His throat tightens unexpectedly around the words because god, he means them so much it almost scares him. “I want to build a family together. With you.”

A breathless laugh leaves his mouth then. “And hopefully raise seven kids with you eventually.”

A shaky sound escapes you immediately afterward — half laugh, half watery breath.

And relief floods through Felix instantly knowing you’re not crying as hard anymore. He smiles helplessly to himself before standing abruptly from the couch.

“Can you please come up to the wall for me?” he softly asks.

“Okay.”

Felix walks toward the glowing wall separating you, heartbeat thundering violently inside his chest now. He places one palm flat against it and somehow, it almost feels like touching you.

“I’m here,” you whisper from the other side.

His eyes close briefly at the sound of your voice so close now. He clears his throat softly, suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of this moment. Then he speaks openly, honestly.

“If you and I get married…”

His fingers press more firmly against the wall.

“Then that’s it for me.”

Emotion climbs into his voice despite his attempts to steady it.

“It’ll be my first and last marriage.”

The silence on the other side turns painfully still.

“I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Felix swallows hard.

“I promise I’ll always be there for you.”

His chest aches with how deeply he means it.

“And I’ll love you unconditionally for the rest of my life.”

The words settle between you, quivering in the air, heavy with emotions. Felix lets the silence hold them for a moment before finally doing the thing he’s been emotionally building toward since the first time he heard you laugh through this wall.

His knees hit the floor softly and even though you can’t see him, he still wants to do this properly. His heart pounds so hard he’s sure the microphones pick up the sounds. Then softly, breathlessly—

“Will you marry me?”

The question leaves Felix trembling with hope.

-

FELIX: Everything led me to this moment. Every conversation we had. Every joke. Every vulnerable thing she shared with me. I fell in love with her little by little without even realizing it was happening. And now I genuinely can’t imagine leaving this experiment without her. [Nervously laughs] I just really hope she says yes.

-

The glowing wall in front of you blurs through your tears while Felix’s question hangs between the two of you, suspended so delicately in the quiet that your heart physically aches beneath it.

Will you marry me?

Your body feels weightless and unbearably heavy all at once. Fear twists through you first. Then happiness crashes right into it. Excitement. Nerves. Disbelief. They’re laced around the edges.

This is real. Felix is real. The man behind this wall who listens to you, who remembers every little thing you say, who talks about loving you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your hands tremble at your sides while tears continue slipping down your cheeks uncontrollably. And for one terrifying second, your fear almost wins. The instinct to protect yourself. To hesitate. To retreat before something beautiful can hurt you. But then—

You remember why you came here in the first place. You came not because you needed someone to complete you or because you were lonely. But because despite everything that happened to you, despite all the fear stitched into your chest, a part of you still wanted to believe in love. Still wanted to give it one real chance.

And now it’s standing right in front of you. Or rather— Kneeling behind a wall asking for your heart with shaking hands and seven imaginary children waiting in the future.

A watery laugh escapes you through your tears. Then you inhale deeply, trying to steady your breathing enough to speak.

Felix stays completely quiet on the other side, waiting and giving you space.

You press your palm softly against the glowing wall between you before finally whispering shakily. “Yes.”

A few seconds pass in silence and then Felix breaks into laughter of pure relief. A shaky exhale follows immediately after like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

“Oh, God, I need a second,” he says, sounding like he’s running out of breath.

Your own laughter breaks through your tears instantly at the sound of him sounding so overwhelmed. “Yes, Felix,” you repeat more firmly this time, smiling helplessly now despite the tears still falling. “I’ll marry you.”

Another soft, disbelieving laugh leaves Felix from the other side of the wall.

Warmth blooms so fiercely in your chest that it almost hurts. Because for the first time in a very long time, you don’t feel afraid of love. You feel chosen by it.

Then, sniffling softly, you add through a broken laugh, “I’m still not fully convinced about the seven kids though.”

Felix bursts into laughter immediately. “That’s okay. I still have time to convince you.”

“Unbelievably persistent,” you mutter with a disbelieving laugh.

And suddenly you’re crying harder again, except this time it feels completely different. Like something inside you finally unclenched.

Your forehead presses briefly against the glowing wall while Felix stays close on the other side, neither of you speaking for a moment because words almost feel too small for what’s happening between you now.

Engaged. You and Felix are engaged. And to your surprise… That thought doesn’t scare you nearly as much as it should.

-

YOU: I said yes [sniffles] I’m engaged now [Laughs] And to be honest, I’m still scared. I think part of me will always be scared of trusting someone this much. But saying yes to Felix… [fondly smiles] It felt less like jumping off a cliff and more like finally letting someone catch me.

-

Felix feels like he’s floating. His feet carry him automatically down the glowing hallway away from the pods, but his mind is still stuck behind that wall with your voice trembling through tears as you told him yes.

Yes, Felix. I’ll marry you.

The word keeps replaying in his head over and over again until he thinks he might explode from happiness alone.

You said yes. You’re his fiancée. His fiancée.

Felix presses both hands briefly over his face as he walks, laughing breathlessly to himself because nothing about this feels real yet. His chest feels too much for his small body, joy practically spilling out of him in waves. And somehow, despite never seeing your face, he already misses you.

By the time he reaches the men’s lounge, he realizes he’s smiling way too hard. So instinctively, he tries to school his expression back into something normal before pushing open the door.

The second he steps inside, the room goes quiet. Every single guy turns toward him immediately. Ryan pauses mid-sip of his drink. Shane lowers the pool cue in his hand. Jim outright sits forward on the couch like he’s been waiting for the past hour. And judging by the worried anticipation written all over their faces—

Yeah. They were absolutely waiting for him.

Felix stares at them for one long second before letting out an exaggerated heavy sigh. Just to make them panic. He bites back his grin for another second before finally saying:

“She said yes.”

Everyone erupts in cheers, loud and chaotic cheers. Ryan nearly launches his drink across the room while Shane shouts loud enough to wake the dead. Jim jumps up from the couch immediately with both arms raised triumphantly.

“I KNEW IT!” he yells.

Felix bursts into helpless laughter as all the guys rush toward him at once, nearly tackling him backward. And then suddenly, his feet leave the floor.

“WAIT—”

The boys lift him into the air anyway while chanting loudly over each other.

“FELIX! FELIX! FELIX!”

Felix laughs so hard his stomach hurts as they toss him upward again, the entire room dissolving into complete chaos around him. But underneath all the noise and laughter, one thought remains crystal clear in Felix’s mind.

You said yes to him.

Out of everyone in this experiment—

You chose him and he’s never felt happier in his entire life.

-

FELIX: She said yes. [Grins] She said yes to marrying me. I genuinely feel like I’m walking on air right now. [laughs] Like… ridiculously happy. I can’t wait to meet her soon. [smiles]

-

By the time you walk back toward the women’s lounge, your face hurts from crying. The kind that leaves you overwhelmed and shaky and unbearably full all at once. Your fingers still tremble slightly at your sides as the memory keeps replaying in your head over and over again.

Will you marry me?

Yes.

You press your lips together tightly, trying not to cry all over again before pushing open the lounge doors.

The second you step inside, several girls immediately look up from the couches and dining table, their expressions changing almost instantly the moment they notice your tear-stained face.

Daria is already standing before you fully make it into the room. Her expression softens with immediate concern as she walks over carefully. “What happened?” she asks gently.

Your mouth opens and then closes again. Because somehow saying it out loud feels even crazier than agreeing to it. Instead of answering, you just step forward into her space.

Daria wraps both arms tightly around you without hesitation while you bury your face briefly against her shoulder, laughing shakily through fresh tears threatening to spill again.

“Oh my god,” she whispers instantly. “Oh my god, what happened?”

You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself enough to speak coherently while more girls slowly start gathering around the two of you. Then finally, muffled against Daria’s shoulder, you share, “Felix proposed.”

You pull back slightly, cheeks burning hot as emotions swell all over again. “And I said yes.”

The silence lasts exactly one second before the entire room erupts. Hands flying to mouths. Someone nearly drops their wine glass onto the floor while Tabitha lets out the loudest gasp you’ve ever heard in your life. “OH MY GOD. YOU’RE ENGAGED?!”

You burst into helpless laughter through your tears as the girls rush toward you all at once. One by one, the girls pull you into hugs, congratulating you while your emotions continue spiraling wildly in every direction possible.

“You look in love,” someone says between the waves of congratulations.

That one makes your chest aches immediately. Because maybe you do. Maybe somewhere between pod conversations and childhood confessions and imaginary seven children—

You really did fall in love with him.

You sink onto the couch eventually while the girls crowd around you excitedly demanding details, your engagement suddenly becoming everyone’s favorite topic of the day. Still, every now and then, your mind drifts quietly back to Felix. Somewhere on the other side of this building, he’s probably smiling right now too.

Your fiancé.

The word sends another wave of disbelief crashing through you all over again.

-

YOU: I came into this experiment so skeptical [softly laughs] Like… extremely skeptical. [shakes head] I genuinely thought there was no way people could actually fall in love without seeing each other. And five days later… I’m engaged. [disbelieving laughs] And somehow… it feels right. [smiles]

-

The waiting room suddenly feels too small for Felix’s nervous energy.

He’s been pacing for the last ten minutes straight. Maybe longer. At one point, a producer gently told him to sit down because he looked like he was preparing for battle instead of meeting his fiancée.

His fiancée. Even now, the thought makes his stomach flip violently.

Felix exhales shakily before turning toward the mirror again, immediately fixing absolutely nothing about his suit for the fifteenth time. Smooth the sleeves. Adjust the collar. Push his hair back. No, wait—

Maybe the hair looked better before. “Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath. “Relax.”

He absolutely does not relax. Instead, he starts pacing again. The ring box in his hands opens with a soft click before he closes it again almost instantly. Then opens it again. Then shuts it.

Over and over.

Because somehow, after all the emotional conversations and vulnerability and certainty he felt in the pods, this suddenly feels terrifying in an entirely different way. Not because he’s scared of you. Never that.

He’s scared of the moment itself. Of finally seeing the person whose voice has become the best part of his day. The woman he accidentally fell in love with through a wall.

Felix exhales hard, trying to shake some of the adrenaline out of his system. Then suddenly, the reality of it hits him again. You’re here. Right now. In the waiting room across from his. Probably getting ready too. Probably nervous too.

For days now, you’ve only existed as laughter through speakers. Quiet breathing through walls. A voice he’s memorized so completely he thinks he’d recognize it anywhere in the world.

But now, he finally gets to put a face to all of it. Finally gets to look at you while you laugh instead of imagining it. Finally gets to hold you for real instead of pressing his hand against a glowing wall pretending it was enough.

Felix presses the ring box carefully against his palm, heartbeat pounding harder the more he thinks about it. He wonders if you’re smiling right now. If you’re pacing too. If you’re as overwhelmed as he is.

A shaky laugh escapes him again before he glances toward the doors leading to the reveal hallway.

And suddenly, all he wants is to get to you already.

-

FELIX: I can’t wait to finally see her [nervously laughs] Like genuinely, I feel like I’m about to explode. I’ve spent days talking to this person, falling for this person, imagining her reactions and expressions and smiles in my head… And now I actually get to put a face to all of that. I’m not that worried about physical attraction. Even if she looks completely different from what I imagined, she’s still her. [nervously laughs] I’m just excited.

-

The waiting room feels unbearably warm. Or maybe it’s just you.

You’ve been sitting in front of the mirror for the past several minutes pretending to fix your makeup when really, you’ve just been staring at yourself trying not to spiral. Your palms are damp. Your heartbeat is so loud you’re convinced the microphones are picking it up. And no matter how many times you smooth your dress down over your legs, the nervous energy in your body refuses to settle.

“Oh my god,” you whisper under your breath before restlessly fanning yourself with your hands.

It does absolutely nothing. If anything, you’re sweating more now. You stand abruptly from the chair and pace once across the room before immediately returning to the mirror again. You lean closer, lightly dabbing beneath your eyes to make sure your mascara hasn’t smudged from all the crying you’ve done today.

The thought hits you again so suddenly your stomach feels queasy. Felix is about to become real in a completely different way. Not just a voice anymore. Not just soft laughter through speakers or warmth through a wall. In a few minutes, you’re actually going to see him, touch him, hold him.

The realization makes your chest tightens. Because despite everything, despite all your fears and emotional walls and skepticism coming into this experiment—

You want this. You want him.

You catch yourself smiling helplessly in the mirror just thinking about his laugh before nerves crash right back into you again. Your smile slowly fades. Because suddenly, a terrifying thought pushes its way into your chest.

You’ve only been thinking about Felix as Felix. His kindness. His patience. His voice. The way he intently listens to you. You never cared about what he looked like. Not really.

But now?

Now physical appearance suddenly becomes real again and with it comes every insecurity you’ve spent years trying not to think about too hard.

What if he sees you and feels disappointed? What if the version of you he built in his head looks nothing like reality? What if he changes his mind the second he sees your face?

The dress suddenly feels too tight. You tug lightly at the neckline instinctively, trying to inhale properly again.

Okay.

Okay. Calm down.

Your chest only tightens harder because this suddenly feels so much scarier than talking through a wall. Behind the pods, he loved you for you. But now he gets to decide whether the outside of you fits the version he already fell for. And the possibility that it might not — that maybe he’ll look at you and not feel the same anymore — Terrifies you more than you expected.

You press both hands flat against the vanity table, forcing yourself to breathe slowly while your pulse races uncontrollably beneath your skin.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You’re about to meet the man you said yes to and that feels both beautiful and absolutely horrifying at the same time.

-

YOU: I feel like I might throw up [nervously smiles] Because this whole time, I only focused on who Felix is as a person. I fell in love with the way he talks to me. The way he makes me feel safe. The way he listens. And honestly, I never really cared what he looked like. [sighs] But now that I’m about to meet him… I’m scared he won’t like how I look. [cries] There’s this possibility that after seeing me, he may not feel the same and that’s— [cries] [dabs eyes with the back of your hand] That’s terrifying. [sadly smiles]

-

✨ LOVE IS BLIND: PART TWO is available on Patreon ✨

Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!

@abiaswreck @yubinism @iknow-uknow-leeknow @biribarabiribbaem @leewayout @fancypeacepersona @just-here4funsies @piwonchi @godyongbok @strywme @ihateetoadmit @enchantedlov3r2 @superboywife @foxinnie8 @ilovebooksandstories @gwinamlvr @lenfilms @niku0704 @taekwondoe @staytinyluva @velvetmoonlght @myminlee

[seohotbinnie]

8:56 PM

welp, here’s some perv jisung for yall 🫣 i tried to keep it as gn as possible and its been quite a while since i’ve written something so im sorry if its not that good 😣

should i turn this into a whole one shot? please let me know what you think about it! ❣️

you and jisung were gonna spend the weekend like you’ve always did. the tension of the week would disappear every time you guys hung out. he already had the keys to your house so when you got to the house and saw his shoes, you weren’t surprised one bit.

as you walked to your room, you could hear some whimpers and whines coming from there, thinking jisung might’ve just fallen asleep and was having nightmares. once you opened the door, however, that was far from what you could’ve imagined.

jisung had your pillow over his face, taking your scent in with every deep breath he took, completely naked on your bed as he jerked himself off with one of your underwears wrapped around his hand. you didn’t intend to gasp that loud but you couldn’t believe the view you had in front of you. hearing your gasp, jisung suddenly stopped, taking the pillow off of his face as he stared at you with wide doe eyes, cheeks glowing red.

“jisung?” your voice came out quiet, surprise evident in it as you just froze in place. jisung’s hand jerked, starting to tear up and whimper, trying his best not to keep going because the fact that he got caught was making his dick twitch in need. “i-i.. y/n i-i can explain i swear” his voice was small, hand trembling on his side as he made a fist, couldn’t help but move his hand that was jerking his dick off “what the fuck are you doing?” you asked, still trying to grasp the situation. he just whimpered, his hand starting to move quicker as tears fell from his face “i-i can’t stop! i’m sorry” he hiccuped, his precum wetting your underwear

you looked at him weird, everything feeling too much “you’re so fucking disgusting” you said it, face grimacing in disgust. you thought it wouldn’t get any worse than this but you gasped for the second time as you saw jisung cum, whining loudly and crying more, body shaking and trembling. you wanted him to feel bad, disgusted, wanted him to realize how fucked up this whole thing was but instead, he came with the most intense orgasm he has ever had. jisung panted, hand still moving on his dick, your underwear drenched with his cum now

“i think we need to have a talk” you said, not intending to sound cold when jisung sniffled, nodding and not looking at you in the eyes from how embarrassed he felt “i-i’ll be out there in a b-bit” he said, finally stopping. you didn’t know what you were gonna talk about, leaving the room as you tried to collect your thoughts. you just saw a completely different side of your best friend.

[seohotbinnie]

why is it always so hard to START the writing process.. like i know the plot, i know what i wanna write but i just cant think a way to start it.. sigh

[seohotbinnie]

hm maybe i could write a small portion of the smut part, like a teaser, and see how well it does and if i could turn it into a full story 🤔🤔

[seohotbinnie]

why is it always so hard to START the writing process.. like i know the plot, i know what i wanna write but i just cant think a way to start it.. sigh

[seohotbinnie]

👀🫣 hi hello, just checking in, is there anyone here? 🫣

[jl-micasea-fics]

waking up to 99+ notifications and not needing to actually interact or even read a single one because it's just a sea of fucking likes

when will y'all realise that a reblog, a comment, an ask is what keeps writers writing? what the fuck are we here for if there's no feedback, no interaction of any kind? it's so simple, yet it seems to elude so many of you

this is why your favourite writers are bouncing

rapidly getting bored of it 😀

[seohotbinnie]

THIS

[seohotbinnie]

about the last post i rb-ed, one time there was this thing on twitter where people go like “fav this and my x will comment on your account” and that x said sth about me like “does she read y/n stories” as if its sth i should be ashamed of?? what’s wrong with reading x reader stories like??? im sorry for imagining myself with my idols

[sparkystraynger-deactivated2024]

Just saw someone say that y/n fics are usually lazy writing

All my fics are y/n, guess i've been lazy writing all along

[seohotbinnie]

excuse me but i like putting my name instead of an oc?? let me be in my dream world in peace?? i like imagining MYSELF in the stories why is it so absurd or weird?

[sparkystraynger-deactivated2024]

Cute little pain slut

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, vaginal penatration, oral (m receiving), rough sex, pussy slapping, face slapping, cum swallowing, nipple clamps, spanking, name calling. Minors dni!

Characters: Felix x Fem reader x Minho

Author’s note: This is part of the drabble event to celebrate 1k followers on my blog (we're about to reach 1.5k and that's very exciting to me)! This was requested by @lacedfairy (photos chosen: 8, 14, 21). Thank you so much for the request bubs, i really hope you like it! For those who want to participate in the drabble event, send me a dm and i’ll send you the photos to choose from! <3

You never expected this. It’s a fairly normal day — you went to your respective classes in uni and met up again at the parking lot, which would be a rather secluded spot because the both of you are somehow always excited when being alone in the car.

It’s the same routine everyday.

But there’s one piece of information that Felix deliberately failed to notify you, which you only realised when you’re deeply making out with him, eyes finally open when Felix demands you to do so.

So, here you are, on your boyfriend’s lap, in his car, breath uneven after sucking faces with him and getting even more uneven when you see his friend, Minho, at the backseat, smirking at you, head giving a slight nod as acknowledgement to your disheveled form.

Your brain is still computing Minho’s presence while Felix casually greets the man, not even bothering to cover you up. So you sit there, chest heaving, the cardigan you were wearing now out of reach and your shirt is not fitting you properly from the harsh groping your boyfriend was freely enjoying.

“Hi to you too, y/n,” Minho greets, chuckling a little at your silence while Felix tries to calm you down by rubbing soothing circles on the side of your waist.

“Hi, Minho,” you finally speak, voice a little squeakier than intended. “Did- did we invite you and forgot?” You ask, still confused as to why he has been silently watching you make out with your boyfriend.

“It’s more like I invited him and wanted to surprise you,” Felix answers, hand slowly creeping up from your waist to cup your face.

Felix makes you look at him, his stare sharp and dark, making you whimper unintentionally, not able to resist the power your boyfriend holds on you even with an unexpected spectator.

“Remember when I went to that stupid party and came back home angry?” He asks, bringing your face closer to his.

You nod, earning a chuckle from him. “Yeah, of course you remember. That was when you realised you liked me hurting you when we fuck, hmm?” Felix says crudely, making you bite your lip in embarrassment.

You can’t help but look at Minho, somehow still trying to figure out that man’s role in this conversation.

“It’s hard to explain but… sometimes I feel like hurting you,” Felix continues, his hand now wrapping around your neck, putting a slight pressure to his hold, making you hitch a breath.

“And sometimes, I want fools who think I can’t do it to watch and see how much I can actually dumb you down into nothing but my cute little pain slut,” he nearly growls, eyes switching from looking at you to looking at Minho from the rearview mirror.

“And that lucky fool is Minho, so he’s gonna watch me make you cry today, yeah?”

And true to your pain slut nature, you nod dumbly, and rather eagerly, to which Felix responds with a chuckle and a slap on your jiggly tits as a binding agreement.

You’ve been at this for hours. Or maybe it’s less than that but with the way Felix is spanking your ass and cunt, and with how he’s roughly guiding your head to suck Minho’s cock makes you feel like it’s been forever.

Everytime you choke around Minho’s dick, Felix would slap your cunt three times before he thrusts his fat cock back into your tight hole.

“You can do better than that, baby. Show this motherfucker how good I’ve trained you, yeah?” Felix says, the sound of your choked out moans are like music in his ears.

He keeps on thrusting into you, fingers roughly rubbing your oversensitive clit and sometimes tugging onto the nipple clamps he made you wear and lord it all feels so good.

“Fuck, Felix— man, you sadistic shit,” Minho notes absentmindedly, but doesn’t even try to make his friend go softer on you because of how pretty you look like this.

Your brain is definitely dumb now, not caring how you look with spit dripping from the corner of your mouth due to how Minho and Felix are forcing you to choke on the former’s girthy dick, and not to forget Felix who has been fucking his fat cock into you for god knows how long while rubbing your oversensitive clit and tugging onto the nipple clamps roughly — it hurts but it hurts so so good.

The two men are definitely not focusing on your pleasure but being the pain slut you are, you’ve cum at least three times from the overwhelming feeling of having two hot men using you like their fleshlight.

“Fuck, i’m gonna cum,” Minho announces, hips moving faster while Felix helps control the movement of your head as you continue to suck his friend off. Not even five seconds later, Minho cums in your mouth, a string of curses leaving his as he stays still, his load filling in your small mouth as you try to breathe through your nose.

Feeling like Minho doesn’t deserve to have your warm cavern wrapped around his dick as he cums, Felix roughly tugs onto your hair, pulling your back to him, Minho’s cum spilling everywhere and his softening dick bounces on his stomach. The plopping sound of his own cock slipping from your oversensitive cunt brings a smile to his face.

“Fuck you,” Minho says, chuckling and groaning at the same time.

Felix ignores him, throwing you onto your back beside Minho, his eyes dark as he watches Minho’s cum decorating your lips, cheeks and chin, and the way your throat moves as you try to swallow what’s left in your mouth.

Felix cups your face, squishing your cheeks and he chuckles at your fucked out state. Your eyes are shiny with tears but it’s also filled with lust — not to mention how good your tits look with the nipple clamps and how pretty your cunt is, all puffy from all his slapping and fucking.

Your engorged clit would look even prettier if he gets to rub it again with his cum, Felix thinks to himself.

“You look so cute right now,” Felix chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks even harder before he lets go, only to slap you around a little, the smacking sound of his palm getting in touch with your cum-covered cheeks resonating throughout the room.

All you can do is whimper, the pain adding up to the unexplainable pleasure. You can feel Minho’s eyes on you, but you could care less of how you look like right now. All you can think of is wanting your boyfriend to fuck your cunt again and give you his cum.

Minho chuckles when he realises how really fucked out you are right now. Felix is one lucky bastard, because if you’re that good at giving head, your cunt must be phenomenal. And you letting the guy do whatever he wants — you’re definitely the textbook definition of a total pain slut.

“If you give me that look, I’ll want to mess you up even more, baby,” Felix smirks, his fingers now playing with your nipples, tugging roughly on the clamps as you cry from the pain and pleasure.

“Aww, you want that? Want me to mess you up, so that the next time Minho comes over he’ll have to fuck a fleshlight because your cunt is too messed up to take another man’s cock?” Felix says condescendingly but the eager nod you give is all he needs to continue.

This is the day Minho learns that calling Felix vanilla at the party is the best mean comment he has ever made. And it’s also the day he learns how rough Felix is and how his next mean comment would be about how Felix can't train your cunt to fit two cocks.

[seohotbinnie]

SUCKING MINHO OFF WHILE FELIX CONTROLS YOU??/$:$:9:$92$382 SIGN ME UP THIS IS SO GOOD

[seohotbinnie]

this is the second time im posting Always You and its flopping again.. why..

[seohotbinnie]

Al’s WIP List

Mental Patient Jeongin (currently writing) (Fem)

Always You Pt. 2 (Fem)

Racer Han Jisung (Fem, might be gn depending on my mood)

Yandere Changbin (Fem)

Subby Chan (Fem)

Reader as Stray Kids’ 9th member (Fem)

[seohotbinnie]

should i post a wip list?

[seohotbinnie]

here’s a thought

walking through the hallways of a club with Chan, batshit drunk as both of you sway side to side, bumping into the walls, trying to find a place to have a quicky

he’s also still listening to the music that’s being played, moving around with the rhythm, motioning his hands as if he’s playing the drums

[seohotbinnie]

Always You Pt. 1

Lee Know/Minho x Fem. reader x Seo Changbin

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut in the next part

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This is a repost from my old blog, im not stealing anyone’s work

It was your boyfriend, Changbin’s birthday. You invited all of his friends, the people who he’s close with because you wanted this day to be the best day ever for him. You guys were going out to celebrate it so you arranged a table at the local restaurant. It wasn’t too fancy, just somewhere you all could be comfortable and have fun.

“Changbin, baby are you ready? We need to leave if we don’t want to be late” you said fixing your hair in front of the mirror as Changbin came into the room from the bathroom “Yeah I’m ready. You look so beautiful” he said smiling, coming up to you to hug you from behind as he left a small kiss on your neck. You smiled, turning around in his arms “Thank you baby” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly “Now let’s get going before we’re late to your OWN birthday” you giggled, poking his cheek before pulling away from him.

You were kind of nervous. Of course it was nothing too much and you guys have been dating for 3 years but you still wanted him to have the best time of his life.

Arriving at the restaurant, you two made your way towards the arranged table. Once you made it, you saw all the balloons and decorations his friends put up, just like how you asked them to, decorating your section of the place with beautiful colors. After all of you hugged and greeted each other, you all sat down and started talking.

“Oh um, I actually invited an old friend of ours, if it’s okay with you” Chan asked when you guys were having conversation “Oh sure! No problem at all. The more the merrier” you said chuckling “Right, love?” turning to look at Changbin, you held his hand as he nodded “Yeah. Who is it though?” he asked. “It’s umm OH, there he is. Hi Minho!” Chan said getting up from his seat. Minho. You’ve never remembered Changbin having a friend named Minho.

As you turned around to greet whoever this Minho guy was, you saw something you’d never think you’d see. Lee Minho. You’d recognize this face anywhere. How could you forget? He was the love of your life before everything went down.

“Oh my god Minho! Dude hi!” Changbin smiled really big, hugging him tightly “It’s been so long! I’m so glad you could make it here” he said but it all sounded so blurry to you. Like someone was squeezing your head so hard that it was ringing and you couldn’t hear any sounds. All you could do was stare at him. He never changed, just got slightly older but everything you loved about him were the same. That sharp nose you loved running your finger down, his perfect lips that you adored so much whenever he puckered them up, that tiny little mole on his nose that you kissed every time you wanted to show affection. You still remembered every little detail about him.

flashback

You laughed, throwing your head back as you laid your head on Minho’s thigh “Bunny we’re too young to get married! Let alone being parents” you said opening your eyes to look at his pouting face “You’re making fun of me. I’m telling you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and you’re LAUGHING AT ME” he said as he kept pouting. You two were currently on a picnic, it was a sunny summer day and Minho wanted to take you on a picnic date so you two got ready, taking your basket with you as you walked to the park nearby.

“I’m not making fun of you! In fact, I’m so happy that you want to spend the rest of your life with me, with ME, the girl who always messes up. I’m just saying we’re only in highschool, we still have so many years ahead of us” you said leaning up to cup his cheeks “But I’m in love with you! And I want to be with you forever, take you on so many adventures, having little versions of ourselves running around with our family pets” Minho said, that little pout never leaving his lips “And I’m in love with YOU. I see my future with no one but you. I’m just saying it’s a little early to talk about these” You said pecking his lips softly “Okay but I’m telling you. One day, I’ll come to you with a beautiful diamond ring, on one knee, giving you my promise of making you the happiest girl in the world” he said cupping your cheek with one hand as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear “I’m already the happiest girl in the world” you said smiling before pressing your lips on his in a deep but sweet kiss.

You two have broken up, well, had to break up, because Minho was moving away for college. Even if you both tried to fool yourselves thinking it would work out, you could do a long distance, you both knew that was far from the truth. You cried that night, a lot. That night that he finally said his last goodbye and you were left with the coldness of his absence.

“Oh, let me introduce you to my girlfriend!” Changbin said smiling, pulling you close to him “Oh, Y/N. Long time no see” Minho said smiling. Even that tiny smile was still the same. It made your heart crumble into so many pieces “You two know each other?” Changbin asked his eyes wide. “Oh yeah we’re just-“ you started but Minho cut you off “Old friends. We’re old friends. We used to be in the same class in high school” There it was. Another crumble of your heart.

You smiled bitterly “Yeah.. Old friends”. It was supposed to be the best night but now, the tension in the room could be cut through with a knife “Oh sweet! I’m glad you guys know each other. Minho, Chan, Jisung and I used to live in the same neighborhood but then he had to move out for college” Changbin said as if he could read your mind. You were wondering where they knew each other from.

“Come on, take a seat” Changbin said gesturing to the only seat that was empty, right next to you. How convenient.

flashback

“Hi bunny! What’s up?” you answered the phone. It was Minho “Hey darling” he said. His voice sounded different “Is everything okay baby?” you asked worried. Usually, Minho would talk to you in such a bright tone with some cheesy cuteness in it. But this time, it was cold “Yeah um.. Can we talk for a bit?” he asked “Yeah sure baby, what’s up?” you said crossing your legs on the couch “Want to meet up? You can come over too if you want” “No it’s okay. Do you remember the college I wanted to go to?” he asked “Yeah, the one that’s out of the city right? Why?” you said getting worried “Yeah that one. So uuhh I got accepted” Minho said.

You felt like your whole world crushed down “You said you wouldn’t apply for it” you said, voice shaking “Yeah I know but you know that’s my dream college. And I knew I would be able to get in, even if it was just a small chance. I wanted to take that chance” His voice sounded sad, but still somewhat cold “Can we talk about this face to face?” you asked, eyes tearing up already “No, this way will be easier” Minho said “Easier for what? What are you trying to say Minho?” now you were fully crying “You know what it is Y/N. We’ve talked about it before” he said, making your heart break more “Yeah we did. And you promised me that you wouldn’t apply because we wouldn’t work out if you did! You fucking promised!” you raised your voice, tears running down your face as your heart broke into million pieces “I had to make a choice!” Minho said, raising his voice as well “So you chose college over me. Unbelievable” you said scoffing.

“What was I supposed to do?!” Minho said as you cut him off “You were supposed to stay with me and keep your fucking promise along with millions of promises you made!” you yelled then let out a sarcastic laugh “Marriage my ass. Fuck you Minho, fuck you. Fuck you for choosing your future over me, fuck you for not keeping your promise and FUCK. YOU. for breaking up with me over the phone! I hope you never find happiness ever again” you said coldly, hanging up the phone without listening to what he was going to say as you threw your phone across the room. You let out the loudest scream you could ever manage, pouring all the pain away with your tears

The night went on by talking, Changbin and Minho and the others having conversations but you stayed silent most of the time although you made comments here and there to not seem too suspicious. “Baby, are you okay?” Changbin asked putting his hand on your thigh as if he sensed how tense you were. You tried to put on your best smile as you put your hand on his “Yeah I’m okay love. Are you having fun?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink as he nodded “Yeah. Thank you again for today honey. I love you so much” Changbin said giving you a sweet kiss.

You loved Changbin’s kisses, they were one of your favorite but right now, it didn’t feel good, it didn’t feel right but you still pushed through, kissing him back as sweetly. Or so you tried.

Finally, it was time to cut the cake. Changbin stood up, walking over to the edge of the table as you walked up next to him, standing beside him. The waiter brought the cake, a small firework burning on the it as everyone stood up too. Once the birthday song was over, Changbin took his glass and looked at you

“Firstly, I want to thank my beautiful girlfriend for this amazing night she prepared. I would’ve never been this happy if it wasn’t for her” he said as he kissed you deeply and full of love “Second of all, thank you to all my friends who didn’t leave me alone on this special day of mine. I love and appreciate all of you so much. Let’s raise our glasses for the best night and many more to come!”

Everyone cheered when Changbin’s speech was over, clapping and raising their glasses. You caught Minho’s eyes for the first time that night, after that small encounter of yours. He raised his glass towards you, taking big gulps from it without taking his eyes off you. You felt sick, you felt like you couldn’t breathe and you wanted to get out of there but Changbin’s hand that was wrapped tightly around your waist stopped you from doing so. “Let me take a pic of you two!” one of your friends said, snapping you out of your thoughts as you looked at Changbin before turning towards your friend. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, making you giggle as the flash popped, signaling that the pic was taken.

You didn’t talk for the rest of the night. Feeling so out of it as you just listened to the conversations that were going on and it was finally the end of the night. Changbin drove you both to the house you shared, the whole ride was silent apart from the faint sound coming from the radio. You made it to your shared bedroom, taking your accessories in front of the mirror when Changbin walked up to you from behind for the second time “Baby are you really okay? You’ve been so silent the whole night” he asked giving your shoulder a kiss. You smiled at him through the mirror “Yeah I’m okay babe. Just a little bit tired. I hope you had fun tonight” you said turning around to leave a small kiss to his cheek. “Yeah I did. Thank you so much again, for everything” Changbin said softly. He could sense something but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

After taking off your make up and getting ready for bed, you finally put your head on the pillow. You tried to sleep for a while, tossing and turning in bed, hearing Changbin’s tiny snores indicating he was asleep but you just couldn’t. Minho wouldn’t leave your head.

Sighing, you pulled out your phone, tapping on Instagram to scroll through a bit and before you knew it, you were scrolling through Minho’s page. You used to do that a lot, back when you two first broke up but then after a while you stopped. Then Changbin came into your life that you forgot about it.

That night, you looked through every pic of his, studying every little detail until you fell asleep. With him on your mind.

[seohotbinnie]

THE TAGS DJKSJDOS im glad you liked it! unfortunately SPOILER ALERT the smut is going to be with minho 👀