I just found a draft in my notes of something I wrote like 3 years ago in a creative writing course I took and I can believe itâs been so long since I realized I liked writing, even the most stupid things.
Literally itâs insane how time flies and we grow lol
OMG hi! To anyone reading this, I hope you're having a wonderful life!
I need the help of all the Enhypen fans!! I literally started listening to Enhypen just a couple of weeks before Heeseung left the band (I know, bad timing). Anyway, the point is that I have a TON of questions about the group and maybe even the K-pop world in general since I'm also new to it overall.
Just comment if you're willing to help me and I'll answer your questions. I would really love to be more informed!!
THANKS, XOXO
note: This man is THE DEFINITION of besties to lovers, and I love it. Just cute moments w bestie Kee-hoe. The best of having your bestie as your bf <3xoxo
His oversized hoodie swallowed half his hands, hair messy from constantly pushing his fingers through it, and he looked far too relaxed for someone being watched by thousands of people. But then again, Keeho had always been strangely good at making lives feel less like broadcasts and more like late-night conversations with friends.
Hi's like that, a friendly birdy.
He talked too much, complained dramatically about everything, started fake arguments with the comments, and somehow managed to make even the dumbest stories entertaining.
âTour life is actually miserable,â he sighed dramatically as he scrolled through comments, not sounding miserable whatsoever. âNobody here understands me emotionally, Iâm suffering every day.â
The comments immediately flooded with people calling him dramatic, and Keeho only looked more offended by it, placing a hand over his chest like heâd just been personally betrayed.
âYou guys are proving my point,â he continued. âNo empathy, cero kindness. This is a hostile environment.â
He paused for a moment, eyes scanning the screen before a slow grin spread across his face, the kind that usually meant he was about to say something ridiculous just to entertain himself. âactually,â he started casually, like he was simply recalling part of his day, âbestie tried to kiss me earlier today. I mean⊠I understand why, I donât blame her. But I think boundaries are important.â
There was a loud crash somewhere outside the room, and second later, the door flew open so aggressively it slammed against the stopper.
âBRO, STOP LYING! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?â you stood in the doorway pointing accusingly at him while laughing so hard you could barely get the words out properly, and the second Keeho saw your expression, he completely lost it. He doubled over laughing immediately, shoulders shaking so hard he nearly knocked over the phone holding up the live.
The comments exploded instantly.
âOMG she's hereeeee!!!!!â
âHE GOT CAUGHTâ
âIM LIVING FOR HIM RAGE-BAITING HERâ
People were spamming messages faster than either of you could properly read them, losing their minds over the fact that youâd appeared out of nowhere.
Keeho wiped at the corner of his eye dramatically, still laughing. âSee? Sheâs mad because I exposed her.â
âYouâre actually insane,â you shot back as you walked into the room, kicking the side of his leg lightly on your way past him. âWhy do you wake up every day and decide spreading misinformation is your passion?â
âBecause it keeps life exciting.â he simply says.
âYou told people last week that we were divorced.â
âWe are divorced emotionally.â
You stared at him for a second before looking toward the phone with disbelief written all over your face. âDo you guys hear this? Heâs genuinely delusional.â
Keeho gasped dramatically, placing a hand against his chest again. âWow. Public humiliation AND gaslighting on live, thatâs crazy.â
You rolled your eyes, unable to stop laughing as you finally dropped down onto the side of the bed. It was obvious youâd come in just to yell at him before leaving again, but like always, somehow you ended up staying.
The second you sat down, the entire atmosphere of the live shifted naturally into the usual chaos people expected whenever the two of you were together. Keeho instantly started talking more, laughing more, interrupting you every five seconds just to annoy you, while you stole his drink without asking and exposed embarrassing stories about him to the viewers.
At some point, without either of you noticing when exactly it happened, Keeho shifted closer, one minute there was a small gap between your shoulders, and the next his arm was stretched lazily across the mattress behind you, his body angled slightly toward yours while he leaned closer to read comments over your shoulder.
But the fans noticed everything, especially the way Keeho kept looking at you while you talked not even realizing he was doing it.
You were busy arguing with someone in the comments who said Keeho looked clingy, laughing as you defended yourself dramatically while Keeho just stared at you with the stupidest grin on his face, clearly more entertained by you than the live itself âhe IS clingy,â you insisted âyou guys donât understand. If I ignore his texts for more than ten minutes he starts acting like I diedâ you glance at him out of the corner of your eye for a few seconds "or like he's gonna kill me"
âThat is not true,â Keeho defended immediately.
You laughed loudly at that, leaning forward slightly while shaking your head, and Keehoâs eyes followed you again automatically before he even realized it himself.
âhe's so touchy around herâ
âdude is gonna wear her out looking at her so muchâ
You squinted at the phone suddenly before bursting into laughter. âOh my god, theyâre saying you look at me lovingly.â
He scoffed loudly âmaybe itâs because youâre my ex-wife,â he replied smoothly âthereâs history there.â
You shoved his face away with your hand while laughing again, and he only laughed harder, letting himself lean dramatically against your shoulder for a second before sitting back up again.
Keeho started reading comments aloud in fake offended voices, you threatened to expose middle school photos of him, and at one point the two of you argued for nearly five full minutes over whether or not he cried during a movie earlier that week.
âI did not cry,â he insisted for the tenth time.
âYou literally had tears running down your face.â
âIt was just... cinematic appreciation.â
âYou SOBBED.â
Keeho looked directly into the camera with the most serious expression he could manage. âThis is why relationships fail.â
That only made you laugh harder, your head falling back against the mattress behind you. Sometimes, in tiny moments like this, he noticed it all over again.
How easy you felt.
How every room felt lighter when you were in it.
And maybe that realization lingered a little too obviously on his face, because the comments suddenly started moving impossibly fast again.
âbro just kiss herâ âI canttttââhe's in luuuuuuvee for sure, we lost himâ
Keeho blinked before immediately grabbing the phone.
âOkay!â he announced loudly, suddenly sounding far too defensive. âThatâs enough for today, you guys are actually getting weird now bye!â
The flight had barely started and already the three of you were being threatened by staff to âplease keep it downâ not that any of you were actually being that loud.
Well⊠maybe a little.
The plane lights were dimmed slightly now that everyone had settled into their seats, most of the passengers either asleep already or quietly watching movies with headphones on, but your row was still painfully awake. Mostly because sitting between Keeho and Intak was possibly one of the worst decisions anyone couldâve made for your ability to have a peaceful flight.
The three of you had been talking nonstop since takeoff... maybe saying talking was generous. It was more like aggressively bullying each other for entertainment.
âYouâre actually disgusting,â you muttered while staring at Keehoâs phone screen in horror.
âYou take selfies from that angle on purpose?â
âItâs my good angleâ now even more offended.
âThere are no good angles in this photoâ
Intak snorted beside you, leaning over slightly to look at the screen too âdamn, she got youâ
Keeho narrowed his eyes slowly. âInteresting, you switched sides fastâ you just smile at him egocentricity.
At one point Intak had stolen your headphones just to annoy you, which turned into you threatening to expose his embarrassing predebut photos, which somehow turned into Keeho loudly claiming he was the only sane person in the group while both you and Intak stared at him in disbelief for a solid ten seconds before laughing in his face.
âYou know what your problem is?â you told Keeho eventually while shaking your head.
âThat Iâm too beautiful?â
âThat you genuinely think youâre funnier than everybody elseâ you corrected him rapidly.
âI AM funnier than everybody else.â he assures, looking the most serious and... well, surer than any other time.
Intak immediately leaned closer to you slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. âSee? This is why you should sit with me more often instead.â
You laughed instantly at the obvious bait in his tone, already knowing exactly what he was doing.
âOh really?â
âYeah,â Intak nodded seriously âIâm peaceful, calm, easy to be around.â
Keeho stared at him with complete disbelief âyou literally barked at a flight attendant thirty minutes ago.â
âThat was a joke, okey? she totally got it.â
You laughed again, shoulders shaking slightly as Intak grinned beside you, clearly proud of himself for making you laugh, and Keeho noticed immediately. Noticed the way Intak kept leaning closer while talking to you. The teasing tone in his voice. The way you were laughing a little harder than usual now just because the two of you kept teaming up against him.
It wasnât that serious, you and Intak had always joked around like this, constantly dramatic and playful with each other just for the reaction.
Still⊠something about it irritated him more than it shouldâve.
Not enough to genuinely get upset, but enough that he found himself watching the interaction with narrowed eyes now, interrupting more often, suddenly needing to be included in every joke.
âYouâre actually flirting in front of me right now,â he muttered dryly after Intak complimented your smile in the most exaggerated voice possible.
Intak looked at him innocently âwhat if I am?â
âItâs embarrassing for both of youâ he answers fast "and disgusting..." he adds "...and pathetic"
You turned toward Keeho immediately, grinning âokey we get it, why? jealous?â
Keeho scoffed so fast it almost sounded defensive âplease, of him? Be serious.â
Intak smirked beside you, clearly entertained now that heâd gotten a reaction. Intak definitely noticed it, which only encouraged him more.
The teasing continued for a while after that, though slowly the energy started dying down as the flight stretched longer into the night. The cabin lights dimmed further, conversations around you quieting into near silence while exhaustion finally started catching up to everyone after days of nonstop schedules.
Your laughter became softer eventually, slower between sentences while your head leaned further back against the seat.
Keeho noticed immediately.
âYouâre falling asleep,â he said.
âIâm literally awake.â
âYou just closed your eyes for like thirty seconds.â
âI was thinking.â
âYou donât think.â
The conversation was just whispers, now somewhat scared that if the flight attendant heard you shouting one more time she would kick your asses to your destination.
Your head tilted slightly sideways as sleep finally won, your body relaxing completely without you even realizing it, unfortunately for Keeho, gravity betrayed him... because instead of falling toward his side, your head slowly dropped onto Intakâs shoulder.
Intak looked down immediately before looking over at Keeho with the most obnoxious grin imaginable âoh wow,â he whispered dramatically âshe chose me.â
Keeho stared at him flatly.
Intak looked way too pleased with himself already, trying not to laugh while you remained completely asleep against him, breathing evenly and completely unaware of the situation youâd just created.
âDonât start,â Keeho warned quietly.
âShe looks comfortable,â Intak teased softly âmaybe this is fate.â
âYouâre actually insufferableâ Keeho tried to sound annoyed, but his eyes kept drifting back toward you anyway.
The way your face had relaxed completely in your sleep, the slight crease between your brows disappearing now that you werenât talking, and maybe that tiny irrational feeling from earlier returned again when he saw your head against Intakâs shoulder, because before he even fully thought about it, Keeho was already moving.
Carefully, trying not to wake you, one hand gently reached over, fingers brushing lightly against the side of your head as he slowly guided you away from Intak and toward himself instead.
Intak watched the entire thing with a look of pure amusement.
âOh my god,â he whispered âyou ARE jealous.â
âShut upâ Keeho ignored him completely after that, adjusting slightly in his seat so you could rest more comfortably against his shoulder.
The second your head settled there, your expression softened even more in your sleep, like your body recognized the familiarity automatically. Then ,without waking up once, your hand moved... sleepily, your fingers wrapped around Keehoâs arm beside you before squeezing lightly, holding onto him unconsciously.
Intak saw it happen instantl, the smug teasing expression on his face disappeared into disbelief for a second before he looked toward Keeho again.
And Keeho... Keeho looked back at him with the most satisfied expression Intak had ever seen in his life, victorious, ike heâd won something neither of them had officially been competing for.
After weeks of packed schedules and rushed meals eaten backstage or in hotel rooms, finally having a free evening almost felt strange, especially when the company manager had reluctantly agreed to let all of you go out together for dinner.
The restaurant itself was beautiful, intimate but chill and friendly, warm lighting reflected softly against dark wooden walls and low music played quietly somewhere in the background.
You had barely sat down before the teasing started.
âCan somebody tell Soul to stop taking photos of the menu?â Theo complained from across the table.
âItâs aesthetic,â Soul defended immediately without looking up from his phone.
You laughed quietly while reaching for your water glass, but before you could even properly settle into your seat, you felt a familiar warmth at your side. Keeho had chosen the seat beside you without hesitation the second everyone sat down, like it had been decided automatically long before any of you entered the restaurant.
Not that anyone was surprised.
At this point, people naturally expected the two of you to end up together somehow no matter where the group went, it had become so normal that nobody questioned it anymore. Still, tonight felt⊠different somehow.
Maybe it was because Keeho looked unfairly good.
His simple black shirt was rolled slightly at the sleeves, exposing the rings on his fingers every time he reached for his drink, and his hair had been styled just enough to leave him looking effortlessly attractive without trying too hard. Which honestly irritated you a little.
Mostly because he knew it too.
âYou keep staring at yourself in every reflective surface,â you muttered under your breath while opening the menu.
Keeho looked at you immediately, with a big-ass cocky grinn on his face âBecause I look incredible tonight.â
You snorted softly, shaking your head, but Keeho only grinned wider beside you before lazily stretching one arm behind your chair, the second his arm settled behind you, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric near your shoulder, you became painfully aware of how close he suddenly was.
Sometimes his hand rested loosely against the back of your chair while he talked to the others, absentmindedly brushing his fingers against your shoulder every now and then. Other times his palm slid briefly against your waist whenever he leaned closer to show you something on his phone or laugh at one of your comments.
None of it was technically unusual, Keeho had always been touchy with you, but tonight there was something almost possessive about it. Subtle enough that nobody could really call it out directly, but obvious enough that every single member at the table noticed eventually.
Especially Intak, and unfortunately for Keeho, Intak found this entire situation incredibly entertaining.
âSo,â Intak started casually at one point while looking across the table toward you, âyou and I should go explore the city tomorrow.â
Keeho didnât even look up from his drink ânoâ
You immediately laughed âI donât remember asking you.â
âIâm protecting you from bad decisions.â
Intak leaned back in his chair dramatically âsee? This is what I deal with.â
âYou flirt with her exclusively to annoy me,â Keeho replied flatly.
âAnd itâs working beautifully.â Keeho finally looked over at him then, narrowing his eyes slightly while Intak tried (and completely failed) to hide how amused he was by the reaction. His hand would suddenly find your waist again. Enough that heâd interrupt conversations to pull your attention back toward him... that he kept leaning closer whenever Intak made you laugh too hard.
The conversation drifted naturally throughout dinner, at some point you started laughing so hard at one of Jongseobâs stories that you nearly choked on your drink.
Keeho instantly turned toward you, one hand pressing lightly against your back while he laughed too âcareful babyâ he said absentmindedly.
The word shouldnât have affected you, he called you baby all the time.
Baby, babe, honey, wife, ex-wife, the love of his life whenever he wanted something from you, it had always been a joke between you.
But this time⊠the word came out differently.
Maybe it was because heâd been touching you all night without thinking or maybe it was because he was sitting so close you could feel his shoulder brushing yours every few minutes, the way his hand was still resting warm against your back while he looked down at you with genuine concern mixed into his amusement.
But for a second, the nickname didnât feel like a joke at all.
Your laughter faded slightly as you looked at him, and Keeho seemed to notice the tiny shift immediately because his expression changed too for the briefest moment.
âOh my god,â Intak groaned dramatically. âCan you two either date already or get a divorce? I canât keep watching this.â
The moment shattered instantly, you burst out laughing again while Keeho leaned back in his chair with an offended expression, though his arm stayed hooked behind you anyway.
âYouâre obsessed with us,â Keeho accused.
âWe're exhausted by youâ Theo corrected from further down the table.
âYou literally just called her baby like you pay taxes together,â Jiung added.
Keeho scoffed loudly. âYou guys are projecting your fantasies onto us" meanwhile, his thumb absentmindedly brushed once against your waist underneath the table before he finally pulled his hand away.
But not before you noticed.
And judging by the small, satisfied look Intak gave Keeho from across the table⊠neither had he.
KEEHO
liked by p1harmony, theo and more
KEEHO Had to carry her drunk ass to the hotel btw.
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By the time everyone left the restaurant, the city had become even more beautiful. The cold air outside felt refreshing after the warmth of the restaurant, but unfortunately for you, it did absolutely nothing to help the amount of alcohol currently in your system.
You were drunk, drunk enough that walking in a straight line had become a genuine challenge.
âYou almost walked into traffic three times,â Keeho laughed while keeping one hand firmly around your wrist as the group walked back toward the hotel.
Theo loudly announced that he was never drinking with you again because youâd spent fifteen minutes arguing with a taxi driver about whether pigeons had emotions.
Keeho hadnât let go of you once. Not when you stumbled slightly stepping off the sidewalk, or when you dramatically complained that your feet hurt, not even when you stopped in the middle of the street to point at a random building because you thought the lights looked pretty.
By the time the group finally reached the hotel elevators, you were visibly exhausted, all the chaotic energy from earlier slowly fading. The others were still talking loudly around you, but at some point you had unconsciously leaned closer into Keehoâs side, your head briefly resting against his shoulder while waiting for the elevator doors to open.
His expression softened for just a second before he looked away quickly, like he didnât want anyone catching it.
âYouâre never drinking this much again,â he informed you seriously while unlocking your hotel room.
You laughed softly as you stepped inside the room, immediately dropping face-first onto the bed without even bothering to properly take your shoes off.
Keeho snorted quietly behind you while closing the door âyouâre unbelievable.â
âThank you.â
âI wasnât complimenting youâ you groaned dramatically into the mattress before finally turning your head enough to look at him. Your hair was messy now, your makeup slightly smudged from the long night, but your eyes still carried that sleepy warmth that always made Keehoâs chest feel strangely tight lately.
Then, in the softest voice imaginable, you asked, âstay tonight?â
You and Keeho had shared beds countless times before over the years. During long schedules, flights, movie nights, stressful tours, exhausting rehearsals. Sometimes one of you would fall asleep in the otherâs room accidentally, and eventually it had simply become normal.
So Keeho should not have felt his heartbeat immediately speed up the way it did now.
âYeah, obviously.â
You smiled sleepily at that before shifting over slightly to make space for him beside you. Your head rested against his chest while one arm wrapped lazily around his waist, and Keeho automatically pulled the blanket higher around you before his arm settled carefully across your back.
Keeho stared quietly at the ceiling for a long time, one hand slowly rubbing comforting circles against your back while his heart refused to calm down properly.
The next morning arrived slowly.
The sunlight filtering through the hotel curtains was warm enough to wake you eventually, though the pounding headache you groaned softly, burying your face deeper into the pillow for a second before blinking awake properly.
The bed beside you was empty now, but the room smelled faintly like coffee and breakfast. Confused, you slowly sat up, immediately spotting Keeho near the small table by the window.
Freshly showered already, blond hair still slightly damp, dressed in comfortable gray sweats and a black t-shirt, he looked unfairly awake for someone whoâd gone to sleep almost as late as you had, and in front of you, carefully arranged on a wooden breakfast tray sitting across the bed, was food.
Coffee.
Toast.
Fruit.
A headache pill beside a bottle of water.
âYouâre actually the best person in the worldâ Keeho looked up from his phone immediately, a lazy smile spreading across his face.
âI know, baby,â he answered easily. âI know.â
That nickname again shouldnât have affected you anymore considering how often he used it, but lately something about the way he said it felt different.
You tried not to think about it too much, instead, you patted the empty space beside you on the bed âcome eat with meâ Keeho didnât hesitate for even a second.
At one point you nearly spit out your coffee because Keeho started aggressively mocking the way you danced while drunk the night before.
âYouâre jealous because I have rhythm.â
âYou fell into a decorative plantâ Keeho laughed loudly, falling back dramatically against the pillows while shaking his head at you.
He loved making you laugh.
Eventually, after breakfast disappeared and your headache became slightly more manageable, the room settled into a quieter kind of comfort. Keeho stretched out lazily across the bed beside you, arms behind his head while looking over.
âBe grateful we only have recording tonight,â he said âyou have all day to recover.â
You groaned softly before turning your head toward him with a pout.
âCan we watch a movie?â the second the words left your mouth, Keeho smiled, then he opened one arm toward you silently. You moved beside him without hesitation, resting comfortably against his chest while his arms wrapped naturally around you, pulling you closer until your face was tucked beneath his chin.
âShould we watch Officer Black Belt?â you asked while grabbing the remote.
Keeho immediately scoffed âabsolutely not.â
You looked up at him âoh come on, why?â
âBecause you only want to watch it because Kim Woobin fights people and you think heâs attractive.â
You burst into laughter instantly âwhatâs wrong with that?â Keeho narrowed his eyes suspiciously âare you jealous because he fights well and you donât?â
âPlease,â he scoffed dramatically âI could fight better than him.â
That only made you laugh harder. Keeho couldnât stop looking at you while you laughed, couldnât stop noticing how beautiful you looked when you were happy... how natural you felt in his arms, how he genuinely couldnât imagine his life without this anymore.
âSo whatâs your problem with him then?â you asked eventually, still smiling.
Something shifted quietly in Keehoâs expression then, the joking faded slightly around the edges âYou like him,â he answered quietly.
You blinked up at him in confusion. âWhat do you mean?â
Keehoâs hand moved slowly against your back, fingers brushing gently across the fabric of your shirt while he looked down at you with an expression youâd never seen this clearly before.
âI like you,â he admitted softly. âA lot.â
Your heartbeat instantly stumbled, Keeho let out a quiet breath before continuing, almost laughing nervously at himself. âI think Iâm about to fall in love with you.â
Nothing about this felt wrong, because your friendship had always been built on trust first, on comfort... years of laughter and honesty and being each otherâs safest place without even realizing when it happened.
So instead of panic, all you felt was happiness, warm and overwhelming happiness.
A smile slowly spread across your face while you studied every detail of his expression.
âThatâs good news,â you whispered softly, âbecause I like you a lot too.â Keehoâs eyes searched yours carefully while you continued smiling against his chest âI donât even know when it happened,â you admitted quietly âI just know it did"
His hand still rested against your back while your face remained tucked close to his chest, both of you smiling softly like this entire moment somehow felt inevitable.
Then slowly, carefully, Keeho leaned down toward you... tkiss was soft at first, everything your relationship had always been.
Years of friendship existed inside it, inside the familiarity of his hands against you, the quiet laughter that escaped between kisses because neither of you could stop smiling, the overwhelming comfort of finally understanding what had been growing between you all this time.
Keeho pulled you a little closer against him, one hand sliding carefully up to your cheek while the other stayed secure around your waist, and when you kissed him back more fully, he smiled into the kiss immediately.
Between kisses, Keeho laughed softly against your lips âsoâŠâ he murmured, still holding you impossibly close âdo you still wanna watch the movie?â
You shook your head immediately, smiling too hard to even pretend otherwise âfuck the movie,â you whispered before kissing him again.
Then suddenly his expression changed âwhat?â you asked immediately, narrowing your eyes.
Keeho tried to hide the smirk appearing on his face. âIâm just realizing something.â
âOh shit, are you thinking? That's dangerous.â
He ignored that completely. âNow that weâve crossed into kissing territoryâŠâ
âOh my god.â
ââŠdoes this mean I finally get boyfriend privileges?â his tone kinda funny.
You stared at him. âYou already acted like my boyfriend for free.â
âThatâs true,â he nodded thoughtfully. âHonestly I was doing full-time labor with no contract.â
You laughed so hard you nearly fell off him entirely, immediately hiding your face against his chest while Keeho looked far too proud of himself for making you laugh again.
âSee?â he said smugly while wrapping his arms tighter around you. âThis relationship is healthy already. Iâm hilarious, youâre obsessed with me...â
âI am NOT obsessed with you.â
Keeho clicked his tongue. âBaby, you literally asked me to sleep over.â
âYouâve slept in my room like fifty times!â
âYeah,â he replied smoothly, looking down at you with the most annoying grin imaginable âbut now itâs romantic.â
You groaned dramatically before shoving his shoulder, but Keeho only laughed harder, catching your wrist easily before pulling you back against him again.
note: I don't know what's gotten into me but I'm just a new girl discovering new things. About K-Pop, I've only knew BlackPink and BTS, but recently I've been listening Ateez and a bunch more stuff in K-Pop and I'm gagged lol (in the best way possible). xoxo
The polished table sat at the center of the room, surrounded by too many chairs. Staff members moved quietly along the edges, adjusting microphones, checking angles, preparing for another shoot.
âAlright,â a staff member announced with a bright, practiced smile, âwelcome to Say it or Do it with ATEEZ.â
The introduction barely finished before the table erupted into noise. You leaned forward instinctively, resting your elbows against the table, your excitement impossible to hide. âThis is going to be a disaster,â you said, though the grin on your face betrayed how much you were looking forward to it.
Across from you, Wooyoung let out a quiet scoff, already shuffling through the cards. âRelax,â he replied smoothly, glancing up at you. âIâll carry this.â
âYou?â you shot back, incredulous. âThatâs concerning.â
And he only smiled wider.
At first, everything followed the usual pattern, the cards were harmless, at least in the beginning. Questions that prompted exaggerated answers, dares, moments designed to entertain.
The room filled easily with laughter, teasing and interrupting each other without hesitation.
Wooyoungâs turn came sooner than expected.
He picked up a card, flipping it between his fingers with his casual confidence that immediately drew attention. For a brief moment, his expression remained unreadable, his eyes scanning the words in silence.
Slowly, his lips curved.
âOh,â he said, almost to himself, though the shift in his tone was enough to pull everyoneâs attention toward him. âThis oneâs interesting.â
You leaned back slightly, narrowing your eyes. âI donât like that tone.â
âYou shouldnât,â he replied lightly.
San urged him to read it aloud, but instead of immediately giving in, he took his time. He tapped the edge of the card against the table, dragging out the moment.
Finally, he spoke.
âChoose one member and flirt with them for a whole minute.â
You let out a groan, dropping your head briefly into your hands before looking back up at him with a mixture of suspicion and reluctant amusement. âIf you pick me, Iâm walking out,â you warned, though there was no real weight behind the threat.
Somewhere along the table, Mingiâs expression stilled, but no one really noticed. You look into the camara before saying "these are the moments when being the only girl kinda sucks" and everyone laughs.
What started as teasing didnât stay that way for long. âYou look good today,â he said, his voice quieter now, though still loud enough for the others to react.
You rolled your eyes immediately, waving him off. âThatâs your big move? Seriously?â, but he didnât pull back.
Instead, he leaned in just slightly more, his expression unwavering and his arm resting in the back of you chair, letting him get closer and closer âNo,â he said calmly. âThatâs just the truth.â
âYou always look good,â he continued. âBut todayâŠâ He tilted his head slightly, studying you in a way that felt just a little too real. âItâs distracting.â
Mingi noticed, the way you hesitated, even a little. The way Wooyoung didnât break eye contact and the moment stretched just a little too far beyond what the game required.
His jaw tightened subtly, his fingers curling against his leg beneath the table, the movement hidden but deliberate. Crossing his arms, his jaw clenching and resting his back on the chair...doing anything to stop himself from saying or doing something.
When it was your turn again, the card you picked only made things worse.
You read it once, your expression shifting into something between disbelief and amusement before you finally spoke. âSit on a memberâs lap while answering the next question.â
The reaction was immediate, louder than before.
It wasnât a big deal, or at least it shouldnât have been a big deal, but without overthinking it, you moved. You ended up on Wooyoungâs lap.
From your perspective, it was simple. He was the closest, the easiest option. You keep telling yourself that you chose him because with Wooyoung it didn't really mean anything beyond a challenge or a few laughs, but of course everyone wondered why you hadn't chosen your best friend, Mingi. Deep down, though, everyone knew the answer, even you both.
But from across the table, Mingi saw it differently.
He saw the way Wooyoungâs arm settled naturally around your waist steadying you without hesitation. He saw the way you laughed, completely at ease, unaware of how it looked from the outside, the way the others reacted, encouraging it.
The cameras were still rolling, and the moment wasnât his to interrupt so he smiled when he was supposed to. He laughed when it was expected.
Backstage, everything returned to its usual noise. Voices overlapped again, replaying moments from the interview, teasing each other without restraint. Yeo-sang brought up the flirting and immediately the attention turned back to you.
Wooyoung, still far too pleased with himself and (as he says) his "skills", pulled his arm into your shoulders. âYou didnât seem to hate it.â
You nudged him lightly. âYouâre insufferable.â
âAm I wrong?â
And without yall even noticing, something exploded.
âMove.â before you could fully process it, Mingi was there, stepping in between you and Wooyoung with a presence impossible to ignore. There was something firm in the way he positioned himself, something that made the air feel heavier all at once.
He didnât look at anyone else, only you.
âCome here,â he said, his deep voice moving something inside you.
The noise that had filled the room only seconds ago fades, you feel it.
Mingi stands close enough now that the space between you feels almost nonexistent, his presence grounding and overwhelming at the same time.
Your brows knit slightly as you look up at him, confusion and something else âWhat is going on with you?â you ask, your voice quieter now, no longer teasing, no longer light.
For a second, it almost seems like he might walk away again, like earlier, like heâs still fighting whatever this is. His jaw tightens, his gaze flickering briefly past you, to the boys that were still behind you laughing super loud a moment agio.
âYou really donât see it,â he says finally, his voice low, controlled in a way that only makes the tension sharper.
You frown, taken aback by the accusation more than the words themselves. âSee what?â
âThe way they act around you,â he continues, and though his tone remains even, thereâs an edge beneath it now, something restrained but unmistakable. âThe way he acts around you.â
You donât need to ask who he means.
Your chest tightens slightly, more from the intensity of his gaze than the accusation itself. âIt was just a game,â you reply, though the words feel weaker now than they had earlier. âYou know how he is...always sassyâ you try to break a joke.
But he wasnât having it.
âI do,â Mingi says, almost immediately. âThatâs exactly the problem.â
âYouâre overthinking it,â you insist, though your tone softens without your permission. âNone of it meant anything.â
He lets out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and something far more frustrated, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts before they spill out in a way he wonât be able to take back.
âIt meant something to me,â he says.
That settles between you, thick and shifting the entire weight of the moment. Your lips part slightly, but for once, nothing comes out.
Mingi takes a step, making you even closer.
âYou think I didnât notice?â he continues, quieter now, though the intensity in his voice only deepens. âThe way you looked at him. The way you didnât pull away.â
âI didnât think I needed to,â you reply, your voice barely above a murmur, though thereâs a hint of something defensive beneath it now. âIt wasnât serious.â
âThatâs not the point.â
âThen what is?â
And for a brief moment, he hesitates. Not because he doesnât have an answer, but because saying it out loud makes it real in a way thereâs no coming back from.
âAnyone else can joke about it,â he says slowly, each word measured, careful in a way that suggests heâs choosing them with intention. âThey can flirt, tease, act like it doesnât matter.â
His gaze doesnât leave yours.
âI canât.â
Your heart stumbles, not really processing whatâs going on but internally being froze because you understand every word and the meaning behind it.
âWhy?â you ask, though the answer is already forming somewhere in the back of your mind.
Mingi exhales slowly, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion âbecause I donât like sharing you,â he says.
Thereâs no immediate reaction from you, no teasing remark or quick dismissal to soften the moment. For once, the usual rhythm between youf alls away completely, leaving something far more exposed in its place.
âYou donât⊠get to say that like itâs normal,â you manage after a moment.
âI know,â he admits âand I know I shouldâve said something earlier,â he continues, his voice dropping slightly, softer now but no less intense. âBefore it got to this point.â
Your eyes search his face, trying to piece together the version of him standing in front of you now with the one youâve always known.
âYouâre an idiot,â you say softly.
He lets out a breath, almost a laugh. âYeah, I know.â
âNo,â you step closer, poking his chest lightly. âLike, actually. You really thought I didnât notice you?â
He frowns slightly. âWhat?â
âYou think Iâve been this close to you for years and didnât feel anything?â you ask.
âYouâre serious,â he says quietly, straight face like he's scared to fuck it all up by just a wrong facial expression.
âVery.â
He exhales, finnaly daring to stepping closer until thereâs barely any space left between you. His hand hesitates for half a second before settling at your waist, pulling you in now... more desperately. You grab the front of his shirt, ânext time,â you murmur, âdonât wait until youâre about to lose your mind to tell me something like this.â
He huffs out a quiet laugh. âNoted.â
âAnd stop ignoring me whenever you get madâ you add.
âAlso noted.â
âAnd stop getting jealous...â
âThat oneâs not happening.â
You grin. âYeah, I figured.â
While looking into each others eyes like theyâre the mos beautiful thing youâve ever seen, the space between you disappears, you can feel the warmth of his breath before anything else.
His lips finally meet yours. Your fingers curl more firmly into his shirt without thinking, and he squeezed your waist tighter, as if he wanted to really feel you, a confirmation that this was finally happening.
His forehead rests lightly against yours, the distance between you barely returning, his breath still uneven in a way that mirrors your own.
âYou couldnât wait five minutes?â San blurts out, completely incredulous, one hand dragging down his face like heâs personally offended. âWeâre literally still in the same room!â
Hongjoong lets out a loud laugh. âNo, because what was that...â
âYou said it didnât mean anything!â Wooyoung points at you accusingly.
You immediately try to push Mingi away, except you donât get very far, because his hand is still at your waist, unmoving, rock hard.
"You shut up and I don't want to see you messing around with her again," Mingi says in his characteristic deep voice, making something inside you stir. Out of nowhere, you love this new attitude from yourâŠbest friend?
note: I'm gonna drop it... I love WAY MORE his hair in season 1, the first episodes, plus his earring and the cut in the eyebrow. He looked hella hot in every single era tho. I'm gonna be posting more about BloodHounds, and that my requests are open! (remember that my first lenguge is not english and I use the translator a lot to help me write, so sorry for any mastakes!)xoxo
Your mother barely makes it through the doorway before leaning her weight against the counter, one hand pressing to her temple, exhaustion written into every small movement. Thereâs flour on her sleeve, the faint smell of coffee clinging to her clothes, and the kind of tired in her eyes that makes your chest tighten before she even speaks.
âCan you take care of dinner tonight?â she asks, her voice gentle but worn down at the edges.
You hesitate, not because you donât want to help, but because you already know how this is going to go. Slowly, your gaze shifts past her, toward the living room. The low, excited commentary coming from the living room, the occasional thud of movement, the unmistakable sound of your brother and his best friend completely absorbed in something that, apparently, matters more than basic survival.
Your brother, Geon-woo, sitting forward on the couch and right next to him, just as focused, just as still, is Hong Woo-jin. The glow of the TV reflects faintly against their faces, both of them locked into whatever fight is playing like itâs happening right in front of them instead of on a recording.
âWhy me and not them?â you complain, pointing openly toward the living room, your tone edged with disbelief. âTheyâre literally doing nothing.â
âI heard that,â your brother mutters, not even turning his head.
âGood,â you shoot back immediately. âThen you can also hear me asking why Iâm the one stuck cooking while you sit there likeâlike a statue.â
âBecause we have to watch the fight!â he calls back, like that alone should end the conversation.
âItâs a recorded fight,â you argue, stepping a little closer, your voice rising just enough to carry into the room. âNot live. You can watch it after you help me.â
Your brother leans forward slightly, completely absorbed again, and Woo-jin doesnât even pretend to care, if anything, his focus sharpens, like the conversation behind him has already faded into background noise. Your jaw tightens.
âUnbelievable,â you mutter under your breath.
Your mother exhales softly, cutting in before you can escalate it further, her voice calm but firm. âDonât fight with them. Itâs just for tonight, okay? Tomorrow, theyâll help.â
And just like that, the irritation drains out of you, replaced with something softer, heavier. You can see it now, the way her shoulders slump just slightly, the quiet exhaustion sheâs trying not to show too much of.
âFine,â you mumble, running a hand through your hair as you turn toward the kitchen. âBut if they starve tomorrow, Iâm not stepping in.â
The kitchen is quiet in a way that feels almost too heavy at first. The overhead light stays off... you donât even consider turning it on. Instead, you rely on the softer, dimmer glow from the small lamp near the corner, casting warm shadows across the counters. Itâs easier this way. The harsh white light above has always made your chest tighten, dragging up memories you donât like to linger on, sterile hallways, the faint beeping of machines, the cold stillness of places you never wanted to be.
The dough comes first, flour dusting your hands. It doesnât take long before your rhythm finds you, your thoughts quieting as your body moves on instinct alone.
The filling simmers softly on the stove, releasing a warm, savory smell that fills the room as you stir it, occasionally glancing back at the dough to make sure itâs the right consistency. The rhythm settles in quickly, mix, knead, fold, stir, until the silence becomes something softer, something almost peaceful.
âDo you need help?â The voice comes from behind you, low and casual, but close enough to make you stiffen for just a second before recognition settles in.
You donât turn right away.
âNope, Iâm fine,â you reply quickly, a little too quickly, already setting the dough aside to focus on the filling like thatâs been your only priority all along.
âForget I even askedâ Woo-jin says, his tone laced with that familiar mix of amusement and mild annoyance. âSometimes I forget how stubborn you are.â
You finally turn just in time to see him pulling his red sweatshirt over his head, the fabric catching briefly before it slides off completely. For a split second, his shirt lifts with it, revealing a glimpse of toned skin, the faint line of muscle from training that you definitely donât stare atâ
ââŠWhat should I do?â he asks casually, like he didnât just walk in here and completely ruin your train of thought.
You busy yourself with the spoon in your hand, stirring the filling again even though it doesnât really need it. âWhat about the fight?â you ask, finally glancing back at him.
He shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the counter like he belongs there. âItâs not that important.â
You raise a brow âreally?â.
âReally" he just watches you for a few seconds, eyes lingering a little longer than they should, like heâs taking something in, memorizing it, or maybe just enjoying the fact that youâre alone in here and not out there. Then, with a small tilt of his head, he adds, âBesides, Iâm afraid youâll poison the food to kill me and your brother.â
You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, nudging him lightly with your arm. âPlease. If I wanted you dead, Iâd be way more creative.â
He catches your arm before you can pull it back, quickly. His grip isnât tight, but itâs firm enough to pull you a step forward, closing the space between you until thereâs barely anything left of it. His other arm comes around you just as naturally, drawing you into a brief, warm hug like itâs the most normal thing in the world.
It shouldnât feel like this.
But it does.
âNow tell meâŠâ he murmurs lightly, his voice low near your ear, âwhat should I do?â
You blink, a little thrown off, your hands hovering awkwardly for a second before you gently push against his chest to create some space again. âFirst,â you say, trying to sound unaffected, even though your heartâs beating just a little faster now, âgo wash those hands. Who knows where theyâve been?â
He looks down at his hands like heâs considering it, then back at you with a slow, teasing grin âI bet youâd like to know where theyâve been.â
âWoo-jin!â your eyes widen slightly.
He laughs amused, completely unbothered by the way youâre glaring at him now like youâre seconds away from throwing something. âRelax,â he adds, holding his hands up in mock surrender before finally pushing himself off the counter. âIâll wash them.â
What you donât know... what you canât know
Is that the fight playing in the other room is one Kim Geon-woo and Hong Woo-jin have been waiting months for. That they talked about it for weeks, argued over it, analyzed every move like it actually mattered.
And yet Woo-jin walked away from it without a second thought, because the chance to be alone with you, even like this, even just helping with something as simple as dinner outweighed everything else.
-
The gym feels unfamiliar. New space, new people, new eyes. And after everything that happened over the past year, the move, the constant quiet worry about leaving your mother alone for too long, it takes a moment to settle back into something that used to feel like second nature.
You roll your shoulders back, adjusting your stance in front of the punching bag, fingers tightening inside the wraps as you focus.
Breathe.
Then strike.
The impact travels cleanly through your arm, you hit again, sharper this time, letting your body fall back into rhythm, memory, into something that doesnât require overthinking.
âYou sure know how to hit.â You glance to the side, noticing him again, the guy whoâs been hovering nearby for the past half hour. Tall, broad-shouldered. He leans casually against the post beside your bag, watching you with an easy smile that doesnât even try to hide his interest.
âI know,â you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips as you land another hit, lighter this time, more for rhythm than force.
He chuckles, pushing himself off the post, stepping just a little closer. âConfidence too, huh? I like that.â
You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slightly as you adjust your stance again. âYou donât even know me.â
âI can learn.â
Thereâs something playful in his tone and you donât think much of it. Itâs harmless. Just conversation, someone being friendly in a space where thatâs not unusual.
A few meters away, Kim Geon-woo lowers his hands slowly, his focus no longer on the training in front of him but somewhere else entirely.
On you, more specifically...on the way the guy beside you keeps stepping closer. ââŠHey,â he mutters, nudging the person next to him without looking away. âHeâs getting pretty close, isnât he?â
Beside him, Woo-jin is already watching, has been watching longer than he should or he'd like to admit. Tracking every small movement... the way the guy leans in, the way you laugh softly at something he says, the way you donât move away when he closes the distance again.
Something twists in his chest.
âI donât want to be overprotective, butâŠâ Geon-woo trails off, his brows pulling together slightly, something uncertain settling in his expression.
âDo you want me to separate them?â he asks, his tone controlled, but thereâs an edge underneath it now, something that wasnât there before.
Geon-woo finally glances at him, a little surprised. âWhat? No, of course notââ But he doesnât get to finish, because Woo-jin is already moving.
âDonât worry,â he throws over his shoulder, not even waiting. âIâll handle it.â
-
âI can show you how to do a proper hook, if you want.â the guyâs voice is closer now, you notice it this time.
You shift your weight slightly, glancing at him with mild curiosity. âYou think I need help?â
He grins. âI think you could hit harder.â
âOh?â you challenge lightly, raising a brow.
âYeah,â he says, stepping in just a bit more, lifting his hand slightly as if to demonstrate. âHere...your formâs good, but if you rotate moreââ his fingers reach toward your wrist, and donât quite make it, because someone else gets there first.
Your breath catches slightly as your arm is pulled just enough to the side, your attention snapping up immediately âIâll show her.â
The voice is low, Woo-jin steps between you and the guy without hesitation, placing himself squarely in the space that had been slowly disappearing. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, solid and unyielding in a way that leaves no room for argument.
âYou can go,â he adds, not even sparing the other guy more than a glance. âIâll take care of it.â
You blink, caught off guard, your gaze flicking between them. âWoo-jin, thereâs no needââ you start, your voice softer, a little confused, a little embarrassed by how abrupt this is.
âYou came with me,â he cuts in, not looking at you, his grip on your wrist tightening just slightly, enough to keep you there. âIâll help you.â
Itâs not a suggestion, he doesnât even gives you space to deciding, but you donât understand why that doesnât bother you as much as it probably should.
The other guy scoffs under his breath, his expression hardening as he looks Woo-jin up and down ââŠRight,â he mutters, stepping back. âDidnât realize you needed a bodyguard.â
The guy lingers for half a second longer, like heâs considering pushing it, but something in Woo-jinâs stance, in the way he doesnât move, makes him reconsider.
Just like that, gone.
-
Your gaze drops almost unconsciously to where his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist, firm and steady, as if he had never intended to let go in the first place.
For a moment, you simply look at it, at the contrast between your skin and his, at the subtle tension in his grip, at the way his thumb rests just slightly against your pulse point as if he can feel the rhythm there.
ââŠYouâre acting weird,â you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, softer than before, as if raising it might disturb whatever this is between you. Your brows pull together slightly, confusion settling into your expression as you try to read him, to understand what just happened and why it feels like more than it should. âWhat was that?â
The answer comes too fast.
âNothing.â
You watch him for a second longer, searching his face, catching the tension in his jaw, the way his gaze flickers just briefly before steadying again.
âIt wasnât nothing,â you insist, your tone still gentle but more grounded now, more certain. You donât pull away from him, but your attention sharpens, your focus narrowing entirely on him. âYou just⊠cut him off like that. You didnât even let me answer.â
âHe was too close,â he says, and this time, his eyes donât leave yours. Thereâs a firmness to his words, something that suggests he believes it entirely, that in his mind this explanation is more than enough. âI did the right thing.â
Your eyes drop again, drawn back to the point of contact between you. His hand hasnât moved. The grip may have softened slightly, but itâs still there, still holding you in place as if the conversation itself depends on that connection not being broken.
You swallow lightly before looking back up ââŠThen why are you still holding my wrist?â
The question is quiet, but it lands harder than you expect. His gaze flickers downward, following yours, as if only now realizing what heâs doing, or maybe as if heâs been aware of it the entire time and simply chose to ignore it.
His grip loosens gradually, his fingers relaxing just enough to ease the pressure without fully breaking the contact, as if some part of him is reluctant to let that connection disappear entirely.
âWhy are you so upset about it?â he asks instead, deflecting the question rather than answering it, his voice quieter now but edged with something sharper underneath.
You blink, momentarily thrown by the shift âIâm not upset,â you reply, your brows knitting together again as confusion settles deeper. âI just⊠donât understand.â
âDonât ask questions you donât want the answer to,â he says finally, his voice lower now, controlled in a way that feels deliberate, like every word is being held back just enough to keep something else from slipping through, something thatâs been sitting beneath the surface for longer than either of you has acknowledged.
Your breath catches before you can stop it ââŠWhat does that mean?â you ask, softer now, your voice almost cautious, suddenly aware that youâve stepped into something deeper than you intended.
He just looks at you. The space between you feels smaller now, despite the fact that neither of you has moved. The air shifts, thickening with something unspoken.
-
You barely have time to process the look on Hong Woo-jinâs face before he moves.
It isnât abrupt in a way that draws attention, but itâs decisive, his hand tightening around your wrist again. The contact sends a small, involuntary jolt through you, your breath catching as he turns, already guiding you away from the open space of the gym floor before you can fully react.
âWoo-jin...what are you doing?â you start, your voice low, more confused than alarmed as you try to keep up with him, your steps falling into pace with his without much resistance.
He just keeps walking, weaving past equipment and people until the noise begins to fade, until the open space gives way to a narrower hallway leading toward the back rooms.
Only when he pushes open the door to an empty training room and pulls you inside with him does he finally stop.
The door shuts behind you with a soft but definitive click.
Itâs just the two of you.
The quiet presses in almost immediately, heavier than before, thick with everything that hasnât been said. You take a step back instinctively, your wrist still caught in his hand as you look at him, trying to read whatâs going on behind the tension in his expression.
âWhat is wrong with you?â you ask, your voice still hushed, though thereâs no real need for it anymore. The question is threaded with a frustration you donât fully understand yourself.
He lets out a breath, running his free hand through his hair, pacing once across the small space before stopping again like he doesnât trust himself to stay still. âNothing,â he says, but it comes out rough, unconvincing, like the word itself doesnât carry enough weight to cover whatâs actually going on.
âYou dragged me in here over nothing?â you press, your brows pulling together as your confusion sharpens into something more insistent.
That does it, you can see the shift the moment it happens, the way something in him snaps tighter.
âKeep your voice down,â he mutters, stepping closer, his tone low and edged, his eyes flicking briefly toward the door.
You blink, thrown off. âWhy?â
âBecause if he hears this,â he says, quieter now but more intense, each word deliberate, âIâm done.â
Your breath catches, the meaning behind it sinking in before you can stop it ââŠDone?â you repeat, softer now, your voice dipping unconsciously to match his.
He exhales slowly, like he regrets saying it, like he didnât mean for it to come out that way, but itâs too late to take it back now.
âWoo-jinâŠâ you start, hesitant now, testing the ground carefully. âWhy would that matter?â
He laughs under his breath, but thereâs no humor in it, just frustration
âThatâs the problem,â he says, shaking his head slightly, his gaze dropping for a second before lifting back to you. âYou really donât get it.â
âThen explain it to me,â you insist, stepping closer again, closing the distance he had tried to maintain. Your voice is quieter now, âbecause right now, youâre the only one acting like somethingâs wrong.â
For a second, he doesnât say anything.
âYou want to know whatâs wrong?â he asks, his voice lower now, rougher, like the words are being dragged out of him instead of chosen.
You donât answer, you donât have to.
Because heâs already stepping closer, already closing the last bit of space between you until thereâs nothing left of it. âI didnât like him looking at you like that,â he admits, the words coming out sharper than he probably intended, frustration threading through them. âI didnât like you laughing with him like it was nothing. Like Iâm supposed to just stand there and watch.â
The air shifts again, âYou donât have any right to that,â you say quietly, not accusing, just stating what youâve always known to be true.
âI know,â he snaps, the response immediate, almost defensive. âThatâs not the point.â
âThen what is?â
His gaze drops briefly to your lips before snapping back up, like even that was too much, like heâs fighting himself with every passing second. âThe point is,â he says, slower now, more controlled but no less intense, âI shouldnât feel like this in the first place.â
Your heart skips.
He exhales sharply, his hand tightening slightly around your wrist again, not enough to hurt but enough to ground himself. "Like this,â he repeats, quieter now. âLike I want to pull you away every time someone gets too close to you. Like Iââ he cuts himself off, shaking his head as if the words are too much once they start forming. âYouâre his sister. I shouldnât even be this close to you right now.â
But he doesnât step back, not even a little.
You swallow, your pulse quickening, something warm and unfamiliar curling low in your chest as his words settle in.
"Just kiss me" you say breathlessly, like taking the courage to say that took everything in you.
His hand comes up to your face, fingers brushing your cheek with a firmness that isnât gentle but isnât rough either... but certain, like heâs done hesitating.
âDonât say things like that unless you mean them,â he murmurs, his voice low, almost unsteady now.
âI mean it.â
And thatâs all it takes, the distance between you disappears in an instant.
He kisses you like heâs been holding it back for too long, because he has. Itâs not careful, not slow, not something heâs thought through. Itâs sharp and sudden and intense, his hand tightening slightly at your jaw as yours instinctively grip his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking.
For a brief moment, everything else seems to fall away so completely that it almost feels unreal. All that remains is this.
And then, just as suddenly as it all came together...it breaks.
âHey, did you see where they went?â Itâs Geon-woo.
The effect is immediate, the moment shatters almost violently, the weight of reality crashing back in as both of you freeze without thinking, your breath catching mid-motion. Woo-jin pulls back just enough to create the smallest space between you, though not enough to fully separate, his forehead resting briefly against yours as if he needs that second to steady himself, to gather whatever control heâs just lost.
Outside, footsteps echo faintly in the hallway, closer than they should be.
âWoo-jin?â your brother calls again, his voice clearer now, close enough that it sends a sharp jolt through your chest. Your heart reacts before your thoughts can catch up.
Woo-jin moves first, his hand slips from your face back to your wrist, the motion quick but careful, and he guides you with a quiet urgency toward the side of the room, out of direct view from the door. His other hand braces lightly against the wall beside you, placing himself just slightly in front, not blocking you entirely but close enough that, if anyone were to look in, you wouldnât be immediately seen.
âDonât move,â he murmurs, his voice low enough that it barely carries beyond the space between you.
The footsteps move again, fading, until they disappear completely.
Only then does the tension shift, though it doesnât disappear. It lingers, settling into the space between you in a different way now.
For a moment, neither of you moves. Youâre still close, close enough to feel the warmth of him, to notice the uneven rhythm of his breathing, to realize that yours isnât much steadier.
Eventually, Woo-jin exhales quietly, the sound softer than before, edged with something heavier now. When he finally speaks, his voice has changed.
ââŠWe canât do this.â
You lift your gaze to him, searching his face, trying to reconcile what heâs saying with what just happened only moments ago. ââŠThen why did you?â you ask, your voice softer now, not accusatory, just honest in its confusion.
His gaze drops for a moment, like heâs considering something, like heâs weighing what to say and what to leave unsaid. ââŠBecause I wanted to,â he admits quietly.
ââŠYou keep saying we canât,â you murmur after a while, your voice softer now, more thoughtful than before. Your fingers shift slightly where they still rest against him, not pulling away, just⊠there. âBut youâre still here.â
That makes him pause, ike your words land somewhere deeper than you intended. âAnd you didnât stop,â you add, quieter now, your eyes not leaving his. âNot when you should have.â
A faint breath leaves him, a disbelieving laugh, though thereâs no real humor in it. âNeither did you,â he points out.
For a second, it seems like heâs about to step back, like heâs going to put distance between you again, rebuild whatever control he lost. His shoulders shift slightly, his gaze dropping as if heâs already thinking about everything that comes after this, what Kim Geon-woo would say, what it would mean, what it would complicate.
âYou really donât make this easy,â Woo-jin says quietly, though thereâs something softer in his tone now, something less like resistance and more like acceptance.
You tilt your head slightly, a faint, almost teasing smile touching your lips despite everything. âYouâre the one who dragged me in here.â
âYeah,â he admits under his breath. âI did.â
âIf youâre going to keep saying we canât,â you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper now, âthen you should probably stop looking at me and go away, now."
Just a moment where the space between you closes naturally, like it was always meant to, like neither of you is trying to fight it anymore.
His hand lifts to your face again, gentler now, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as if heâs grounding himself in the reality of it.
You meet him halfway, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt as you close the last inch between you, the second kiss coming easier, more certain, like both of you already know youâre not pulling away from it.
For a moment, nothing else matters. Not even the fact that your brother could walk back in at any second, or that your mother would have a hundred questions you donât have answers to yet.
ââŠWeâre going to get in trouble,â you murmur, though thereâs no real fear in your voice.
"I donât care" he answers between kisses, not wanting to leave your lips not even for a second.
Your lips curve slightly, something warm settling in your chest as you nod once, like thatâs enough, like you donât need anything more complicated than that right now.
And neither of you doubted this time, you just kept making out in every sneak out.
note: We all love a bad boy, he kinda scary tho. (the way I nearly have a heart attak when seonje appeared in the hospital where suho was, jumpscare fr) xoxo
The final bell had rung long ago, and yet the school halls hadnât emptied as quickly as they usually did. Students lingered in small groups, dragging out conversations, laughing a little louder than necessary, anything to delay stepping outside. You understood the feeling all too well, though for very different reasons.
Your steps were slow, your bag hanging loosely from your shoulder as you made your way toward the exit. It wasnât that you had anywhere else to be, it was the opposite. You knew exactly what was waiting for you outside. Or at least⊠you had a very strong suspicion.
And, as it turned out, you were right.
He was there.
Seon-je stood just beyond the gates, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world, a cigarette resting between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily into the air as students passed by, their voices lowering, their steps quickening. Some dared to glance at him, but only briefly, their curiosity always outweighed by caution.
Everyone knew who he was, everyone knew better than to get too close. For a moment, you considered doing exactly what they were doing, keeping your head down, walking straight past him, pretending you hadnât noticed him at all. It wouldâve been easier.
But the thought didnât last, because deep down, you already knew the truth. Nothing ended unless he decided it did, and ignoring him wouldnât make him disappear, it would only make things worse.
So you exhaled slowly and forced your feet to move toward him instead.
The moment you got close enough, he straightened, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his shoe without a second thought. His hand came up to adjust his glasses in a careless motion, but his gaze was anything but careless as it settled on you.
âWhy did you leave so late?â
No greeting, no softness. Just a question, direct and expectant, like you owed him an answer.
âHi to you tooâ you replied, your tone edged with irritation.
He didnât react, didnât even acknowledge it. He just kept staring at you, waiting, and that silence was more pressuring than if heâd raised his voice. âIt was eight minutes,â you added after a moment, your patience already thinning. âSomeone borrowed my notes.â
He nodded slowly, his lips pressing together as if that explanation made sense, pretending it.
âAnd that someone⊠isâŠ?â
He was testing you, for the way that he asked it, dragging out the words, made it clear he wasnât just curious.
You didnât answer, because there was no right answer to give. Lying would only make things worse when he inevitably found out. But telling the truth⊠that felt just as dangerous.
A quiet chuckle slipped from him, low and humorless âIâm going to kill him.â
The words were said so casually, so matter-of-fact, that something in your chest tightened, not out of fear, but frustration.
âYou know what? fuck youâ you muttered, your voice sharp despite how low it was, already turning away before he could respond.
You didnât even think about where you were going, you just needed distance, or anything that wasnât him. Your steps quickened, your frustration carrying you until the noise of the street faded behind you, replaced by the quieter space of an alley you hadnât even meant to turn into.
But his hand grabbed your shoulder, firm. You barely had time to react before you were pushed back, your spine hitting the wall as he stepped into your space, too close, too sudden. âWhat did you say?â His voice was low, but there was something sharp underneath it, something that made your pulse spike.
His eyes locked onto yours, his brow furrowed deeply, like he couldnât quite believe you had actually said it. âIs your fucking phone a fucking ornament?â he snapped, irritation slipping through now. âOr were you too busy with your fucking little friend to fucking answer?â
He was pissed. Your jaw tightened immediately.
âYouâre not going to tell me who I can or canât hang out with,â you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. âGotak is...â
âI donât give a shit who he is,â he cut in sharply, his expression hardening even more at the mere mention of the name. âI donât want you anywhere near him.â
âI donât care what you want,â you fired back, your frustration finally spilling over completely. âIâm fed up, Seon-je, tired. All you do is treat me like I belong to you, like Iâm something only you can have! what's wrong with you?â
The words hung in the air between you, heavier than anything youâd said before, and yet, even as you said them, you felt that pull. Everything about him was wrong. The fights, the anger, the control...he was trouble in every sense of the word, something you shouldâve stayed far away from.
And still⊠it was him.
Because for every moment like this, ugly, tense, suffocating...there were others, quieter ones, softer ones. Moments where his touch wasnât rough, where his voice dropped into something almost gentle, where being close to him felt like the safest place in the world.
âIs this what I get for trying to protect you?â he shot back, his voice rising now, frustration bleeding through. âYouâre only safe with me. I can protect you from everything, I want to. I want you to be with me. I want you to only want me. Is that wrong? am I fucking crazy for that?â
You shook your head quickly, your hands clenching at your sides. âThatâs not the issue, and you know it,â you said, your voice strained now, caught between anger and something far more complicated. âStop twisting shitâ
But he didnât care about that, he never cared about the full argument, only the part that mattered to him...being right, and keeping you at all costs.
âIs it wrong to want you to only want me?â he repeated, quieter this time, a low tone that freeze you in place. His gaze sharpening, locking onto yours like he was waiting for something important.
ââŠNo.â that word came out softer than you intended..
He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as his hands came up to your face, cupping it in a way that felt almost too gentle after everything that had just happened.
âI just want it to be the two of us,â he murmured, his voice calmer now, steadier. âYou have to listen to me.â He leaned in just enough to press a brief kiss to your forehead, the gesture so unexpectedly soft that it made your chest tighten.
âYou always come back to me,â he added quietly, a faint smile pulling at his lips. âThat means Iâm doing something right.â You felt yourself give in.
How couldnât you?
He leaned in slowly after that, deliberately closing the distance between you, his lips brushing lightly against yours..not quite a kiss, more like a warning, or maybe a test.
âSeon-jeâŠâ you whispered, your voice barely steady now.
âTell me what you need,â he murmured against your lips.
âKiss me.â a quiet breath of amusement escaped him, his forehead nearly resting against yours.
âYou know thatâs not what I want to hear,â he whispered, his voice lower now, closer. âI donât need permission to kiss you, â he always did this when he felt you slipping, like he needed to pull you back in, to make sure you were still there, still his, â ,tell me what you need.â
For a second, you hesitated, because you knew what this was you knew how it worked. Every time you said it, you were letting yourself fall right back into something you had just tried to escape, but in the end...you said it anyway.
âI need you.â
And just like that, the distance between you disappeared.
He kissed you slowly, deliberately, not rushed, not careless...ike he was reminding you of something, of everything that kept you here. The intensity, the pull, the way being close to him made everything else fade, even if only for a moment.
And as his hand tightened just slightly against you, keeping you close...It became painfully clear that you werenât running.
note: If I write this right, it's gonna be a hard punch in the face...so...maybe this is a little sad. (Update I finished writing it and I actually donât like it lol but it took me quite some time so Iâm gonna post it anyway). Based on Ruin the Friendship by my one and only Taylor Swift.xoxo
It starts with the kind of memory you pretend doesnât mean anything.
The kind you never call dangerous, even when it is.
âAbsolutely not.â
Sieun didnât even look up from his book when you and Su-ho first brought it up, his tone flat, immediate, final.
âYou didnât even think about it,â you protested, leaning across his desk, your fingers drumming insistently against the wood. âThat was too fast, suspiciously fast.â
âI did think about it,â he replied calmly, turning a page. âThe answer is still no.â
Su-ho, sprawled lazily across the chair beside you, let out an exaggerated sigh. âYouâre seriously going to spend your Friday night reading?â
âYes.â
-
By the time you actually got to the bar, the energy had already shifted.
Music pulsed through the space, bass heavy enough to settle in your chest, colorful lights cutting through the dimness in flashes of pinks and blues and golds that made everything feel cinematic, unreal, like you had stepped into a different version of your life where nothing bad had ever touched you.
âThis is insane,â Beom-seok murmured, eyes wide as he took it all in.
Sieun said nothing, but he stayed close, his presence steady beside you like always, even as his eyes scanned the room with quiet caution.
âThis was a good idea,â you declared, leaning back into the cushions, your voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.
You leaned your head back, eyes scanning the shifting lights above...and then your song came on.
âOh my god,â you gasped, sitting up so fast it startled Beom-seok beside you. âI love this song!â. Su-ho had just gotten up moments before, muttering something about the bathroom, so you didnât even think, you didnât hesitate.
You turned straight to Sieun, already reaching for his hand.
âDance with me!â He stared at you with a blank expression.
ââŠNoâ
You groaned loudly, throwing your head back in dramatic despair. âOh, come on.â You leaned closer, narrowing your eyes at him, a playful challenge sparking there. âJust one song.â
âNo.â
Your eyebrows lifted slowly, deliberately, your signature look, the one that had gotten you your way more times than you could count. He knew it, you knew he knew it.
ââŠJust one,â you repeated softly.
Sieun exhaled quietly, glancing away for a second before looking back at you, something resigned but not unwilling settling into his expression. He couldnât believe was he was about to do. ââŠFine.â
You didnât even try to hide your grin. Instead, you pulled him up, weaving through the crowd until you reached the center of the dance floor, the music louder here, the energy sharper, alive. You laughed, grabbing his hands and guiding him into something resembling rhythm, your movements easy, natural, completely uninhibited.
Sieun, in contrast, was stiff at first... controlled, minimal, but he didnât pull away. He let you lead, let you spin under his arm when you felt like it, let himself adjust little by little until he found something that worked.
Something comfortable, and then, a glimpse of what could possibly be a smile appears on his face.
âThere you go,â you teased, nudging him lightly. âYouâre having fun.â
Across the room, Su-ho returned, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back into the noise. He didnât see you at first. His gaze flicked to the couch. ââŠWhere are they?â
Beom-seok pointed toward the dance floor, a small smile on his face. âTheyâre dancing.â
Su-ho followed the direction of his hand.
The lights caught on you in fragments...your dress, the way it moved with you, the way your hair fell loose around your shoulders, slightly messy but intentional, like you didnât have to try too hard to look like that.
The way you laughed as Sieun awkwardly tried to keep up with you, the way your hands stayed linked, the way you leaned in just slightly when you spoke to him like he was the only person in the room.
Something twisted in Su-hoâs chest, he clicked his tongue lightly against the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing just slightly as he watched.
He didnât like the distance, didnât like the idea of someone else standing where he usually did.
ââŠLooks like theyâre having fun,â Beom-seok added quietly.
Su-ho didnât answer.
By the time the song came to an end, the energy you had poured into it seemed to linger in your limbs, your chest rising and falling a little faster than usual as laughter slipped easily past your lips. Without really thinking about it, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms loosely around Sieunâs neck, the gesture natural in its spontaneity, careless in the way only moments like that could be.
âYou were great,â you told him, your voice warm, bright with genuine surprise and amusement.
You pulled back with a grin, completely unfazed, your hands dropping back to your sides as you laughed lightly. âDonât worry,â you added teasingly, tilting your head at him, âI wonât force you again, buddy.â
Together, you made your way back through the crowd, weaving between people until you reached the couch tucked into the corner of the bar.
Su-ho was already there.
There was no mistaking it, the way his posture shifted the second you came into view, the way his attention settled entirely on you as if he had been tracking your return from the moment you stepped onto the dance floor. But there was something off about it.
âLooks like you guys had a great time,â he commented, his voice light, edged faintly with mockery, as though he were brushing the whole thing off as nothing more than a passing joke.
You didnât hesitate to match his tone. âWell, it was great, wasnât it?â you replied, turning your head slightly toward Sieun, your smile still lingering as if the music hadnât quite left you yet.
Sieun gave a small nod in response.
You turned back to Su-ho, a smirk tugging at your lips as you added, almost too casually, âBetter than you.â
It was meant to be light, a joke. The kind of teasing that had always existed between you without consequence.
There was no sudden flare of anger, no sharp reaction that would have made it easy to dismiss or laugh off. Instead, it was quieter than that. Subtler. Something that settled into Su-hoâs expression almost imperceptibly, tightening just slightly around the edges.
It was a need. A quiet, undeniable pull to close the distance that had just been created, to erase the image of you laughing with someone else, to replace it with something that felt more familiar, more his, even if he didnât consciously frame it that way.
Before you could fully register it, he was already moving. He pushed himself up from the couch in one fluid motion, his hand found yours without hesitation, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a certainty that didnât leave room for argument.
âHeyââ you started, caught off guard by the suddenness of it.
He simply pulled you along with him, guiding you back toward the dance floor with an ease that made it feel inevitable, like this had always been the next step.
shiny wood floors underneath my feet, dsco ball makes everything look cheap
âThis again?â you teased, though there was something breathless in your voice now, something that hadnât been there before.
âThis,â he replied, his tone steady, almost casual, though his grip didnât loosen, âis how you actually dance.â
You raised an eyebrow at that, amusement flickering across your expression. âOh, really?â
âYeah.â
There was a natural confidence in the way he moved, like the music existed somewhere under his skin, like pulling you into it was the most effortless thing in the world.
He spun you without warning, catching you just as easily, his hand sliding to your waist as if it belonged there, keeping you close in a way that felt deliberate without crossing into anything you could easily call out.
Made it just a little harder to think clearly.
âOkayâokay,â you laughed, your hand coming up to rest against his shoulder as you steadied yourself, the movement instinctive, familiar. âMaybe I lied a little.â
âWhat?â a smirk curved at his lips, subtle but unmistakable.âI canât hear you.â
You narrowed your eyes at him immediately. âLiar.â
âWhat?â he frowns, still, with a playful smile on his face.
He leaned in slightly, tilting his head as if genuinely trying to catch your words over the noise, his fingers tapping lightly against his ear in an exaggerated gesture. âI canât hear you.â
You rolled your eyes, already aware that he was playing with you, but you stepped closer anyway, rising just enough on your toes to close the distance between you, your voice lowering as you leaned toward him.
âI saidââ
The words caught. because his hand tightened at your waist, enough to stop you from pulling away again. Enough to keep you right there, suspended in that space between movement and stillness, closer than before.
âI know,â he murmured, his voice suddenly clear despite the music, his breath warm against your ear as a faint, smug smile touched his lips. âI can give you some lessons later.â
There it was again, your heart stuttered at that.
You pulled back slowly, just enough to look at him, your eyes searching his without quite meaning to, and he was already looking at you.
Something else had settled there, something steadier, more focused, like whatever line you had both been careful not to cross was suddenly a lot closer than it used to be.
He didnât let go.
You didnât step away.
ââŠDo you want to sit down?â you asked eventually, your voice softer now, quieter, as though you were the one breaking something fragile before it had the chance to fully form. âI think I need something to drink.â
He didnât answer right away, his gaze lingered on you, unwavering, like part of him was still caught in that moment you had both refused to step into completely.
Then, after a beat...He nodded, very slowly, still focused on you, his hand remained at your waist for just a second longer than necessary before finally slipping away.
It was not...convenient, no
-
grey overpass full of neon names, you drive...85
The rush of the day softened into something looser, neon signs flickering to life, casting shifting colors across the pavement.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, you were wrapped around Su-ho.
The motorcycle cut smoothly through the streets. You had done this enough times for it to feel natural, like second nature; your arms circled his torso without hesitation, your body leaning with his whenever he turned, your helmet bumping lightly against his back every now and then.
Helping him with deliveries had started as something casual, something you insisted on once, then twice, and then it just⊠stuck. Now, it was routine. Expected. He even had a helmet just for you, tucked away like it had always belonged there.
You rested your chin lightly against his shoulder for a moment, watching the city blur past in streaks of color and light, your grip tightening slightly when he slowed down.
The motorcycle came to a smooth stop in front of a building, the sudden stillness almost surprising after the constant motion. You pulled your legs off one side and hopped down easily, adjusting your balance without bothering to remove your helmet.
Su-ho turned slightly in his seat, watching you as you reached for the order in the delivery box, your movements quick, familiar. âAre you sure youâre going up to make the delivery yourself?â he asked, his voice carrying that quiet edge of concern he never quite hid when it came to you. âYou can stay here. Iâll do it.â
You glanced at him, already smiling as a small laugh slipped out. âOf course not,â you replied, lifting the bag with ease. âI can do it. Thatâs why I came with you, to help you, remember?â
He let out a soft sigh, though the corner of his mouth lifted slightly despite himself. âI still donât know why you do it.â
You shook your head, like the answer shouldâve been obvious, like he was the one being unreasonable. âDonât be silly,â you said, shifting your weight as you stepped toward the entrance. âJust tell me the floor and apartment number.â
He hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving it to you anyway, knowing there was no point arguing when you had already decided. âFourth floor,â he said. âApartment 402.â
âGot it.â
The stairwell was quiet compared to the outside, your footsteps echoing faintly as you made your way up, taking the steps two at a time without much effort. It wasnât difficult. You were used to this, used to the rhythm of it, the quick in-and-out, the satisfaction of being useful in a way that didnât feel forced or complicated.
By the time you made it back down, Su-ho was exactly where you had left him, leaning casually against the motorcycle, one hand resting on the seat as he looked up the second you appeared.
âThat was fast,â you said, pulling your helmet up just slightly to catch your breath, though your grin made it clear you were already pleased with yourself.
âActually,â he started, straightening up as he stepped toward you, âit took you two minutes longer than your record.â
You blinked at him.
Your mouth fell open slightly in disbelief before you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. âItâs still faster than you do it.â
You stuck your tongue out at him, unapologetic, already knowing exactly how this would go.
He huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but genuine as he reached up, his hands moving instinctively to your helmet. His fingers brushed against the sides of it as he adjusted the strap, tightening it just slightly, his movements careful in a way that contrasted with the teasing from seconds ago. âYou really donât need to help me,â he said, his voice quieter now, less joking, more honest.
You rolled your eyes immediately, even as you stood still to let him finish fixing the strap. âAre you still on about that?â you asked, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze through the visor. âI do it because I can, and because I want to.â
âWhat could be better than spending a Friday night with you?â you added, your smile easy, unfiltered, like the answer was obvious.
He snorted softly âLiterally anything.â
âLiterally anything is boring and pointless without you,â you shot back, your tone still teasing, but there was something honest woven through it now, something that lingered longer than the joke itself. âAnd besides, I donât like you doing this aloneâ you stepped closer again, your shoulder brushing his lightly.
âEverythingâs better with company.â
Then you turned, breaking it before it could settle into something heavier, swinging your leg back over the motorcycle and settling into your usual spot behind him. Your hands found their place around his waist without hesitation, fingers linking loosely at first before tightening just slightly.
He didnât start the engine right away.
âThank you,â he said after a moment, his voice quieter than before. He turned his head just enough to glance back at you over his shoulder, his expression softer, more open than he usually allowed. âYou make me love doing this with you.â
It wasnât said lightly.
You bit your lip, a small smile forming despite yourself, trying to keep everything else...the thoughts, the feelings, the things you could say...firmly in place where they belonged.
âNow letâs go,â you added quickly, nudging him lightly as if that would erase the moment. âWe still have two more orders. And after that, we can go to my place and watch a movie, I'll cook something and you can stay over"
You leaned forward slightly, your helmet brushing against his shoulder again.
You felt it, the way his body relaxed âYeah,â he said softly, but there was something brighter in it now. âOkay.â
Your smile...miles wide
-
The movie had been playing for a while now.
Long enough that the dialogue had started to blur into background noise, long enough that neither of you could really say what had happened in the last ten minutes. The screen cast a soft, shifting glow across the room, light flickering over the walls, over the furniture, over the two of you...but it didnât feel like the focus of the night anymore.
You sat on the floor with your back resting against the couch, legs stretched out lazily in front of you, your head tilted slightly as if you were watching, as if you were following along. Behind you, Su-ho was half-slouched into the cushions, one arm draped loosely over the edge of the couch, his posture relaxed in that effortless way he always had.
Close.
His hand hung just at the edge of your shoulder, fingers brushing against you every now and then when he shifted, light, almost accidental contact that was easy to ignore.
âYouâre not even watching,â you murmured after a while, your voice quiet enough to match the late hour, your gaze still fixed on the screen even though you werenât really seeing it.
There was a brief pause before he answered. âI am.â
You huffed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself as you finally glanced up at him. âYou just missed, like, five minutes.â
âI didnât miss anything important.â
You shook your head, turning your attention back to the movie, though your focus didnât improve, not when he was this close.
His fingers moved, not by accident this time.
They shifted just slightly, brushing more deliberately against your shoulder, the contact lingering for a fraction longer than before. It was subtle, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it entirely.
Your breath caught almost imperceptibly, your body going just a little still as your mind tried (and failed) to treat it like nothing. ââŠSu-ho,â you said softly, your voice quieter now, like speaking too loudly might break something fragile you couldnât quite see.
âYeah?â He didnât move his hand away, if anything, it stayed exactly where it was, warm and present and impossible to ignore.
You shifted your gaze upward again, meeting his eyes, and for a second, everything else faded just slightly into the background.
He was already looking at you.
Not with that usual teasing glint, not with the lazy amusement he wore so easily. This was different. Like he wasnât trying to hide anything in that moment or maybe like he had forgotten how.
There was something in his expression that made your chest tighten.
âYouâre doing that thing again,â you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper now, like you were naming something you both understood without ever defining.
âWhat thing?â There was a faint curve to his lips, but it didnât quite reach his eyes this time.
âYou know what thing.â
He held your gaze for a second longer, his eyes searching yours in a way that made it hard to breathe normally.
âThen say it,â he said quietly.
The words were simple, but they landed heavy. Your heart stumbled, the steady rhythm you had been holding onto faltering under the weight of what he was asking.
Because you could say it.
You could ask him why he was looking at you like that, why he never pulled away first, why everything between you felt like it was balancing on something fragile and unnamed.
You could ruin it.
Instead, you looked away.
Your gaze dropped back to the screen, though the images meant nothing, your voice finding something lighter, something safer to hold onto. âThat thing where you act like youâre not paying attention,â you said, deflecting with practiced ease.
It slipped into place so naturally it almost felt automatic, it was safe, the safest thing to do, but not the right.
The silence that followed felt different, he didnât respond immediately. You could feel it, the way his attention lingered on you for just a second longer, the way something unspoken hovered between you, waiting.
Then, slowly, he leaned his head back against the couch, his posture loosening again as if the moment had passed. âYeah,â he muttered. âGuess I do that a lot.â
But his hand didnât move. It stayed there, resting lightly against your shoulder, the warmth of it steady, grounding and at the same time, unsettling in the way it made everything else feel too real.
The way it would be so easy to turn your head, to shift just a little, to close the space between you in a way that would change everything.
You chose to moved forward. The contact broke as his hand slipped from your shoulder, falling back to rest against the couch instead, the absence immediate and noticeable in a way you hadnât expected.
You kept your eyes on the screen, even though you still werenât watching, because you had both felt it. That moment, that quiet, fragile line you had stood on for just a second too long.
The one you always stepped back from.
Staying friends is safe, doesn't mean you should
-
The hospital had stopped feeling unfamiliar a long time ago.
At some point over the past few months, the cold hallways, the smell of antiseptic, the constant murmur of distant voices and rolling carts had stopped feeling temporary. They had become part of your life in the quietest, cruelest way possible, settling into your routine until you no longer had to think about where to turn or which elevator reached his floor the fastest.
Every morning before school, you came.
Every afternoon after classes ended, you came back.
And at night, when the city outside dimmed into scattered lights and quieter streets, when most visitors had already gone home and the hospital halls became still and empty, you were still there, sitting beside him like leaving would somehow make this more real than it already was.
People had tried, at first, to convince you to stop spending so much time there.
âYou need rest.â
âYou canât keep exhausting yourself like this.â
âHe wouldnât want you worrying so much.â
But none of them understood. Going home felt wrong when he was still here, lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Living normally felt wrong when his entire world had stopped moving, so you stayed.
You stayed through every passing weeks, through every tiny improvement the doctors spoke about carefully, through every disappointment hidden behind polite expressions and cautious optimism.
The only sounds came from the steady beeping of the monitor beside him and the occasional muffled footsteps passing outside in the hallway. Dim light filtered through the half-open blinds, casting pale shadows across the room and over his face.
Your eyes lingered on the soft rise and fall of his chest for a long moment, on the dark strands of hair falling messily over his forehead, on the stillness that never stopped feeling wrong.
That was the thing you hated most.
Su-ho had never been still.
Even when he was exhausted, even when he acted lazy or half-asleep, there had always been movement in him somehow...a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, fingers tapping against a table, his voice interrupting silence before it could settle too long.
But now...there was nothing.
You sat curled slightly into the chair beside his bed, your fingers loosely gripping the sleeves of your hoodie as your gaze drifted downward toward his hand resting against the sheets.
Your chest tightened instantly because you remembered those hands too well. You remembered the way they used to grab your wrist suddenly before pulling you somewhere without explanation, the way his fingers always lingered a little too long against your waist whenever he teased you, like neither of you fully understood where the boundaries between friendship and something else had started to blur.
You remembered dancing with him, the warmth of his hand at your waist, the way he looked at you sometimes when he thought you werenât paying attention.
You remembered motorcycle rides through the city, your arms wrapped around him while he pretended not to notice how tightly you held on.
You remembered movie nights on your couch, sitting so close you could feel his breathing behind you.
Always almost, every memory felt unfinished now.
A quiet breath escaped you as you slowly leaned back into the chair, exhaustion settling deep into your bones. âYou know what I keep thinking about?â you murmured eventually, your voice soft from disuse, barely louder than the machines around you.
No answer came, of course, only the steady rhythm of the monitor beside him. Your eyes stayed fixed on him anyway.
âAll those times we almost said something" your throat tightened around the words.
It sounded pathetic when spoken out loud like this, but it haunted you constantly now. Every tiny moment you used to brush aside suddenly replayed endlessly in your head, sharper and crueler than before.
A weak, humorless smile tugged faintly at your lips. âItâs kind of stupid,â you whispered. âWe acted like we had forever.â
MY ADVISE IS ALWAYS RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP
Your gaze dropped slowly to his hand again, and after a long hesitation, you reached for it carefully, your fingers slipping against his with a gentleness that almost hurt. Your thumb brushed lightly over his knuckles, and instantly your chest ache.
SHOULD'VE KISSED YOU ANYWAYS
Lately, the exhaustion was wearing holes through everything holding you together.
âWe were so scared of ruining things,â you continued quietly, your fingers tightening around his hand. âLike crossing that line would destroy us.â
Your eyes lifted toward him again, searching his unmoving face desperately, hopelessly. âBut thisâŠâ Your breath shook softly. âThis is so much worse.â
MY ADVISE IS ALWAYS ANSWER THE QUESTION
BETTER THAT THEN TO ASK IT ALL YOUR LIFE
A tear finally slipped down your cheek, and you laughed quietly under your breath at how weak you sounded now, how exhausted you felt carrying months of things left unsaid.
âYouâd make fun of me so badly for crying this much,â you murmured softly, your thumb brushing over his hand again like muscle memory.
Your shoulders shook faintly as you lowered your gaze.
âBut I thinkâŠâ Your voice cracked again. âI think you wouldâve kissed me back.â the words settled into the silence of the room without an answer.
My advise is always ruin the friendship, better that then regret it for all time.
Shouldâve kissed you anyway
(I low-key wana write part 2 with him waking up so bad, I need my happy ending bruh)
note: Okey I think it's time for me to adress this, I never had watched any k-dramas, but since I started I can't seem to go back, K-DRAMAS ARE SO FRAKING GOOD, and they are all so hot wtf. I started watching Weak Hero...A-MA-ZING. (this may be kinda long bc is based on the storyline of the show, I really hope u like it) (sorry last note, Im having a lot of exams in college so I'm taking a lot of time to do the request but I promise I'm working on all of them!) xoxo
The thing about you was that people noticed, and they always had. It didnât matter where you were, hallways, cafeteria, courtyard, or the quiet lull of a classroom before the teacher arrived, there was always a subtle shift in the air when you walked in. It wasnât something you consciously encouraged, but you were aware of it, and over time, you had learned how to move within that kind of attention effortlessly, like it belonged to you.
Which is exactly why Ahn Su-ho stood out so much.
A quiet sound of disgust slips from you as you glance to your side just in time to catch him waking up, his head lifting abruptly from his desk like heâd been pulled out of a deep sleep. His movements are slow at first, unfocused, one hand coming up to drag lazily across his mouth as he blinks away whatever dream heâd been buried in. It only takes a second for you to notice, though, and your expression twists immediately.
âEw,â you say, your nose wrinkling in clear judgment. âYou were drooling.â
Most people would have reacted, flushed, stammered, at least attempted to defend themselves, but Su-ho doesnât even look remotely bothered. Instead, his lips curve into something dangerously amused, and he runs his tongue along them in a way that feels less like embarrassment and more like heâs deliberately making it worse just to get a reaction out of you. When he finally looks at you properly, thereâs that familiar glint in his eyes, the one that always makes it feel like heâs already one step ahead of whatever youâre about to say.
âI was dreaming about you,â he replies, his voice low and still slightly rough from sleep, as if the statement is the most natural thing in the world.
You narrow your eyes at him, but instead of backing down, you push your chair back and stand, closing the distance between you without hesitation because thereâs no way youâre letting him have the last word, not when heâs looking at you like that. The moment you step closer, his attention sharpens almost imperceptibly, like heâs been waiting for you to react, and that faint hint of interest flickers in his expression before settling back into something lazy and teasing.
âWell,â you start, crossing your arms as you stop right in front of him, tilting your chin just enough to hold your ground, âenjoy those dreams, because itâs the closest youâll ever get to me.â
Itâs the kind of line that usually works, the kind that leaves people caught off guard or scrambling for something to say, but Su-ho doesnât even hesitate. He simply looks at you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable, before a quiet laugh slips out of him, low and amused, like he finds the entire situation far more entertaining than he should.
âI sure do,â he says, pushing himself up from his chair in one smooth motion until heâs standing close enough that youâre suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you. His hands slide into his pockets as if he has all the time in the world. âNow stop flirting with me,â he adds, his head tilting slightly as his eyes move over your face with deliberate slowness, âor who knows what Iâll dream about you next.â
Your breath catches before you can stop it, the reaction so brief it almost doesnât register, but the way his gaze lingers tells you he noticed anyway. Bbefore you can come up with something better to throw back at him, heâs already turning away as if the conversation has run its course, dropping back into his seat without a second glance.
You stare at him for a second longer than you should, your expression twisting into something that tries to pass as annoyance.
âAsshole,â you mutter under your breath, turning away with a small scoff.
-
The voices reach you before you even realize youâve stopped walking.
âI heard he has the accounts, contracts, and drugs at his houseâŠâ
You freeze just outside the classroom door, your hand hovering over the handle as the words settle uneasily in your mind. Drugs? Contracts? What the hell were they talking about? It doesnât sound like the kind of conversation anyone at school should be having, and yet the low, serious tones inside make it impossible to brush off as a joke. You lean in just slightly, barely daring to breathe as you try to catch more, curiosity pulling you in despite yourself, but before you can make sense of anything else, the door creaks loudly under your hand as you push it open.
Three heads turn toward you instantly.
âOhââ you start, caught completely off guard, your voice faltering as you straighten up.
âWhat are you doing eavesdropping, you nosy girl?â Ahn Su-ho says from across the room, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his red and black jacket as if he hasnât just been discussing something suspicious enough to get all of you in serious trouble.
You huff, more offended than embarrassed, crossing your arms as you step inside. âIâm not a nosy girl, and I wasnât eavesdropping. I forgot my phone at my desk,â you reply quickly, pointing behind him. âUnlike some people, I actually have things to do.â
His gaze flicks toward where you pointed, and without a word, he turns and walks over to your desk. You watch him pick up your phone, your phone, like it belongs to him now, and the second he turns back around, there it is that small, infuriating smile tugging at his lips as he swings it lightly in his hand on his way back to you, like heâs enjoying this far more than he should.
He stops just close enough to make you aware of it.
âHow much did you hear?â he asks, tilting his head slightly, eyes fixed on yours in a way that feels a little too sharp to be casual.
âAlmost nothing,â you answer quickly, your tone slipping into something defensive without you meaning it to. âJust⊠something about drugsâŠâ Your voice trails off as you realize how weak that sounds, and the look on his face makes it obvious he doesnât believe you for a second.
His lips part like heâs about to say something, but instead he lets out a quiet, amused laugh, the sound low and knowing. âOkay,â he says slowly, like heâs humoring you, âthen what were you doing standing outside the door like that?â
You hesitate for half a second before sighing dramatically. âFine, I heard quite a bit,â you admit, your curiosity taking over again as you lean in just slightly. âSo what were you talking about?â
âThatâs none of your business,â he replies immediately, the playfulness still there but edged with something firmer now as he holds your phone just out of reach for a second longer than necessary. âTake your phone and leave, and donât tell anyone what you heard. If you do, Iâll find out.â
âOh, come on,â you say, your tone softening as you tilt your head, a small smile forming as you try a different approach. âI swear I wonât say anything.â When he doesnât budge, you add lightly, âAnd if you donât tell me, Iâll go to the principal and tell him you were out of class.â You even sway slightly as you say it, feigning innocence in a way that would work on almost anyone else.
Su-ho just sighs.
He glances back at the other two boys for a moment before looking at you again, studying your expression like heâs trying to figure out how serious you are, how far youâd actually go. âIf you open your big mouthââ
âI know, I know,â you cut in, rolling your eyes as you reach out and snatch your phone from his hand. âYou know how to fight, and youâll shut me up with your fists.â
That familiar, mischievous smile returns instantly.
âNot with my fists.â
You blink at him once, and then your expression twists in realization. âWhat an idiot,â you mutter under your breath, brushing past him before he can say anything else, though the faint warmth creeping up your neck betrays you more than youâd like.
You walk straight toward the other two, letting your attention shift away from him as if you havenât just been caught off guard. âHey, Sieun!â you say brightly, offering a small smile thatâs much softer than anything youâd given Su-ho.
The dark-haired boy beside him looks between the two of you, clearly confused. âYou two know each other?â
Yeon Si-eun gives a small, almost reluctant nod. âI sometimes tutor her.â
Su-ho makes a quiet sound behind you, something between surprise and understanding, and when you glance back, his eyebrows are raised slightly as he looks between the two of you. âYou two⊠just the two of you?â
You give him an obvious look. âThatâs usually how tutoring works,â you reply, your tone light but pointed. âIâm not very good at math, but it turns out Sieun is more than excellent.â
Sieun glances at you briefly, clearly not used to the attention, but thereâs a faint softness in his expression that wasnât there before. Youâve always been kind to him, patient in a way most people werenât, and he remembers that.
Su-ho notices too.
He notices the way Sieun, who barely looks at anyone, doesnât completely avoid your gaze. The way you speak to him differently, softer, like you actually mean it when you compliment him. And he definitely notices the part about the two of you being alone together, more often than he realized.
Something about it sits wrong with him, not enough to say anything, but enough to make his jaw tighten just slightly.
Heâd never admit that it bothers him, not out loud, not even to himself.
The conversation shifts after that, the mood growing more serious as they explain whatâs been going on, the situation theyâve gotten themselves into, and the plan theyâre trying to piece together. You listen carefully, far more involved than any of them expected you to be, and by the time theyâre done, itâs clear youâre not just going to walk away and pretend you didnât hear any of it. Su-ho shuts the idea down immediately, insisting you stay out of it, but you push back just as quickly, unwilling to leave them to deal with something like that alone.
Eventually, the four of you end up leaving the school together, the air outside cooler but no less tense, especially as the reality of what youâre about to do settles in. Su-ho walks slightly ahead at first, his hands in his pockets, but the way his eyes move says heâs already thinking three steps ahead.
âIâm starving,â he mutters under his breath, though his attention is clearly elsewhere, fixed on the situation waiting just a few meters ahead.
He slows down abruptly, subtly pushing the rest of you back a step as his gaze sharpens. âLet me go first.â
âWhat?â Sieun asks, frowning slightly.
âIf he really has everything in his office, we should bring the police,â Su-ho says, his tone more serious now. âJust photos wonât be enough.â
âNo,â Su-ho shakes his head. âThey need to catch him there. Iâll buy time. Iâll go in first and give you the address.â
âSuho, you shouldnât do that,â you cut in, stepping closer to him without thinking. âIâll give them the money instead. This is dangerous.â Your voice softens at the end, concern slipping through before you can hide it.
He looks at you then, really looks at you, and that familiar, cocky smile tugs at his lips again, though itâs quieter this time. âNothingâs going to happen to me,â he says. âWhat, are you worried about me?â
âYou know what I mean, idiot,â you reply, frowning as you lightly punch his arm, the contact instinctive. âThis is actually dangerous.â
âIâll be fine,â he says, and for a moment, the teasing fades, something softer taking its place. âI promise.â
Neither of you seems to notice how close youâve gotten, how the space between you has disappeared entirely, or how your voices have dropped like youâre sharing something meant only for each other. Your eyes meet, and for a second, everything else fades into the background, the others, the plan, the tension...leaving just the quiet weight of something neither of you is quite ready to name.
You exhale softly, your shoulders dropping as you nod, even though you know you donât really have a choice.
Su-ho is going to do this anyway, and as much as it frustrates you, as much as it scares you a little thereâs a part of you that understands it.
A part of you that, somehow, likes it more than it should.
Even if youâd never admit that out loud.
-
Your chest burns with every breath you drag in, your lungs struggling to keep up with the pace youâve forced them into as your feet pound relentlessly against the ground. Youâve never run like this before, not for a race, not for fun, but out of pure, unfiltered desperation. The image of him walking away earlier, so sure of himself, so certain nothing would happen, keeps replaying in your mind in a way that makes your stomach twist painfully. You knew he shouldnât have gone alone, you knew it the moment he said it, and yet you let him, standing there like you had any right to believe his stupid promise that heâd be fine.ç
Keeping up with Yeon Si-eun isnât hard, not for you. Your body moves easily, your steps quick and controlled despite the urgency, and for once, youâre grateful for every hour youâve spent training, for every moment youâve pushed yourself just a little further, because right now, slowing down isnât an option.
âI think I can hear them,â Si-eun says between breaths, his voice tight as he suddenly changes direction, heading toward the center of the abandoned amusement park.
Your heart drops.
Theyâre all there.
Too many of them.
And right in the middle of it, exactly where you feared heâd be, Ahn Su-ho is on his knees, tied up alongside Beom-seok, his posture tense even in restraint, his head tilted slightly like heâs already looking for a way out.
âDamn it⊠are we too late?â you say out loud without even realising, your hands bracing against your knees as you try to steady your breathing, your eyes darting over the scene, calculating, searching for any opening.
âI thought you were a coward,â an older manâs voice cuts through, laced with mockery as he steps forward, his presence loud in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. His gaze shifts to you, dragging slowly over your figure with a grin that makes your stomach turn. âAnd whoâs this gorgeous doll with you? Your girlfriend? Very pretty.â
Before you can even react, thereâs movement behind him, and Su-hoâs voice cuts through the air, low and dangerous in a way youâve never heard before. âShut your mouth,â he snaps, struggling violently against the ropes binding him, his jaw clenched tight with anger. âOr Iâll kill you when I get out.â
The man chuckles, clearly entertained, though he gives a small nod like heâs humoring him. He gestures lazily with the knife in his hand, pointing it toward Su-ho. âSo heâs your boyfriend,â he says, amusement dripping from every word. âYou should thank God a girl like that even looks at you.â his gaze trying to get into Suho's nerves.
Something in your chest tightens, but before the situation can spiral any further, Si-eun steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension with calm precision. âThis is over,â he says firmly. âThe police are here. Theyâre going to search your car.â
The shift is immediate. The manâs expression darkens, irritation flashing across his face as he mutters something under his breath before signaling to the others. Within seconds, they begin retreating, heading back toward where their car must be parked, their confidence cracking just enough under the threat.
And just like that, they run.
You donât waste a second. Both you and Si-eun rush forward, dropping to your knees beside them, your hands already moving to untie the ropes around Su-hoâs wrists. Up close, the damage is clearer, the split in his lip, the faint bruising already forming, and something in you twists uncomfortably at the sight.
âItâs unbelievable that even in situations like this you canât keep your big mouth shut,â you mutter, your tone sharp in an attempt to mask the lingering worry. He smiles.
And for a moment, it throws you off completely, because thereâs something different in it, something softer beneath the usual teasing edge, like heâs seeing something he didnât expect, seeing you worried about him was something he didn't know he'd like so much.
âYour lip,â you add, your voice lowering slightly as your fingers brush against his wrist while you work the knot loose.
âEven soâŠâ he exhales, his gaze lifting to meet yours, steady and unreadable in a way that makes your breath hitch for just a second. âJust like I promised⊠Iâm fine.â
You sigh, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling up at the same time.
âAnyway,â he continues, that familiar hint of mischief slipping back into his tone, âmaybe it was worth it if you help me clean my wounds later.â
It doesnât sound entirely like a joke, and that catches you off guard just enough that you donât immediately fire something back. Instead, you push yourself up, brushing your hands off as you extend one toward him.
âIâll think about it,â you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything.
He takes your hand without hesitation, his grip firm as he pulls himself up, though this time, he doesnât quite have the energy to match your smile.
âUgh, Iâm never going to an amusement park again,â he mutters, letting out a quiet laugh as he rubs at his wrists, trying to shake off the lingering stiffness. For a moment, it almost feels like things might settle.
âTheyâre back?â
The shift in his tone is immediate, sharp enough to snap your attention forward as the distant sound of sirens grows louder, only to be drowned out by the returning footsteps of the group you thought had left. The older man reappears, a phone in his hand, his expression twisted with irritation and something far more dangerous.
âYou kids are really clever,â he spits, before throwing the phone aside in frustration. âGet them. And bring me that bratâs girlfriend.â
Everything happens at once.
Su-ho moves on instinct, stepping in front of you without even thinking, but the second two guys rush him, heâs forced to engage, his focus shifting entirely to the fight in front of him. Leaving you inevitably alone.
For about half a second.
Because the moment someone comes at you, something in you clicks into place, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up. You move easily, naturally, dodging the first hit with a speed that surprises even you, your reflexes sharp and precise as your fist connects solidly with your opponent. Thereâs no hesitation, no second-guessing, just movement after movement, clean and effective in a way that makes it clear youâve done this before.
Across the chaos, Su-ho notices, and for the first time since this started he relaxes. Not completely, not enough to let his guard down, but enough to know youâre not someone he has to protect in the way he thought.
The fight doesnât last long. Between the three of you, itâs over within minutes, the sound of approaching police finally breaking through clearly as the remaining attackers scatter. But even then, itâs not enough. The son of a bitch manages to slip away.
And Si-eun, already moving, takes off after him without hesitation.
You and Su-ho exchange a look, itâs brief, but itâs enough. No words are needed, no explanation, just that same understanding that seems to exist between you whether you like it or not, his hand finds yours before you can even think about it, fingers wrapping around yours with a firmness that leaves no room for argument. (you really were not gonna argue tho)
Suddenly you are running again, together.
-
The hospital didnât feel the way it usually did.
It wasnât cold, or distant, or suffocating in that sterile, uncomfortable way that made you want to leave as soon as possible. You stayed.
Even after Yeon Si-eun and Beom-seok left to speak with the police, you didnât move from your spot near the foot of his bed, your presence quiet but constant.
Su-ho watched you for a moment before breaking the silence. âHow do you fight like that?â he asked, his voice calmer now, though there was still curiosity in it. âWhere did you learn?â
You let out a small laugh, already expecting the question. Of course heâd ask, there was no way he wouldnât after what heâd seen.
âWellâŠâ you began, leaning back slightly in the chair, a faint smile forming as you glanced down at your hands. âI have three older brothers.â
That alone said enough.
âBeing the youngest, and the only girl, I kind of had to learn how to defend myself,â you continued, your tone light but honest. âAnd they were always⊠a little overprotective, so they made sure I could handle myself. They didnât want me to ever feel weak.â
Su-ho lets out a quiet huff of amusement, shaking his head slightly. âThey did a hell of a job,â he mutters. âYou almost took that guy apart.â
Before you can respond, the door opens again, and Si-eun steps inside, followed by a girl with black and pink hair. You glance at her briefly, curiosity flickering, but you donât ask. You donât need to.
âShe came to apologize,â Si-eun explains simply.
The girl gives something that almost looks like a smile âShe doesnât look very sorry,â Su-ho comments flatly. The girl quickly mumbles a quiet, âSorry,â as if just to get it over with.
The conversation shifts naturally after that, moving to what happened, what would happen next. Si-eun explains things calmly, how Gil-su was arrested, how Beom-seokâs family is already handling everything, and you listen, your attention split between the words and the boy lying just inches away from you.
âIs his family some kind of huge business empire or something?â Su-ho asks with a faint chuckle. âSomeone came in offering to cover all my hospital bills. I said no⊠maybe I shouldnât have.â
You shake your head immediately, sitting up straighter. âNo way. Youâre not going to worry about that right now,â you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument. âYouâre going to rest. Iâll take care of the expenses.â
His head snaps slightly toward you, eyes widening like youâve just said something completely unreasonable. âWhat? No. Absolutely not.â
âIâm not asking,â you reply just as quickly, your voice soft but stubborn. âYouâre not going back to deliveries right now. Youâll help your grandmother, youâll recover, and thatâs it.â
From the other bed, the girl hums lightly. âYou should listen to your girlfriend⊠itâs sweet.â
âIâm not hisââ
But Su-ho cuts you off before you can finish.
The question catches you off guard for more than one reason, and for a second, youâre not even sure what surprises you more, his deflection, or the fact that he didnât deny what she said. The moment passes quickly, though, and soon enough, Si-eun leaves, the girl settling into silence with her phone, leaving the room quieter again.
You curl slightly into the armchair beside Su-hoâs bed, your own phone in hand, though youâre not really paying attention to it. âYou should go home,â he murmurs after a while.
You donât even look up. âNo.â The answer comes too quickly.
You pause, realizing how that sounded, and try to cover it up with a small sigh. âYouâll probably get up and do something stupid if I leave,â you add. âOr annoy the nurses.â He smiles at that soft, knowing.
Youâre a terrible liar.
âMy pillowâs uncomfortable,â he complains after a moment, his tone shifting into something lighter again.
You roll your eyes but stand anyway. âWow, Iâm your personal assistant now too?â
As you lean over him to adjust the pillow, everything happens too fast. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you off balance, and suddenly youâre sitting sideways on the bed, on his lap, your breath catching in surprise.
âSu-hoâwhat are you doing?â you whisper, startled.
âYouâre not sleeping on that chair,â he murmurs, his voice quieter now. âJust stay here.â
You should say no, you probably would have, if it were anyone else...but itâs him, and despite everything, you trust him more than you want to admit.
So slowly, almost reluctantly, you nod.
He shifts slightly to make space, pulling the blanket over both of you, his arm settling behind you in a way that keeps you close without forcing it. Your head rests lightly near his shoulder, close enough to hear his breathing, steady and warm.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
âThank you,â he says quietly.
You shake your head against him. âYou donât have to thank me.â
âI do,â he insists softly. âYou helped us, you came with me and you didn't leave. You shouldnât have to.â
You lift your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. âThen pay me back by getting better,â you say, your voice softer now. âThatâs all I want.â
He looks at you for a long second, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before it settles into something gentler. ââŠThen let me at least take you out,â he says carefully. âWhen this is over.â
Your lips curve slightly. âLike a date?â
His usual cocky expression doesnât return this time. Instead, thereâs something quieter, almost shy, as he nods. âWe could go to my grandmotherâs place to eat,â he adds. âItâs not fancy, butâŠâ
âIt sounds like the most perfect date in the entire worldâ you interrupt softly.
His hand lifts slowly, hesitating just for a second before resting lightly against your cheek, his touch careful, like heâs not entirely sure you wonât pull away.
âSu-hoâŠâ you murmur, barely above a whisper, you donât finish the sentence. You donât need to.
He leans in just slightly, closing the small distance between you, and when his lips brush yours, itâs gentle hesitant at first, like heâs giving you time to stop himif you want to.
You donât, instead, you stay there, letting the moment settle, letting everything thatâs been building between you finally fall into place without rushing it, without turning it into one of your usual back-and-forths.
When he pulls back, itâs only by a fraction, his forehead nearly resting against yours.
âIâve wanted to do that for a while, since we first met six years agoâ he admits quietly.
Your smile softens. âTook you long enough.â
It slowly turned into a make-out session. You couldn't separate, nor did you want to. Your lips intertwined with a perfect rhythm, and Suho, sometimes, slipped his tongue in, taking things to new heights.
And then a voice cuts through the moment âAm I interrupting something?â you both freeze, Si-eun stands in the doorway, a rare, subtle hint of amusement on his face.
Su-ho glances at him, then back at you, and just like that, that familiar teasing confidence slips back into place.
âNot at all,â he says easily. âI was just kissing my girlfriend.â
Your entire face burns instantly. âOh myâSu-ho!â you hide your face against his shoulder without thinking, mortified.
The knock on your door isnât loud, but it carries a kind of certainty that makes your chest tighten before you even reach the handle. It comes again, slower this time, more deliberate, as if whoever stands on the other side already knows you wonât ignore it. For a foolish second, you consider pretending youâre not home, but that illusion collapses almost immediately. Men like him donât knock without knowing exactly where you are.
Thatâs how long you managed to delay the inevitable. Thirty days of avoiding calls, of convincing yourself you would find a way to pay him back before it came to this. Thirty days of waking up with the same weight pressing against your ribs, knowing it wasnât over, knowing it was only getting closer. And now itâs here, standing on the other side of your door, patient and unyielding.
When you open it, the moment stretches just long enough for you to recognize them before they move. Two men well-dressed, composed, their expressions empty in a way that feels practiced. One of them steps forward, his grip closing around your arm with controlled strength.
âLet go,â you snap, instinctively pulling back, your voice sharper than the tremor that tries to creep into it.
He doesnât react beyond tightening his hold just slightly. âNo need to make this difficult.â
A humorless laugh escapes you, quick and brittle. âI think we passed that point a while ago.â
They donât answer. They donât need to. Within seconds, youâre being guided (forced) out of your apartment, down the hallway, and into the waiting car as if this outcome had been decided long before tonight.
The drive is quiet, suffocatingly so. The city outside the window blurs past in streaks of light and shadow, familiar streets fading into unfamiliar ones until you stop trying to keep track.
Youâve only crossed paths with Baek Jeong a handful of times, but that was more than enough to understand him. Everything about him is controlled, as if the world itself moves according to decisions heâs already made. Men like him donât forget, and they donât forgive.
Youâre led inside his building, through quiet hallways that echo faintly with each step, until you reach his apartment. The door opens, and youâre ushered in without ceremony before it closes behind you with a soft, final click.
The silence that follows feels intentional.
âYouâre late.â
His voice comes from behind you, smooth and calm, cutting through the silence with quiet authority.
You turn slowly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a startled reaction, and find him exactly where you expected him to be, composed, watching, as if heâs been observing you longer than you realized. His posture is relaxed, but thereâs nothing casual about him. Every movement, every glance, feels measured.
You lift your chin slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. âTraffic,â you reply dryly.
He pushes himself away from where he had been standing and begins to walk toward you, his steps unhurried, controlled. Thereâs no rush in the way he closes the distance between you, no wasted movement. It makes it worse somehow, the certainty of it, the way he approaches like he already knows you wonât move.
"You don't have a single penny to pay me, but now..." his voice lowering slightly as he stops in front of you, âI will collect my debt.â
Your breath catches, but you force a smile anyway, something sharp and hollow that doesnât quite reach your eyes. If he expects fear, you wonât give it to him so easily.
âWhat do you want?â you ask, letting out a quiet, humorless laugh. âA quickie?â
He doesnât react the way most men would, not with offense, not with anger. Instead, he watches you, his gaze sharpening just slightly, as if reassessing something.
Then he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the shift in the air between you, the subtle weight of his presence pressing in.
âThis isnât about one night,â he murmurs.
His hand comes up without warning, fingers closing around your chin with firm precision, forcing your face upward until your eyes meet his fully. The grip isnât careless; itâs controlled, deliberate, as if heâs already calculated exactly how much pressure to use.
âYou belong to me now.â
The words settle heavily between you, and for a split second, something in your chest tightens in a way you canât quite control. But you refuse to look away, refuse to let him see anything more than defiance.
âYou always did,â he adds.
Anger flares, sharp and immediate, pushing back against the unease curling in your stomach. You swallow it down and meet his gaze with equal intensity.
âIâm not going to spend a second with you,â you say, your voice edged with disgust. âNot one.â
For a moment, he simply looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then his grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly how little control you actually have in this situation.
âThen run,â he says softly, the calmness in his tone making the words far more threatening than any shout could. âTry to escape.â
Your heart pounds harder, but you donât break eye contact.
âThere is no corner on earth where you can hide from me,â he continues, his gaze moving slowly over your face, as if committing every detail to memory despite already knowing it. His thumb shifts just slightly against your jaw, tilting your face as he studies you with quiet intensity.
âI will chase you until you get tired of running.â
The promise settles into the space between you, heavy and inescapable, and the way he says it leaves no room for doubt. He isnât exaggerating. He isnât trying to scare you.
Heâs simply telling you the truth as he sees it.
His eyes linger on your lips for a brief moment before returning to yours, his grip tightening once more in a final, deliberate gesture that feels less like a threat and more like a claim.
He slowly approaches you, so close that your bodies brush against each other, breaking the barrier that's supposed to exist. "I want you naked in bed in five minutes," he whispers near your lips. "Every minute you take is another minute of your punishment." His Machiavellian smile appears, excited, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for a long time.
note: He's so fine, I don't really have much to say apart from that, maybe that I'm gonna be posting more about BloodHounds, and that my requests are open! (remember that my first lenguge is not english and I use the translator a lot to help me write, so sorry for any mastakes!) xoxo
The first time you noticed it, it wasnât obvious.
It never is with him.
Kim Geon-woo isnât loud about the way he feels. He doesnât announce it, doesnât corner you with confessions or grand gestures that demand to be seen or answered. With him, thereâs no spectacle, no dramatic declarations that leave you breathless in the obvious way. You donât notice it right away. Not until you step back one day and realize itâs always been there, woven into every moment you share with him.
It starts with small things.
The way he remembers how you take your drink without asking, down to the exact amount of sugar, the way you hesitate before your first sip when itâs too hot. The way he hands it to you already adjusted, like itâs second nature, like it matters.
The way his eyes find you in a room without even trying. Youâll look up mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-thought, and there he is. Already looking. Already aware.
The way he stands just a little too close when someone else is talking to you. Not enough to be obvious. Not enough for anyone else to question it. But enough that you feel it...the quiet presence at your side, steady and unyielding.
At first, you think itâs just him being nice, protective maybe. A little attentive. It doesnât seem like something to question.
But thenâ
âYou didnât text me.â
His voice cuts through the quiet, low and careful. Thereâs no raised tone, no sharp edge meant to start a fight. Not angry. Not quite. Just⊠tight. Controlled in a way that makes you look up anyway.
You blink, pulled out of your thoughts, your phone still in your hand. âI was out for, like, two hours.â
Geon-woo is leaning against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, but thereâs nothing relaxed about him. His posture is stiff beneath the surface, like something coiled tight inside him. His gaze doesnât leave you, not for a second. It feels heavier than usual. More focused.
âI know,â he says.
A beat.
âI counted.â
Thereâs a pause that stretches just a little too long.
You let out a small laugh, awkward and unsure, because it has to be a joke. It sounds like one. It should be one.
He doesnât laugh back.
Your smile falters, fading at the edges as the silence lingers.
ââŠYou counted?â
His jaw shifts slightly, tension flickering across his face like he realizes how that sounded. Like maybe he shouldnât have said it out loud.
But he doesnât take it back.
He never takes anything back with you.
âI justââ he exhales through his nose, pushing himself off the wall. The movement is slow, deliberate, like heâs trying to ground himself as he steps closer. âYou didnât answer. I didnât know where you were.â
Something in his tone makes your chest tighten.
It isnât anger.
Itâs worry, too much worry.
The kind that feels like itâs been sitting with him longer than it should have.
âI told you I was meeting a friend,â you say softly, searching his face.
âI know,â he replies immediately. Too quickly. The words come out like theyâve been waiting at the front of his mind. âYou said 3:10. You left at 3:07. You wore that sweater.â His eyes flicker over you now, softer but still intense, still taking everything in. âThe white one.â
Your breath catches before you can stop it. He did remember, not just the important parts.
Everything.
ââŠGeon-woo.â
Your voice comes out gentler now, careful, like youâre stepping into something fragile.
Heâs close. Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, the quiet tension in the way he holds himself back like thereâs an instinct there, something pulling him toward you, but heâs restraining it. Waiting. Unsure if heâs allowed.
âI donât like not knowing,â he says.
There it is.
Honest. Bare. A little rough around the edges, like itâs something he doesnât say often, if ever.
You study his face more carefully now. The slight furrow in his brows, the way his eyes keep moving over you, scanning, checking. Like heâs reassuring himself. Like he needs proof.
Proof that youâre okay.
Proof that youâre still here.
ââŠIâm okay,â you whisper.
His lips press together, the tension in them not easing.
âI know,â he says. âBut I need to see it.â
Your heart stumbles at that.
Thereâs something about the way he says it like itâs not just a preference. Not just something he wants. It sounds like something deeper. Something instinctive. Something he canât turn off, no matter how much he might try.
You press your hand a little firmer against him.
Not enough to push, just enough to anchor him, to remind him of something solid, something real. You can feel the tension under your palm, the way his muscles are still wound tight, like he hasnât fully come down from whatever storm was running through him moments ago. So he stops.
âIâm okay. Nothing happened. You donât have to worry like that.â
The words are gentle, but deliberate. You donât rush them, donât soften them into something dismissible. You let them sit between you, steady and real, something youâre offering him to lean on, if he lets himself. Something solid enough to counter the restless storm that always seems to live just beneath his skin.
For a moment, it almost feels like he might take it.
But then he shakes his head slightly, the movement small but firm, a quiet refusal. A hint of frustration slips through the cracks of his composure, subtle but unmistakable. You feel it in the way his shoulders stay tense, in the way his gaze doesnât quite settle, like your reassurance doesnât fit into whatever logic heâs built for himself.
Like it isnât enough.
âI do.â
The words come out low, certain. Not argued, stated.
ââŠWhy?â
The question leaves you before you can stop it.
It isnât sharp. It isnât defensive. If anything, itâs softer than you expect, shaped more by curiosity than anything else. By the need to understand. Because this (him, like this) goes beyond simple worry. Itâs deeper, heavier, threaded with something you canât quite name yet.
You just want to know what it is.
For a second, he just looks at you.
Not in that scanning, restless way he does when heâs checking you over, searching for something wrong.
But fully.
Like everything in him has narrowed down to this one moment. To you.
Like all that intensity, all that focus, has finally found a place to land, and he doesnât know what to do with it.
Thereâs something quieter in his expression now. Not softer exactly, but more⊠exposed. Like heâs standing at the edge of saying something he doesnât usually say. Something he doesnât fully understand himself.
Like heâs deciding how much to give you.
How much youâll take without pulling away.
ââŠBecause itâs you,â he answers.
-
You open your eyes slowly, still caught in that hazy space between sleep and waking, and for a moment, everything feels too quiet. Then you notice him.
Geon-woo is standing in the doorway.
He isnât doing anything in particular, just leaning slightly against the frame, arms relaxed at his sides, but his presence fills the room in a way that makes it impossible to ignore. His gaze is already on you, steady and attentive, as if heâs been waiting for the exact moment you would wake up.
You push yourself up onto your elbows, blinking at him, your voice still soft with sleep. âHow long have you been there?â
He straightens slightly, like heâs been caught doing something he hadnât meant to make obvious. âNot long,â he says, though the brief hesitation before the answer makes it hard to believe him completely. âJust a few seconds.â
You donât argue, even if you suspect itâs not true. Instead, you sit up a little more, brushing your hair out of your face as you try to orient yourself. âWhat time is it?â
âJust after eight.â
âYou woke up before me again?â you ask, a faint smile tugging at your lips.
âI always do,â he replies simply, as if itâs the most obvious thing in the world. Thereâs no pride in it, no teasing..just a quiet certainty that makes it sound less like a habit and more like something intentional.
Before you can respond, he adds, âI made breakfast.â
Of course he did.
Something in your chest softens at that, even as a small part of you wonders how early he must have woken up to do it. âYou didnât have to,â you say, though the words come out gentler than they might have otherwise.
âI wanted to.â
He says it the same way he always does, like that alone is enough reason.
You nod, letting out a quiet breath as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. âOkay⊠give me a minute.â
He doesnât leave.
You notice it almost immediately, the way his presence lingers even as you stand and move toward your dresser. When you glance back at him, heâs still there, watching in that calm, focused way that has become so familiar to you.
Thereâs nothing aggressive about it. Nothing openly intrusive.
And yet, it feels⊠close.
Too close, sometimes.
âYouâre just going to stand there?â you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice as you reach for a hoodie.
He blinks, as if the thought hadnât occurred to him. âCan I not?â
Your smile softens despite yourself. âYou can.â
Thatâs all the permission he needs.
He stays exactly where he is while you change, his attention following you without shame or hesitation. It isnât the kind of gaze that feels casual or distracted; itâs deliberate, careful, as though heâs cataloging every small detail without even realizing heâs doing it.
âHow many hours?â
You pause, glancing back at him. âI donât know. Enough, I think.â
His brows draw together slightly, a faint crease forming between them. âYou should know.â
You let out a small, breathy laugh, running a hand through your hair to fix it. âWhy?â
âSo you can tell if itâs enough,â he says, his tone still even, still calm..but thereâs something underneath it, something that suggests this isnât just casual curiosity.
âI feel fine,â you reply, a little more gently this time.
He studies you for a second, his gaze moving across your face as if searching for something you might have missed. âYou look tired,â he says finally.
âYou always say that.â
âBecause you always look like you need more rest.â
Thereâs no judgment in his voice, only quiet concern, but the way he says it makes it feel heavier than it should.
Before you can respond, he steps closer.
The movement is unhurried, natural, like itâs something he doesnât even think about anymore. His hands lift to your shoulders, adjusting the fabric of your hoodie where it sits unevenly, smoothing it down with careful, practiced motions.
âYou didnât fix this properly,â he murmurs, more to himself than to you.
You go still for a moment, watching him.
Itâs such a small thing.
Unnecessary, even.
But the way he focuses on it (the way he touches you like it matters) makes something in your chest tighten in a way you canât quite explain.
âOkay,â you say softly.
His fingers linger for just a second longer than needed before he lets his hands fall back to his sides.
ââŠCome eat,â he says.
-
The kitchen feels warm the moment you step into it, the kind of warmth that settles gently against your skin and makes the space feel lived-in, safe.
His mom looks up first, offering you a quiet, knowing smile that carries a kind of softness youâre still getting used to, while Woojin barely lifts his head from his phone, muttering something that passes for a greeting before disappearing back into whatever has his attention. It all feels normal, almost domestic in a way that should be easy to settle into.
And yet...
Geon-woo is already moving.
He steps ahead of you without hesitation, like heâs done this a hundred times before, reaching for the chair at the table and pulling it out just as you approach. The gesture is smooth, automatic, so natural it almost blends into the routine of the house itself.
âYou donât have to do that,â you tell him softly, your voice light, almost absent-minded.
âI know,â he answers just as quietly.
You sit, letting the moment pass, and he takes the seat beside you immediately after, not across from you, not leaving space between you, but close enough that the warmth of him is unmistakable, your shoulders nearly brushing every time either of you shifts. Thereâs already a plate waiting for you, the food arranged neatly, almost carefully, like he paid attention to how it looked as much as how it would taste.
For a moment, you just look at it.
Then at him.
âYou made all this?â you ask, a hint of surprise slipping into your voice despite yourself.
He nods, but his attention doesnât drift to his own place setting or the rest of the table. It stays on you, steady and focused, as though your reaction matters more than anything else in the room.
âEat while itâs warm,â he says.
Thereâs something about the way he says it (not commanding, not forceful, but certain) that makes you pick up your fork without thinking too much about it. You take a bite, the food still warm, still fresh, and you barely have time to register the taste before you feel it.
His gaze.
Under the table, you feel his hand rest against your leg.
Itâs light at first, almost tentative, but it doesnât leave. Instead, his thumb begins to move slowly, tracing absent circles that feel more instinctive than intentional, as though the contact itself is something he needs to maintain without thinking about why.
âIs that okay?â he asks.
You glance at him, your heart catching slightly at the contradiction. The way heâs already touching you, already there, and still asks.
ââŠYeah,â you answer.
He relaxes, just barely, but his hand stays where it is.
âDo you feel okay?â he asks after a moment.
âIâm fine.â
âNo headaches? No dizziness?â
You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping you. âNo, Geon-woo.â
He studies you again, more carefully this time, his gaze tracing over your face with quiet focus, as if heâs searching for something you might not even notice in yourself. Only when he seems satisfied does he nod, a small, almost imperceptible motion.
âOkay.â
For a brief moment, the conversation fades, leaving a quiet space between you, but with him, it never lasts.
âAre you cold?â he asks.
âIâm not cold.â
âYou look cold.â
You smile faintly, shaking your head. âI promise Iâm not.â
He watches you for another second, like heâs weighing your answer, deciding whether to accept it. Eventually, he does, but not fully. Just enough to move on.
By the time you finish eating, heâs already standing, his chair scraping softly against the floor as he moves before youâve even had a chance to think about getting up.
âIâll get your bag,â he says.
âI can get it,â you reply, though thereâs no real resistance behind it.
âI know.â
And just like that, heâs gone.
You remain seated for a moment longer, your fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table as your gaze drifts toward the hallway where he disappeared. Thereâs a strange feeling settling in your chest, something you canât quite name, because everything about this is kind, attentive, undeniably caring.
And yet... it feels like a lot.
Like something constant.
Something that doesnât quite give you space to exist without being noticed.
When he returns, he places your bag gently beside you, his movements careful, deliberate. As he does, his hand brushes against your shoulder in a fleeting, almost absent gestureâbut it lingers in a way that feels anything but accidental.
That quiet, steady awareness of you that never seems to fade.
âReady?â he asks.
You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and itâs the same as always, focused, immediate, like youâre the only thing in the room that matters.
You nod. âYeah.â
His hand finds yours without hesitation, fingers slipping between yours with practiced ease, and as he leads you out, his voice picks up again, soft but constant...asking small questions, simple things, things that donât really need to be asked at all.
But he asks anyway.
Because it keeps you talking.
Keeps you answering.
Keeps you with him.
And as you walk beside him, listening, responding, feeling the steady presence of his hand wrapped around yours.
you begin to understand something you hadnât quite been able to put into words before.
He isnât just taking care of you, heâs holding onto you, in every moment he can.
note: His eyes, his voice, and his virginal computer-boy vibes make him SO HOT. (I have PLEANTY of fics started for a lot of BloodHounds characters, I read all of your requests and I'm doing them ALL! So if u wanna ask for something cuz u have ideas, just send them to me, I just need time!)xoxo
Your stiletto heels echoed sharply against the polished floors, each step cutting through the silence of the oversized apartment. The place was expensive, obviously, but it felt⊠empty. Too much space, not enough life.
âBaek Jeong,â you called, your voice carrying a hint of irritation as you stopped in front of him, hands smoothing down the sides of your dress as if you could fix your mood along with the fabric. âI donât like this dress. It looks terrible on me.â
He barely reacted at first, lounging on the sofa like he owned not just the room, but everything inside it. One arm rested lazily over the backrest as his gaze moved over you in that slow, deliberate way of his, taking his time as if there was nowhere else he needed to be.
You were too focused on him, on the way he looked at you and how little urgency he seemed to have about your complaint, to notice the other presence on the couc, at least not until the feeling settled in.
It wasnât a sound or a movement, but something subtler. A gaze. Heavy, persistent, and very much aware of you. The kind of attention that tried to stay hidden but failed simply because of how intense it was.
Your head tilted slightly, curiosity replacing irritation as you followed the feeling... and thatâs when you saw him.
Green hair catching the light, posture just a little too stiff, like he wasnât sure how to exist comfortably in the same space as you. The moment your eyes met his, your expression shifted almost instantly, frustration melting into something softer, more playful, the corner of your lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
âHey, Allen,â you greeted, lifting your hand in a light wave, your voice dipping just enough to make the greeting feel more personal than it needed to be.
His reaction was immediate and impossible to miss. He swallowed, his throat moving visibly as his eyes locked onto yours for a brief moment before betraying him, flickering downward in a way that was quick but not quick enough to go unnoticed.
âHâhey,â he replied, his voice quieter than usual, rougher too, as if it had caught somewhere on the way out.
Baek noticed the shift in the room long before anything needed to be said about it.
âBabydoll,â he cut in, his tone smooth and grounded, carrying that quiet possessiveness he never really tried to hide. âThat dress looks great on you.â
His hands found your waist with ease, pulling you closer without hesitation, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was firm, fingers pressing into your hips in a way that felt both familiar and intentional, like a reminder meant for more than just you.
âBesides,â he continued, his voice lowering as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing near your ear, âdonât worry about it. Iâll take it off later.â
You let out a soft breath in response, leaning into him just enough to match his tone, allowing yourself to be guided as he pulled you down onto his lap.
âI canât wait,â you murmured, your lips close enough to his that your words felt shared rather than spoken.
His attention shifted to your neck, warm and unhurried, his lips trailing there in a way that was more claiming than affectionate, and your body reacted naturally, your mouth parting slightly as a quiet sigh slipped past your lips.
But your focus didnât stay on him.
Instead, your gaze drifted intentionally, deliberately, back to Allen. He hadnât moved.
If anything, he looked worse than before, like he didnât know where to look anymore but couldnât bring himself to look away either. His posture was tense, his hands loosely clenched in his lap, and there was something unmistakable in his expression, something caught between nervousness and something far more dangerous.
You bit your lip lightly as you held his gaze, letting the moment stretch just enough before you lifted your hand and blew him a kiss. The effect was immediate.
His composure faltered, just slightly, but enough for you to see it clearly. His shoulders tensed, his breath hitching in a way he probably hadnât meant for anyone to notice, and for a second he looked completely unsure of what to do with himself.
âDonât you think the dress looks good on me, Allen?â you asked, your tone light, almost curious, though your eyes carried something much more deliberate.
Baek didnât interrupt. If anything, the faint curve of his lips suggested he was aware of exactly what you were doing and had no interest in stopping you.
Allen, on the other hand, seemed caught somewhere between answering and not daring to. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to speak, but nothing came out, his thoughts clearly running faster than he could keep up with.
You let your expression shift into a small pout.
âWhat? You donât like it?â you pressed, tilting your head as if genuinely disappointed. âMaybe you need to look more closely.â
Before either of them could respond, you moved.
Sliding off Baekâs lap with unhurried confidence, you closed the distance between you and Allen, each step measured, intentional. When you reached him, you didnât hesitate. You climbed onto his lap as if it were the most natural decision in the world, positioning yourself comfortably with one leg on either side of him.
Up close, he was even more affected. You could feel it, the tension in his body, the way his breath changed, the subtle tremor he couldnât quite control.
Your arms settled loosely around his neck, your body close enough that there was no space left for doubt.
âYou shouldnâtâŠâ he began quietly, his voice strained, uncertain, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he didnât know where they were allowed to be.
You leaned in just slightly, your presence steady, overwhelming in the quietest way.
âDonât worry about it,â you told him softly, your tone calm but carrying a quiet authority. âHe asked you what you think of the dressâŠâ
There was a faint edge of complaint in your voice now, like he was the one making things difficult.
âFeel it,â you continued, reaching for his hands and guiding them to your hips yourself. âThen tell me.â
The moment your hands left his, he froze, the contact clearly doing more to him than he knew how to process. His fingers rested there uncertainly at first, as if he expected to be stopped at any second.
âDonât make me ask you again, baby.â
The word lingered between you, heavier than it should have been.
âIt⊠it looks beautiful on you,â he managed finally, his voice uneven, his eyes struggling to stay focused before settling on yours again. âI love it.â
Baek remained where he was, seemingly occupied with his phone, though the lack of interruption felt more intentional than distracted.
A slow smile spread across your lips.
âI have a lot of things that look better on me than this dress,â you said, your voice lowering slightly as your gaze locked onto his, the air between you tightening in a way that felt impossible to ignore. âWhy donât you come with me and Iâll show you?â
You leaned in just enough for your lips to hover dangerously close to his.
âI might need help with the zipperâŠâ
For a brief moment, it felt like the world narrowed down to that single point of contact, like he might actually give in and close the distance.
Then Baek stood.
The movement was sudden enough to break the moment instantly, the shift in energy immediate.
Allen reacted before he could stop himself, flinching slightly, as if heâd been caught doing something he shouldnât, even though he hadnât actually done anything at all.
âEnough,â Baek said, his voice firm, cutting cleanly through whatever had been building. âYou can blow him later. Right now, I need him on the computer.â
The tension didnât disappear, but it shifted, settling into something quieter, something unfinished.
You leaned back slowly, taking your time as you pulled away from Allen, your fingers brushing lightly along his jaw in a touch that lingered just a second longer than necessary.
âWhat a spoilsport,â you whispered, just for him.
And the way he looked at you after that still dazed, still caught somewhere between hesitation and something much deeper, made it clear that whatever had started between you wasnât going to end there.
-
Hours had slipped by almost unnoticed, the quiet hum of machines filling the apartment in a way that made time feel slower than it really was. Allen hadnât moved much from his spot in front of the computer, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on the screen as lines of code reflected faintly against his glasses. What should have been routine, something almost second nature to him, had turned into something frustratingly resistant, like every attempt he made only led to another wall.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers still moving quickly across the keyboard, though there was a stiffness to them now that hadnât been there before.
âWow.â
Your voice cut through the room so suddenly that he nearly jumped, his head snapping toward the doorway with wide eyes before he even processed who it was. When he saw you leaning casually against the frame, a small smile playing on your lips, the tension in his body didnât ease, it just shifted into something else entirely.
âThose are fast fingers you have,â you continued, your tone light, teasing in a way that immediately made his focus slip. As you pushed yourself off the doorframe and stepped inside, your heels clicked softly against the floor, slower now, more deliberate than before.
Your gaze drifted around the room, taking in the mess without judgment, the cables, the monitors, the scattered controllers, the empty cans that had been forgotten hours ago.
âYouâre such a nerd,â you added with a quiet chuckle, though there was no real bite to it.
Allen swallowed, turning slightly back toward the screen like he could anchor himself there, even as he felt your presence getting closer. The cursor blinked expectantly, but his thoughts werenât keeping up anymore.
âWhat are you doing?â you asked, your voice softer now as you leaned in just enough to glance at the screen, though it was clear your interest wasnât really in the code.
Before he could answer, before he could even think of a way to respond properly, you moved again.
And this time, you didnât stop beside him.
You sat on his lap.
The reaction was instant.
His entire body went rigid beneath you, eyes widening as if his brain had simply refused to process what had just happened. The chair shifted slightly with the added weight, but he didnât dare move, didnât dare react too quickly in case he did something wrong.
Not that he wanted you to move.
Not even a little.
His hands stayed exactly where they were, gripping the armrests like they were the only safe place left for them, his breath catching before settling into something faster, uneven.
âIâumâŠâ He struggled to find his voice, his thoughts stumbling over each other. âIâm trying to create a virus so I can break into the police databaseâŠâ
The words came out rushed, slightly shaky, like he was forcing himself to focus on something (anything) that wasnât the fact that you were sitting on him.
You shifted slightly, turning sideways in his lap as if getting comfortable, one arm draping over his shoulders with an ease that only made everything worse for him. The closeness was overwhelming in the quietest way, your presence impossible to ignore as you leaned just a little closr.
âAnd why are you having so much trouble?â you asked, your tone curious, but still threaded with that same teasing warmth. âYouâve done this thousands of times.â
It was a fair question.
Allen was good, incredibly talented at what he did. This kind of task should have been done hours ago.
âSomething changed,â he admitted after a second, forcing himself to look back at the screen, though his focus kept slipping. âMaybe they realized someone was getting in and tightened security⊠I donât know. Itâs justââ He exhaled, frustrated. âItâs taking longer than it should.â
The tension in his voice was real, but it didnât quite hide the nerves underneath.
âOh, you poor thing,â you murmured softly, your hand lifting to his face, your touch light but deliberate as your fingers brushed along his cheek.
The contact made him pause completely.
âMaybe you just need to relax a little.â
Before he could react, you took his hands, gently but firmly guiding them away from the armrests, placing them against your hips instead. The movement was slow, intentional, giving him just enough time to realize what was happening without giving him the chance to stop it.
His breath caught sharply.
For a moment, he didnât move at all, like his body had forgotten how to function under your touch. Then his fingers flexed slightly, hesitant, uncertain, but not pulling away.
His eyes flickered, unsure where to settle, his tongue brushing absently against his piercing in a nervous habit he didnât seem to notice himself.
âIâI canât,â he said quietly, his voice lower now, strained in a different way. âI have to finish this before Baek gets back orââ
You didnât let him finish.
âThen keep working,â you whispered, leaning closer, your voice brushing near his mouth, close enough to make the space between you feel almost nonexistent. âIâll help you relax.â
The words lingered there, soft but loaded, settling into him in a way that made it even harder to think clearly.
âYou shouldnâtâŠâ he tried again, though there was less conviction in it this time, more uncertainty than refusal.
You smiled faintly, your gaze steady on his.
âWe shouldnât be doing a lot of things, Allen,â you murmured, your tone quieter now, almost thoughtful, but there was something underneath it, something that made it impossible to mistake your meaning. âBut right now going down on my knees and suck your dick feels perfect.â
The green-haired man's heart finally stopped completely; it all seemed like a joke orchestrated to make him look ridiculous. How could a woman of your caliber be coming on to him like that? What did you see in him?
"I can't keep pretending I don't get wet every time I see you, Allen, that I don't imagine those quick fingers inside me, and how much it turns me on that you're such a freak and a loser." He should feel offended, she knew it, but how could he? He was analyzing her lips, no longer trying to hide it. His eyes were roaming over your body on top of him, something igniting within him, and all his fear disappearing completely, forgotten. This time, unconsciously, his hands squeezed your legs, making you smile slightly. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered.
"You can fuck me right here if you want," you replied, looking him straight in the eyes. You couldn't hold back any longer and lunged at his lips, intertwining them in perfect sync. It was a wet, noisy, sensual, and intense kiss. You were devouring each other.
Allen didn't have much experience, and while you noticed it, somehow that only fueled your desire. Your hands circled his neck and your hips began to rub slowly against him.
You both broke apart, breathless. "Can I please suck your cock? Please, baby," you begged breathlessly, continuing to rub against him, growing more and more desperate.
He, speechless, simply nodded rapidly, breathless, too weak to speak aloud. All of this intensified as he watched you slowly lower yourself from him and kneel under the desk between his legs, your gaze locked on his eyes. A small, mischievous smile spread across your lips, and you bit your lip as if you wanted to provoke him even more.
"Get back to work, Allen," you say, "and enjoy it." Your hands lightly trace his pants, reaching the button and undoing it without a second thought. Allen had returned to his computer, but he seemed to be typing automatically; he couldn't connect two neurons while you were kneeling before him, begging him to touch him.
But everything went to hell when he felt it: your juicy lips kissing the tip, your tongue tracing its length, and your hands helping you find those places your mouth couldn't reach.
-
P2? I havenât written actual smt in a long time....want me to try?
Also, I'll be posting more fics for different characters of BloodHounds, I hope u like them!
just to be fun Iâm going to throw in.. obsessed boyfriend baek jeong⊠(this one is personal âđŒ)
girl, get ready because I'm going to make these and more. I've already started writing them, so when I finish them they'll all be yours (I'll tag you, of course). Please keep sending me Bloodhound ideas because I'm obsessed. xoxođ
Note: It will be mentioned here that Zayn struggled with drugs and alcohol. I wanted to clarify that none of this is intended to offend, mock, or idealize anything. It's pure fiction, and my intention was never to hurt anyone. (I wanted to clarify this because, if you didn't know, he actually did struggle with these things in real life, and I thought it was important to mention!) xoxo
years ago...
They had met long before the world knew his name.
Zayn Malik had been the quiet boy who sat a few desks away from her, all dark lashes and sketchbooks, someone who spoke little but noticed everything. Kyra had been the girl who filled the silence without trying, whose laugh bounced off lockers and made teachers sigh but smile anyway.
They became best friends without announcing it.
It just⊠happened.
Shared lunches. Walks home. Homework done side by side, even when neither of them was actually studying. Kyra learned the way Zayn hummed absentmindedly when he was nervous, how he avoided eye contact when he cared too much, how he smiled slowly, like it surprised even him. Zayn learned that she hated being called Ky by anyone else, but from him, it sounded like something soft, something earned.
When the sparks came, they didnât explode, they settled.
Zayn looked at Kyra like she was something precious he couldnât quite believe was his, and Kyra loved him like she had all the time in the world.
When he told her about The X Factor, his voice shook.
âIâm thinking about auditioning,â heâd said, eyes fixed on the pavement as they walked. âI know it sounds stupidââ
Kyra stopped walking. âZayn.â
He looked at her then.
âYou have to,â she said immediately, eyes bright. âYouâd regret it forever if you didnât.â
That was Kyra.
Always forward. Always believing.
From that moment on, she was his biggest supporter. No doubts. No hesitation. When London came calling, she answered too. Quitting her job, studying in the car, living out of bags and borrowed couches, learning how to make herself smaller so his dream could be bigger. She never complained. Not once.
When One Direction happened, happiness felt unreal.
Zayn was everywhere all at once, and somehow Kyra managed to be there too. She found a remote job, learned the rhythm of airports and tour buses, built a life that fit around his. The boys became family. Harry, especially; loud, warm, endlessly alive, slid effortlessly into her world, making her laugh on days when Zayn was too tired to talk.
For a while, everything was still golden.
But gold dulls if you donât protect it.
The cigarettes came first. Then the nights got later. The drinking stopped being social and started being necessary. Zayn didnât change overnight, he faded, little by little, like a photograph left too long in the sun. Fame didnât make him arrogant; it made him lost.
Kyra noticed before anyone else.
She noticed when conversations turned into monologues. When laughter became background noise. When his eyes stopped finding hers in rooms full of people. She loved him fiercely, stubbornly, but loving someone doesnât mean you can always reach them.
One night, the apartment was too quiet.
âZayn?â Kyra asked, hearing the bedroom door open.
Footsteps echoed, uneven, careless, before a heavy thud hit the floor.
âZayn?!â
She rushed out of the room, her heart pounding as she reached the living room. Zayn was lying on the floor, barely conscious, the smell of marijuana and something stronger clinging to the air.
âIâm fine,â he barely murmured, slurring the words, his eyes closed and unable to get up.
Kyra swallowed her panic and did what she always did. She helped him to his feet as best she could, guiding him to the bedroom and sitting him down on the bed. Her hands were gentle as she took off his jacket, even though her chest felt tight.
âYou canât keep doing this, Zayn,â Kyra tried to say as she took off his jacket, her voice calm.
âYou always say the same thing,â he mumbled, still struggling to speak.
âWell, maybe you should start listening to me,â she replied.
âBullshit, donât tell me what to do, mind your own business,â Zayn abruptly turned away from her and lay down on the bed, passing out completely asleep.
Kyra stood there, frozen. Something inside her fractured quietly, painfully. She didnât cry. She just felt hollow.
Morning came too soon.
Kyra leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee she barely tasted, waiting for Zayn to wake up. She couldnât ignore it anymore. She wouldnât.
As if summoned, he appeared, smiling, refreshed enough to pretend nothing had happened. He walked toward her, arms reaching for her waist, familiar and automaticâbut she pulled back, not letting him touch her.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â he asked, frowning, genuinely worried.
âI canât, Zayn,â she whispered.
âWhat do you mean, love?â He tried to approach her again, only to be rejected once more. âHey, what do you mean?â
âIâm tired, Zayn. I canât keep waiting for you every night to come home passed out so I can help you to bed, reeking of alcohol and drugs, like itâs normal...â Kyra begins. âDamn, even thinking that this has become a habit doesnât make sense. Passed out, Zayn... you come home passed out every night, and Iâm the only one here, sleepless all night, worried about you, and on top of that, I have to put up with you treating me like garbage just because I want to help you.â
Zayn stood there in silence, processing her words. For months she had begged him to seek help, to slow down, to care. He hadnât thought it was that serious. Somewhere along the way, he had lost control without realizing it.
âItâs not every night...â Zayn begins, somewhat annoyed. âI just need a distraction, okay? Iâm with the band all the time, without a single second of peace. All I see and hear is chaos and mayhem. I just want to have some fun.â
âThatâs not a distraction! You donât talk to your family, you donât talk to me!â Kyra pauses briefly. âYou donât see me, you donât hear me, youâre not interested. I donât want to sound selfish or like Iâm demanding anything from you, but I gave up everything, Zayn. I did everything I could to follow your dreams, to help you, and to be there to be the first to congratulate and support you.â
âThe only moments we share are these: the mornings when youâre hungover, you come to hug me, you have a coffee, you shower, and you leave. Then I just see you passed out in the living room.â
Zayn remained serious, but inside, everything hurt.
âI didnât think youâd notice, youâve been spending a lot of time with Harry lately,â he couldnât help but blurt out, giving in to his jealousy.
Kyra froze, stunned, hurt beyond words.
âYeah, I wonder why,â she commented sarcastically. âMaybe because Iâm in a city where I donât know anyone, in an apartment all day alone because my boyfriend canât even be bothered to ask how I am.â
Silence.
âI donât recognize you, Zayn,â she began, tears welling in her eyes. âI donât know who you are, I donât know when you became a complete stranger. I was always here, Iâm still here, and I donât remember when you slipped through my fingers. Iâm sorry, Zayn, Iâm so sorry, but I canât keep doing this to myself. Iâm drained. I really tried.â
She placed her cup down gently and walked past him.
Zayn reacted on instinct, grabbing her arm.
âWhat do you mean? What you doing?â His voice trembled slightly.
âIâm leaving, Zayn. We... I canât do this anymore. Youâre not the Zayn I fell in love with.â
He froze.
Kyra pulled away, not just from his grip, but from everything they had been.
Kyra started a new life.
But Zayn never forgave himself.
-
present day...
Time passed.
Not gently, not mercifullyâbut it passed.
Kyra moved forward the only way she knew how: by building something of her own. She never felt whole again, not completely, because some loves donât disappearâthey linger, quiet and permanent, like scars you stop noticing but never lose. Still, she studied, worked, pushed herself harder than she ever had before, until effort turned into success.
KY was born almost accidentally.
It wasnât a clever name. It wasnât meant to be. It was intimate, heavy with meaning. Only one person had ever called her that. Only one person had ever believed in her designs before she believed in them herself. Zayn, before fame... before everything broke, had always been the loudest voice telling her she was capable, that she was talented, that she should never settle for less.
Only Zayn called her Ky.
And now the world did too, without knowing why it mattered.
She lived in a large apartment in the United States, surrounded by clean lines, light-filled rooms, and the quiet satisfaction of having made it on her own. She was well-known, financially stable, and doing exactly what she loved. From the outside, she had everything.
From the inside, there was still a small, aching absence.
âI already told you, idiot, of course youâre invited!â Kyra said via FaceTime to the long-haired man on her screen.
âWell, I had to find out through Instagram! If it werenât for that, I wouldnât have known!â he said, annoyed, although he wasnât really annoyed⊠maybe a little.
âHarry, please, I posted the announcement 14 minutes ago! Of course I was going to invite you all myself, but you didnât even give me 20 minutes!â Kyra laughed.
âAnyway, youâre already starting to hate us,â he said dramatically.
âOh, please, youâre one of the best coincidences of my life,â Kyra said sweetly.
âOh, please! Stop it! Youâre making me blush!â Niall joined the FaceTime call.
Everyone laughed, the familiar warmth filling her chest.
âAnyway, next week, the grand opening of one of my biggest stores is going to be a big deal, so please donât be late,â Kyra pleaded.
âNEVER, MAâAM!â Louis struck a military pose.
She laughed so hard her stomach hurt, and for a moment, everything felt easy again.
âWhereâs Liam?â Kyra asked when she stopped laughing, noticing his absence. The three boys exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
âUm, Liam went to meet up with⊠Zayn.â Louis glanced at Harry sadly before turning back to Kyra.
âLiam is really the only one heâs been talking to since he left.â Louis finished.
The name hit her like a memory she hadnât invited back.
Zayn left the band not long after she left him.
Not immediately. In fact, the months that followed were the worst of his life. If he used to come home in the early hours before, now he didnât come home at all. The apartment felt unbearable without her, too quiet, too empty, stripped of warmth. There was no point in going back to a place that no longer held her voice, her presence, her love.
He disappeared. Pushed people away. Lost patience with everything.
Eventually, he sought help. And help asked questions he had avoided his entire life. Questions about identity, purpose, and self-destruction. Questions that hurt to answer but hurt more to ignore.
For sure leaving One Direction wasnât easy, wasnât clean. But it was necessary...and through it all, Liam stayed, he'd always had a stronger friendship with him anyways.
âBut donât worry, Iâll text him right now and let him know. He wouldnât miss it for the world,â Harry said, already typing.
Kyra blinked rapidly, forcing the memories back.
âSure,â she said quickly. âIâll be waiting for you guys. I love you!â
She hung up and stared at her reflection in the black screen.
âCome on,â she whispered. âGet over it.â
The week passed faster than she expected, and suddenly she was standing in the center of her newest store, dressed elegantly, surrounded by light, music, people, cameras. Her biggest opening yet. Family, friends, press, fans...everyone celebrating what she had built.
âI hope I get a discount,â a familiar voice teased behind her.
Kyra turned instantly, her eyes widening as she threw herself into Harryâs arms. âHARRY!â, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her effortlessly as they both laughed.
âWeâll get one too, right? I just saw a jacket that was fire,â Niall added, with Louis nodding enthusiastically.
Kyra hugged all of them at once, Niall, Louis, Liam, holding on a second longer than necessary.
âI canât even tell you how much I missed you guys!â
âWe missed you too! Our little bee has become a queen bee and owner of her own hive,â Niall said dramatically.
âKyra, IâŠneed to tell you something...â Liam started, guilt written all over his face. âIâm sorry, but maybe Iââ
Kyra stopped breathing, something very much familiar was approaching.
A buzz cut. More tattoos. Broader shoulders. Melting eyes.
âZayn?â she whispered.
âIâm sorry,â Liam murmured, before the boys gently pulled him away, leaving her alone with the one person she had never truly left behind.
âHey, Ky,â Zayn said softly.
That damn nickname.
âHey,â she managed.
âCongratulations,â he said. Seconds that felt like days passed, making his heart ache.
âHey, Iâm so sorry for showing up here uninvited, at such an important event for you. But thatâs precisely why I had to come. Liam got the message while he was with me, and Kyââ
âCan we justâŠâ Kyra interrupted, forcing a polite smile. âCan we just not do it here?⊠not now. Maybe we can talk more calmly later.â
She walked away before her walls collapsed. Didnât cry. She smiled. She drank white wine,champagne. She talked to people as if everything was just right as it was supposed to be, of course she also avoided the boys entirely.
As the hours passed, the crowd thinned, the lights dimmed, and the music stopped completely. Until she was completely alone in her new store, wellâŠalmost alone.
âYes, of course, I'm sorry for how I acted before⊠it's just thatâŠâ Kyra tried to explain, her voice low, careful, as if one wrong word could shatter whatever fragile truce existed between them in that moment. The noise of the event still hummed faintly around them, distant laughter and clinking glasses bleeding through the walls, but it all felt muted now, like the world had stepped back to give them space.
âNo, no, I'm sorry. I should have realized that the middle of the event wasn't the place. I just⊠I really need to talk to you.â
Zayn moved closer to her then, slowly, deliberately, as if giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. He stopped just a few centimeters from her, not too close, not too far...just close enough that Kyra could feel the warmth of him, the familiarity that her body recognized before her mind could catch up. Her heart began to race despite herself.
âGo ahead,â she whispers, barely trusting her voice not to crack.
Zayn exhales, a deep, unsteady sigh that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with fear. It was the kind of breath someone takes before stepping into something terrifying, like he was finally sitting down to take the exam heâd been studying for his entire life, praying that all the effort, all the pain, would somehow be worth it.
âThere's nothing I can say to make you forgive me, I can't expect you to. The day you left⊠that day I felt like I died. All the shit that was going on, all the anxiety, the fear, the exhaustionâthe only thing that kept me going was you, Ky.â
His voice wavered, and Kyra felt it hit her straight in the chest, knocking the air out of her lungs.
âYou made me happy, you always did. From the first day we met at school, I knew you were the one for me. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry with all my heart because I lost myself. Everything I was disappeared, I was consumed, and you were there to support me through everything. I didn't see it, and I hate myself for it.â
His eyes glistened under the soft lights, and his voice trembled despite his effort to stay composed. Kyra felt her own eyes burn almost immediately, that familiar sting sheâd learned to fear because once it started, it never stopped gently. She swallowed hard, her chest tight.
âZaynâŠâ she sighed, his name leaving her lips like a quiet ache rather than a word.
âPlease,â he continues quickly, like heâs afraid sheâll stop him if he pauses. âThat night I wanted to follow you, I wanted to run after you and do anything to make you stay, but I couldn't allow myself to, Ky. I couldn't allow myself to keep hurting you, to keep seeing you like this because of me. I needed to fix myself first⊠but just because I didn't follow you that night doesn't mean I let you go, Ky. Letting you go forever was never an option.â
Kyraâs tears finally spilled over, tracing slow paths down her cheeks as she listened. Every word felt like reopening old wounds and healing them at the same time.
âAnd I'm so sorry it took me that long to realize,â Zayn goes on, his voice breaking now, âbut I couldn't follow you. Ky, I couldn't follow you. I couldn't go looking for you because I couldn't allow myself to keep hurting youâthe person I love most, the person I've always loved, the only person who made me feel understood and supported.â
By this point, Kyra was crying openly, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to breathe through the emotion crashing over her. Zayn stepped closer, unable to resist anymore, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands like she was something precious, something fragile he was terrified of breaking again. His thumbs brushed away her tears with aching tenderness.
âI looked for help, I found it and I found myself again.â
He lifts her chin just enough for her to look at him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were red now, rimmed with emotion, but clear in a way she hadnât seen in so long.
âAnd I know it sounds selfish like shit, but I looked for you, and I found you. I can't let myself lose you again, Ky. I won't.â
The last words came out as a whisper, raw and desperate, like a promise he was making not just to her, but to himself.
Silence falls between them for a few seconds, heavy and sacred. Kyra needed the timeâto breathe, to process, to let the years of pain and longing settle into something she could finally understand. She had dreamed of this moment more times than she could count, and now it was here, real and imperfect and overwhelming.
âI couldn't keep letting myself be destroyed the way I was, Zayn,â she finally says, her voice trembling but steady enough to be honest. âI couldn't keep seeing you like that. I tried everything to help you, but I just couldn't let myself watch you destroy yourself like that.â
She exhales shakily, her forehead falling briefly against his chest before she looks back up at him.
âI just wanted my Zayn back,â she whispers.
âI love you, Ky⊠I loved you, I love you, and I always will⊠Please, I'm sorry.â
He presses his forehead to hers, their noses almost brushing, his breath uneven against her skin.
âI love you, Ky⊠I loved you, I love you, and I always will⊠Please, I'm sorry.â
âI love you, Zy,â she replies through tears, her hands gripping his jacket like sheâs afraid he might disappear if she lets go. âI always have, I do now⊠and I think I always will.â
That was all they needed.
They had always known, felt it in the quiet moments, in the pain, in the absence, in the way no one else had ever quite fit the empty spaces inside them. Problems existed everywhere, life was never simple, but what they shared had always been stronger than fear, stronger than mistakes. And the fact that he had owned his failures, that he had healed and come back with honesty in his eyes, meant everything to her.
He was backâtruly backâand she wasnât about to push him away for anything in the world.
The kiss that followed wasnât rushed or desperate. It was slow, gentle, and necessary. Not sexual, not dramatic, but deeply emotional, as if they were breathing life back into each other. It felt like something missing had finally returned home, like empty spaces in their hearts had been filled exactly the way they were always meant to beâby each other.
Summary: It was only a matter of time before they both gave in to their fears.
Note: I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY CAUSE I'VE BEEN WRITTING THIS SHIT FOR 4 MONTHS! And I still think it sucks. English is not my first lnguage so sorry if there's any mistakes! I ope u like it at least a lil bit. xoxo
Scoops Ahoy was louder than usual, the mall humming with that constant summer buzz that never really seemed to die down. Neon lights bounced off the glossy tiled floors, laughter echoed from somewhere near the arcade, and the smell of sugar and waffle cones clung stubbornly to the air. The bell above the door chimed every few seconds as another family wandered in, sunburnt and smiling, ready for ice cream.
Steve stood behind the counter, carefully handing a vanilla cone to a little girl who couldnât have been older than six. He crouched slightly to be at her level, his sailor hat tilted just a bit too far back on his head, his voice soft and patient as he warned her (again) not to let it drip on her dress. She nodded solemnly, eyes wide, clutching the cone like it was the most important thing in the world before running back to her mother.
You leaned against the counter a few feet away, half-listening to the transaction while Robin spoke quietly beside you. Her arms were crossed tight over her Scoops Ahoy uniform, shoulders tense in a way youâd seen too many times lately.
âI had nightmares last night,â she said suddenly, her voice low but strained. âAgain.â
You turned fully toward her, concern instantly sharpening your focus. âAbout⊠everything?â
Robin nodded, jaw tight. âThe Russians. The room. Being drugged.â She let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking toward the entrance as if expecting someone to burst through at any second. âIt still doesnât make sense. None of it does. Monsters under Hawkins, secret elevators in a mall, and Russian soldiers just⊠hanging out?â
You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. âYeah,â you muttered. âTell me about it.â
Robin looked at you, waiting.
âImagine my face,â you continued dryly, âwhen I saw a faceless humanoid monster trying to eat Steve Harrington⊠and a bald girl with superpowers saving us all.â You shook your head, exhaling sharply. âCrazy shit.â
For a few seconds, Robin just stared at you, like her brain was rebooting. Then she snorted. A quiet laugh escaped her, followed by another, until she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop herself.
âAll that,â she said between breaths, âand I still think the craziest thing is that Steve won a fight.â
You huffed out a small laugh despite yourself, the corner of your mouth lifting. Before you could fire back with a comment of your own, a familiar voice cut through the moment.
âShut your mouth and get to work.â
Steve had abandoned the counter and dropped down onto the bench beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. His tone was sharp, but there was something forced about it, the sarcasm stretched thin. Robin rolled her eyes dramatically, already turning away.
âYes, your majesty,â she muttered, grabbing a scoop and heading toward the other end of the shop.
Steve watched her go, jaw tight, then glanced back at you with an irritated smirk. âSheâs stupid,â he said, his voice low, like he didnât want her to hear.
You leaned closer, lowering your voice in return. âSheâs right, though.â
He shot you a look, half-offended, half-resigned. Then he sighed, shaking his head and choosing, very deliberately, not to argue. He never argued with you. Not really.
Instead, he shifted on the bench, knees angling toward yours, elbows resting on his thighs. âSo,â he said casually, like his heart wasnât suddenly picking up speed, âdo you have plans later?â
You glanced at the clock on the wall, then down at your bag. âActually, yeah. Iâm going to the library for a bit. I have a paper I need to finish before classes start again.â You groaned softly. âIâve been putting it off forever.â
Steve nodded slowly, eyes fixed on you like he was trying to memorize your face. âOkay. Iâll pick you up as soon as I get off work, then. We can go to the movies or something.â
The smile he gave you wasnât his usual cocky grin. It was softer, genuine, like it slipped out before he could stop it. The kind of smile that made something warm twist in your chest.
âI WANT TO GO!â
Robinâs voice echoed from across the shop, way too loud for the small space.
Steve didnât even hesitate. âNO WAY!â
âOF COURSE YOU CAN!â you shouted back, grinning, already knowing how this would go.
Robin whooped in victory while Steve let out an exaggerated groan, dragging a hand down his face. He shot you a lookâmock-annoyed, but there was something else underneath it. Disappointment. Not at Robin. At the idea of not having you to himself.
He didnât mind Robin tagging along. Not really. But heâd been craving time alone with you for so long it physically ached. Something quiet. Intimate. Something where he could sit beside you without an audience, without distractions, without pretending he didnât want more.
Steve Harrington had been in love with you for years.
Heâd never said it out loud, never even let himself think it too hard, because what was the point? Back when he was King Steve, surrounded by people like Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, youâd looked at him like you barely recognized who he was becoming. You were part of the group, sure, but you never hid your dislike for them, or for him when he acted just like them.
You deserved better. Someone smarter. Someone who didnât peak in high school. Someone who was going to college, who had a plan. Not a guy in a ridiculous sailor uniform, scooping ice cream in a mall.
The whole Nancy thing had been a poor excuse, really. A way to try and forget you. The fights with Jonathan? Ego. Nothing more.
When you distanced yourself from him, youâd said it was to avoid making Nancy uncomfortable, to avoid causing problems. Steve had hated that distance more than anything. So when Nancy cheated on him, it didnât even hurt the way it should have.
Because you were back.
You were there when he came home bruised and bleeding, cleaning his wounds with careful hands. You were there congratulating him when he finally stood up to Tommy. You didnât leave his side, not once, because you knew he needed you.
And since everything started, the monsters, Russians, near-death experiences and more, youâd never really had a moment alone.
âI have to go,â you said softly, standing and slinging your bag over your shoulder.
Steve looked up at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes.
âYou look nice in your uniform,â you added, winking.
Before he could respond, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. It was innocent. Friendly.
It wrecked him.
âSee you later, Rob!â you called, already turning toward the door.
Robin blew you a kiss, and you disappeared into the noise of the mall, leaving Steve sitting there, heart pounding, cheek warm where your lips had been, wondering how much longer he could survive pretending you were just his best friend.
-
The Hawkins Public Library was quiet in the way only libraries ever wereâtoo quiet, almost. Not silent, but hushed, like the building itself was holding its breath. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, casting a soft yellow glow over the rows of shelves, and the air smelled like dust, paper, and something vaguely comforting. It wasnât completely dark, but it wasnât bright either, shadows pooling between aisles and corners.
There were other kids from school scattered around the place, hunched over tables with notebooks and textbooks, summer projects spread out in varying states of panic. You recognized a few faces and felt an unexpected sense of relief settle in your chest. After everything that had happenedâthe mall, the monsters, the Russiansâyou didnât like being alone anymore. Not really.
Youâd been there for a couple of hours by the time your hand started cramping from writing. You stretched your fingers, blinking down at your notes, scanning what you had left to do. One more source. Just one more book.
Grabbing your pen, you stood and headed toward the taller shelves near the back, shoes echoing softly against the floor. The aisle was long and narrow, packed tight with spines of books you barely glanced at as you searched, your focus locked in.
âCan I help you look?â
The voice came from right beside you.
You jumped so hard your heart nearly stopped.
âOh my god, Billy,â you squealed, spinning toward him and letting out a shaky sigh.
Billy Hargrove stood there like heâd always stood everywhereâtoo close, too confident, leaning casually with that infuriating smirk already pulling at his mouth. His blue eyes lingered on you shamelessly.
âI could get used to hearing you call my name like that, sweetheart.â
Your expression hardened instantly. âWhat do you want?â
He frowned, genuinely confused. âWhy do you assume I want something?â
You made a face, exhaustion written all over you. âIâm not in the mood to be bothered, so if you want something, just say so.â
Billyâs gaze dragged slowly over you. âI just saw you looking for something, very focused, beautifulâŠâ He paused deliberately. âAnd I came to help you.â
âI donât even understand what the hell youâre doing in the library,â you shot back, ignoring the way his words crawled under your skin.
âOkay, I admit it,â he said, smirk deepening. âI might have seen you come in, and youâre incredibly hot, so I thought Iâd watch you for a bit and come closerâŠâ
Before he could finish, another voice cut through the aisleâsharp, unmistakable.
âThatâs called being a creep.â
You felt a body behind you, close enough that your back pressed into a solid chest. The familiar warmth, the protective closeness, sent a jolt through you before you even turned.
âBut I think we all know that by now.â
Billy scoffed. âIâm not hurt by the words of a loser, Harrington.â
You couldnât see Steveâs face, but you knew itâjaw tight, shoulders squared, both hands probably planted on his hips as he fought the urge to do something reckless.
âSteve,â you said quickly, turning around and placing a hand on his chest, trying to ground him. âBilly was just leaving.â
âNo,â Billy interrupted, stepping closer. âActually, I just got here. I was thinking of helping herâŠâ
âShe doesnât need your help,â Steve snapped.
Billy laughed, irritation seeping into his voice. âOh, whatâs wrong, Steve? Are you afraid sheâll like me? That sheâll realize what a real man is?â
Steve took a step forward, anger flashing in his eyes, but you pressed your hand firmly against his chest and leaned in to whisper for him to calm down.
Billyâs attention shifted back to you. âDonât you want to do it again, beautiful?â he said lazily. âYou have no idea how good this little angel kisses.â
Steve went still, he froze.
âOne make-out session,â Billy continued cruelly, âand I was already thinking about fucking herââ
He never finished the sentence.
Steveâs fist collided with Billyâs face in one swift, brutal motion.
âSteve!â you whispered urgently, immediately stepping between them, pushing him back with your body. His chest was heaving, breath coming fast and uneven, his eyes locked on Billy like he was already imagining a thousand ways to hurt him.
Billy laughed, wiping his mouth. Somehow, no one else noticed. Somehow, the library remained quiet.
âI smashed your face in once,â Billy sneered. âI can do it again. Be grateful sheâs saving you.â His gaze flicked to you. âYou donât want to humiliate yourself in front of her again.â
Something snapped in you.
âActually,â you said coldly, glaring at him, âIâm saving you.â
Billy paused.
âSteve kicked a Russian soldierâs ass and then endured torture to save me,â you continued firmly. âAnd he never hesitated to fight anyone to keep me safe. So shut your stupid mouth, because if thereâs a man here, itâs Steve.â Your voice didnât shake. âYouâre just a little brat.â
Steve stared at you, stunned, as Billy scoffed and walked away.
You didnât wait. You grabbed Steveâs hand and pulled him back to your table, quickly packing your things before leading him out to his BMW. The drive was silent until, suddenly, he slammed on the brakes in the middle of the woods.
âAre you going to kill me⊠orâŠ?â you joked weakly.
âIâm sorry,â he said immediately, turning toward you, worry etched across his face. âI should have told him off a long time ago. I shouldnât have let him say that about you.â
You studied him for a moment, heart aching. âDonât you dare apologize again. You donât have to. I should be thanking you for defending me like that. You donât have to put up with it, but you helped me.â You swallowed. âI donât know what Iâd do without you.â
âBetter, probably,â he murmured. âYou wouldnât be missing muchââ
âSteve, God, please shut up.â You leaned in and kissed him.
But you pull away after a super quick kiss, more of a breath than a moment, both of you freezing as soon as it ends. Your foreheads stay close, noses almost brushing, lips still warm and hovering a heartbeat apart. The air inside the car feels charged, heavy, like the space itself is holding its breath along with you. Steveâs eyes search your face, wide and stunned, like his mind is racing to catch up with what his heart has already decided. For a split second he looks almost afraidâafraid this will disappear if he moves too fastâbut then something settles in him. Resolve. Certainty.
He isnât stupid enough to let it go.
Steve leans in again, slow at first, like heâs giving you every chance to stop him, before kissing you properly this time. Itâs passionate and unguarded, years of unsaid things pouring into a single moment. One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your skin, while the other slides up to smooth through your hair, holding you like youâre something fragile and precious all at once. The kiss deepens, grows warmer, more insistent, and you melt into him without hesitation.
You shift closer, instinctively, your body drawn to his like itâs always known where it belongs. The space between you disappears completely as you straddle him in the driverâs seat, your hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the way his breath stutters under you.
âI like you, too much. I never wanted to say it and ruin what we have,â you say between kisses, your voice soft but honest, every word pulled straight from your chest. You barely give him time to respond before continuing, fingertips sliding up to frame his face. âYouâre thoughtful, youâre kind, youâre honest, youâre romantic, youâre funny, youâre caring, you always look out for others even if it puts you at risk.â You smile against his lips, emotion swelling until it almost hurts. âI love everything about you, how brave you areâŠâ
Steveâs hands move to your waist, firm and steady, grounding you, like heâs afraid you might disappear if he lets go. Yours cradle his face as you keep talking between hotter, deeper kisses now, your words tumbling out faster, bolder. âAnd how hot you are when you get serious or bossy,â you add with a breathless laugh, swaying your hips slightly without even realizing it. âI love everything about you, how brave you areâŠâ
Steve lets out a shaky breath and pulls back just a little, just enough to look at you properly. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, lips swollen from kissing you, and he looks almost overwhelmed by everything heâs feeling.
âI love you,â he says, voice low but unwavering. âIâve always loved you, and every day I fall more in love with you. I just couldnât take it anymore.â His jaw tightens briefly as he admits the truth. âHearing Billy talk to you, or even seeing him near you, made me want to kill him slowly and painfully.â
He leans in to kiss you again, softer this time but no less intense. âI love the person I am when Iâm with you,â he continues against your lips, one hand sliding up your back. âThe person you make me want to be, and how incredible you are in every way. I love you.â
You both pull back just enough to look at each other, smiling like youâve never smiled beforeâwide, unguarded, almost disbelieving that this is real. Then youâre kissing again, deeper, slower, like thereâs no rush anymore, like you finally have all the time in the world.
âI couldnât stand seeing you in those skirts while you kissed my cheek and called me âfriend,ââ Steve murmurs between kisses, his voice teasing now, breath warm against your skin. âThe things I thought about you werenât very friendly.â
You laugh softly, the sound muffled by his mouth as you kiss him again, both of you smiling into it, the tension finally breaking into something lighter, happier. The kisses keep coming, each one more sure, more affectionate, more full of everything youâve been holding back for years.
Outside the car, the woods stay quiet and dark, the world unaware that something has finally fallen into place inside that BMWâsomething that was always meant to happen, now impossible to undo.
