#college!jay

[liuhsng]

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 19k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — finally here it is ! i loved writing this so, so much—i hope you guys fall for it the way i did. there’s definitely a second part coming, so don’t forget to pace yourselves, loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, slow burn, strangers to lovers trope, soft!jay, emotionally constipated!jay (but he’s trying), late-night cat hunt (we love doobu), subtle mutual pining, jay is in denial (maybe), reader is confused (definitely), domestic undertones, accidental vulnerability, soft tension, unspoken feelings, kpop demon hunters reference, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — as a ballet major with a bleeding heart and a cat that bites, you’ve learned to keep your world simple: dance, stretch, cry a little, repeat. you don’t do rumors, don’t do games, and you definitely don’t do campus heartthrobs with guitars and god complexes. so when a blurry photo and one harmless conversation spark a wildfire of dating rumors between you and park jongseong—guitarist, campus enigma, known for broken amps and colder stares. except, he’s nothing like they say. or, where he plays like the world’s his stage, but you're the only thing that makes him nervous.

The practice room was warm. Not hot, exactly—just the kind of warm that stuck to your skin, that lingered in your collarbones and made your bangs cling annoyingly to your forehead.

You stood in front of the mirror wall, catching your breath, fixing the satin skirt tied loosely around your waist.

Your black cropped shirt had already slid down one shoulder, exposing the strap of your leotard underneath. You didn’t bother fixing it.

Your focus was elsewhere—mostly on your discomfort, and the silent scream your thighs were making from doing that god-awful développé combo three times in a row.

“Hey,” Kazuha called softly from the side, wiping her neck with a towel as she approached you, “you okay?”

You nodded, lips pressed together in a tight smile. “Yeah. Just… not my usual skirt,” you muttered, glancing down.

Kazuha tilted her head. “I noticed. It’s shorter than usual.”

You gave a dry laugh, fingers tugging lightly at the tie. “Yeah, it’s my old one. From high school. My usual skirt’s in the laundry and I forgot to grab it this morning, so I’m surviving with this thing.”

Your reflection blinked back at you from the mirror—sweaty, flushed, still catching your breath. Your ponytail was coming loose and you were already sure your tights were rolling at the waist.

You turned slightly to the side and tugged the skirt again, voice flat. “This is what I get for being too lazy to do laundry.”

Kazuha laughed, leaning back on the barre. “It’s kinda cute, though. Retro. You look like you're in a throwback recital.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway.

Getting into Decelis University hadn’t been easy. The performing arts department—especially the dance conservatory—was known across the country for its prestige and high expectations. Hundreds auditioned every year. Not all made it past the first round.

You did.

On your first try.

Full-ride scholarship. Competitive record. Trophies and tears to back it all up.

People said you made it look easy, like you were meant to be there. But it wasn’t ease—it was effort. It was years of calluses, missed parties, bleeding toes, and sacrifice. You didn’t just want to dance. You needed to.

Kazuha tossed her towel on the bench, pulling her leg up on the barre to stretch. “You staying late again tonight?”

You nodded, eyes fixed on your reflection again. “Yeah. I have to perfect the solo for finals. My second rotation’s on Friday.”

“You know,” she grinned, “you say that like you’re not already one of the top students here.”

You shrugged. “Perfection’s the bare minimum.”

Kazuha blinked at you like you were insane, but she didn’t push it. She knew you well enough by now.

The speaker clicked as the next song loaded, soft classical strings filling the room again. You took a breath, stepped forward, and let your body move—not perfectly, not effortlessly, but honestly.

Your feet kissed the marley floor with a quiet grace, arms extending with purpose as you lost yourself to the swell of the violins.

You didn't think, didn't worry—this was the part where everything else slipped away. Just you, the music, and the ache in your chest that only dance could reach.

Just as Kazuha stepped forward to join you in the center, the door handle jiggled behind you.

You both froze mid-pose.

Then—knock knock knock.

Sharp. Persistent. Not polite.

You blinked at Kazuha, who mirrored your confusion, and as you turned toward the door, you caught a chaotic shuffle of movement behind the foggy glass panel.

“What the hell—” you muttered, already walking over as Kazuha crossed the room to pause the music.

Three heads crammed into the glass at once, pushing and jostling to get a peek inside, like some low-budget Scooby-Doo skit come to life. Behind them, more bodies shuffled around, some holding instruments.

You squinted. One had a guitar case strapped to his back. Another was holding drumsticks. Someone in the back had an amp cord looped around his neck like a scarf.

Kazuha tilted her head. “Are we being… robbed? By a band?”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest. “Who even lets them in here?”

The glass panel fogged slightly from the nose of someone pressing into it a little too eagerly.

You sighed, took a few steps forward, and called out—loudly enough to be heard through the semi-soundproof barrier, “Do you need something, or are you just here for a group peep show?”

That did the trick.

The door burst open like someone forgot subtlety existed. Seven guys came tumbling in, all trying to talk at once, their words tangling into a mess of “wait—no you ask—dude, she’s literally glaring—” while you stood, unamused, watching the circus unfold.

Kazuha blinked, frozen in place like her brain short-circuited at the sheer volume of testosterone in the room.

The boy with dyed blonde hair lit up like a switch. “Kazuha!”

Her head whipped around at the sound of her name, and when she caught sight of the voice—tall, bleach-haired, grinning like a kid—her face softened instantly.

“Oh, Ni-ki,” she said with a small laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s you.”

You blinked.

Wait. Ni-ki?

As in—her cousin Ni-ki?

The one who, according to Kazuha, played bass ‘like he was born doing it’ and could barely stay out of trouble for longer than a week?

The dots connected in your head like a quiet click—that was the cousin who hung out with some band. That was the chaos she warned you about when she said don’t mind the noise if you hear it down the hallway.

“Wait,” you said slowly, glancing between her and the group of rowdy boys trying to look innocent while still blocking half the studio entrance. “This is your cousin?”

“Yup,” Kazuha replied, already looking more amused than confused. “And that—” she gestured loosely toward the rest of them, “—is his band, I’m guessing.”

“You’re guessing?” you deadpanned. “They walked in here like they were about to headline Coachella.”

The boy in the front—tall, dark eyes, jet-black hair pulled back under a hoodie—finally stepped forward, less loud than the others, but still undeniably present. A black guitar case hung across his back, the strap slung casually over one shoulder like it belonged there, like he belonged here.

He wasn’t smiling.

He looked at you, at the studio, at your sweat-damp shirt and worn-out ballet shoes, and then back at you.

He raised a brow.

And then he said, “Is this the part where we pretend to be sorry for barging in?”

Your arms stayed crossed, lips twitching. “That depends. Is this the part where you explain why you’re here like this is a battle of the bands?”

Kazuha snorted. Ni-ki cackled.

The guy with another guitar case nudged the hoodie boy with his elbow. “Jay, say something normal, you’re scaring them.”

You raised an eyebrow.

The rest of the room seemed to pause, some failing to hide their grins while others tried very hard not to look like they were watching a drama unfold.

The so-called Jay hadn’t looked away from you once—dark eyes unreadable, the weight of his stare almost intrusive if it didn’t feel so curious.

You refused to break eye contact. If he was testing you, he’d have to try harder.

Kazuha stood quietly beside you, arms lightly crossed over her chest now, the tension in her jaw suggesting she was just waiting for someone to say something stupid so she could comment.

Finally, someone near the door cleared his throat—a polite, practiced sound that immediately drew your attention. The boy who stepped forward looked nothing like the storm standing across from you.

He was shorter than Jay, cleaner cut, dressed neatly in a dark crewneck and jeans. He smiled, dimples flashing as he extended a hand toward you.

“Hi,” he said with a slight bow, voice warm and measured. “I’m Yang Jungwon. Sorry to barge in all of a sudden. I know it’s unexpected, but…”

He reached into his back pocket and unfolded a neatly creased slip of paper, holding it up for you to see.

“It says here on the permit that we were assigned this studio for band practice at 7:30 PM,” he added carefully, his smile faltering just slightly. “And, uh… well…”

His voice trailed off as you took the paper from him, your eyes skimming over the familiar university header. You read the fine print, squinting at the date and time listed in the middle of the page.

Your jaw tightened.

It was 7:32 PM.

You looked up. Right on cue, another boy—tall, broad-shouldered, impossibly pretty—piped up from behind Ni-ki, his tone light and almost too casual.

“Well, it is 7:30,” he said, shrugging one shoulder, an easy grin on his face. “Technically.”

You gave him a flat look. He smiled wider, clearly not sorry.

“I’m Lee Heeseung,” he added, a little sheepishly this time, like that would soften the blow.

“Oh,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “So your plan was to just burst in and interrupt mid-combo because you had a slip of paper and a sense of entitlement?”

Heeseung winced, looking to Ni-ki for backup, who was definitely not paying attention—too busy playing with the hem of his oversized jacket while whispering something to Kazuha.

Jay finally blinked, his voice low and slow as he spoke for the first time. “No one said it was a good plan.”

Your eyes flicked to him again, sharp. He still hadn’t moved from where he stood—hoodie half-zipped, guitar case slung over one shoulder, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. He didn’t look embarrassed. He looked bored. Or tired. Or both.

“And you’re Jay?” you asked, tone unimpressed.

His head tilted slightly. “Unfortunately.”

You gave him a look. He held it again.

“God,” Kazuha muttered under her breath beside you, “do you two want a chair so you can keep eye-fighting in comfort?”

Jungwon, ever the peacemaker, gently stepped between you again, holding up his hands.

“Look, I think the admin office made a mistake. We’re not trying to kick you out or anything. We just… really need a place to rehearse tonight. Our usual room’s under maintenance.”

You glanced at the clock near the mirror.

Your solo practice was supposed to end at 7:30, but you usually stayed longer—everyone knew that. No one ever came after you. No one dared.

Until now.

You inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

“Fine,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Give us five minutes to cool down and grab our stuff. You guys can have it after.”

Jungwon looked relieved. “Seriously? That’s—thank you.”

Heeseung threw a little fist bump in the air, whispering a triumphant “yes” under his breath.

Without another word, the group finally started moving—some quieter than others—as they drifted further into the practice room. You and Kazuha stepped aside instinctively, watching as they began unloading.

The boy with the second guitar case unclipped it and set it gently on the floor. Jungwon followed him, coiling a few amp cords neatly, while someone near the door nearly dropped a whole keyboard with a loud thud.

You flinched.

Your jaw tensed. "Seriously?"

“Sorry!” the boy called out quickly, already scrambling to fix it.

Ni-ki ducked around him and pushed the door open again, holding it wide with his foot as another boy wheeled in a full drum kit like this was a full-blown arena setup and not just a shared university room.

“Careful with that, I tuned the snare this morning!” Jungwon scolded, and Ni-ki just huffed dramatically but helped anyway.

Across the room, someone handed Heeseung a mic stand like it was a sword and he was about to lead them into battle. You watched with a quiet sigh as chaos began blooming in your sacred space.

Beside you, Kazuha chuckled under her breath.

You nudged her shoulder with your bag. “Your cousin’s just as hardheaded as you, you know that?”

She laughed softly, looping her sweatshirt over her arm. “I know. I’m sorry. It runs in the family.”

You knelt down to grab your ballet flats, towel already half-hanging from your tote, when a shadow fell across your line of sight.

You looked up.

It was the same boy who had nearly dropped the keyboard earlier. He was standing in front of you now, hands clasped in front of him, an almost apologetic smile stretched wide across his face.

His hair was cropped short, brushing just above his brows. His eyes practically sparkled.

“Hi,” he said brightly, almost like he meant it. “I’m Sunoo. I—uh—just wanted to say I’m really sorry about earlier.”

You blinked. He had that kind of smile that felt like it came with its own lighting—warm, unguarded, maybe a little too charming for your own good.

You stood, slipping your shoes into your bag. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you said lightly, waving a hand as if to brush it off.

Still, he bowed slightly, earnestness in every movement. “Still. I apologize. Jay usually isn’t that…”

He hesitated, searching for a polite word.

You offered, “Intense?”

He laughed. “Yeah. That. Or dramatic. Or socially incapable, depending on the day.”

You let out a small, unwilling laugh. Damn him and his infectious energy.

Behind him, the tall boy who had helped Ni-ki drag the drum set in let out a sigh as he leaned against the mirror wall, arms crossed.

“Yeah, seriously,” he said, brushing hair away from his forehead. “We don’t usually come in here, and we didn’t mean to crash your rehearsal or anything.”

You turned to him, a little caught off guard by his voice—deep, smooth, kind of casual in a way that made you think he wasn’t used to saying sorry out loud.

“Oh—yeah, I’m Sunghoon,” he said quickly, standing up straighter. “I play bass. In the band. That’s here. Right now.”

You raised an eyebrow at his awkward phrasing. He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling under his breath.

“Sorry. That came out weird.”

Before you could respond, Ni-ki—who’d reappeared from behind the keyboard stand—elbowed Sunghoon in the ribs with a mischievous grin and said, “You mean I’m the better bass player.”

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. He just deadpanned, “Ni-ki, shut the fuck up.”

“You say that now,” Ni-ki replied, holding up a guitar clip like it was a trophy. “But when I go solo and top the charts, don’t come crying.”

Kazuha laughed, grabbing your arm gently as she looped hers through yours. “Okay, that’s our cue. We should go before my cousin starts making powerpoints about why he deserves a bass solo.”

Ni-ki beamed. “You’d watch it, admit it.”

“I wouldn’t,” she said flatly, already tugging you toward the door.

Despite Ni-ki being the only one actually saying goodbye, a soft chorus of murmured goodnights and lazy waves followed behind you—Jungwon giving you a polite nod, Sunoo offering a sparkly smile, and Heeseung shooting a goofy two-finger salute like this was some kind of after-school special.

You glanced back once, just briefly—only to find Jay still watching you.

Still standing near the mic stand, still quiet, expression unreadable.

There was no smirk, no apology. Just stillness. Like he was memorizing something, but didn’t want to show it.

The door shut with a soft click behind you.

The hallway outside was colder—empty, quiet, the lights humming faintly above your head. Your footsteps echoed against the tiled floor, and Kazuha’s arm still looped around yours like second nature.

You sighed as you leaned into her slightly, the ache in your shoulders finally catching up to you.

“My God,” you muttered, pressing a palm to your forehead. “Your cousin’s band is weird.”

Kazuha laughed, eyes crinkling as she bumped your hip with hers. “I told you they were rowdy. You just didn’t believe me.”

“I thought you meant, like… normal band rowdy. Tattoos. Bad rehearsal schedules. Not actual sitcom-level weird.”

“Oh, that is their normal,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You let out a soft scoff, nudging her with your shoulder. “You say that like you hang out with them.”

“I don’t,” Kazuha said quickly, laughing. “Not really. I mean, I’ve never actually seen them practice or perform—Ni-ki just never shuts up about them.”

You hummed in response, the sound quiet between your steps as the two of you walked in sync down the empty corridor. Your shoes squeaked faintly against the tile, the overhead lights casting soft shadows on the tiled floor.

Now that the noise and tension of the room had faded behind you, your body started to relax, step by step.

Kazuha glanced at you, her expression thoughtful. “But like… I have heard they’re popular or something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Popular how?”

“Like… actually good,” she said, lifting her hands a little as if that explained everything.

“Ni-ki said they’ve won the university’s Battle of the Bands for the last few years. Every time. So now they automatically get a slot in all the school events—like festivals, College Week, charity nights…”

You slowed your steps, head tilting slightly. “Wait,” you said, frowning. “You mean… those guys are the ones that perform after us during College Week?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

You furrowed your brows, trying to remember. You knew College Week. Your dance troupe always had one of the final performances. But you never stayed long enough to watch what came after.

By then, you were usually backstage, catching your breath, fixing your makeup, or already halfway home with sore feet and sore everything else.

“Huh,” you muttered. “Weird. I’ve never actually heard them before. Like—properly.”

Kazuha hummed in agreement beside you as the two of you turned left at the corner, heading toward the student entrance.

“They’re good,” she said casually. “From what I’ve heard. Ni-ki plays me demos sometimes when I sleep over and pretend to be asleep.”

You looked at her. “That’s creepy.”

She snorted. “He puts his phone under my pillow. He calls it subliminal promotion.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing lightly down the hall.

The two of you finally spotted the main exit doors at the far end of the building, glowing under the fluorescent lights like a way out of chaos.

Kazuha reached forward to push one open, and the second the glass door swung wide, a rush of cold night air swept in—sharp and biting, cutting through the warmth clinging to your skin from practice.

You shivered, instinctively hugging your arms over your chest. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath, stepping outside. “I forgot to bring my leg warmers again.”

The sky had already deepened into a soft navy, stars just barely peeking out beyond the clouds. The faint buzz of field lights nearby hummed in the distance, illuminating the quiet path that cut across campus toward the dormitories.

Kazuha slipped her arm back through yours. “You’re always forgetting those.”

“I was in a rush!” you said defensively. “Besides, I wasn’t planning on staying that long. Or dealing with an entire band.”

“I’d say that’s your own fault for being talented and dedicated,” she teased, bumping your hip lightly.

You groaned, breath fogging in the air. “Wanna crash at my dorm tonight?”

Kazuha perked up immediately, turning to you with eyes bright. “Wait—are you gonna cook curry?”

You narrowed your eyes at her, lips twitching. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” she grinned, not even a second of hesitation.

She tightened her hold on your arm and tugged you faster down the pavement.

“Come on, let’s stop by the convenience store near the dorms first! You need something warm. Let’s get you that fancy black tea you like—what’s it called again? The one that smells like actual flowers and money?”

You rolled your eyes, but let her pull you anyway, the weight of her excitement warming you more than your sweatshirt did.

“It’s not that fancy,” you mumbled. “It just doesn’t taste like cardboard.”

Kazuha snorted. “Mm, cardboard tea. A classic.”

Your steps fell in sync again, the gravel path crunching beneath your shoes as the golden glow of the dorms and the soft neon flicker of the convenience store came into view.

“Do we need anything else?” you asked absentmindedly, your voice quiet against the wind.

“Just curry cubes,” she said, already scanning the store shelves from outside. “And maybe a pack of Pocky if you’re feeling soft.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m not feeling soft.”

“You will be,” she grinned, tugging open the door. The bell jingled.

The lock clicked softly as you turned the key, Kazuha hovering patiently behind you with her arms full of grocery bags and her cheeks pink from the walk.

You pushed the door open with your shoulder, and the familiar scent of soft linen, citrus cleaner, and a little bit of cat greeted you instantly.

The moment the door cracked open—a little white blur padded across the wooden floor, tail high and curling like a question mark.

You lit up. “Hi, Doobu! Mommy’s home,” you cooed, immediately crouching down to scoop her up.

She let out a pleased trill, practically melting into your arms like she’d been waiting all day for this moment. Her fur was as soft as ever—warm and fluffy and slightly dramatic as she pressed her face to your chin and gave a little snuffly sigh.

“God, clingy,” you mumbled affectionately, rubbing your cheek against hers as her tail flicked lazily behind her.

Kazuha stepped in behind you, carefully closing the door with her foot as she dropped the plastic bags down on the small table beside the TV.

“For a school dorm, you’re living kinda luxurious,” she muttered, glancing around.

She wasn’t wrong.

Your dorm was unusually spacious—one of the perks of applying early and having ‘scholarship kid who needs personal space for daily injury recovery’ written in your file.

There was a small kitchenette in the corner, a two-seater couch against the wall, fairy lights strung up along your bookshelf, and a thick pink carpet you refused to get rid of even though Doobu had shed all over it.

Speaking of—

Doobu sniffed at your shirt suspiciously.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, following her nose with a fond eye roll. “I had to deal with weird boys today.”

Doobu gave a grumpy-sounding purr, like she understood exactly what that meant.

Kazuha came to your side, reaching out to scratch behind Doobu’s ears. “I don’t know what you feed her, seriously,” she said with a shake of her head. “She’s so chonky.”

You laughed. “Cat food, duh.”

Doobu meowed again like she agreed, batting her paw gently at your necklace before giving a little yawn and curling closer into your arms. Her soft belly pressed against your forearm like a warm pillow.

Kazuha leaned her head on your shoulder. “Okay, I vote we wash our faces, put on something fluffy, and start on curry.”

You tilted your head. “You mean I start on curry.”

She gave you an angelic look. “Well, someone’s gotta entertain the cat.”

You both giggled, shoulders bumping gently, the warmth of home already settling around you like a blanket.

Not long after, you’d changed into your fluffiest oversized tee and tied your hair into a messy bun, steam from the rice cooker wafting through your dorm.

Kazuha sat cross-legged at the small dining nook peeling open packets of curry mix like she’d done it a hundred times.

Doobu, in the meantime, had circled your feet three times before flopping dramatically onto her back like she owned the floor.

Fifteen minutes and one mini kitchen disaster later, you were perched on your bed with a steaming bowl of curry and rice, your legs stretched out under a throw blanket.

Kazuha sat beside you, her own bowl balanced on her lap, a green clay facemask smeared evenly across her cheeks—yours was a little more chaotic, mostly because she insisted on artistic freedom when applying it on you.

The TV played softly in the background, some K-drama with way too many dramatic hallway scenes and brooding men in trench coats. You weren’t even fully following the plot anymore, just laughing when Kazuha made commentary.

“Oh my God,” she said, mouth full of rice, “he’s literally been staring at her for five minutes. Say something, you dramatic coat rack.”

You snorted. “He’s trying to speak with his eyes, Zuha. Let him suffer in silence.”

“Okay Shakespeare, relax.”

You giggled again, leaning back on your hands as you spooned more curry into your mouth, warmth blooming in your stomach.

Doobu had settled into her cat bed just under your bunk, tail flicking occasionally as she napped peacefully, her belly rising and falling in the soft golden glow of your fairy lights.

Just as you reached for your water, your phone buzzed loudly on your bedside table.

Both of you froze at the sound cutting through the moment, your ringtone echoing awkwardly in the room like it didn’t belong.

Kazuha paused the drama with her chopsticks still in hand. “Who is it?”

You glanced at the screen, brow lifting. “Unknown number.”

She hummed. “Might be important.”

You sighed, putting your bowl on the side table and swiping to answer as you leaned back against your headboard. “Hello?”

“Hey, um—sorry—hi! Is this Jeong (Y/N)?” the voice asked, polite and just slightly breathless. “This is Jungwon. From earlier.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“…How’d you get my number?”

There was a pause on the line, followed by the distinct sound of Ni-ki laughing in the background.

“Oh—I, uh—sorry! I came from Student Affairs with Ni-ki and Jay just now,” Jungwon explained quickly, clearly flustered. “Ni-ki was trying to reach Kazuha but apparently—uh…”

“She blocked him,” you finished flatly, glancing at Kazuha.

She didn’t even flinch. “Deserved. He replaced my healing playlist with Mongolian throat singing.”

You blinked. “…That’s so specific.”

She shrugged. “It was an experience.”

Back on the phone, Jungwon stammered, “Y-Yeah, well, I’m only calling because, uh—not me, technically—Jay gave me his phone to call you.”

You blinked again, this time slower.

Your fingers tensed a little around the device. “Jay?”

“Mhm,” Jungwon said sheepishly. “I mean—it’s his phone number, not mine. But, like, he told me to—um—just give him the phone. Give—give me a sec—”

You heard more shuffling, the soft thud of something being handed over, and then a low, familiar voice spoke next.

“Hey.”

You sat up straighter without meaning to.

Jay’s voice was smooth. A little quiet. Just like earlier. But something about hearing it now—soft and direct, in your private space—made your stomach flutter once.

“This is kind of last-minute,” he continued, “but our practice room’s under construction. There’s water damage and they’re doing renovations.”

You blinked. “Okay…”

He sounded mildly annoyed now, like it physically pained him to say the next part.

“It’ll be down for at least two weeks,” he muttered. “And apparently we need to share your room. The studio, I mean. Starting tomorrow.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed.

You blinked at the wall.

“…You’re calling to tell me that we’re gonna be stuck together for two weeks?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jay said, voice dry.

“Wow. You sound thrilled.”

“I’m always thrilled,” he deadpanned.

You pulled the phone away from your ear slightly and looked at Kazuha.

She was already wide-eyed. “What? What’d he say?”

You pressed the phone back. “Why do you guys even need to use the studio again?”

There was a pause. A beat.

Then Jay said, quieter this time, “Because we have a performance soon. A big one. We need the space.”

You exhaled through your nose, head tilting back against the wooden headboard, your eyes focused on the ceiling as a long silence stretched between you. The line didn’t hang up. He didn’t say more.

Neither did you.

There was a pause. Then—

“Seven onwards,” Jay replied, tone steady.

You closed your eyes for a beat, pressing your lips together. That meant long nights. Tired legs. Sharing mirrors. Sharing space.

“Okay,” you murmured. “Got it.”

Another pause. Faint static hummed between your ears. And then—

“…Thanks.”

The line went dead before you could say anything else.

You lowered your phone slowly, setting it on the nightstand beside your lamp, and let out a low cough—half irritation, half disbelief—as you mumbled under your breath:

“Rude.”

Kazuha was still staring at you, her bowl long forgotten, chopsticks perched against the rim like they’d been abandoned mid-bite.

“Well?” she prompted, peeling the now-dry mask from her cheek. “What did they want?”

You leaned back against the headboard again, letting your legs stretch out in front of you as Doobu gave a tiny sneeze from her bed below.

“They need the studio,” you muttered.

Kazuha blinked. “Again?”

“For two more weeks.” You rubbed your temple. “Apparently their practice room’s under construction or whatever. Water damage.”

She blinked again, expression unreadable. Then she shrugged. “Well… that’s not that bad.”

You whipped your head toward her. “You weren’t the one being stared down by Hoodie McBrooding in the middle of rehearsal.”

She snorted. “I was there. He wasn’t that scary.”

“He looked at me like I insulted his guitar.”

“Maybe you did.”

You threw a pillow at her, making her laugh as she ducked and caught it mid-air.

“I’m just saying,” she said with a grin, fluffing the pillow behind her, “if they’re really sharing the space, this might actually be kind of fun.”

“Fun is not the word I’d use,” you muttered, eyeing your phone like it might ring again.

Kazuha leaned back beside you, slipping her feet under your blanket. “Mm. I give it three days before someone flirts with you.”

You blinked. “Why would you say that?”

She grinned. “Because I know men. And I know your face.”

You groaned, pulling your blanket up over your head. Doobu meowed from below, clearly siding with Kazuha.

It was six in the morning when you blinked awake to the weight of soft fur pressed against your arm.

The bed wasn’t empty—Doobu was curled into a fluffy comma by your side, tail twitching as if to say how dare you even think about moving right now.

You reached over to gently run your hand down her back, your fingers brushing the warmth of her little body as she gave a contented little sigh in her sleep.

Your phone buzzed.

You squinted against the sudden brightness as you grabbed it, groaning as your dry eyes adjusted. The first thing on your screen was a message from Kazuha.

zuha [6:00 A.M.]: left at 5am to get ready, good luck waking up loser 💗

You scoffed under your breath, thumbs already typing a grumpy reply before tossing the phone aside. Still, you sighed and sat up, letting your legs dangle off the side of the bed.

You stretched slowly, your spine cracking, and rubbed the sleep from your eyes as Doobu rolled onto her back like a little queen.

“Be good today,” you murmured as you leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. She purred, obviously pleased.

You padded into the bathroom, letting the warm spray of the shower melt away the heaviness from your limbs. Afterward, you tied your hair up, added a little makeup—just some blush and gloss and eyeliner to hide how tired you felt.

You pulled on a soft white ruffled blouse, tucked it into a pair of pale jeans, and layered a white jacket over it. Warm enough to fight the cold, but still light enough to move in.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled faintly.

You kissed Doobu goodbye at the door, her round eyes blinking sleepily up at you from her cat bed.

“Don’t start a coup while I’m gone.”

She meowed like she made no promises.

The walk to campus was quiet.

The sky was still tinted pale gray, the kind that hinted at the rising sun behind soft clouds. Your boots clicked softly on the pavement as the cold air kissed your cheeks, your breath visible in soft puffs.

You moved slowly, soaking it in. The silence. The morning stillness. The kind of peace that only existed before the world woke up.

Until footsteps joined yours.

At first, you thought it was coincidence. But they fell in sync with yours too easily, too closely. Your shoulder barely brushed against fabric—black fabric.

You turned slightly, just enough to see the hem of a long, inky button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearms, a silver watch glinting at the wrist. Black jeans. Clean loafers. And a guitar case slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Jay.

You raised a brow. “…Stalking me already?”

He didn’t look at you, but you saw the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I live across the quad. You just happen to be slow.”

You blinked. “Not slow. Calm. It’s called appreciating the morning.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s cold. That’s all I’m appreciating.”

You gave him a look, then returned your gaze to the path ahead. “Nice fit, though.”

That made him pause for half a second. Then he glanced down at his shirt like he forgot he was even wearing it. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

You caught a glimpse of his profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the calm in his eyes, the way his hair was still slightly tousled from the wind.

Admittedly, the man had taste.

“Didn’t think black-on-black was a thing before sunrise,” you said dryly.

Jay glanced sideways. “You’re wearing white like you’re in a coffee commercial.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

“All white, floating around in a dreamscape,” he deadpanned, eyes still forward. “All you need is a cup and a wind machine.”

You couldn’t help it—you let out a laugh, the sound cracking through the crisp air.

Jay didn’t say anything, but you saw the faintest quirk at the edge of his lips again. Like he was trying really hard not to smile.

“…You’re weird,” you mumbled, glancing at him again.

“Takes one to know one,” he replied.

You scoffed, raising a brow in mock offense as your eyes flicked toward him.

“Wow,” you muttered, hands deep in your jacket pockets. “Coming for my entire personality before sunrise. That’s bold.”

Jay only shrugged, unbothered, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smirk. “You started it.”

The two of you fell into silence again—not the uncomfortable kind, but the type that sat easily between two people who didn’t know each other well enough to fill it, and maybe didn’t mind that.

Your eyes trailed over the field as you passed it, where a few student athletes were already stretching, setting up cones and goalposts. You watched as one of them kicked a ball lazily toward the net.

“You play bass like Ni-ki and Sunghoon?” you asked suddenly, keeping your gaze forward.

Jay shook his head once. “No. Electric guitar.”

You nodded, quietly filing it away in the drawer of things you weren’t sure why you wanted to remember.

He didn’t offer more, but you didn’t really mind. You were content with the crunch of gravel beneath your boots, the wind playing with the strands of your hair that had come loose. The cold nipped at your cheeks, leaving them pink, but you liked the sting—it kept you awake.

A soft rustle came from your side, and you noticed Jay glancing at you again.

He wasn’t subtle about it. Not really.

He looked at your hair where it swayed against your shoulder, at the faint shimmer of your highlighter catching the morning light, at the soft pink ribbon that dangled from your tote bag—a leftover from the ballet shoes you had shoved inside before leaving.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away either. Not until you caught him.

You turned slightly, brows raised, your mouth tugging upward at one side. “Staring’s kind of rude, you know.”

Jay blinked, deadpan. “You have glitter on your cheek.”

You blinked back, lifting your hand to swipe at your face. “Do I?”

He watched you try, then sighed and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of tissues. Wordlessly, he offered you one.

You took it with a quiet thanks, dabbing carefully.

“Better?” you asked.

Jay looked at you, slower this time. “Yeah.”

Another moment passed before you tilted your head toward him. “So what’s the big performance all about?”

He looked back at you, one brow lifting slightly. “Don’t we have College Week?”

You blinked. Froze. Then groaned like something hit you physically.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “I totally forgot about that.”

Jay actually laughed—soft, deep, amused under his breath. “You perform every year, don’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t remember until like, the week before,” you grumbled. “Last year I sprained my toe trying to cram the choreography into three days.”

Jay’s eyes widened. “That’s possible?”

“Apparently,” you said, exasperated. “My teacher still makes fun of me for it.”

A beat passed.

“…You’re kind of dramatic,” Jay said.

“You’re one to talk. You wear black button-ups at dawn.”

Jay gave you a look, but you caught the way the corners of his lips pulled upward.

The gates to the building appeared ahead of you, golden light just beginning to slip past the horizon behind it. You exhaled, watching your breath cloud in the air.

Jay suddenly spoke, quieter this time. “You looked like you liked the morning.”

You turned to him, a little startled by the softness in his tone.

“I do,” you replied, voice matching his. “It’s quiet.”

He nodded. “You look like you belong in it.”

That made you pause.

You didn’t have time to respond—Jay pulled the heavy glass door open for you and gestured subtly for you to go ahead. His face was unreadable, that same practiced neutral he always wore, but the soft pink dusting the tips of his ears gave him away.

“Thanks,” you murmured, stepping inside.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied simply, the door shutting softly behind the two of you as the cold gave way to polished floors and tall ceilings.

You both fell into step again, your footsteps echoing slightly as you walked side by side down the long hallway of Decelis’ east wing. The building was quiet this early in the morning—some classrooms still locked, lights flickering to life one by one, janitors mopping in the distance.

Jay glanced over at you. “What’s your first class?”

You blinked, glancing down at your schedule in your head. “Oh. Arts. I think we’re covering expressionist pieces this week.”

He hummed, nodding. “Makes sense. You… kind of give that vibe.”

You squinted at him. “What vibe?”

He looked straight ahead. “You know. All poetic and floaty and stuff.”

You snorted. “Wow. So insightful.”

Jay smirked, just barely. “I try.”

“And you?”

“Business math,” he replied, as if the weight of the world rested on those two cursed words.

You groaned instantly. “Ugh. Math.”

Jay turned to you, brow lifting. “You don’t like it?”

“Hate it,” you declared with no hesitation. “With a burning passion. I think numbers were invented just to make me cry.”

That made him laugh under his breath. “That’s dramatic.”

“You look emo right now. Don’t talk to me about dramatic.”

You saw the corners of his lips twitch again, his eyes dancing with quiet amusement.

And then—just like that—you came to a stop.

You glanced at the plaque beside the door:

ROOM 1B-04 ART HISTORY – PROF. CHOI

“Well,” you said, adjusting your tote bag higher on your shoulder. “This is me.”

Jay looked up at the sign and nodded once. “Art history. Got it.”

You looked up at him, lips quirking into a soft smile. “Try not to die in math.”

“No promises,” he said with a small shrug.

You hesitated just a second longer. “Bye, Jay.”

He gave you a small wave—fingers lifted, the gesture almost lazy, but his eyes lingered for a beat too long. “Later.”

The door clicked shut behind you as you entered, and Jay stood there for a second, just looking at the nameplate again.

Then—without a word—he turned and walked all the way back down the same hallway the two of you had just come from. He passed the entryway, the glass doors you came in from, then turned toward the elevators at the far side of the west wing.

When he stepped inside, he hit the button for the third floor.

Business math wasn’t even remotely on the way.

And yet he walked you the whole time anyway.

Now, alone in the elevator, Jay leaned back against the cool wall, head tilting up as he let out a long breath.

‘It was just a nice gesture’, he told himself.

Nothing big. Nothing deep. Just something to make up for being—well. Kind of an asshole last night.

He shook his head once, jaw tightening at the thought. He’d been tired, irritated, and none of that was an excuse—but still. You didn’t deserve that.

You didn’t even react the way most people did. No sarcasm, no petty comeback, no wide-eyed awe or annoying flirtation. You just went silent at him. Met him exactly where he was.

Yeah. Had to make up for it. That’s all.

The elevator chimed softly.

The third floor was just starting to wake up—some lights flickering on, the coffee machine across the hall hissing in the break room, students murmuring half-asleep greetings as they passed. Jay walked down the long corridor, muscle memory carrying him as he reached the classroom near the end of the hallway.

He pushed the door open with one hand.

“Yo,” came Jake’s voice from across the room, already lounging with a pen in his mouth. “You’re a few minutes late.”

Jay didn’t even glance at the clock. “Yeah. I was busy.”

Jake raised a brow, his smirk a little too knowing. “With what?”

Jay walked past him, slinging his guitar case off his shoulder and leaning it carefully against the chair next to his. “Just busy,” he said simply, voice flat as he pulled his seat out.

Jake snorted. “Okay, then. Mysterious rockstar things, got it.”

Jay didn’t respond, only exhaled through his nose, resting his arms on the desk.

Jake didn’t press any further.

It was only after the classroom started to fill in around them—students trickling in one by one, the professor still nowhere in sight—that Jay reached into the pocket of his pants.

He pulled out his phone, screen lighting up with a soft glow.

He opened his contacts and stopped at the one number Jungwon had dialed last night to call you.

Just a random string of digits. No name. No photo.

He hesitated, then tapped edit.

Then paused. His eyes flicked to your tote bag again in his mind, to the soft pink ribbon hanging out like a little flag.

He typed in your name slowly, deliberately—

(Y/N) 🎀

Jay stared at it for a second. Just long enough for the corner of his mouth to lift—barely there, just the ghost of a smile.

Then he hit save.

And tucked the phone away like it meant nothing.

Even though, deep down, he knew it already meant a little too much.

It was just past one in the afternoon, and you were quite literally seconds away from collapsing into your desk.

The sun filtered lazily through the windows of the arts building, golden and too tempting, especially when paired with the drone of your professor’s voice at the front of the room.

“…and if we consider the range of motion relative to the joint axis, then the flexibility of the hamstring significantly affects the body’s—”

You drowned her out halfway through.

Kinesiology. Again.

God, how many times do we have to talk about hamstrings?

Your cheek rested on your fist, elbow propped on your desk, lips pursed in a subtle pout as your professor continued with the enthusiasm of someone who had never seen the sun in her life.

“Now, these handouts,” she said, finally changing the slide on the screen behind her. “Please read them thoroughly—we’ll be applying this next week during assessments. Pass them around.”

You barely resisted the urge to groan. The stack of papers was passed to the row in front of you, then to you. You took one, handed it back without a glance, and immediately began packing up the moment the bell rang.

Your bag hit your shoulder with a soft thump, the only thing more desperate than your escape being the dramatic sigh you let out as you pushed through the doors and stepped into the hallway.

The cafeteria was already buzzing when you got there. Somehow still not flooded—yet. You weaved between groups of students chatting loudly, trays clinking, the smell of coffee and fried chicken lingering in the air.

You spotted a seat by one of the tall windows—sunlight spilling across the table like it was calling your name.

You made a beeline for it and dropped into the chair with a soft huff, letting your shoulders relax for the first time all day.

Pulling out your laptop and your phone, you set them both down and opened your notifications—only to be met with a string of messages from your group chat with your friends.

zuha [1:14 P.M.]: guys i can’t make it to lunch TT i have to finish two portfolios before 3

chaewon [1:14 P.M.]: same! i’ve got a crit w/ my prof in 20 minutes

yunjin [1:14 P.M.]: i’m dying in editing class bye

manchae [1:15 P.M.]: pls save me

kkura [1:15 P.M.]: sorry baby i’ll treat you to strawberry milk later

You sighed, thumbs tapping out a quick reply.

you [1:15 P.M.]: okay study well :( don’t forget to eat!!

You turned off your phone, placing it face-down on the table, and opened your laptop with a soft click. A sea of reports blinked back at you—deadlines lining the corners of your screen like silent threats.

You pulled one up, adjusted your seating, and leaned in to start typing, the warmth of the sun kissing your cheek as your fingers danced across the keyboard.

The ambient chatter faded into soft background noise—until a shadow crossed over your screen.

You paused, blinking, then glanced down—familiar shoes coming into view. Black loafers. Paired with dark jeans cuffed slightly at the ankle. And then—

“Is this seat taken?” a familiar voice asked, low and smooth.

You tilted your head up, eyes meeting a very Jay-like expression: blank, almost bored, but eyes just a bit too focused on you to match the rest of his face.

He wasn’t carrying his guitar today. Just a laptop tucked under his arm and his phone in hand. Minimal, neat. The sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt were still rolled up to his elbows.

Jay nodded once and sat down across from you, sliding into the chair with quiet ease. He placed his laptop on the table, phone on top of it. His eyes flicked over to your trayless setup.

“You’re not with Kazuha?” he asked, voice lower than it needed to be—like the question was just for you.

You sighed, slumping slightly in your chair. “Nope. All my friends bailed on me for deadlines.”

Jay’s head tilted slightly to the side. “But you’re here. In the cafeteria. And…” he glanced at your table, “you’re not eating anything.”

You let out a short laugh, soft and almost embarrassed. “I’ll eat in a few. I was gonna finish something first.”

Jay said nothing for a second. Then stood up, brushing invisible lint off his shirt. “What do you want?”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

He looked down at you, dark eyes steady. “To eat. You said you’re not eating yet. So what do you want?”

“I—Jay, you don’t have to—” You frowned a little, sitting up straighter.

Jay clicked his tongue lightly, cutting you off. “Come on. What do you want?” His voice was gentle, but it left no room for arguing.

And god—he was tall. Standing there with the sun lighting up the ends of his hair, shirt slightly wrinkled from his classes, his height felt… kind of overwhelming. You sighed, giving in.

“Fine,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Anything. I’m not picky.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

You pursed your lips, thinking. “…Banana milk. And maybe tonkatsu with curry if they still have some.”

He nodded. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. “None.”

Jay gave the smallest smile—so quick you almost missed it—and turned around to head toward the food stalls.

You watched him go, unable to stop your gaze from lingering on the clean lines of his back, the careful way he walked, the way he held his phone in one hand and checked something on it like he was making sure he got your order right.

The heat was crawling up your cheeks before you even realized it, blooming just under your skin and warming your ears.

You looked away, exhaling through your nose as you tapped your keyboard blindly, pretending to be busy—even though your fingers weren’t even on the right keys anymore.

But, your eyes found him again.

Jay stood by the food stall, head tilted slightly down as he tapped on his phone with one hand, the other holding the receipt.

He said something to the lady behind the counter—voice too soft for you to hear from this distance—and you saw her nod and begin plating the orders.

Your gaze wandered—he stood so casually, weight resting on one leg, hair slightly mussed from the wind earlier. There was a quiet patience to him, one that surprised you more than it should have.

You sighed softly, more to yourself than anything, muttering under your breath as you leaned forward, “I could’ve bought my own food…”

Still, you didn’t move. Just watched. And when he finally turned and walked back toward you—two trays balanced carefully in his hands—your heart had the audacity to skip.

He placed them down with quiet precision, yours sliding just in front of you as the scent of warm curry hit your nose.

You blinked. “Thanks.”

Jay gave the tiniest smile, barely there. “No problem.” And he sat back down like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You glanced at the tray. Banana milk, tonkatsu, steaming white rice with curry just the way you liked it. You didn’t even remember saying half the details.

He pushed a set of utensils toward you without a word, and you blinked again, heart fluttering at the small gesture.

“Thanks… again,” you murmured, accepting them as you pushed your electronics aside.

Jay did the same, nudging his laptop farther away as he grabbed his chopsticks and cracked them apart with a soft snap.

There was a moment of comfortable silence. Just the two of you and the hum of the cafeteria around you.

You fiddled with your banana milk straw for a second before asking, “Where’s your band? Thought they’d be glued to you.”

Jay took a sip of his miso soup, looking unbothered.

“They’re all busy. Practice. Class. Jungwon’s chasing down a professor. Ni-ki’s retaking a test he didn’t study for. Heeseung’s probably asleep somewhere.”

You laughed. “Sunoo?”

“Also probably asleep.”

You shook your head, smiling. “I didn’t know you did lunch like this.”

Jay didn’t look up as he stirred his curry around gently with his spoon. “I don’t,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Oh.”

That one word fell from your lips heavier than intended—softer, a little too laced with disappointment. Your smile faltered just a bit, a quiet frown forming before you could stop it.

But then Jay set his spoon down, the quiet clink of metal against tray pulling your eyes back to his. “But,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet yours, “I love curry.”

You blinked again, confused, but then—

“And you,” he continued, voice calm but not cold, “need to eat.”

Your breath caught, just for a second.

Jay was staring at you—not in a way that felt overbearing or cocky, but in a way that looked like he was trying to read you.

Not just the expression on your face, but the space behind your eyes, like there were answers only you could give. His gaze was steady, thoughtful, just the faintest softness lingering in the corners.

You stared back, lips parting slightly. You weren’t used to this side of him—not the aloof reputation, not the guitar-slinging campus enigma that everyone whispered about. No, this was something else entirely.

You smiled, quiet and warm. “Thank you, Jay. Really.”

His lips twitched into a small smile as he nodded once. “No problem.”

He went back to his food like it was no big deal, but your heart felt anything but calm.

You tried to do the same, digging into your curry with a distracted hum, before glancing back at him. “So… how much do I owe you—?”

“No,” he said instantly, cutting you off.

You blinked. “What?”

“No,” he repeated, tone firm but not unkind.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “But I want to—”

Jay gave you a look—before he reached across the table, plucked your unopened banana milk off your tray like it was his, and silently started unwrapping the straw.

You stared as he poked the straw through the foil with surgical precision, then slid the drink back in front of you without a word.

“…Still,” you mumbled, fingers wrapping around the bottle.

Jay met your eyes. “And I said no. You’re not paying me for any of the meals you’ll be eating when you’re with me.”

That made you pause.

Your hand froze mid-air. Your brain might’ve, too.

“…When I’m with you?” you repeated, voice a little more breathless than you meant it to be.

Jay’s lips curled into the tiniest smirk. It wasn’t smug—it was playful. Mischievous. The kind of smirk someone wears when they know exactly what they’re doing to you.

“Depends,” he said, eyes flicking from your drink to your face. “Are you planning to eat lunch alone again tomorrow?”

You opened your mouth to respond—maybe to say yes, maybe to say something clever—but all that came out was a short laugh and a shake of your head.

“I guess that depends,” you echoed back, your grin growing.

He raised a brow, a subtle challenge.

“On whether you’re showing up with curry again,” you teased, sipping your banana milk.

Jay chuckled under his breath, low and smooth. “Then I guess I’ve got my answer.”

You tried to focus on eating after that, really—you tried—but something about the warmth on your cheeks and the smug little tilt of his mouth had you poking at your rice with more enthusiasm than coordination.

Still, you managed a few bites, asking him casual things between sips of banana milk.

“So… when did you start playing guitar?”

“Middle school,” he replied, chewing thoughtfully. “My dad had one lying around. Got curious.”

“Is it hard?” you asked, chin resting lightly on your palm.

He raised a brow. “Compared to what?”

“Ballet.”

He scoffed a quiet laugh, like it was the most ridiculous comparison he’d heard all day. “Hard to say. You make ballet look easy.”

You blinked, heart hiccuping a little. “…You’ve seen me dance?”

“Once,” he said with a little shrug, lifting his tray. “Before I scared the shit out of you in your studio.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Right.”

Jay smirked faintly, standing. “Mhmm.”

Before you could pick up your own tray, he was already reaching for it—wordless, fluid, like it was second nature. You moved to stop him.

“Jay—”

“Nope.” He cut you off smoothly, stacking both trays before walking off without looking back.

You sighed, lips twitching upward as you shook your head.

When he returned, he checked the sleek black watch on his wrist, lips tugging down a little. “Come on. We both have one more class this afternoon.”

You blinked, glancing at your laptop. “Already?”

Jay nodded, and just as you started packing up your things, he reached out a hand toward you. You looked at it, confused.

“…What?”

He didn’t answer. Just leaned over, hand brushing against your side as he effortlessly plucked your bag from the seat beside you.

You blinked. “Hey—”

“I’ve got it,” he said, tucking his own laptop under one arm and slinging your bag over the other.

You reached out again to take it back, but he shot you a look—stern, brow raised like a tired parent dealing with a particularly stubborn child.

You huffed. “You’re annoying.”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

Grumbling under your breath, you fell into step beside him as he pushed open the cafeteria doors for you. “So… where’s your next class?”

You sighed dramatically. “Second floor. Art theory.”

Jay nodded. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”

You side-eyed him. “Why are you suddenly so nice to me?”

He smirked, not bothering to look at you. “Maybe I just like carrying your stuff.”

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to hide the way your smile grew too wide.

The studio lights cast long shadows over the polished floor, the mirrored walls reflecting every movement with brutal honesty.

You and Kazuha were the only ones left—again. Yunjin had dropped by earlier, but a project pulled her away, leaving you and Kazuha stuck in the studio running Swan Lake for the nth time that week.

You landed on your toes with a little huff, arms curved above your head as you wobbled slightly. “I didn’t even wanna be the White Swan, like come on, give me a break.”

Kazuha looked up from her own stretch, raising an unimpressed brow. “Stop acting like you didn’t fight blood and bone to audition.”

You groaned, flopping back down onto the floor and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Okay, fine. I do want it. But the work is slowly killing me.”

She laughed as she sat beside you, pulling her foot up into a butterfly stretch. “That part’s valid.”

You sighed, leaned back on your hands, and casually added, “Oh, by the way, Jay treated me to lunch earlier.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Kazuha stopped mid-stretch, twisting to look at you so fast you thought she might’ve pulled something. “What?”

You blinked at her, deadpan. “What?”

“What?” she repeated, louder, eyes wide. “Park Jongseong, rock band Jay, treated you to lunch?”

You shrugged, rolling your neck as you moved into another stretch.

“Yeah. We bumped into each other this morning. He walked me to class, then sat with me during lunch ‘cause you all were busy.”

Kazuha stared at you like you’d just said you got proposed to. “Girl—what the fuck? You let that man walk you to class and feed you?”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, brushing your hands over your thighs to shake off the lingering ache.

The hem of your skirt settled lightly against your legs as you turned toward her with a half-annoyed, half-exasperated look. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” she said, stepping forward dramatically, finger pointed, “is that Jay doesn’t just do that. He barely talks to people unless it’s his band. Even Ni-ki was surprised he agreed to this whole studio arrangement.”

You raised a brow, unimpressed. “I mean… he’s not that bad, Zuha. He just did it ‘cause he was eating alone, too.”

Kazuha looked at you flatly. “Yeah. And I’m Korean.”

You squinted. “But you aren’t.”

“Exactly,” she huffed, walking back to the speaker as she tapped the screen and said, “Shut up and get into position.”

You stifled a laugh, fixing the ribbon on your skirt and stepping slowly toward the center of the room. The soft opening chords of Swan Lake echoed through the studio, and almost instinctively, your entire body shifted.

Your breathing slowed, arms lifting in delicate arcs as your chin tilted slightly upward.

Light from the windows caught the sheen of sweat on your collarbones, the glow on your cheekbones, and the pale shimmer of your satin skirt.

You moved like you were born from the music itself—weightless, barely touching the ground.

Kazuha couldn’t help but smile, her gaze soft and proud as she leaned her hip against the mirrored wall, arms folded loosely. “Yeah, (Y/N)’s made to play the White Swan.”

But just as you bent into the first arabesque, a loud bang sounded on the studio door.

Kazuha groaned and immediately pressed pause. “What now—”

You blinked out of your daze, lowering your arms with a frustrated sigh. You padded toward the door, soft steps echoing faintly across the floor as you pulled it open—

And were greeted with a tuft of blonde hair and the brightest grin you’d seen all day.

“Hi there,” Ni-ki said cheerfully, pushing a rolling cart in front of him that carried half of Jungwon’s drumset. His own bass was slung over his back, dangerously close to sliding off.

Behind him, the rest of the band stood loosely huddled with various instruments in hand—Jungwon with his sticks poking out from his tote, Sunghoon balancing his amp like it weighed nothing, and Sunoo waving excitedly.

“Delivery boys,” Heeseung deadpanned with a mock bow.

You blinked. “You’re early.”

“We came straight from class,” Jungwon said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder as he stepped around Ni-ki. “Didn’t want to waste time.”

“You guys could’ve texted,” Kazuha called from inside.

“We did,” Sunoo pouted, stepping in behind Ni-ki. “But someone blocked Ni-ki.”

Kazuha threw him a pointed look. “I told you, deserved.”

Ni-ki dramatically clutched his chest. “I’m literally your family.”

“I said what I said.”

You shook your head fondly as the group started filing in like they owned the place, all noise and energy and guitar straps.

Ni-ki rolled the cart in with zero regard for studio etiquette, and Jake was already dragging an extension cord from the corner like he’d done it a hundred times.

You stepped aside quickly, flattening yourself against the door as Heeseung strode in next, his mic stand folded neatly under one arm and the actual mic dangling precariously from his other hand. He shot you a polite, small smile as he passed.

“Thanks,” he murmured, careful not to bump into you.

Then came Sunghoon, carrying his bass like it was a part of him, the strap slung lazily over one shoulder. He gave you a nod as he maneuvered around Ni-ki’s still-parked cart.

Jay entered last.

His black button-up was slightly unbuttoned now, revealing a sliver of skin that caught the light just enough to make your throat dry.

The strap of his guitar bag sat snug across his chest as he adjusted it, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. He glanced at you and offered a soft, “Hey.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the acknowledgment, but quickly recovered. “Hey,” you replied, stepping back to let him through.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the studio seemed to hum alive with the sounds of their set-up—clinks of metal stands, low murmurs of discussion, and the occasional curse word when Ni-ki nearly dropped part of the drum kit.

Sunoo had gravitated toward Kazuha in the corner, the two chatting animatedly as she tied her hair up again.

“Woah—really? Swan Lake?” Sunoo’s voice carried easily over the sound of Heeseung testing his mic.

Kazuha glanced up at him, her face bright with amusement. “Yeah. Me and (Y/N).”

Sunoo’s eyes widened. “Wait—you’re both in it? That’s… that’s huge, isn’t it? Like, I swear even people who don’t care about ballet know that one.”

Kazuha smirked as she crossed her arms. “She’s playing the White Swan.” She tilted her head toward you with a subtle grin.

Sunoo’s gaze shot to you so fast you froze mid-step. “The White Swan? That’s the big part, right? The main girl?”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, suddenly hyperaware of Jay adjusting his amp a few feet away. “I mean… yeah, but it’s not really finished yet, so—”

“Still,” Sunoo cut in, his grin infectious. “That’s insane. You’ve got to invite us when it’s done. I wanna see it.”

You blinked, surprised at his genuine excitement. “Uh… sure?”

“Promise?”

“I—uh, yeah. Promise.”

“Good.” Sunoo’s smile widened, almost mischievous now as he added, “Jay would wanna see it too, right?”

You caught Jay’s eyes flick up briefly from where he was adjusting his guitar strap. He didn’t say anything, but there was the faintest quirk of his lips before he looked back down.

You cleared your throat softly, heat creeping up your neck to the tips of your ears as you turned on your heel, walking back to where Kazuha and Sunoo were crouched over a tangled mess of speaker wires.

Sunoo shot you a knowing grin the second your shadow fell over them, his eyes sparkling mischievously like he’d caught the tail end of something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Need a hand?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the slight edge of nervousness betrayed you.

Sunoo smirked wider. “We’re good here. But you seem… flustered. Everything okay?”

Kazuha, bless her, didn’t even look up. “Leave her alone, Sunoo.”

You barely had time to respond before Ni-ki came bounding over, rolling his bass strap into his hand. His dyed blonde hair fell into his eyes as he grinned down at you, full of mischief like he was ready to stir up trouble.

“So,” he started, rocking back on his heels, “are you and Kazuha staying to watch? It’s gonna get loud in here, but I promise it’s worth it.”

You blinked up at him, caught a little off guard by his enthusiasm.

“Oh—well, I’m not really sure. We might have to run through some choreography again,” you admitted, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt as you glanced at Kazuha for backup.

“We’ll stay,” Kazuha said simply, already settling herself cross-legged by the speakers like she was setting up for a full private concert.

“Oh,” you murmured, caught between protesting and following her lead. “I guess we’re staying then.”

Ni-ki’s grin widened. “Good. You’ll love it.”

And maybe you were imagining it, but when you caught movement in the mirror across the room, you realized Jay wasn’t watching his reflection like the others.

No—his eyes were on you.

He knelt by his amp, one knee pressed to the hardwood, black button-up sleeves rolled messily up his forearms as he plugged the cable into his guitar.

His fingers moved with practiced ease, but every now and then, his gaze flicked up—not to the tuning pegs, not to his bandmates, but to you. Like he couldn’t help himself.

You froze for half a second under the weight of it, lips parting slightly, feeling every bit like a bunny caught in headlights as Ni-ki kept rambling about their setlist.

Jay’s expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in the tilt of his head, the faint crease of his brows, the way his eyes followed your movements even as he reached for the volume knob.

You weren’t sure what to make of it. But it made your chest feel too tight for comfort.

You padded quietly across the wooden floor, the sound of your ballet flats muffled against the worn panels.

Kazuha glanced up at you as you settled beside her, tucking your legs neatly under you. She offered a small smile, the kind that said she noticed the pink lingering on your ears but wasn’t about to say a word about it—not yet anyway.

Your gaze drifted back to the seven boys scattered across the studio. They were lost in their element, voices low but urgent as they muttered among themselves, hands moving quickly as they adjusted knobs, checked wires, and tested mics.

Jungwon stood near the drum set, leaning slightly on a cymbal stand as he gestured toward Sunghoon’s bass. “You’re a little flat on the E string, try tuning up just a hair.”

Sunghoon gave a small nod, fingers turning the tuning peg with practiced precision as he strummed lightly. “Got it. How’s that?”

Heeseung, crouched with his mic in one hand, grinned. “Better. Jungwon’s ears never fail.”

Jake, who was sitting cross-legged by the amp, chimed in. “Do we want to start with Karma or Blessed-Cursed? Karma has a softer open, might be easier to soundcheck.”

Jay was leaning against the wall now, his black top unbuttoned just slightly at the collar as his fingers skimmed the strings of his guitar in a soundless rhythm. He hummed, low in his throat, eyes on the floor but clearly listening.

“Go with Karma. Better flow into the setlist that way.”

“You guys read my mind,” Jungwon said with a grin.

Ni-ki was already setting his bass strap across his shoulder, bouncing slightly on his heels. “Let’s not waste time. I wanna hear how the mix sounds in this room.”

Sunoo, who had been coiling cables neatly, added, “We’ll need to check the balance too. The acoustics here aren’t what we’re used to.”

You couldn’t help but watch them, your chin resting lightly on your knees. There was something mesmerizing about it all—the way their movements fit together like gears in a clock, efficient and familiar. It was chaos, but it was their chaos, and somehow it worked.

“They’re… really good at this,” you murmured softly to Kazuha, not taking your eyes off the group as Heeseung tested his mic with a smooth, “Check, check, one, two.”

“They’ve been at it for years,” Kazuha replied, her voice low but warm.

“Even if some of them don’t seem like it, they’ve always been serious about music. Ni-ki says they barely ever waste a practice session.”

Sunoo pressed a few keys on his keyboard, the warm synth notes cutting softly through the quiet air of the studio.

“Sorry for the wires,” he said into his mic with a sheepish grin, his voice light and melodic even in the test run.

Jungwon cracked his knuckles, adjusted his drumsticks in his hands, and leaned slightly toward his mic, his expression calm but focused.

“We are Enhypen,” he said, voice smooth yet commanding, like he’d done this introduction a hundred times. “And this is Karma. An original.”

You blinked, sitting up straighter. Original?

Before you could fully process it, Jungwon tapped his sticks together—“One, two, three, four”—and the room came alive.

The first sound was Jay’s guitar, low and steady, the distorted riff crawling like electricity over your skin. His fingers moved fluidly over the strings, confident and deliberate.

It wasn’t flashy, but there was weight in every chord, a rhythm that anchored the entire song as Jake joined in with his own guitar, layering bright accents and counter-melodies like sparks dancing over embers.

Then Jungwon came in. His drumming wasn’t frantic—it was calculated, tight, every beat hitting perfectly as his foot worked the bass pedal with precise force.

You could feel it in your chest, that deep, steady thrum that pulled you in and refused to let go.

The rock instrumental wasn’t loud in the grating way you expected from underground bands—it was powerful but clean, addictive even. The kind of sound that could fill an arena yet still feel intimate in a room like this.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until Kazuha nudged your knee.

“They’re… insane, right?” she whispered with a grin, her eyes locked on Ni-ki as he stepped forward for a small bass run.

You could only nod, your eyes catching briefly on Jay again. He wasn’t looking at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn’t looking at his bandmates either.

He was looking at you. Fingers steady on the strings, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your eyes were locked on Jay, unable to look away even if you tried. He was in his zone—fingers gliding across the frets with a practiced ease that spoke of years spent mastering his craft.

The way he leaned into his guitar slightly during heavier riffs, the faint furrow of concentration between his brows, even the subtle tap of his foot in time with Jungwon’s drums—it was mesmerizing.

And damn it, he knew how to play. No unnecessary flair, no overcompensation. Just clean, precise chords that bled into Jake’s bright melodies and Sunghoon’s heavy bass lines like they belonged there all along.

They all were good—no, they were phenomenal. Voices layered perfectly, harmonies slipping in like silk as Heeseung and Jake took turns on the vocals, with Sunoo and Jungwon occasionally adding backing vocals that rounded everything out.

Even Ni-ki’s occasional adlibs on the bass fit seamlessly, his energy infectious as his head bobbed with the beat.

As the song started to wind down, the final chorus hit with one last punch of sound—Heeseung’s voice raw and gripping, Jay’s guitar sliding into a clean, lingering note that seemed to hang in the air long after Jungwon gave a final, decisive hit on his snare.

The silence that followed felt heavy but electric.

You exhaled, realizing too late that you’d been holding your breath for most of the song.

Heeseung was the first to break it, pulling back from his mic with a grin. He ran a hand through his hair, sweat sticking a few strands to his forehead as he looked over at you and Kazuha.

“Well?” His voice echoed lightly through the room, still amplified by the mic. “How’d we do?”

You blinked, caught off guard at suddenly being the center of seven pairs of eyes.

Kazuha let out a low whistle, clapping her hands together. “I mean… that was insane. You guys sound like you’re ready to headline college week and then some.”

“Right?” Sunoo grinned, tapping a few playful notes on his keyboard as he leaned toward you. “(Y/N), what about you? You were pretty quiet over there.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again, trying to find the words.

“I… you guys were incredible. Like, seriously. I didn’t expect it to sound that—” You made a vague gesture in the air, your mind still fogged from the performance. “—that good. That clean.”

“Clean?” Ni-ki raised a brow, smirking. “That’s it? We pour our souls into the song and all we get is ‘clean?’”

“She’s stunned.” Jay’s voice cut in suddenly, calm but with the faintest edge of amusement. He still sitting on his amp, one leg crossed casually over the other as he adjusted the knobs on his amp. “You can tell.”

Your head snapped to him, but he didn’t look up—fingers busy with the guitar strap, lips twitching into what looked dangerously close to a smirk.

“Guess we’ll take that as a compliment,” Jake chuckled, his dimples deepening as he leaned his guitar against the wall.

“You should.” Your voice was softer now, almost too quiet as your eyes flickered back to Jay. “It was really good.”

The clock above the studio door blinked 11:03 PM in harsh red digits when Jungwon clapped his hands, declaring, “Alright, pack it up before someone locks us in here.”

The sound of zippers, metal clasps, and light chatter filled the space as the boys moved quickly—Jake carefully winding his guitar cable, Sunghoon clicking his keyboard case shut with a soft snap.

Jungwon muttered under his breath as he berated Sunoo, “You almost killed my snare earlier—careful, man. That drum costs more than my entire existence.” Sunoo only laughed sheepishly, clutching said drum like it was a newborn child.

Kazuha was kneeling near the mirrors, folding up her jacket as she handed you your pointe shoes with a little grin.

“Here. Thought you’d want to put these away before they get stepped on.”

“Thanks, Zu,” you murmured, fingers moving to re-lace them neatly before slipping them into your tote. The satin was frayed at the edges, little scars from all the rehearsals you'd been throwing yourself into lately.

By the door, Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder, bass case in hand. “Everyone done?”

“Yes,” came a chorus of voices, yours included as you adjusted your bag strap.

Ni-ki, ever the chaotic younger one, suddenly grabbed Kazuha’s arm as she tried to slip past him.

“Did you film me? Tell me you filmed me—I swear my solo was sick.”

You laughed at Kazuha’s wide-eyed expression as she tried to shake him off. “Ni-ki, let her breathe. She’s not your personal videographer.”

“Should be,” he shot back with a pout, finally releasing her.

The group filed out into the hallway, their footsteps echoing off the polished floors. The building was quieter at this hour—no chatter from other students, no professors barking reminders.

Just the shuffle of sneakers and the occasional creak of instrument cases shifting against shoulders.

You hung back slightly, letting the line of boys and Kazuha move ahead as you pulled your jacket tighter around you. The hall’s faint chill clung to your cheeks. You didn’t notice Jay slowing down until you caught up beside him.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his pace shifting effortlessly to match yours.

“Hey.” His voice was low, almost lost to the quiet hallway.

“Hey,” you replied, tucking your hands into your coat pockets.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just the sort of silence that settled when two people didn’t feel the need to fill it.

The air smelled faintly of dewy grass and cold concrete, your breath coming out in soft little puffs that fogged in front of you. Your gaze drifted to the field outside, now cloaked in darkness with only a few stray lampposts keeping it alive in faint golden light.

“…What did you think?” Jay’s voice broke the quiet, low and steady, pulling your attention back to him.

You blinked at him, tilting your head slightly. “Huh?”

“The songs,” he said, his dark eyes catching a glint of light as he glanced sideways at you. “Were they… good?”

You nodded almost immediately. “Oh—yeah. They’re good. You guys are really good.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, his lips pressing together in a subtle nod. But you weren’t done.

“And you’re… really good at playing that guitar,” you added, words softer now. You didn’t know why your cheeks felt warmer as you said it.

Jay looked at you fully this time, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a small, quiet smile. “Thank you.”

You returned it with a shy one of your own before tucking your chin back into the soft folds of your white jacket.

Silence settled again, but this time it felt a little different—like it wasn’t just there by default, but because neither of you wanted to disturb it.

“…Aren’t you cold?” you asked suddenly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He glanced down at you, buried like a marshmallow in your jacket with your tote bag swinging at your side. The faintest laugh escaped him. “No, not really.”

“You’re insane,” you huffed, your breath fogging in the chilly night. You exhaled again on purpose, watching the puff disappear like smoke as you hugged yourself tighter.

Jay chuckled under his breath but didn’t argue.

The group had slowed as they reached the path that split off toward the quad. The boys began murmuring their goodbyes as Sunghoon and Ni-ki led ahead, Sunoo falling back slightly to walk closer to you.

Jay suddenly stopped and turned slightly. “Guys, this is my stop,” he said, jerking his chin toward the dimly lit path across the field.

“Oh yeah, mine too,” Heeseung added, adjusting the strap of his mic stand case on his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow,” Jungwon called, waving his free hand.

Jay’s eyes flicked back to you once more. “Bye, (Y/N).”

Your name on his lips—simple, soft—sent an odd warmth rushing up your neck. You raised a hand hesitantly, giving him a small wave. “Bye.”

Heeseung shot you a bright grin and waved too before both boys began crossing the field.

You didn’t notice Jay slowing for just a moment, glancing back over his shoulder one last time.

His eyes caught on you, furrowed brows and lips parted slightly as you nodded at something Sunoo animatedly explained to you, trying your best to keep up.

A small smile tugged at Jay’s lips as he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Then he turned back, shoving his hands into his pockets and falling into step beside Heeseung as their voices faded into the cool night air.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the sound of their shoes against the pavement echoing faintly in the stillness of campus. The air smelled faintly of cold grass and leftover rain.

“Hey,” Jay said suddenly, voice calm but a little lower than usual. “You wanna stop by Prada with me tomorrow?”

Heeseung’s brows shot up slightly in surprise as he glanced at his friend. “Prada? Sure, I guess. I need a new bag anyway—my old one’s starting to look beat up.”

Jay nodded absently, his gaze fixed ahead at the dimly lit path. “Thought so. You’ve been carrying that same one since last year.”

Heeseung chuckled, adjusting the strap of the mic case on his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. So, what about you? What do you need?”

Jay’s hand brushed against his guitar case as he shifted it slightly, his expression neutral as he replied, “A scarf.”

“A scarf?” Heeseung repeated, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Since when do you get cold?”

Jay’s lips quirked faintly—not enough to call it a smile—as he muttered, “It’s not for me.”

“Oh?” Heeseung tilted his head, curiosity written all over his face. “Then who’s it for?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jay’s tone was final but not sharp, and he quickened his pace slightly as if to move the conversation along.

Heeseung raised his hands in surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright. Your secret’s safe, Romeo.”

Jay shook his head with a quiet scoff, but the faintest flush crept up his neck under the dim streetlights.

They didn’t speak again as they reached their dorm building, the sound of the door clicking shut behind them echoing in the empty hallway.

It was Saturday morning—the kind of golden, lazy one that draped sunlight through your open curtains and made the dust motes dance in the air.

Your dorm room smelled faintly of Sakura’s lavender hand cream and the cup of instant coffee you’d abandoned hours ago.

The TV buzzed softly in the background, some slice-of-life K-drama playing with warm colors and melodramatic music. Laughter bubbled from the floor where Yunjin, Kazuha, and Eunchae sat sprawled out on blankets, their hair tied messily back, snacks scattered between them.

You were curled up at the head of your bed, your laptop balanced on your knees as you furiously typed.

Beside you, Sakura sat cross-legged, her hands skillfully moving a crochet hook through pastel yarn. The soft sound of her work was oddly calming against your clacking keyboard.

“Is that your Art History paper?” Sakura asked without looking up, her voice soft but teasing as she looped another stitch.

You let out a distracted hum, barely glancing at her. “Yeah… it’s due at three. I’m almost done.”

“Almost done, she says,” Yunjin snorted, tilting her head back from the floor to peer at you. “Why are you even cramming that? Didn’t the professor give you like… a week?”

“I thought it would be easy, okay?” you muttered defensively, your brows knitting as you hit delete on a sentence for the third time. “Turns out, it’s not.”

Chaewon let out a giggle from where she was cradling Doobu in her lap. The cat was purring like a tiny engine, squishing its face happily into her hoodie sleeve.

“Yeah, you hear that, Doobu? Mommy’s a really bad crammer, huh? Good thing your aunts aren’t.”

You shot her a mock glare over your screen, your lips twitching despite yourself. “Ha. Ha. So funny, Chae. Keep talking—I’ll assign you to finish this paper for me.”

Eunchae snorted and threw a pillow lightly at you. “She’d probably do a better job.”

You caught it with one hand, tossing it back at her with a small laugh. “Traitors. All of you.”

“Not a traitor,” Kazuha said from the floor, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of tteokbokki she’d brought from the convenience store earlier.

“I’m just saying… you’ve been acting busy all week. Between rehearsals and… other things.”

Her voice trailed, and Yunjin’s head snapped toward her with a grin. “Other things? Wait. Wait. Did something happen?”

You felt your fingers hesitate on the keyboard for a second too long, and that was enough for Yunjin to pounce. “Oh my God. You’ve been quiet since yesterday too. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

“I think there is,” Sakura chimed in, side-eyeing you with a knowing little smile, her crochet work still going steadily.

“There’s nothing,” you said quickly, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “Seriously. You guys are so dramatic.”

But Kazuha just leaned back on her hands and raised a brow at you. “Is it about Jay?”

You froze mid-type, your fingers pausing above the keyboard. “…Excuse me?”

“Jay who?” Yunjin asked immediately, her head snapping between the two of you like she’d just caught the scent of drama.

“The one from my cousin’s band,” Kazuha replied casually, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger.

Sakura’s crochet hook stilled as she turned her full attention to you, eyes widening slightly. “Wait… Park Jongseong?”

“The emo guitarist?” Eunchae added in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “The one Ni-ki’s always talking about in Biology? That guy?”

“Oh yeah,” Kazuha chimed in, nodding thoughtfully as if she’d just remembered a passing detail. “I forgot you guys are in the same class.”

Chae-won tilted her head at you from the floor, still holding Doobu lazily in her lap. “So? What’s up with him?”

You let out a groan, throwing your head back against the headboard dramatically as your laptop slid slightly down your thighs. “First of all, he’s not emo—he just… owns a lot of black clothes, okay?”

The room broke into quiet snickers, Sakura biting back a smile as she picked her crochet back up.

“Second,” you continued, shooting them all a weak glare, “he’s… nice. That’s it. He’s just nice, okay?”

Kazuha’s grin widened as she dropped her bomb. “And he bought her lunch yesterday.”

You buried your face in your hands, muffling a groan. “Zuha—”

“Oh, oh!” Kazuha added cheerfully, “And he walked her to class too.”

Yunjin’s jaw dropped as if you’d just confessed to dating a K-drama male lead. “What? Jay? That Jay? Doesn’t he like… not talk to anyone at all?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, throwing your hands up in defense as your friends all gawked at you like they were watching the climax of a drama. “Maybe he just—was being polite? Or he felt bad? I don’t know! Stop looking at me like that.”

“Polite?” Eunchae repeated, raising a brow.

“Girl, he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole whenever Ni-ki drags him to our morning classes, and you’re telling me he voluntarily walked you to class and bought you lunch?”

You let out an exasperated groan, flopping back against the headboard and covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know, okay? I’ve barely even talked to the man! I already told you guys—he’s just nice. End of story.”

Sakura, sitting cross-legged on the other end of your bed with her crochet still in hand, hummed thoughtfully. Then she said, far too casually, “What if—and it’s a very big what if—he likes you?”

You peeked through your fingers, shooting her a look so sharp it could cut steel. “Sakura.”

“What?” she said with a little shrug, feigning innocence as her eyes sparkled like she’d just lit a fuse.

Kazuha, lounging lazily on the floor with her hair tied up, raised a brow and added fuel to the fire.

“I mean… it’s not impossible. Ni-ki literally says he’s single, and—if we’re being honest—Jay doesn’t seem like the type who cares about romance.”

“Exactly!” Eunchae said, snapping her fingers. “So what if you’re like… the first person who’s caught his eye or something?”

“Guys—seriously?” you muttered, your ears already burning as you hugged a pillow against your chest.

“You’re all making this sound like some kind of webtoon. He’s not interested. He’s just… being decent. That’s it. End of story. Period.”

But Yunjin, sprawled on your rug with her legs propped up on the edge of your bed, smirked knowingly. “You don’t sound very sure, babe. Are you sure it’s not you who’s starting to like him?”

Your head snapped down, “Yunjin.”

“What?” she said with a laugh, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m just saying. You’ve got that look on your face when we brought him up.”

“I do not—” you began, but Kazuha cut you off with a teasing grin.

“Yeah, you do. You’re blushing right now.”

“I’m not—oh my god.” You buried your face into the pillow, groaning as the girls broke into laughter and squeals.

When the sound died down just enough for you to breathe, you peeked out from the pillow, face still flushed, and mumbled under your breath, eyes fixed anywhere but at them.

“He’s… popular, you know? And he’s intimidating. Like… the way he carries himself? I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

Kazuha raised a brow, smirking as she picked up her water bottle. “You’re saying that like you’ve been analyzing him.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly, grabbing your laptop again and pulling it onto your lap as a weak distraction.

The sound of your fingers clacking on the keys filled the room as you added, softer this time, “I’m just saying—I have to agree with Kazuha. Maybe he’s not into romance at all.”

You took a breath, forcing a little laugh that sounded too tight. “So yeah. He probably just… took pity on me or something. Like, no big deal.”

The room fell quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

You didn’t look up, too focused on pretending to type as if your project was suddenly the most important thing in the world.

Then Sakura’s weight shifted on the bed, and you felt her scoot closer. Her hand landed softly on your knee as she said, voice gentle but firm, “(Y/N), don’t say that. Okay? Don’t ever say that about yourself.”

Then Sakura’s weight shifted on the bed, and you felt her scoot closer. Her hand landed softly on your knee as she said, voice gentle but firm, “(Y/N), don’t say that. Okay? Don’t ever say that about yourself.”

You blinked, your fingers pausing mid-word.

“We all know you—inside and out. You’re beautiful, and you’re talented, and you’re so kind it’s almost annoying sometimes,” she said with a small laugh, her eyes searching yours. “Jay wouldn’t be taking pity on you. Not a chance.”

“Exactly,” Yunjin chimed in from her spot on the floor, propping her chin up with her palm.

“And we’re not saying this just because we’re your friends. You really are that girl. Like, honestly? Half the campus has been trying to get your number since freshman year.”

You snorted, shaking your head, but Eunchae leaned forward too, her expression serious for once. “Plus,” she said matter-of-factly, “don’t you, like, reject guys every month? All because they’re too into you, or too clingy, or whatever?”

You groaned again, tugging the pillow back up to your face as their words made your ears burn even hotter. “Oh my god. Can you guys not bring that up right now?”

“Nope,” Chaewon teased, scratching Doobu’s chin as the cat purred in her lap. “Because we’re trying to remind you who you are.”

“You’re not someone he’d ‘pity,’” Sakura said softly. “You’re someone people fall for. And maybe he’s no exception.”

You blinked at her, the words sinking in like warm tea on a cold day. Your lips tugged up, small but genuine, and you nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice quiet but full of gratitude. “Really. You guys are… way too good to me.”

Yunjin stretched her arms over her head with a dramatic sigh, the elastic between her teeth as she tied her hair up into a quick bun.

“Good to you? Babe, we’re saving you from spiraling into overthinking about some tall broody guitarist who might actually like you.”

“Yunjin,” you said with a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“What?” she grinned, hands on her hips now. “It’s true. Anyway, I’m hungry, and clearly you’re too distracted to feed yourself, so—” She pointed at you with mock accusation. “What do you want? Name it.”

You shook your head, amused. “Anything will do. There’s still stuff in the fridge.”

Yunjin nodded like she was preparing for battle. “Perfect.” She waved dramatically as she made her way toward the kitchenette. “Come on, Eunchae. You’re my sous-chef.”

“Eh? Why me?” Eunchae grumbled but still hopped up from her spot on the floor to trail after her. “Fine—but I’m not cutting onions!”

You shook your head fondly, the soft smile still lingering on your lips as you turned your attention back to your screen. Fingers danced across the keyboard, the steady click of the keys mixing with the sounds of Sakura’s crochet hook tapping against itself.

Then you felt a slight weight on your shoulder. Sakura had leaned her head there, peeking at your screen. “You spelled ‘kinesiology’ wrong.”

You snorted, backspacing quickly. “I always do.”

She hummed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know, (Y/N)… we’re really proud of you. Not just because of ballet or school or whatever. Just… for being you.”

You paused, the words catching you off guard, and turned slightly to glance at her. She wasn’t looking at you—her eyes were on your laptop, her expression calm and warm.

“You guys are seriously going to make me cry today,” you teased lightly, though your throat tightened a little.

Sakura’s lips curved into a small smile, her eyes finally meeting yours. “Good. Means we’re doing our jobs as your best friends.”

You laughed softly and shook your head before turning back to your screen. “I really am glad I have you all, you know?”

“We know,” she said, patting your leg before picking up her yarn again.

In the background, you heard Yunjin yelling something about “Where’s the sesame oil?” and Eunchae responding with “You’re holding it!”

The scent of something beginning to fry wafted from the kitchenette, and you let yourself relax—shoulders uncoiling from a tension you didn’t realize you’d been carrying all morning.

It was perfect. Cozy. The kind of afternoon that felt like a bubble outside of time.

You smiled faintly as you hit the final save on your document, Sakura peeking over your shoulder to murmur, “Finally.” You chuckled. “Took me long enough.”

By the time six in the evening rolled around, the sky outside your window was a watercolor wash of peach and violet. The air had cooled further, and one by one, your friends began gathering their bags, the lingering laughter softening into sleepy goodbyes.

“Thanks for letting us crash your dorm,” Yunjin said with a grin, pulling her hoodie over her head.

“Don’t mention it. Come any time,” you said, hands resting on the doorframe as you watched them shuffle into their shoes. “And thanks for doing the dishes, Zuha.”

Kazuha waved you off, tugging Eunchae’s sleeve to hurry her along. “You let us stay; it’s the least I could do.”

Chaewon turned back briefly, holding Doobu like a baby in her arms. “Bye-bye, mommy’s little princess. Don’t keep her up too late.”

You laughed. “Goodnight, guys.”

“Night!” they chorused back, their voices overlapping as they spilled into the hallway.

Doobu trotted out after them as if to see them off. You crouched and scooped her up easily, cradling her against your chest. “Come on, girl,” you murmured, pressing your cheek into her soft fur. “Let’s get some sleep.”

You nudged the door closed with your foot, the faint click echoing in the now-quiet room. The air still smelled faintly of fried rice and buttered eggs.

As you laid Doobu gently onto the bed, she circled twice before curling into a neat ball beside your pillow. You smiled, slipping under the covers, pulling the blanket up to your chin and her tiny body close to yours.

The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, joined by faint footsteps down the hall—someone passing by, a door closing a few rooms down. It was soothing in a way, grounding.

Slowly, sleep crept in, your eyes fluttering shut as your breathing evened out.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out when your phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

With a groggy groan, you reached out blindly, fingers fumbling until you grabbed it. Blinking against the harsh light of the screen, you squinted at the time. 9:12 PM.

“Ugh.” You stretched lazily, arms above your head, a yawn spilling out as you rubbed your eyes.

But when you turned back, your brows furrowed. The blankets were rumpled—too rumpled—and the familiar soft weight of Doobu was missing.

“Doobu?” you called softly, still half-asleep.

Silence.

“She’s probably under the bed,” you mumbled to yourself, slipping one foot to the floor. You crouched down, peeking under. “Doobu?”

Nothing.

Maybe the bathroom. You padded over, cracking the door open. Empty.

“Come on, girl, where are you?”

Panic didn’t hit right away—not until your eyes flicked to the door and you noticed it.

A sliver of faint golden light where there shouldn’t have been any. Your door wasn’t fully shut.

“…Shit.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you crossed the room, heart thudding. You tightened the knot of your hooie over your pajamas and cursed under your breath again.

Pulling the door shut behind you with a quiet click, you huffed out a shaky breath, shoving your phone into the pocket of your oversized hoodie.

“Shit… okay, okay, don’t panic,” you muttered, yanking on your outside slippers so hard you almost tripped. Fingers raked through your hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame the mess from your nap as you stepped into the hallway.

The air outside was cooler than your room, and the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above you. You padded quickly down the corridor, whisper-yelling, “Doobu? Come on, girl… where the fuck did you go?”

Your voice echoed faintly against the closed doors lining the hall.

“Shit, shit, shit—she can’t have gone far,” you hissed to yourself, scanning every corner like a deranged detective.

You peeked around the trash bins, past the stairwell, even crouched briefly to check under the benches near the elevator. Nothing.

You bolted up the stairs to the next floor, slippers slapping quietly against the steps. As you rounded the corner, a small group of arts students you recognized from studio night looked up at you from where they lounged against the wall, sketchbooks in hand.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” one of them greeted cheerfully.

“Hey,” you said a little breathlessly, not slowing your pace as your eyes darted around. “Sorry—uh—if you guys see a white cat, she’s mine. She slipped out.”

“Oh no,” another said, eyes wide. “We’ll keep a lookout!”

“Thanks,” you called over your shoulder, already halfway down the hallway.

“Doobu!” you hissed again.

“Do not make me climb this entire fucking building in my pajamas. I swear to god—” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Way to go, (Y/N). Lose your cat and look like a sleep-deprived idiot in the process. Great job.”

Your slippers squeaked faintly against the linoleum as you turned another corner, scanning the dimmer end of the hall where the lights flickered faintly.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your breath visible in the cold drafts slipping through the windows.

“Doobu? Baby girl? Please don’t make me cry right now…” you muttered desperately.

You made your way down the other floors, checking every nook and cranny, even peering behind trash bins and under staircases. Your slippers scuffed against the stairs, the sound almost swallowed by your frantic heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Every student you passed got the same frazzled question. “Hey—sorry, have you seen a white cat? Fluffy, kind of round?”

Some shook their heads apologetically, others blinked in surprise at the sheer panic in your tone before nodding.

“Oh, I’ll keep a lookout!” a girl carrying an armful of books promised.

“Thanks—thank you so much,” you said breathlessly, bowing your head slightly before bolting down the next set of stairs.

When you reached the ground floor, you didn’t even pause. The cold air slapped you in the face as you pushed open the glass doors to your dorm building, the metal handle biting into your palm from your tight grip.

“Shit—Doobu, where the hell are you?” you whispered harshly, stepping into the crisp night air.

The campus was quieter now, the golden glow of the streetlamps casting long shadows across the empty walkways. You scanned the quad, your eyes darting across the open field, the benches, even the bases of the trees.

Your slippers whispered against the pavement as you jogged lightly toward the benches near the edge of the field.

“Doobu!” you called again, voice cracking slightly. “Come on, girl… don’t do this to me.”

Muttering curses under your breath—“Goddammit, (Y/N), you’re so careless…”—you almost didn’t notice it.

But then—there it was.

A tuft of white fur. A bushy tail flicking lazily.

Your breath caught in your throat. Doobu sat primly on one of the benches under the golden streetlights, her little face upturned like she owned the entire campus.

“Oh my god,” you whispered in disbelief, your knees nearly giving out in relief. You walked closer, slowly, carefully, afraid that a sudden movement might startle her away again.

Your cat sat so calmly on the bench, tail curled neatly around her paws, completely unbothered as if she hadn’t just sent you on a heart attack-inducing campus-wide manhunt.

You started walking closer, slow and careful, not wanting to startle her away. But as you got nearer, your steps faltered.

You started walking closer, slow and careful, not wanting to startle her away. But as you got nearer, your steps faltered.

There was someone sitting on the bench with her.

A man.

He was leaned back casually, one arm resting along the backrest as his other hand absentmindedly stroked Doobu’s fur. She—your Doobu, who notoriously despised every single male human who dared to even look her way—was preening under his touch.

The little traitor was even leaning her head closer, purring so faintly you could hear it from where you stood.

Your eyes flicked up, scanning the guy. Black hoodie pulled over his head. A gray cap tucked low enough to shadow his face. Cream pants loose but clean. His sneakers looked a little scuffed, as if he actually walked around campus instead of just cutting through in a car.

Then he laughed quietly—low and warm, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it—and said to your cat,

“I bet your owner’s losing her mind looking for you, huh?”

Your jaw nearly dropped. He was talking to her?

You let out a shaky sigh, deciding to ignore him completely as you stepped forward. “Hey, Doobu,” you murmured softly, crouching slightly as you reached a hand out. “You scared the shit out of me. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

At the sound of your voice, Doobu’s ears twitched. She gave a soft purr, standing on her paws to hop down—only to pause when the guy slowly drew his hand back, letting his palm rest on his knee.

That’s when he finally looked up at you.

Sharp eyes under the cap. Lips quirked in an almost imperceptible smile.

“She’s got a habit of wandering off, huh?” he said, voice low and smooth with the faintest trace of amusement.

Your heart stuttered at the sound, recognition dawning like a wave crashing down on you.

“…Jay?”

He chuckled under his breath, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee. “You didn’t notice? Thought you were too focused on your runaway cat to see me.”

You straightened, blinking at him incredulously as your cat jumped off the bench and started rubbing against your legs.

“I—You—what are you even doing here?” you asked, your voice tight from a cocktail of exhaustion and mild embarrassment.

Jay didn’t answer at first. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, reaching down to grab two sleek Prada paper bags sitting on the concrete by his feet.

He swished them in the air casually, the crisp sound of the handles snapping into place breaking the quiet night.

“Shopped a little,” he said, his tone easy. “Went with Heeseung. We had some free time.”

You blinked at the bags, then back at him as he patted the now-empty spot on the bench beside him. “Sit down. You look like you ran a marathon.”

Hesitating only a moment, you bent down to scoop Doobu off the concrete, clutching her soft, warm body against your chest as you crossed the few steps to the bench.

Sitting down beside him, you let out a slow, shaky breath. Doobu purred against you, seemingly unbothered by her little adventure.

Jay was already looking at you—one elbow draped casually over the backrest, his dark eyes unreadable under the brim of his cap.

You glanced down at the bags and pointed at them. “So… you’re rich-rich, huh?”

His lips quirked, a small laugh rumbling out of him. “Not me. My parents are.” He nudged one of the bags with his foot before adding, “And anyway, I bought these using my own money. No trust fund involved.”

Jay chuckled again, softer this time. “I guess.”

There was a beat of silence before he tilted his head slightly, his eyes darting to the white fluff curled in your lap. “Can I?” he asked, one hand lifting a little as he gestured toward Doobu.

You looked down at your cat, who blinked up at you lazily as if granting her approval herself. “Sure,” you murmured.

Jay shifted closer, his fingers brushing over Doobu’s head with surprising gentleness. She pressed into his touch, tail flicking lazily as a faint purr rumbled from her chest.

“She likes you,” you said quietly, unable to hide the faint trace of surprise in your voice.

“She’s cute,” Jay murmured, his thumb stroking behind her ear. Then his eyes flicked back to yours. “So… what happened? How’d she get out?”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping as you leaned back slightly against the bench. “I didn’t close my dorm room all the way. Must’ve been when I fell asleep earlier. She probably pushed it open and slipped out.”

You buried your face briefly in Doobu’s fur, muffling a groan. “God, I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t,” Jay said simply, his voice steady and calm. “She’s safe now. That’s all that matters.”

You peeked up at him, startled by how sincere he sounded. He wasn’t looking at you anymore—his eyes were on Doobu as he continued stroking her fur—but there was something in his tone that made your chest tighten.

“…Thanks,” you murmured, hugging your cat a little closer. “For finding her.”

Jay glanced at you again, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t find her. She found me.”

You huffed a small laugh despite yourself, your nerves slowly beginning to settle. “Typical. Little traitor.”

Jay chuckled too, his hand still absentmindedly stroking Doobu’s fur. “She’s got good taste, though.”

You froze slightly at that, unsure how to respond as the warmth from his words and the gentle sound of Doobu’s purrs filled the air. Your eyes flicked to his, catching the way he was already looking at you—something soft and unspoken in his expression.

Then his gaze dropped, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips as he tilted his head toward you. “Not sure about her owner, though. Teddy bears and choo-choo trains? Really?”

You blinked in confusion for a moment before glancing down at yourself, realizing too late he was talking about your pajama set—the faint pastel print of tiny teddy bears riding toy trains now painfully obvious.

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god—Jay!” You slapped his arm, mortified.

He let out a laugh—louder this time, low and warm in his chest—as his hand came up to rub the spot where you hit him. “What? I’m just saying.”

“Shut up!” you hissed, cheeks flaming as you buried your face in Doobu’s fur. “I was in a rush, okay? I didn’t think anyone was going to see me like this.”

Jay’s grin softened, his dark eyes glinting under the streetlight. “Okay, okay. No need to hit me. I surrender.” He raised both hands in mock surrender before leaning back against the bench again, his posture relaxed and easy.

You frowned at him anyway, though the heat in your cheeks didn’t let up. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he said with a light shrug, still smiling.

The evening breeze picked up then, making you instinctively pull Doobu closer to your chest. You shivered slightly, tugging at your thin jacket as a chill ran through you.

Jay’s eyes flicked to you, catching the way your hair was slightly mussed from sleep and the faint flush on your cheeks. The corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly—not in amusement this time, but in something gentler.

He glanced down at the Prada bag at his feet, pulling one of the items out. The soft, knitted material clung to his hand as he carefully tore off the tag, fingers meticulous so as not to snag the fabric. Without a word, he scooted closer until his knee brushed yours.

You blinked as he draped the scarf around your neck, the sudden warmth making you jolt slightly. “Jay—?”

“Relax,” he said calmly, adjusting it so it sat snug yet loose enough to breathe. “You need it. You’re freezing.”

Your hands went up to touch the scarf, the fine, soft knit catching between your fingers. “Jay, I… I can’t accept this. It’s Prada. This probably costs—”

“No returns, I’m afraid,” he interrupted smoothly, his dark eyes meeting yours again with a quiet finality.

“But—”

“Don’t,” he said simply, voice low but firm as he reached over again. His hands were careful, almost tender, as he wrapped it more securely around your neck. “And you’re still cold. So don’t argue.”

You stared at him, your protest catching in your throat. The scarf smelled faintly of new fabric and something warm—something that somehow reminded you of him.

“…You’re ridiculous,” you murmured finally, lips twitching into a small smile.

“Maybe,” Jay said again, his lips curving ever so slightly as he leaned back, resting an arm on the bench’s backrest. “But I’m also right.”

You ducked your head, hiding your warming face in Doobu’s fur as she purred sleepily in your lap.

Jay glanced at you once more, his fingers flexing faintly like he wanted to reach for you again but thought better of it. Instead, he moved just slightly closer, the edge of his shoulder brushing yours as the cool night settled comfortably around you both.

“So… any plans after this?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze unreadable as it lingered on you.

You tilted your head slightly, thinking for a moment before shaking your head. “No, not really. Why?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, just barely. “So you’re free.”

A small giggle escaped you before you could stop it, the sound carried away slightly by the night breeze. “Yeah, I’m free. Why?”

He looked ahead for a second, lips twitching as if debating saying the next words. Then he glanced back at you, meeting your curious eyes. “Do you… want to eat dinner?”

Your face lit up, eyes widening a little in surprise. “Yeah—sure. If it’s not a bother?”

Jay shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as his eyes softened. “Never. It’s not.”

He glanced down at the white ball of fluff curled in your lap, still purring lightly. “But… what about Doobu?”

You followed his gaze, only now realizing your cat had made herself at home again, her tiny body rising and falling against your arms as she napped.

“Oh. Right.” You laughed a little sheepishly. “Would it be alright if I take her back to my dorm first? I should probably change too—”

Your voice trailed off as the memory of his earlier teasing came back, cheeks heating instantly. “—before you start commenting on my pajamas again,” you muttered under your breath, burying your face in Doobu’s soft fur.

Jay laughed at that—low, warm, and unrestrained this time. It sent a strange flutter through your chest.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, standing smoothly as he grabbed his paper bags off the concrete. “I really am. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You stood too, cradling the now-sleeping Doobu in your arms. She stirred slightly at the movement, her tiny head tucking into the crook of your shoulder as her tail curled closer to you. You adjusted your hold on her carefully, trying not to wake her.

Jay’s eyes softened further as he watched you fuss over your cat—something unreadable flickering behind them. Then he shifted his bags to one hand and gestured with the other.

“Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said simply, his tone making it clear he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “But I want to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting down the smile threatening to break through. “Okay… thank you.”

Jay only nodded, falling into step beside you as the two of you started walking back toward the dorms. His steps were unhurried, his presence steady next to yours as the faint sound of crickets and your own quiet breaths filled the night.

Doobu shifted slightly in your arms, letting out a soft sigh as if content, and you felt your chest loosen—somehow lighter with Jay’s warmth just a few inches away.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ sugar in the soil ( pjs ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 16k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ a/n — hi my loves ! i’m so sorry this took a bit longer than expected, but it’s finally here. this one’s cute and honestly just really, really cute. thank you for being patient, as always. please enjoy reading 🤍

⤷ warnings — college au, psychology major!jay, biology major!reader, college!enhypen, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, rich!jay, kinda emotionally guarded!reader, perceptive!jay, reluctant protector!jay, awkward!jay, tension-filled bickering, sarcastic flirting, subtle care, reader is stubborn and independent, reader is unintentionally endearing, jay is smug but soft deep down, scenes of vulnerability, quiet comfort, slight possessiveness, light jealousy, foreshadowing deeper feelings, developing trust, soft domestic hints, fluff, mentions of the other parts from this series

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — your fascination with flowers was a quiet love you turned into your future. majoring in biology at decelis university, you often found yourself needing rare blooms, fresh clippings, or just the scent of something calming after long hours in the lab. that’s why the little flower shop down the street became your second home. the staff knew your name. mrs. park always had tea ready. until one afternoon, the usual calm was replaced with someone entirely unexpected—park jongseong, of all people. golden boy. heir to a business empire. the last person you'd expect to be arranging sunflowers behind the counter like he belonged there. or, where your love for flowers leads you to someone who’s far more than just his reputation.

It was just past six in the morning when your footsteps tapped along the cobbled path you’d memorized after two years at Decelis University.

The world was still soft at that hour—hushed and wrapped in the cool, lingering breeze of dawn.

You shivered as the wind brushed against your legs, pulling your cream tote bag closer to your side.

“Thank god I didn’t wear a skirt,” you mumbled under your breath, glancing down at your black pants and oversized white sweater—the hem of it brushing gently against your upper thighs.

Not exactly the peak of fashion, but it was warm, and it smelled like the lavender detergent your roommate always hoarded.

A faint smile curved your lips as you looked up—the dainty little flower shop on the corner.

Even from a distance, you could spot the display of blooms lined neatly in white ceramic vases outside the door.

Soft pastel peonies, cheerful bunches of daisies, stalks of buttery yellow freesia, and delicate stems of baby’s breath nestled in between.

The real show, though, were the hanging roses—pale pink and dried lavender ones twirling gently from above the glass panels, tied with beige ribbon and strung like little ornaments of peace.

You paused at the door, eyes skimming over everything like it was a painting you’d seen a hundred times and still hadn’t gotten tired of.

Your fingers reached out to push open the door, the soft chime of the bell above your head greeting you.

Despite the almost boisterous, cheerful personality of the outside—the interior was simple. Minimalistic, warm. Earthy.

Sunlight poured through the front windows and landed across the long wooden counters, highlighting the rows of terracotta pots, tiny spritz bottles, and little signs written in slanted cursive.

Your favorite part was always the wall near the back—lined with herbs and greenery. Eucalyptus, sweet basil, dusty miller, thyme. Every single pot labeled. Every single one cared for.

A chalkboard beside it read: ‘Green babies: please talk to them!’

You shook your head with a small laugh, eyeing the row of sleepy-looking succulents under the sign.

“Good morning, little guys,” you murmured quietly, tapping the edge of one terracotta pot with your finger before straightening up.

“Mrs. Park?” you called out, adjusting the strap of your tote bag on your shoulder.

Almost instantly, the person you were looking for peeked out from behind the beaded curtain that led to the back storage room, her familiar voice echoing softly through the quiet shop.

“(Y/N), dear! There you are,” Mrs. Park beamed, stepping fully into the room with her gray-streaked hair tied into its usual messy bun and a dusting of flour still smudged on her apron.

You returned the smile warmly. “Good morning, Mrs. Park.”

She gestured proudly to a small, tiered pastry stand placed right by the counter—a little gold rack filled with a fresh batch of muffins and small sweet buns, all wrapped in pink wax paper.

“Help yourself, love. I made too many again.”

You leaned forward with a grin, grabbing one of the lemon muffins off the top tier and taking a small bite. “This is really good.”

Mrs. Park raised a hand, already chuckling. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s always true,” you replied through a soft laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“So,” she leaned against the counter, “what do you need today?”

You wiped your fingers on the napkin she handed you.

“I was hoping to get some Verbena officinalis, chamomile, and if you still have them—maybe a few sprigs of alpine aster? My professor wants us prepping extraction samples for the new experiment.”

Mrs. Park’s eyes sparkled. “Of course, of course. Wait here, dear. I’ve got just the thing in the cooler.”

You nodded and leaned gently against the counter, your eyes drifting toward the delicate vase of pink peonies placed right beside the register.

The petals were full, blooming with that soft ruffled texture that looked too perfect to be real.

You reached out without thinking, fingers brushing lightly over the edge of one. They were fresh. You could always tell.

That’s what you liked about ‘Park & Bloom.’ Their flowers were always fresh—never tired, never wilting, always alive. There was a certain kind of love you could feel in a place like this.

You hummed quietly to yourself, letting the soft instrumental music from the little radio fill the silence as you waited.

When Mrs. Park returned, she had a neat little bundle of herbs in her hands, all carefully wrapped in parchment and tied with twine.

“There we go,” she said with a satisfied smile, setting it down on the counter.

But before you could thank her, she reached underneath and placed something else beside it. Soft pink peonies, arranged with sprigs of eucalyptus and tiny filler blooms in cream and blush.

You blinked. “What’s this?”

Mrs. Park smiled knowingly. “They’re your favorite.”

“Well—yeah,” you admitted slowly, touching the bouquet again, “but I didn’t—”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes widened. “No, no, I’m paying. Please, Mrs. Park—”

“Nonsense,” she said, already turning away like the discussion was closed. “You’re a regular. And you always talk to the plants. That counts for something.”

You frowned and gently gathered both the wrapped herbs and the bouquet, quickly fishing through your tote until your fingers found a bill—larger than necessary.

You slammed it down on the counter with a huff. “Keep the change, Mrs. Park. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Before she could argue, you were already halfway to the door.

“(Y/N)—you little—!” she called after you, laughing.

You waved behind you, ignoring the sound of the door swinging open as someone else stepped inside just as you rushed out.

You barely registered the shadow of a tall figure entering, the door chime getting swallowed up by your footsteps hitting the pavement.

Mrs. Park sighed, looking down at the bill before shaking her head with a fond smile.

“Stubborn,” she muttered, placing the money gently in the tip jar.

Then she glanced toward the boy who had just walked in, tousled hair and sleepy eyes, dressed in denim and black.

“Just like Jay,” she muttered under her breath with a fond shake of her head.

“What about me?” the boy in question asked, his voice a little hoarse as he pointed to himself while stepping fully into the shop.

“Nothing. Suit yourself,” Mrs. Park replied, turning her back to him as she gestured vaguely toward the pastries cooling on the rack. “Eat before they’re gone.”

Jay grinned, walking over to the rack and picking up a banana muffin. He took a bite, chewing slowly.

“I woke up too early,” he said, mouth half-full, “I don’t even have class until nine.”

Mrs. Park gave him a look as she started wiping her hands on her apron. “What did your father say?”

“That you have a meeting at eight,” Jay said with a sigh, lifting one shoulder in a shrug, “and to call Hyunjae to cover the shop until you get back.”

The woman let out a dramatic groan, untying her apron with exaggerated annoyance. “Can’t your father do anything by himself?”

Jay chuckled under his breath and leaned against the counter. “Apparently not.”

Mrs. Park muttered something under her breath as she bent down and pulled out a white pastry box from under the counter. “Jake’s order is ready too.”

“Of course it is,” Jay mumbled with a smirk, standing upright as he reached into his pocket and fished out a few bills. He handed them to her without a second thought.

She scowled. “When will you kids learn not to pay here?”

Jay only grinned as he leaned on the counter. “Well, you know them. None of us listen.”

Mrs. Park rolled her eyes but accepted the payment anyway, stashing the bills in the small tin box behind her.

Jay checked the silver watch strapped to his wrist and sighed. “I better get going.”

He rounded the counter with ease, stepping closer to give his mom a quick one-armed hug. “Bye, Mom.”

“Text me when you get to campus,” she called after him.

He gave her a lazy wave, the box of cookies tucked under his arm as he pushed the door open. The bell above jingled softly as he stepped out into the cool morning air.

The scent of peonies and incense still lingered as he crossed toward his car, unlocking it with a click.

He opened the door, slid the box onto the passenger seat, then paused for a second to glance back at the small flower shop glowing warmly behind him.

With a tired sigh, Jay muttered under his breath, “Another day of this boring cycle,” before slumping into the driver’s seat.

The moment his back hit the seat, he tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a second—just one second.

The soft hum of the morning traffic passed in the distance, car tires brushing along damp pavement.

He groaned and buckled his seatbelt with a sharp click, dragging a hand down his face. “And I have a quiz for developmental psych later too,” he grumbled. “Just… great.”

His hand stayed on the wheel for a beat longer than necessary, fingers drumming against the leather as he stared blankly at the windshield.

“Should’ve just skipped today,” he mumbled, reaching over to push the box of cookies a little more securely onto the seat.

“But no, Jake needs his cookies, and I need my GPA.”

He rolled his eyes at himself before starting the car, the low rumble of the engine coming to life in the silence.

The fluorescent lights above hum with a low buzz, matching the pounding in your head. The smell of ethanol and overcooked nerves hangs heavy in the air.

Lab’s barely ended, and your notes are a mess—ink smudged, a whole page crumpled from frustration, and worst of all, your results section might as well be fiction.

You let out a strangled groan and thunk your head against the thick biology textbook with a dull thud.

“Careful,” Jisung mutters beside you, grimacing as he lifts a pair of gloved hands like he’s watching a crime scene.

“You placed that book on top of the lab counter. The germ-infested lab counter.”

You peel your forehead off the book with a slow glare. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one failing.”

He shrugs with a sheepish wince, still in his gloves, now held up like he’s surrendering. “Okay, my bad.”

You narrow your eyes. “You didn’t even try to deny that I’m failing.”

“I mean…” He drags the word out. “You’ve been stress-picking at your highlighter for the past twenty minutes. That’s not usually a good sign.”

You groan again, dragging a hand down your face. “I’m going to die in a sea of unsorted data and unlabeled Petri dishes.”

“Death by biology,” he nods solemnly. “Poetic.”

Before you can respond, the shrill ring of the bell cuts through the lab. You exhale sharply, “Finally.”

Without a second thought, you yank off your lab coat and shove it into your tote like it personally wronged you.

The sleeves are still half-inside out and your pen falls out of your pocket, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and glance at Jisung, who’s taking his sweet time peeling off his gloves.

“I have a shift at the library until six,” you say, brushing your bangs out of your face. “Are you going to crash in one of the study rooms again?”

He shakes his head with a sigh. “Nope. I need to help Chenle with his stupid photography project. Something about needing ‘a face that screams tortured genius.’”

You blink. “And he picked you?”

“Offended,” he deadpans, pressing a hand to his chest. “But yes. Apparently, my dark circles and academic burnout passed his standards.”

You let out a small laugh, the tension finally cracking a little. “Well, stop by if you can. Bring snacks. Or caffeine. Or brain cells.”

“I’ll see what I can spare,” he says, mock-saluting you with one gloveless hand and the other still holding a rogue pipette.

You’re already halfway to the door when he calls after you.

“Bye, (Y/N)!”

You glance back and flash him a tired smile. “Bye, Jisung.”

Then you turn on your heel, your sneakers squeaking faintly against the linoleum as you disappear down the hallway. The white walls of the science wing are painfully sterile, and the hum of buzzing lights doesn’t help your growing headache.

You let out a breath—half sigh, half groan—as you roll your neck and start making your way toward the library.

“Thank God,” you mumble under your breath, eyes flicking to the hallway signs above.

The library was only a few halls down from the lab, which meant less time dragging your feet and more time convincing yourself that lab report wasn’t going to kill you.

You move through the corridors, passing a few tired-looking students carrying canvases, coffee cups, and an emotional burden that looked way too familiar.

The soft clink of keys in your bag, the rhythm of your own footsteps, and the occasional sound of muffled laughter from a classroom fill the air around you.

Despite everything, there’s a calmness in the routine of it all.

Finally, you reach the end of the hallway where the tall, double wooden doors of the library stand quietly under the golden ‘University Main Library’ plaque.

You press a palm against the door and push it open.

The scent hits you instantly.

Paper, ink, and a hint of dust—it makes you smile a little, the corners of your lips tugging up despite the weight in your chest. You’ve always loved this part—the soft quiet of the library wrapping around you like a blanket.

You walk toward the front desk where the afternoon shift student librarian is still seated, tapping lazily on the keyboard.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Eunchae greets you with a small grin, her glasses slipping down her nose a bit. “You look like you fought a war.”

You exhale a soft laugh. “Hi, Eunchae.”

“Rough day?”

“You could say that.” You slip behind the desk and drop your bag beside the office chair, the straps giving a quiet thud as they hit the ground.

She reaches over to hand you the laminated clip-on badge. “Here. You’re the boss now.”

“Thanks.” You clip it onto your sweater, the cold plastic brushing your collarbone as you settle into the worn-out chair that squeaks in protest.

Eunchae’s already packing up, stuffing a textbook, three pens, and an empty boba cup into her tote. “I swear I’m going insane from the quietness in here,” she mutters.

“If I heard one more guy try to flirt with me over book codes, I was going to scream.”

You chuckle under your breath, your fingers already reaching for your laptop. “Romantic,” you tease. “Truly the language of love.”

She waves dramatically as she grabs her jacket. “See you, (Y/N). Don’t forget to breathe.”

You give her a tired wave. “Bye, Eunchae.”

Then it’s just you.

The soft whir of the air conditioning. The gentle rustle of pages turning from a far-off table. You settle deeper into the chair and pull your laptop out of your bag, setting it on the desk in front of you.

Your screen blinks to life and your lab report opens automatically—you stare at it for a second, shoulders slumping as the frown slowly creeps back onto your face.

“…Kill me,” you whisper.

You sigh and reluctantly start typing, your fingers dragging over the keys with all the energy of a dying lightbulb.

You squint at the lines of data from earlier in the lab, trying to remember if the solution turned blue after five minutes—or was it four?

Your momentary focus is abruptly cut off by a small cough and the sound of a familiar voice.

“What’s up?”

You glance up, already grinning before your eyes fully register the face. You push your chair back and stand, arms crossing over your chest.

Leaning casually on the front desk, with that same easy smile and brown hair falling just a little over his eyes, was Jake.

“What do you need, Jake?” you ask, brows raising.

You and Jake weren’t particularly close, but he was one of those people who had wormed his way into your life with charm and annoying persistence.

You’d met him at a party Jisung dragged you into—a night of glittery lights, too much bass, and not enough air—and somehow ended up sitting beside the overly friendly boy with puppy eyes who introduced himself with a full handshake.

Jake smirks. “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

You roll your eyes, sinking back into your chair. “I’m working, Sim.”

“That’s all you ever do,” he says with a mock sigh, shifting the white box in his hand onto the desk.

You glance at it, suspicious. “Okay, for real—what do you want?”

“Nothing sketchy,” Jake says with both palms raised. “Just figured you could use a little sugar. Here.”

He opens the box, revealing a neat assortment of cookies—some gooey with melted chocolate, others crisp on the edges with hints of caramel, one with marshmallow peeking out from the center.

The smell alone makes your stomach growl.

Jake hands you a napkin. “Take a few. I mean it. I won’t be able to finish them all anyway.”

“What is this? Where did you get them?”

“Ordered from a friend,” he says with a grin. “Trust me, they’re good. Like, really good.”

You blink, touched in a way you didn’t expect to be. Maybe the gods had whispered in Jake’s ear that you were barely running on fumes today.

“Well… thanks,” you mutter, taking two and gently placing them on the napkin. “This is saving my life right now.”

Jake leans forward a little, still grinning. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Okay, now that your saint act is over,” you say, biting into a cookie and groaning at how annoyingly delicious it is, “what do you actually need?”

Jake laughs. “Fine. Do you have any study rooms available?”

You nod, setting the rest of the cookies down on the lower counter.

You tap on the small monitor screen beside you, scanning the digital dashboard for room availability. “Room 5 and 7 are both open.”

“I’ll take seven,” he says without hesitation.

You pull out the room card, holding it up before handing it over. “Isn’t Room 7 kind of big for just you?”

Jake shrugs, reaching for the card. “I’ve got a few friends coming in later. If you don’t mind?”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite your exhaustion. “Sure, no problem. Enjoy.”

Jake offers a mock salute. “Thanks, (Y/N). Don’t work too hard.”

You wave lazily as he turns. “Have a good night.”

Once he’s gone, the library settles back into its familiar quiet hum—soft page turns, the occasional cough, the distant click-clack of a keyboard.

You sigh, pulling your chair closer and tapping away at your laptop. The paper was almost finished. All you needed was Jisung’s part of the hypothesis, and you could submit it before midnight.

You stretch your arms above your head, eyes fluttering shut for a second in bliss. Finally.

That peace, however, is gently interrupted.

“Hi. Good evening.”

You blink. The greeting was too formal—almost jarringly so. You glance up, expecting maybe a professor or someone lost on their first day, only to freeze for a heartbeat when you see him.

Park Jongseong.

He stood there, tall, hands politely tucked into the pockets of his sleek black jacket, glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he’d just run his hand through it, and despite the casualness of his outfit—black jeans, sneakers, and a plain dark tee under the jacket—he looked like he’d walked straight out of a luxury campaign shoot.

Probably because he had, if the rumors were right.

You recognized him instantly. Everyone did.

He was that kind of popular—wealthy family, striking visuals, a seat on one of the organizations he rarely attended, and a reputation so polished people either thought he was faking it or secretly a jerk.

But the thing was, he’d never actually done anything to support those rumors.

No scandals, no snide remarks. Just that calm, kind, slightly reserved personality that made people either swoon or stay suspicious.

You stare at him a second too long before blinking and rising from your seat.

“Hi. Yes, um… What’s the matter?” you ask, straightening your name card without thinking.

Jay’s lips twitch upward in a sheepish smile as he meets your eyes. “Uh, my friend said he’d be here? In one of the study rooms. I think I might be in the wrong building.”

You tilt your head. “What room?”

He blinks, then reaches for his phone from his pocket. “Wait a minute, please.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting back a smile at how genuinely nervous he looks while scrolling through his messages.

He mutters under his breath, eyes flicking back and forth before he finally looks up with a small, relieved grin.

“Room seven.”

You raise an eyebrow, and the corners of your lips twitch upward.

“Jake’s friend?”

He nods, laughing a little. “Yeah… he is.”

You hum, already reaching for the back-up paper slips. “Forced you?”

Jay lets out a breathy chuckle, dropping his gaze for a second. “You could say that.”

You hand him the slip of paper and the temporary code key just in case Jake lost the room card. “You’re free to go, then. The paper’s just in case Jake’s an idiot.”

Jay nods, his smile turning a little more relaxed. “Thank you. And… have a good evening.”

“You too,” you say, giving him a small nod as he walks away.

You sit back down at your desk, watching him head off down the corridor before returning to your screen. The cursor blinks again. You smile softly to yourself.

“He seems nice,” you murmur, clicking back into your document, the soft clack of your keyboard filling the silence again.

A voice beside you replies smoothly, “Isn’t he?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. “What the hell—Jake?!”

He grins like he’s done absolutely nothing wrong, arms casually crossed as he leans against the side of your desk, clearly amused by your reaction.

“Relax,” he says, eyes dancing.

“I was waiting for him upstairs, but he was taking too long, so I figured I’d come down and see what was taking him.” He lifts a brow.

“Seems like he’s getting real cozy with you.”

You blink, scoffing. “Cozy? That’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”

Jake shrugs with faux innocence. “Suit yourself.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t you have to meet up with your friend or something?”

He nods, pushing off the desk with ease. “Yeah. But he has a name, you know.”

“I know,” you sigh, dragging your cursor across your screen, trying to look busy. “But I don’t even know him enough to use it, so I’ll just keep referring to him as your friend for now.”

Jake chuckles knowingly, taking a step back, already turning on his heel. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You watch as he jogs off toward the direction Jay disappeared in, his gait casual but amused, like he knows something you don’t.

You shake your head, a breath of disbelief escaping you.

“Weirdo,” you mutter under your breath, the corner of your mouth twitching upward in spite of yourself.

The night air was cool against your cheeks as you walked beside Jisung, the sky painted in a fading indigo, the last hints of orange clinging stubbornly to the horizon.

Streetlamps flickered on one by one, casting a soft glow on the pavement as your footsteps echoed gently through the quiet campus street.

“I swear,” Jisung huffed, one hand dramatically pressed to his side. “If Chenle elbows me one more time during a shoot, I’m actually calling HR.”

You let out a small laugh, hugging your jacket closer to your frame. “You are such a baby, Jisung.”

“I am a baby,” he retorted with no shame, lifting his chin.

“Unless you want to experience being ordered around by a man shorter than you, be my guest. That menace was using his whole body weight, I felt my rib shift.”

You snorted. “I highly doubt he’s that strong.”

“I’ll record it next time. I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest.”

You smiled, his complaints now a familiar soundtrack to your evening walks back.

Just as you were about to tease him again, your gaze shifted to the side—drawn, like always, to the soft glow of the flower shop tucked just between the café and the old stationery store.

You opened your mouth, but before a single syllable could leave your lips, Jisung raised his hand like he could read your mind.

“Yes,” he said dryly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You blinked. “But I haven’t even—”

“Just go inside, (Y/N),” he interrupted again, already stepping backward. “I’ll send you the hypothesis later. Don’t text me, I’m icing my side.”

He flashed you a small smile, shouldering his backpack a little higher as he turned, hands tucked into his pockets as he started toward the dorms.

You blinked once. Then twice. A soft huff escaped your lips as you muttered, “Drama queen.”

Turning toward the pristine glass doors of the flower shop, you pushed it open gently.

The little silver bell above jingled, light and warm, like it knew you by name. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as the familiar scent of blooming petals, sweet earth, and lavender.

At least you had this—something to look forward to at the end of a shitty day at Decelis.

You expected to hear the soft clink of porcelain from the back, Mrs. Park’s gentle voice humming a forgotten tune as she wrapped up your usual peonies and lavenders with a cup of her flower tea already set aside for you.

But instead, you tilted your head.

There, standing awkwardly by the counter, was the same boy you saw earlier in the library.

Gone was the jacket from earlier, replaced with a crisp white button-up and a black apron tied messily around his waist.

His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, one of the cuffs still uneven, and he looked painfully out of place—his brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed slightly as he wrestled with a bouquet of red roses that looked one sharp tug away from falling apart.

You blinked again.

Still there.

No hallucination. No glitch in the matrix. His dark brown hair catching the warm overhead lights, his hands fumbling with the ribbon, and a small, frustrated frown forming on his face as he stared at the bouquet like it had personally offended him.

Your eyes scanned the shop quickly. No sign of Mrs. Park. No second pair of hands. No flower tea waiting by the counter.

You cleared your throat softly, not that he noticed—far too wrapped up in his floral battle.

So instead of calling attention to yourself, you wandered toward the rightmost shelf where a row of succulents sat nestled beside some miniature vases.

You picked up a little cactus, its spikes short and plump, the soil freshly packed. It looked healthy—fairly young, too. After a pause, you reached for a small Red Widow's Thrill, the tiny star-shaped flowers clustered together.

You nodded to yourself, hugging the two plants to your chest, and walked to the counter.

Park Jongseong was still there. Still wrestling with the roses.

He didn’t look up.

You stood across from him, watching quietly as he muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “why do flowers even need bows—this is psychological warfare.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“…Did the roses hurt you personally, or is this your first day?”

He jolted.

His head snapped up so fast he nearly knocked over the ribbon spool. His eyes locked onto yours—wide, brown, and clearly panicked.

“I—Uh—sorry, I didn’t hear you come in—wait—” he blinked, narrowing his eyes slightly as if trying to place your face.

“You’re the girl from the library.”

You nodded once. “Jake’s friend, Park Jongseong?”

His nose scrunched instantly, and he shook his head. “Park Jongseong sounds way too formal. It’s just Jay.”

“Okay, Jay,” you echoed with a small smile tugging at your lips.

Your gaze drifted downward, eyes settling on the crumpled pink paper and the satin white ribbon in his hands. “Need any help?”

Jay looked down at the mess in his fingers, then up at you with a sheepish grin and ears tinged a soft, rosy red. “Do I look that helpless?”

You laughed softly, “No, not really.”

“Then I can do this,” he said, suddenly straightening with mock confidence as he hastily tried to wrap the ribbon around the roses again, the satin slipping out of his fingers twice before he managed to tie something close to a bow.

His fingers were clumsy but careful. You watched, entertained.

He brought the bouquet to the counter and gestured to the plants in your hands. “I’ll ring those up for you.”

You handed them over—your little cactus and the red widow’s thrill—and leaned slightly against the counter, watching him work.

He scanned them quickly, then looked up. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” you said as you reached into your bag and pulled out a bill.

You handed him the cash and tilted your head curiously, eyes flicking toward the unevenly wrapped bouquet of roses still sitting beside the counter.

“So… who are the flowers for?”

He nodded toward the bouquet of roses sitting awkwardly in the wrapping paper.

“My mom has this regular she always prepares flowers for. Some girl named (Y/N). She told me to pack them up for her like usual. I just hope she doesn’t mind the presentation.” He gave a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked slowly, your lips twitching upward. “No, I don’t.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

You broke into a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. “Nice to meet you,” you said, sticking your hand out playfully. “I’m (Y/N).”

Jay blinked. Once. Twice. Like you just grew wings.

You pulled your lanyard from around your neck and flashed your ID. “Promise.”

His eyes widened. “(Y/N)—oh my god. I’m so, so sorry—”

“Relax,” you laughed, waving him off as he bent into an apologetic bow. “I told you, it looks nice.”

“If that’s nice, then what about those?” he said, gesturing to a poor, wobbly bouquet of lavenders sitting behind him, lopsided and definitely taped unevenly.

You giggled softly. “Oh, come on. They’re not half bad.”

“That’s what my mom said too,” he muttered, clearly unconvinced.

Your eyes scanned the shop again as you leaned on the counter a little. “So how many customers have you tried to appease tonight?”

Jay huffed a laugh. “Not that many. Maybe ten? Most of them just bought potted ones. Less…ribbon trauma.”

You nodded slowly as he handed over the now neatly boxed succulents.

Then, without much thought, he lifted the bouquet of roses and held it out to you gently. “I really am sorry for the roses.”

You took them, smiling warmly. “And I said don’t sweat it. Have a good night, Jay.”

Before he could even open his mouth to say something else, you were already pushing the door open, letting the soft jingle of the shop’s bells ring out as you disappeared into the evening.

Jay stood there, blinking at the empty doorway, the scent of roses still clinging faintly to his fingers.

“…Have a nice night, (Y/N),” he mumbled to no one.

He glanced back down at the ribbon still draped across the counter, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly.

He didn’t know why—but suddenly, this shift in his boring routine didn’t seem so boring anymore.

Jay exhaled, raking a hand through his hair before muttering under his breath, “The flowers must be driving me insane.”

With a defeated sigh, he shook his head and slumped back into the chair behind the counter.

He reached under the counter and pulled out his overstuffed bag, dragging out his laptop and the thick, miserable stack of notes from his social psychology class.

He stared at the papers for a beat, then scoffed lightly. “I take it back. This is boring.”

The wind bit at your cheeks as you hurried down the path, jacket clutched tighter to your chest.

Your scarf was slipping—again—and your breath fogged in the dim light of a morning that hadn’t fully arrived yet.

The sun was still hiding behind the clouds, tucked somewhere far behind the rooftops.

You hated rushing. Especially past the roses out front. But the cold was merciless today, slicing through the gaps in your coat and coaxing a grumble from your lips as you quickened your steps.

The shop’s glass doors came into view, fogged slightly from the inside warmth. You pushed them open with stiff fingers, a quiet chime following you in.

Warmth wrapped around you like a woolen blanket. The smell of fresh blooms, faint soil, and something baked—something sweet—immediately filled your lungs.

It was a comfort that no heater or glove could mimic.

“Not stopping to admire the roses this morning, dear?”

You turned, and your heart eased further.

Mrs. Park stood behind the counter in her cozy lilac cardigan, a tray of fresh muffins beside her, still steaming. Her hair was pinned back in its usual way, her smile like the kind you only find in storybooks or movies with happy endings.

You smiled, already walking toward the daisies in the corner near the register. “Good morning, Mrs. Park.”

“They’re almond and brown sugar today,” she said proudly, nodding toward the tray. “Still warm.”

You nodded, peeling off your gloves. “You spoil me.”

“Nonsense. You kids don’t eat enough,” she huffed softly, wiping her hands on a cloth before motioning to the flowers. “Thought I’d switch the display a little this morning.”

You ran your fingers over the soft white petals, smiling faintly to yourself. “They look good.”

The sudden chime of the bells made your head turn.

And there he was again. The boy from the library. The one who had handed you roses wrapped in crinkled tissue and unsure words.

He stepped inside, wind chasing after him before the door clicked shut.

He wore a black hoodie layered over a grey shirt, simple jeans, and glasses that clung to the bridge of his nose like they belonged there.

He blinked slowly at the warmth of the shop, his eyes adjusting—and then they landed on you.

He froze for a second. Just a second.

Then he cleared his throat and offered a sheepish smile.

You returned it gently, offering a slight nod, before dropping your gaze back to the daisies and plucking a few, along with a handful of the white roses nestled beside them. You brought them up to the counter.

Mrs. Park beamed as she reached for the stems. “Newspaper or that fancy ribbon wrap today, dear?”

“Just newspaper, please,” you said, placing the blooms gently on the wooden surface.

She began wrapping them up as you reached into your coat pocket, pulling out a folded bill and placing it atop the counter. “Please, Mrs. Park. Just take it today.”

She laughed, shaking her head but accepting it nonetheless. “Just because you’re so stubborn.”

You smiled and glanced to the side just in time to see Jay who wordlessly stepped past you and disappeared behind the beaded curtain that led to the shop’s backroom.

You figured he was grabbing something and turned your attention back to the flowers.

But moments later, he returned, now with his bag slung over one shoulder, the other hand running through his hair like he was trying to compose himself.

Mrs. Park tied the final knot of twine around your bouquet and handed it to you with a smile.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

You took them carefully. “Thank you, Mrs. Park. I’ll see you late—”

“(Y/N), dear?”

You turned just as your hand reached for the doorknob. “Yes, Mrs. Park?”

She wiped her hands on her apron. “How do you usually get to Decelis? You just walk, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s not too far. Twenty minutes, give or take.”

She turned her gaze toward Jay, who was quietly zipping up his bag, pretending not to hear. “Jay, do you mind driving (Y/N) to the university?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh—no, no, there’s no need! I walk all the time, it’s completely fine.”

Mrs. Park tutted, crossing her arms. “It’s freezing out there. Look at you, your nose is already pink. And Jay has a car.”

“I don’t mind,” Jay said, voice low but steady. His cheeks were very clearly tinged red, though it was unclear whether it was from the cold or the question.

Still, you shook your head. “Trust me, Mrs. Park, I don’t want to bother—”

“It’s really fine,” Jay said again, this time softer. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

You hesitated, torn, but Mrs. Park had already gestured toward the door like there was no room for protest.

With a sigh, you gave in. “Okay… if you’re sure.”

You turned to find Jay already by the door, holding it open.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you stepped past him.

“No problem,” he replied, his eyes flicking to you only briefly before focusing on the sidewalk ahead. “Just… careful with the steps, it’s icy.”

You nodded, tightening your grip on the flowers as the cold bit at your cheeks again. J

ay let the door close behind you both, the jingle of the bell muffled by the wind—but not before he paused, lifting a brow at his mother’s suddenness.

Mrs. Park only smiled knowingly from the counter, lifting her muffin tray in a wave like she hadn’t just thrown you into the same car with her son.

Jay shook his head with a breath of disbelief, muttering something under his breath before digging into his hoodie pocket for his keys.

He held them up with a faint jingle and walked over to a sleek black Ferrari parked right in front.

You blinked owlishly, “…That’s yours?” you asked, pointing.

He looked at the car, then at you, and tilted his head. “What, the stroller?”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, even as he opened the passenger side door for you, motioning you in with a small, gentlemanly bow that made your heart thump louder than you liked.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the warmth threatening to paint your face—completely unnecessary in the cold, but there it was anyway.

He closed the door softly after you were seated, then jogged around to the driver’s side, slipping in with one smooth motion.

He tossed his bag in the backseat and started the engine, the dashboard lighting up with a soft hum as the heater kicked in.

“What do you mean, ‘all this time’?” he asked, glancing at you while adjusting the mirrors.

You buckled your seatbelt, settling in. “I always see this car parked here… I just assumed it was Mrs. Park’s, or like… some rich guy’s who lives across the street.”

Jay chuckled under his breath, clicking his own seatbelt into place. “My mom drives—but not really. It's either me, my dad, or whatever driver’s free from home or the company.”

You blinked at him again. “So you’re like, a certified chauffeur.”

He shot you a look. “Don’t act surprised. I do more than just water plants and fight you over roses.”

You snorted. “Fight is a strong word.”

Jay gave you a look like he didn’t believe that for a second. You just smiled to yourself, the warm air slowly thawing the tips of your fingers.

“What’s with that look?” he asked suddenly, eyes flicking to you while waiting at the corner for a passing delivery truck.

“What look?” you replied innocently.

He narrowed his eyes. “You're looking at me like I’m a wilting plant or something.”

You burst into a laugh, the kind you tried to smother behind your scarf but failed.

“I’ll just keep it to myself,” you said, still giggling. “You might judge me.”

Jay shrugged. “Kinda too late for that, don’t you think? You’re literally in my car, (Y/N).”

You turned your head slowly, his use of your name catching you off guard, like he was testing how it felt in his mouth. Soft and thoughtful.

“Well…” you started slowly, “I mean, I always thought Mrs. Park was kidding when she said the flower shop was more of a hobby than a job.”

Jay sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “It is a hobby. Technically.”

“And you’re popular for being, you know,” you raised your brows dramatically, “rich.”

“Not rich,” he corrected, eyes flicking to the road. “Just… well off.”

You grinned. “That’s what all the rich people say.”

He laughed a little at that, shaking his head like he was trying to figure you out.

“Park and Bloom,” he said, nodding back toward the shop.

“It’s her passion project. She manages it in the mornings, leaves it to my cousin in the afternoons. Keeps her busy.”

“Busy from what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Jay glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching like there was more he wasn’t saying. “Busy from everything else. My dad’s business, board seats, charities… pretending she’s not way too young to be retired.”

You blinked. “Damn.”

He glanced sideways again. “What?”

“I don’t know. That’s… kinda impressive.”

He let out a small scoff, but you didn’t miss the slight lift in his posture.

“Well,” you started, leaning back into the passenger seat as you stretched your arms a little, fingers brushing over your sweater sleeves.

“What about you? What’s your hobby?”

Jay blinked. The question seemed simple, but it visibly threw him off. His hands tightened ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

No one really asked him that. People either assumed they knew, or didn’t care to learn. Most didn’t even have the guts to make eye contact after one conversation.

He didn’t answer right away.

“Earth to Jay,” you teased, waving a hand near his face with a small grin.

He blinked again, this time snapping out of whatever thought he was drowning in. “Right—uh. I like playing the guitar, I guess.”

You perked up. “Really?”

He nodded, almost sheepishly. “Yeah. Not a rockstar or anything, just… I play when I can.”

“Interesting.” You tilted your head, pretending to examine him like you were solving a puzzle. “So, are you a business major?”

He let out a small chuckle—low and amused. “Are we playing 21 questions now?”

You smirked. “Well, as you said, I’m already in your car. Might as well get to know my driver.”

“Driver?” he repeated with mock offense, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Wow. And here I thought I was being nice.”

You just laughed, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“But no,” he added, “I’m studying psychology.”

Your head turned fast enough to make your hair sway. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I know—unexpected, right?”

You paused, thoughtful. “Not really… just surprising.”

“How so?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You leaned against the window, gaze drifting to the shops passing by in soft, sleepy blur.

“I guess… assuming from your reputation—y’know, being the heir to a business empire—I thought you’d take business. But no. It’s kind of refreshing.”

Jay glanced at you again, slower this time. You were still looking out the window, completely unaware of how carefully he was watching you.

Refreshing.

It was refreshing for him too—not just because you weren’t interested in his bank account or the company he’d one day run, but because you asked things for the sake of knowing.

Out of curiosity. Not calculation. It was rare.

He smiled quietly, looking back at the road. “It is, isn’t it?”

You turned to him then, catching the last flicker of that smile as you raised a brow. “So,” you said slowly, almost teasing, “Is the famous Park Jongseong going to continue his psychology dreams?”

“If I have time to do so after taking over the company, then…”

He gave a small shrug, one hand lazily adjusting the steering wheel. “Why not?”

You nodded, a little more solemn this time. “Still inheriting the business after all.”

“Mhm. I’m ready for it,” he said. “So don’t worry.”

Your lips tugged into a soft line, voice low as you mumbled, “Never doubted you.”

And for a moment, silence engulfed the car. Not the awkward kind, but something quieter. Something that hummed just beneath your skin, settling into the space between you and him.

Jay didn’t respond right away. His fingers just drummed softly on the steering wheel, almost like he was processing something—maybe your words, maybe the weight they carried.

You didn’t realize how long that silence lasted until you blinked and looked out the window, realizing you were already parked right in front of the laboratory building.

The engine hummed softly beneath your feet, and the campus morning buzz was just starting to stir outside.

You turned to him. “You could’ve just dropped me off at the gate, you know.”

Jay shook his head, eyes still fixed ahead before flicking to you with a slight raise of his brow.

“Do you want my mom to kill me?” he said, half-joking, half-serious. “Plus, it’s kind of a long walk.”

You snorted. “Whatever you say, chauffeur.”

That made him smile, but before he could reach for the door handle to get out and open it for you, you raised a hand.

“No need,” you said quickly. “I can get out of the car myself.”

He hesitated. “But—”

“I’m fine, Jay,” you interrupted, a little more gently this time. “I swear.”

He sighed, sinking back into his seat. “Okay. If you say so.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt, the click loud in the quiet space. Your hand lingered on the door handle for a second longer before you turned to him again.

“Thanks for the ride, Jay. Have a good morning.”

His eyes softened, lips curving slightly as he nodded. “You too, (YN). See you around.”

You smiled—small, sincere—before stepping out and shutting the car door behind you.

He didn’t drive away right away. Not until he saw you reach the building’s steps, humming to yourself, brushing some hair away from your face. The sun hit just right, making the morning light settle on your skin like soft gold.

You ignored the few curious glances tossed your way—some confused, some whispering—but you didn’t let it get to you. You kept your head high, steps light, your bag swinging gently by your side.

You didn’t look back.

But Jay watched for just a moment longer before pulling away, the image of your quiet smile still lingering in the corner of his mind.

The late afternoon sunlight stretched lazily across the classroom, golden rays filtering through the windows as you hunched over your desk, squinting between the glare on your laptop screen and your open notebook.

The room buzzed softly with low chatter, the occasional laugh, and the scratch of pens against paper.

Most students were scattered across the room, taking advantage of the free period, some napping, some studying.

You weren't surprised that the seat beside yours was empty—but his things were there: a worn-out hoodie thrown haphazardly on the chair, a mechanical pencil sticking out of his open pencil case, and his phone charging beside your elbow, leeching off your power bank like always.

Your fingers tapped the keys methodically, eyes darting from screen to page, double-checking that your notes on cellular respiration weren’t just typed right, but color-coded correctly.

You were in the middle of highlighting a complicated term when a hand landed on your table.

The jolt made your pen jerk violently across the page, leaving a streak of fluorescent orange ink slicing through the margin like a battle scar.

You blinked slowly at the mess, then sighed through your nose. "I swear, if any of you guys just ruined my—"

You looked up, already scowling.

Park Jisung was in front of you.

Hair ruffled from the wind, cheeks pink from running, and his eyes practically sparkling as he grinned down at you like a golden retriever who had just fetched a stick.

“Where have you been?” you asked flatly, raising a brow. “I’ve been doing all this by myself while you’re out there vanishing into thin air—”

“When were you going to tell me you had a thing for Jay?” he blurted out, completely ignoring you.

“…What.”

“You know,” he said, plopping into his seat, legs bouncing with barely-contained energy. “Park Jongseong? Jay? Tall, good-looking, looks like a prince? That Jay.”

“Yeah, I know who he is,” you said slowly, “*but I definitely don’t have a thing with him.”

“Well,” Jisung leaned in, smirking, “Chenle told me he saw you getting out of Jay’s car this morning.”

“What?!” you half-yelped, earning glances from your seatmates.

You gave a sheepish nod of apology toward one of them before turning back to Jisung with wide eyes.

“What do you mean Chenle saw that? Why was he even in our building?”

“I told him to come,” Jisung said casually, as if this wasn’t earth-shattering information. “I accidentally shoved one of his camera lenses into my bag during our shoot yesterday.”

You slapped your forehead. “Dumbass.”

“We’re going off-topic,” he said, looking far too entertained. “Jay. Car. You. What’s the deal?”

The bell rang, slicing through the tension. Students began packing up, chairs scraping, zippers zipping.

You stood and started gathering your things, flustered. “We really don’t have anything going on, Jisung.”

He stood too, but lingered, grabbing his charger from your power bank. “But the whole car thing—?”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, walking toward the door with Jisung trailing beside you like an eager detective.

“You know my favorite flower shop?”

He nodded, squinting at you. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Well…” You adjusted the strap of your bag. “His mom owns it.”

Jisung stopped walking.

“His mom?” he said incredulously, then scrambled to catch up. “Wait. Like, she owns it-owns it?”

You shrugged. “One of their family’s many businesses, I guess.”

He stared at you like the sky had just turned purple.

“So you’re telling me you got out of Jay’s car, after being a regular at a flower shop that his mother owns, and you two aren’t dating?”

You laughed, eyes crinkling. “No! I doubt he’s into flower-obsessed caffeine addicts.”

“Stop acting like people don’t kiss the ground you walk on,” Jisung grumbled, exasperated. “You’re literally one of the most popular students in the science department.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you said, chuckling. “I’m not even close to Jay’s level of popularity.”

“But you’re still popular!” he insisted, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “We’re in different realms, Jisung.”

“Different realms, my ass,” he snorted. “If I find out you two start dating, you owe me dinner.”

You turned your head toward him, raising a brow with a teasing grin. “Deal.”

“Wait—really?” he blinked, slightly caught off guard.

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged casually. “It’s not like it’s gonna happen anyway.”

He let out a loud laugh, the kind that made a few students glance your way. “You say that now, (Y/N), but watch—you’re gonna be sharing a milk tea with him in no time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as the two of you pushed through the front doors of the science building and stepped into the warm afternoon sun.

Students buzzed around campus like bees in a hive, backpacks swinging, voices carrying in the breeze.

“Are you going with me to the library?” you asked, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

Jisung shook his head. “Nah, but I’ll walk with you. I’m going in the same direction anyway.”

“For what?”

“Jeno invited me to this basketball thing,” he said, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Apparently their team’s captain—uh, Heeseung, I think—he’s looking for new people to play with for fun or whatever.”

You smiled. “Heeseung’s not that bad.”

Jisung looked at you sideways, squinting. “Wait—you know him?”

You nodded, stepping around a group of freshmen standing in the middle of the walkway. “I’ve heard of him through Jake. They’re friends. I think Heeseung’s in the same friend group as Jay, too.”

“God,” Jisung groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Rich people. I swear, they’re built different. Like you accidentally bump into them and suddenly you’re cursed for life or offered a black card.”

You burst into laughter. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not wrong,” he huffed.

“They’ve got this whole aesthetic. Leather jackets, expensive watches, dangerous glares. I don’t even know if I’m walking into a friendly basketball game or a mafia recruitment.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Just don’t let Heeseung intimidate you. He seems chill.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung muttered. “Says the girl who’s brushing shoulders with them.”

You snorted. “They’re just people, Jisung.”

“Mmhm. Rich, insanely good-looking people who probably have secret trust funds and family empires.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Just smiled to yourself and kept walking, letting the late afternoon breeze play with the edge of your sleeves.

The sun had dipped low enough to spill warm gold over the campus walkways, shadows stretching across the stone paths and weaving between the sea of students heading to their own destinations.

Beside you, Jisung kicked at a pebble and sighed, like he hadn’t just casually insulted half of Decelis University’s most beloved golden boys.

The crowd thinned a little by the time you reached the front steps of the main library.

You slowed, glancing up at the tall glass doors and then to Jisung, who was already looking at you with a knowing smirk.

“This is your stop,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He tilted his head. “You got a shift tonight?”

“No,” you replied, pulling your bag higher on your shoulder.

He let out a long sigh. “Then what are you even gonna do in there?”

“I need to finish our paper. And study for the quiz.”

Jisung blinked. “We have a quiz?”

You laughed. “Next week.”

His eyebrows scrunched together, mouth pulling into a frown. “You’re studying a week early?”

You gave him a sheepish shrug, smiling like you hadn’t just exposed yourself. “Why not?”

He groaned dramatically, stepping back like your logic physically wounded him. “This is exactly why people call you a nerd.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Who calls me a nerd?”

“Me,” he said flatly, flashing a grin.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to argue. Instead, you jerked your chin toward the direction of the gym. “Just go to the gym, Jisung.”

He was already walking backwards, flashing you a peace sign. “Bye, nerd!”

“Seriously…” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the already open double doors of the main library, the warm yellow lights inside spilling out.

You stepped inside and instantly felt the difference—the hush of the indoors, the faint hum of heaters, and the overwhelming scent of old books and disinfectant that always clung to the place.

Your shoes padded softly across the wooden floor as you headed straight for the front desk.

Sure enough, there was Eunchae, sitting behind the counter, her brows furrowed as she flipped through a small stack of returned books, scanning barcodes and sorting titles like clockwork.

The sight made you smile—but it quickly faded when you noticed the noise level in the room.

The main floor of the library was packed. Every table was full, every group buzzed with whispers, pens tapped, pages flipped, and the occasional shuffle of chairs echoed across the space.

“Hey, Eunchae,” you greeted, walking up to the desk.

She looked up immediately, her whole face lighting up when she saw you. “Hey! You're early,” she said with a grin, brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear before setting the book aside.

You leaned against the counter, glancing back at the tables and letting out a soft sigh. “Looks crazy in here. You okay?”

Eunchae nodded, but her eyes betrayed just how frazzled she really felt. “It’s just really busy tonight,” she muttered, rubbing her temples before straightening up.

“Group projects. Midterms. People panicking. The usual.”

You scanned the room again, eyes trailing from the study cubicles to the crowded group tables. “Are you sure you can deal with this alone?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I need the credentials anyway. Still, thank you for giving me your shift tonight. You didn’t have to.”

You shook your head quickly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It’s nothing. Seriously. You’ve covered for me enough times.”

Eunchae offered a grateful look before returning her attention to the stack of books on her left. “Try to find a seat, though. It's every man for themselves tonight.”

You groaned playfully. “Noted.”

She chuckled, then tapped the empty chair beside her. “If you don’t find any, you can crash here with me. I won’t judge if you type away behind the desk.”

You nodded gratefully, taking a step back with a soft smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good luck, Eunchae.”

“Same to you, (Y/N),” she replied, voice warm as ever.

Stepping away from the front desk, you adjusted the strap of your bag and exhaled. Your eyes scanned the room for an open seat—nothing. Every table was packed.

You sighed, walking deeper into the library. Past the tall, aged shelves, where the noise began to soften, muffled by old pages and quiet focus.

The deeper you went, the more your heartbeat slowed—less chaos, more calm.

Near the very back, where the windows were fogged slightly from the cool outside air, you spotted a couple rising from their seats, collecting their things.

You silently willed them to move faster, and as soon as they stepped away, you were quick to slide into the nearest chair.

Or you tried to.

A hand landed on the chair across from you at the same time, and you froze.

Your eyes met someone else's—only to be met with familiar dark ones you’ve recognized.

Jay stood there, books piled in one arm, a half-drunk coffee in the other, a hint of steam still curling from the lid.

His hair was slightly tousled like he'd run his hands through it too many times, and his uniform blazer was unbuttoned, sleeves slightly rolled, as if he had been fighting sleep and time since morning.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “It’s you.”

“Good evening, Jay,” you greeted politely, trying not to sound as surprised as you felt.

“Good evening, (Y/N),” he mirrored, voice softer.

He nodded toward the table, shifting his weight on one foot. “Were you… going to sit here?”

You gave a slow nod. “Yes, actually.”

“Oh—sorry.” He took a step back immediately, smile sheepish as he gestured vaguely behind him. “I didn’t mean to—uh—steal it. I can find somewhere else—”

You cut him off with a small shake of your head. “It’s fine. We can share.”

Jay tilted his head slightly, brows raised. “Are you sure? I mean… I don’t want to intrude.”

“You gave me a ride earlier,” you reminded him gently, eyes flicking to the chair across from yours. “This is the least I can do. So please—sit.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before his lips curved into a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, settling into the seat as you both placed your things on the table.

The moment his bag dropped to the floor with a dull thud, he let out an audible sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair for just a second. You glanced at him, amused.

“That bad, huh?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, massaging the back of his neck. “It’s been a long day.”

You offered a sympathetic smile as you began pulling out your own pile of papers, smoothing them out beside your laptop. Jay glanced over at your mountain of handouts, raising a brow.

“What about you?”

“I have a quiz next week,” you mumbled, “and like… three lab reports I haven’t started yet.”

You lifted the messy bundle of worksheets and waved them dramatically. Jay snorted, opening one of the heavy books from his pile.

“God. Sounds familiar.”

“What’s with all the books?” you asked, eyeing the stack. “Research?”

“Nope,” he said grimly, “three quizzes tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help the grimace that twisted your face. “Oh.”

Jay chuckled at your reaction, the sound low and tired. “I know. Tell me about it.”

You smiled, setting your laptop in place and opening your notebook.

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the library and the occasional flipping of pages filling the space.

Jay glanced at you again, barely turning his head but enough to catch a glimpse of the way your brows furrowed as you read over your notes. His lips quirked up in a quiet, boyish smile—so fleeting it could’ve gone unnoticed.

He shook his head with a soft chuckle under his breath, gaze falling back to his own open textbook, where highlighters bled through the thin pages and his scrawled handwriting curved like tangled ivy across the margins.

But even as he looked down, he wasn’t really reading.

Because to him, everything about you was astonishing.

You didn’t approach him just to gawk. You didn’t fumble over your words or try to flirt like everyone else did. You didn’t bat your lashes or hang on to his every sentence for the sake of impressing him.

You asked questions. Real ones. Thoughtful ones.

As if you saw past all the surface-level noise and looked directly at the person underneath—the one he wasn’t sure anyone bothered to see anymore.

You talked to him like he was just Park Jongseong. Nobody else.

A soft hum left his lips, and he leaned back in his chair a little, eyes skimming the highlighted lines again as he tapped the capped end of his pen against the desk.

He snickered quietly at one of the messier annotations scribbled in the margin, his own handwriting nearly impossible to read in the yellow ink.

His brief laughter caught your attention, and when you looked up, you found him smiling—eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners. It made you smile too, instinctively.

You tilted your head, eyes warm with curiosity.

“Is it true that psychology makes you insane too?” you asked teasingly.

Jay laughed, this time more openly, the sound melting into the quiet murmur of the library.

He turned his book around and tilted it in your direction, revealing the absolute chaos of notes, arrows, underlines, and circles all over the pages.

“No,” he said with a grin. “I just find my handwriting funny.”

You leaned forward to look, eyes widening a bit. “Funny? Jay, this looks like a crime scene,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Is that a smiley face next to the word trauma?”

Jay rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, chuckling. “Yeah, well. Gotta keep things light somehow.”

You both laughed, the kind that bubbled naturally and settled between you as you pointed your pen at him with a teasing squint.

“Light is a bit too far-fetched with that topic, Jay. You’re literally dissecting the human mind.”

He turned the book back around, flipping through a few more pages littered with chaotic lines, highlighted blocks of text, and tiny frustrated scribbles in the margins.

“I should probably rewrite my notes,” he sighed, half-laughing, half-defeated.

You smiled softly and nudged your open pencil case toward him without a word. The soft clatter of pens and highlighters drew his attention.

“Knock yourself out,” you said, the corners of your lips tugging upward.

Jay glanced at the offered tools, then at you—your calm presence, the curve of your smirk, the way your hand rested near your laptop like you’d been waiting to offer help all along.

He reached over and took a black pen, his fingers brushing yours just barely.

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet to catch, as if saying it too loud would make the moment too real.

You just nodded, lowering your gaze back to your notebook, but your smile lingered.

Minutes passed. Then more. What started as a short break turned into hours of quiet company. The kind that didn’t need to be filled with words.

You worked on your lab sheets, flipping between tabs and scribbling formulas, while Jay read through his notes, occasionally adjusting the sticky flags he had lined up across the edge of a thick textbook.

Every once in a while, one of you would say something—about a definition, a memory from class, or just a random thought—and the other would respond with a small smile or a soft laugh before falling back into the comfort of silence.

You stretched your fingers after typing out the final conclusion on your lab report. “And… done,” you whispered under your breath.

Jay hummed across you, glancing over. “That’s it?”

You looked up, blinking. “You’re done?”

He shrugged, closing his book and gesturing at the mess in front of him. “I guess so. I’ve read through every chapter twice, and I think my highlighters are crying for help.”

You laughed, glancing at the pages, now overwhelmed with neon yellow, green, and pink. Sticky notes stuck out like feathers on a bird.

“Nice job,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Jay nodded with mock triumph. “What about you?”

You turned your laptop toward him. “Just finished answering everything.”

He tilted his head, leaning in a little as he scanned the open tabs and your meticulous work. “All three sheets?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded.

“Damn,” he muttered, impressed. “We make one good study team.”

You chuckled softly. “That’s true.”

As you began closing your laptop and slipping it into your bag, you nudged your pencil case toward him. “Are you done?”

“Oh—yes, thank you,” he said, quickly putting the pen he borrowed back inside.

You zipped it up, placing it gently in your bag. “No problem. Glad I could help you, you know?”

Jay gave a soft smile, a genuine one, as he looked around the now nearly empty library.

It was quiet—much quieter than it had been hours ago. The hum of conversations and footsteps had faded into the occasional rustle of paper or the librarian’s distant footsteps.

He started packing up as well, carefully slotting in what he could into his messenger bag, organizing the mess he had made earlier.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded, standing up and stretching a little. Jay followed suit, and the two of you walked side by side through the long aisle of bookshelves.

There was something calm about the way the library dimmed toward closing, the distant sound of a ticking clock echoing through the tall ceiling.

“What now?” Jay asked, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.

“Well, I usually walk back to my apartment after this,” you said, voice soft, “but I stop by your mom’s flower shop first.”

Jay glanced at you, humming. “That’s nice.”

You tilted your head a little, curious. “What is?”

He looked down at you, meeting your eyes with something close to admiration. “Seeing you so dedicated to the shop.”

A smile slowly spread across your face. The compliment was simple—but it warmed something in your chest.

“I love it a lot,” you said softly. “Ever since I started going to Decelis, Mrs. Park had everything I ever needed for my labs… and she’s really nice.”

Jay nodded, agreeing. “She is. Well—thank you for being our regular.”

You smiled wider as he bumped his shoulder playfully against yours, making you roll your eyes with a little laugh.

“Plus, I love her baked treats,” you added. “They’re really good.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Jay said with a grin.

As the two of you neared the front desk, a voice chimed out.

“Good night, (Y/N)—you too, Park.”

You looked up to see Eunchae mid-sentence, blinking at the both of you. Her gaze flicked between your face and Jay’s, and a teasing smile tugged at her lips almost immediately.

Jay furrowed his brows slightly, glancing between the two of you in confusion.

You sighed, muttering, “Walk faster,” as you gently tugged on his sleeve.

Jay looked at you, then back at Eunchae, then raised an eyebrow as a grin slowly pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay… what was that about?” he asked.

You gave him a deadpan look. “Ignore her.”

Behind you, Eunchae grinned even wider, wiggling her fingers in a teasing wave as you and Jay walked out the library doors.

The evening breeze brushed past the both of you, gently tousling your hair as the sky dimmed into deep blues and golds. The faint sound of laughter and footsteps echoed from distant parts of campus.

Jay shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing sideways at you.

“Should I, uh, know the meaning behind that little interaction back there?” he asked, referring to Eunchae’s smug wave.

You let out a laugh through your nose, hugging your arms as the wind picked up again. “No, please don’t,” you replied, tone playfully dramatic. “For your sanity.”

Jay chuckled, nodding. “Got it. I’ll pretend I saw nothing.”

You both walked side by side, the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes filling the comfortable silence.

“I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten,” he said, glancing up at the dusky sky.

“Yeah…” you agreed softly. “It’s pretty late.”

Jay hesitated, slowing his steps a little before turning to you. And if it wasn’t for the campus lights just starting to flicker on, you might’ve noticed the faint blush painting his cheeks.

He cleared his throat. “Uhm… are you hungry?”

You tilted your head, blinking at him. “Why?”

Jay looked down, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting. “I mean—you don’t have to be—but I just thought, maybe, you know…”

You grinned. “I can eat.”

His head snapped up, startled. “Oh. That’s—good. That’s great.”

You squinted at him, amused. “Why? What’s up?”

Jay rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as he stuttered, “Well, I uh—was thinking—maybe if you're not busy and I mean you’re probably not because we’re already walking and it's late and—”

You reached over and tugged gently on the sleeve of his hoodie, giggling. “Jay. Calm down. I can’t understand you.”

His mouth shut instantly. His eyes dropped to your hand, still lightly tugging on his sleeve—your fingers just barely brushing the fabric, but somehow it made his heart race. He blinked, then inhaled slowly.

“Do you want to eat dinner?” he asked, voice a bit steadier this time. “With me?”

You stared at him for a beat, then smiled.

“My treat,” he added, eyes darting away, cheeks glowing pink.

You blinked once then leaned in a little closer, grinning. “Is this a date?”

His eyes widened. “What—I mean—no! Not like that—I just—I figured we both haven’t eaten and it's late and—and it's totally fine if you don’t want to, I wasn’t trying to make it weird or anything—”

And there it was again. That same Jay Park who had a reputation for being cool, level-headed, untouchable—now standing in front of you as a stammering, flushed, hoodie-wearing mess because of one little question and the tiniest bit of skin contact.

You giggled, letting go of his sleeve. “I’m just teasing, Jay.”

He pouted, mumbling something under his breath as he looked down at his hands, now fidgeting with the silver rings on his fingers.

“You didn’t have to put me on the spot like that…” he grumbled.

You laughed again, watching the way he furrowed his brows and blew air into his bangs.

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, bumping your shoulder gently into his.

He sighed, cheeks still tinged with pink, “So… is that a yes or a no?”

You nodded enthusiastically, eyes crinkling with your smile. “Yes. I’ll have dinner with you.”

A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Okay. My treat.”

You immediately protested, “Wait—Jay—”

But he was already walking ahead, hands buried in his hoodie pockets, grinning to himself.

“No takebacks,” he called over his shoulder. “You already agreed.”

You jogged a few steps after him, eyes wide. “No fair!”

Jay looked back, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “All’s fair in love and late-night dinners,” he said with a smug little shrug.

The road stretched ahead in a calm blur of streetlights and sleepy buildings, the dashboard lights casting a soft glow over the two of you.

Jay’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his other casually draped over the gearshift as a gentle tune filled the silence from the car speakers.

“If that’s what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours…” he sang under his breath, low and steady, just barely louder than a hum.

You turned your head from the window where your cheek had been resting against your palm, and looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

Jay kept his eyes on the road, shoulders twitching in a sheepish shrug. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” you countered, your voice warm with amusement.

“Jay, stop lying. You sounded really good.”

He chuckled softly, one corner of his lips lifting in a shy smile. “Okay, maybe I can, but I’m not that good. I’d rather stick to playing the guitar, honestly.”

You shifted in your seat to face him a little more, still grinning. “I like your voice, though.”

Jay glanced at you then—just for a second—but the smile on his face grew the tiniest bit softer. “Thanks,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to the road.

“I’m serious,” you said gently. “It’s calming. You should sing more often.”

Jay exhaled a breathy laugh and scratched the back of his neck with one hand. “So… you like English songs?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I like some of them. I’ve had this one on repeat lately.”

He hummed, bobbing his head a little. “Nice taste.”

You smiled smugly, playful. “I know.”

That made him laugh again—this time, a bit louder. “Cocky much?”

“Just confident,” you teased, elbowing him lightly.

“Mmhm.” He nodded in fake seriousness, then looked ahead again, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the music. “I love this one too, though.”

“Really?” you asked, tilting your head.

He nodded, and his voice slipped out again, just a touch louder this time.

“If it’s ten thousand hours or the rest of my life, I’m gonna love you…”

You stared without meaning to, your breath caught somewhere between your chest and throat.

The moonlight washed through the car window, casting a soft silvery sheen over Jay’s features—his dark hair slightly tousled, jawline sharp, lips curling faintly with the lyrics, and those calm, focused eyes.

For a moment, he didn’t look like the Jay you knew—the one always being scolded for fighting, or arguing with you over notes.

He looked gentle. Thoughtful. Beautiful.

You smiled to yourself, eyes fluttering down as you whispered, “It really is a good song.”

Jay looked over briefly, catching the way you were gazing at him, and tilted his head slightly, voice softer now. “Do you like it that much?”

There was a pause. The song continued, lyrics floating through the air between you like something delicate.

Jay’s voice was low when he replied, “It reminds me of something, too.”

You turned to him slowly. “What does it remind you of?”

He hesitated, lips parting slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it. But then he just smiled faintly, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Nothing bad.”

That made your heart skip just a little.

You didn’t push it. You just smiled softly to yourself, letting the comfortable silence return as he focused on driving.

The soft hum of the song continued through the speakers, wrapping around the two of you like a blanket, and before you knew it, Jay was pulling into a parking spot.

You blinked at the sudden stop and turned to look out the window.

A warm, cozy-looking restaurant stood in front of you. The soft glow of fairy lights wrapped around the pillars of the outdoor patio, and groups of people laughed and talked over their meals.

You noticed how packed the parking lot was — it must’ve been a popular spot.

“This place looks… really nice,” you said, turning to him.

Jay just smiled as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “It is.”

Before you could even reach for the handle, he was already out and walking around the car. Your heart did a little somersault when he opened the door for you, offering a hand.

You laughed. “Really?”

“C’mon,” he said, smirking. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but took his hand anyway. It was warm. Firm. Comforting. He helped you out with ease and kept holding your hand for a moment longer before letting go reluctantly.

As you both walked up to the entrance, you glanced sideways at him. “So, how’d you know about this place?”

He shrugged casually. “My aunt owns it.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “No way. That’s actually really cool.”

Jay chuckled. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, it is,” you insisted with a grin. “Having an aunt who owns a cute restaurant? That’s awesome.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “If you say so.”

As you stepped into the restaurant, the soft chatter and clinking of silverware greeted you.

The place smelled like garlic, toasted bread, and a hint of something sweet—warm and comforting, just like it looked from the outside.

A staff member at the small wooden reception desk looked up and smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Park.”

“Evening,” Jay greeted with a small nod. “Is my aunt in?”

“Yes, sir. She’s by the first booth, just near the door. You should see her right away.”

Jay nodded in thanks, then gently placed his hand on your back. “C’mon. This’ll be quick.”

You nodded, ignoring the way your heart jumped from the contact as he guided you through the bustling main floor.

Just as the staff said, a woman sat in the first booth, glasses slipping down her nose as she typed furiously on her laptop. Jay leaned in a little, voice playful.

“Busy?”

She looked up, startled for a split second before a bright smile spread across her face. “Jay! You didn’t say you were coming!”

She stood up and immediately wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back with one arm.

“Are you alone?” she asked, glancing at you with a curious but warm gaze.

He pulled back and stepped to the side so you were in full view. “Nope.”

Her lips curled into a knowing smile.

Jay ignored it. “Are there any booths available?”

“There should be a few left upstairs,” she said, scanning the busy dining area. “But you know your booth’s always reserved for you.”

Jay smiled. “Thanks, auntie.”

With a quick nod, he motioned for you to follow. “Let’s go.”

You quietly followed beside him, trying not to focus on how naturally he placed his hand on the small of your back again. It was nothing, probably unconscious. But your cheeks were warm anyway.

The stairs led to a second floor that was just as cozy — quieter, more intimate. Artwork lined the walls: soft-toned paintings, delicate sketches, and calming landscapes. Your eyes flitted over them in awe.

“Wow,” you murmured.

Jay glanced back, amused. “You like art?”

“I love it,” you admitted. “Especially ones like these. They’re so soft.”

He smiled at that but said nothing more until you reached the very last booth — a corner seat by the window.

The view was stunning.

The glass walls opened the whole space up to the city lights, the glimmer of buildings stretching out into the horizon. The skyline glittered like constellations in a sea of black. You slid into the leather seat, trying not to gape.

“Now this,” Jay said as he sat across from you, “is what’s cool.”

He pointed upward and you followed his finger.

Your breath caught.

A beautiful chandelier hung at the center of the room, soft golden lights catching on the delicate glass shards — casting subtle rainbows against the white ceiling.

“Wow…” you whispered.

Jay smiled, his eyes not on the chandelier, but on you. “Pretty, right?”

You nodded slowly, still a little starstruck by the place. “It’s beautiful.”

He looked away, chuckling lightly. “I figured you’d like it here.”

You looked back at him just as he reached for the menu. “So, what do you want to eat?”

You mirrored him, opening the simple leather-bound menu. “Hmm… what do you guys usually get here?”

Jay glanced up, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ve never taken my friends here.”

You blinked. “Not even Jake?”

He shook his head, amused. “Nope.”

“Why not?” you asked, clearly curious.

Jay let out a soft laugh. “Because knowing us, we’d probably end up paying more for the damage than the food.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god—”

“I’m serious!” he grinned. “One time, Jake dropped a whole hot pot on the table at another place, and we just left a hefty tip and walked out like nothing happened.”

“You guys sound fun to be around,” you giggled.

Jay scrunched his nose, playful. “If your definition of fun is clumsily breaking dishes and turning every meal into a mess, then yeah. We’re so fun.”

You beamed at him, resting your chin on your hand again. “Still. It must be nice. Being that close with your friends.”

“It is,” he said, tone softening just a little. “They’re annoying, but they’re my people.”

You smiled, heart warming at the sincerity in his voice.

Jay smiled back at you, his eyes crinkling just at the sides—the kind of smile that felt unguarded, the kind people only gave when they were truly comfortable.

“Well,” you said, resting your forearms against the table, “what do you usually order here?”

“Steak and mashed potatoes,” he replied instantly, like he’d been ordering the same thing for years.

You tilted your head. “Anything else?”

The corner of his mouth lifted as if he was holding back a bigger grin. “Chocolate cake for dessert.”

Your lips curved. “I’ll have that too, then.”

He raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nodded once, certain. “I trust you. Isn’t that enough?”

That made him laugh—a low, warm sound that curled at the edges.

“Okay, okay.” He lifted his hand, catching the attention of a waiter with a casual wave. The soft yellow light from the chandelier above caught the faint shine of the rings on his fingers as he gestured.

Dinner went smoothly after that.

The booth you were in had just enough privacy to make the space feel yours, with the hum of conversation from other tables fading into a comfortable background noise.

The city lights through the glass wall twinkled faintly, reflected in the polished surface of your table. The steak was perfectly seared, the mashed potatoes creamy, the sauce rich but not overpowering.

Between bites, you and Jay drifted in and out of conversation—small comments about the food, light teasing about the way you cut your steak too precisely, your laughter bubbling over more than once.

At one point, Jay set his fork down and leaned back a little, his arm resting along the back of the booth.

“You know how I met Ni-ki? You know, our first-year friend. The one Jake probably mentioned to you before?”

You looked up, curious. “Ah…him. No, how?”

“It was because of my cousin,” he began, picking his fork back up to slice into another bite. “She was in the same class as him back in high school.”

“And?” you prompted, chewing slowly.

Jay gave you a deadpan stare, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. “She called him a dick.”

You almost dropped your fork, laughing. “What? Why?”

“She said he never talked to her unless it was absolutely necessary. Like—” he mimicked a bored monotone, “‘Move.’ That’s it. That’s all he’d say to her.”

You pressed your fingers to your mouth to stifle a laugh. “No way—”

“Oh, there’s more,” Jay said, shaking his head with mock disbelief.

“One time she asked him if he wanted to join a group project, and he just said, ‘No.’ Then walked away.”

You leaned back, still laughing. “Oh my god, that’s awful—”

“Right?” Jay shook his head, a laugh escaping him before he sighed, stabbing the last piece of his chocolate cake with his fork.

“Well, I ended up befriending Ni-ki during my last year of high school, and he’s been stuck with our group ever since. My cousin still hates him, though.”

You popped the last bite of your dessert into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully before shrugging. “Well, it can’t be helped.”

Jay gave you a pointed look, lowering his voice like he was letting you in on a secret. “If you ask me, I think Ni-ki just likes her.”

Your brows shot up. “I mean… that’s a possibility.”

He leaned back with a dry chuckle. “I might punch him first. Who knows.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jay just smirked. “Are you done?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth with the napkin. “Yeah.”

He glanced at your now-empty plate, then back at you, tilting his head toward it in a subtle gesture. “Ready to go?”

You followed his gaze, letting your eyes drop to the cleared plate before nodding again. “Yeah, come on.”

He stood, grabbing his bag, and you did the same. The two of you made your way down the stairs, the hum of conversations and clinking cutlery greeting you again.

Jay stood beside you at the cashier, pulling out his card with casual ease.

“Good evening,” the cashier greeted.

“Evening. For table twenty, please.” Jay slid the card across the counter, his tone casual but polite.

As she began to process the payment, he added, “Can I also get a chocolate cake for takeout?”

The cashier nodded with a polite smile. “Would that be all?”

“That’s all,” Jay confirmed, tucking one hand into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited.

While she worked, you leaned in just enough for your shoulder to brush his arm.

Standing on tiptoe, you whispered near his ear, “You can eat all of that by yourself?”

You caught the faint twitch of his lips before he glanced down at you, laughing under his breath. “For me and my family.”

“Mmhm.” You rocked back on your feet, feigning disbelief but unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

The cashier returned his card with a practiced motion and handed over the neatly packaged cake.

Jay accepted it with one hand, the weight of the box light in his grip, while the other found its place naturally at the small of your back.

His palm was warm even through the fabric as he guided you toward the door.

From behind, his aunt’s voice cut through the gentle hum of conversation. “Bye! And I’m sending the cake money back to your bank account!”

Jay’s groan was immediate, loud enough for nearby tables to hear.

He turned halfway toward her with narrowed eyes. “No, don’t—”

But she just winked in his direction, her gaze flicking knowingly between the two of you before tilting her head toward you with a smile that said far too much without a single word.

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “What was that about?”

“I swear she lives to embarrass me,” Jay muttered, shaking his head like this was an old, unsolvable problem.

Before you could press further, the staff member from earlier stepped forward, holding the door open for the two of you.

Jay gave a polite nod in thanks before stepping outside with you.

The evening air was crisp against your cheeks, carrying the faint scent of grilled food from the kitchen vents mixed with the distant tang of city asphalt.

Neon signs from nearby shops painted the sidewalk in shifting colors, and the low hum of traffic seemed muted here.

Jay’s hand lingered at your back until you reached the car, where he finally—reluctantly—pulled away to open the passenger door for you.

His movements were unhurried, like he was in no rush to create space between you, but still careful in a way that made your chest feel warm.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slipping inside.

Jay placed the cake gently in the backseat, double-checking it wouldn’t slide around, before circling to the driver’s side.

He slid into his seat, fingers curling around the wheel as he started the engine—a little quicker than necessary.

The soft hum filled the quiet, and for a moment, the only sound was your quiet exhale as you breathed warm air into your cupped hands.

Jay glanced over, brows furrowing. “Cold?”

You met his gaze sheepishly. “Oops—sorry. It’s just… really cold.”

Without saying another word, he reached forward to turn up the heater.

Then, in one swift motion, he tugged his hoodie over his head, the fabric rustling in the still air, and held it out to you.

You shook your head immediately. “No, it’s fine—”

He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval before gently placing it down on your lap, careful not to brush against you.

You sighed, giving him a look. “You know, for someone who’s known for his cold demeanor, you’re acting sweet.”

Jay’s lips quirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “And for someone for someone who’s so level-headed, you’re stubborn.”

The words slipped out before he could stop himself, and the moment they did, color crept up the tips of his ears.

“Plus, I’m just being a good friend,” he added quickly, eyes darting back to the wheel.

You shrugged teasingly, adjusting the hoodie on your lap. “Thank you, good friend. You’re such a good friend.”

He clicked his tongue again, turning his face away just enough to hide the pink dusting across his cheeks—but you caught it anyway.

Letting out a slow sigh, he glanced back at you. “Where to?”

You tilted your head. “You can just drop me off at your mom’s flower shop.”

Jay immediately shook his head, grip tightening on the wheel like he’d already made up his mind before you even asked. “I’m not letting you walk this late alone.”

“But—”

“No,” he cut in, voice steady but carrying that quiet edge that told you there was no point in arguing. “I mean it. I’d blame myself if something happened to you.”

You let out a groan, tipping your head back against the seat dramatically. “I swear I’ll be fine—

He didn’t even respond this time, just sent you a sharp, level look out of the corner of his eye. It was the kind of look that made you stop mid-sentence.

You slumped slightly, muttering under your breath, “See? So stubborn.”

Jay’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Can we at least stop by the flower shop first? Please?” you asked, leaning forward just a little, hoping the softer tone might sway him.

His eyes flickered to you briefly before returning to the streetlights passing overhead. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You huffed, crossing your arms in mock offense, earning yourself a quiet chuckle from him. The sound was low, warm, and for some reason, it made the air in the car feel just a bit more comfortable.

“My mom’s not there, though,” he said casually after a moment, his voice breaking the easy silence. “I think Hyunjae’s watching the shop tonight.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen him sometimes,” you said, recalling the tall, slightly awkward guy you’d occasionally spotted behind the counter.

Jay nodded once, merging smoothly into the main road. “Mhm. He’s one of my cousins.”

His hand adjusted slightly on the wheel, the faint glow from the dashboard catching on his profile—sharp jawline, relaxed eyes, lips that tugged upward almost imperceptibly.

Outside, the night stretched on, neon lights flickering past your window in blurred streaks, while inside, the faint hum of the heater and the lingering warmth from his hoodie on your lap made the ride feel unhurried, almost safe.

Jay glanced sideways at you from the driver’s seat, one hand steady on the wheel as the other tapped idly against his thigh.

The traffic ahead was slow, red brake lights lining up like a trail of fireflies.

“It’s a bit traffic right now,” he said, voice low. “You can get some rest if you want.”

You blinked, your head lolling slightly as you turned to look at him, eyes already heavy. “Mhm… okay,” you murmured, pulling the hoodie closer as you adjusted it in your lap.

A moment later, you slipped your arms through the sleeves and tugged it on over your top, burying your nose into the soft fabric. You sunk into the passenger seat a little more, eyes fluttering shut as your head tilted gently against the window.

“Goodnight, Jay…” you mumbled sleepily, words nearly lost in the lull of your breath.

Jay’s hand paused on his thigh. He glanced over again, just in time to see your lashes lower and your breathing steady out.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he whispered, barely audible, a small smile tugging at his lips as he returned his eyes to the road.

But not before he looked once more—just once—lingering longer than he probably should have.

There was something about the way you looked in that moment—wrapped in his hoodie, hands tucked close to your chest, your features soft in the dim light. Peaceful. Unbothered. Completely at ease. With him.

Jay gripped the steering wheel tighter.

He wasn’t sure what to make of the feeling creeping up through his chest—slow, persistent, unfamiliar.

He told himself it was nothing. Just the warmth of the car. The calm of the night. The tiredness from the long day.

But deep down, he knew it was more than that.

And for the first time in a long while, Jay didn’t feel like speeding through the night.

He wanted to slow down.

Just a little longer. Just a little more time with you beside him.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified @ateez-atiny380 @chemiru @eleftheriance @deluluscenarios @simp4simlee @baedreamverse @lala-loopsydoll ⤷ series taglist — @seungsoftly @aloveminsalade @merakicafee @isagistar @heeknow @blooqz @k1ttyjwon @dearestdreamies @sourkiki @mixxie2203 @wonuzu @12e45 @fancypeacepersona @omlhyck @starfallia @koizekomi @hommyy-tommy @laylasbunbunny @aggarwaldrishti @bestboileeknow @meeghangryfun @liliawritesss @starfire21 @seokjinthescientist @iicehoon @stayupdates @carmenxhiu @atashiboba

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ sugar in the soil ( pjs ! ) — part 3

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 18.2k ⤷taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — college au, psychology major!jay, biology major!reader, college!enhypen, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, rich!jay, kinda emotionally guarded!reader, perceptive!jay, reluctant protector!jay, awkward!jay, tension-filled bickering, sarcastic flirting, subtle care, reader is stubborn and independent, forced proximity, emotional vulnerability, quiet comfort, soft domestic hints, emotional outbursts, angry rain confession, they finally get together, hard-earned love, fluff, angst, mentions of the other parts from this series

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — your fascination with flowers was a quiet love you turned into your future. majoring in biology at decelis university, you often found yourself needing rare blooms, fresh clippings, or just the scent of something calming after long hours in the lab. that’s why the little flower shop down the street became your second home. the staff knew your name. mrs. park always had tea ready. until one afternoon, the usual calm was replaced with someone entirely unexpected—park jongseong, of all people. golden boy. heir to a business empire. the last person you'd expect to be arranging sunflowers behind the counter like he belonged there. or, where your love for flowers leads you to someone who’s far more than just his reputation.

It was the third time that week.

The third time Jay had stepped out into the windy morning only for the blazing sun to mock him from a cloudless sky.

The kind of weather that made his shirt cling just faintly to his back as if to remind him—uncomfortably—that summer was creeping closer.

He locked his car with a sharp click, the sound echoing down the still-sleepy street, and lifted his gaze toward the looming white flower shop across the road, ‘Park & Bloom.’

The place he once thought was nice. Peaceful, even.

Now, the sight of it just made his jaw tighten.

Adjusting the collar of his black button-up, he hitched his messenger bag higher on his shoulder and nudged his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Then, with a push of the door, he stepped inside.

The bell chimed—a cheerful sound that didn’t match the frown on his face.

Another empty store. Another morning without you.

His eyes swept the space automatically, like they always did, lingering on the spot where you usually stood—looking over the pink flowers, hair flowing down your back, a bunch of small potted plants cradled in your hands.

But instead—it was Hyunjae.

His cousin was crouched by one of the aisles, trimming the stems of pink carnations with an infuriating calm.

The faint scent of greenery and earth clung to the air.

“Hey, morning,” Hyunjae called, not looking up.

Jay didn’t bother to respond beyond a clipped, “Morning,” as he walked straight behind the counter.

He grabbed the last stack of textbooks he’d abandoned during his previous shifts, slamming them into his bag with more force than necessary.

Hyunjae straightened, setting his scissors aside before grabbing the spray bottle. “What’s up your ass this morning?”

Jay looked up, unimpressed. “Don’t you have a team meeting to go to?”

“They’ll survive without me,” Hyunjae said, lazily misting a bunch of lavender. The scent drifted between them, annoyingly soothing.

“I’ll fire you one day, I swear,” Jay muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag. His tone lacked any real bite.

“That’s a little excessive,” Hyunjae replied easily, “Who’s gonna clean up after your mess then?”

“Me.”

“Yeah, no.” Hyunjae snorted.

“You have a habit of causing messes. Remember that old man—the COO of Kim Corps—you punched in the face? What was it, because he tried to bribe you into marrying his daughter?”

Jay shrugged, stepping toward him. “I’m just not interested.”

Hyunjae gave him a long, knowing look. “Yeah, well… I fear the only girl you are interested in decided to run away.”

Jay blinked. Slowly. The words landed heavier than Hyunjae probably meant them to.

“What did you even do to (Y/N)?” his cousin asked, ruffling Jay’s hair on his way past.

“Nothing,” Jay said flatly, though his grip on the books tightened, the paper edges digging into his palms.

The bell above the door jingled again, cutting through the heavy pause. Customers.

“Good morning, welcome to Park & Bloom!” Hyunjae’s voice flipped effortlessly into shop-mode, cheerful and light.

Jay didn’t move. His scowl only deepened before he shoved past the counter, through the glass doors, and out into the blinding light.

The air felt hotter now.

He yanked his car door open, tossing his bag inside harder than he should have. The slam of the door was louder than the street noise, than the faint bell chime he could still hear in his head.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Jay gripped the steering wheel like it might steady the frustration bubbling in his chest.

But his eyes—traitorous, stubborn—shifted back to the flower shop through the windshield.

The front window still caught the soft morning light, glinting off the display of pink blooms you’d always linger over. His jaw tightened. The image wouldn’t leave.

“Get a grip, Jay,” he muttered under his breath, forcing his gaze forward.

He twisted the key in the ignition, the low hum of the engine filling the silence like an unwelcome reminder that he should already be gone.

And yet—he hesitated. His foot hovered over the gas pedal, fingers drumming against the wheel as if debating something he’d never admit to out loud.

He exhaled sharply, slammed the gearshift into drive, and pulled away from the curb with more speed than necessary.

The tires rolled over the asphalt, carrying him further and further from the shop, from the stubborn thought of you.

He didn’t let himself look back—not even once.

Jay had his blazer jacket draped over one arm, his tie half-loosened as if last night’s meeting still clung to him like smoke.

His voice carried over the hallway, sharp but tired, as he gestured vaguely with his free hand.

“I swear, Hyunjae kept nagging in my ear all night about the other team’s manager overspending budget allocations. I almost had a headache just from listening.”

He ran a hand down his face, dragging it like he was physically trying to wipe the memory away, before adjusting the strap of his bag back onto his shoulder.

Sunghoon, walking beside him with his hands shoved into his pockets, gave him the most unbothered shrug.

“I’m just gonna act like I know whatever you’re talking about.”

Jay turned his head, unimpressed, while Sunghoon gave a lazy smirk.

Jake, who was trailing on his other side, chuckled as he shoved his hands deeper into his coat.

“Well, it’s part of your problem now. You’re the one who volunteered to take over these things earlier than expected.”

Jay rolled his eyes and muttered, “Unfortunately, yes.”

Jake reached over and gave his back a solid pat, almost like he was congratulating him on his misery.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You’ve always wanted to help with the family business, right?”

Jay groaned like Jake had just pressed on a fresh bruise. “Stop reminding me. Please.”

That earned him a low laugh from Sunghoon, who tilted his head with mock seriousness, “Just fire everybody and call it a day.”

Jay let out a deep sigh, gaze flicking forward toward the crowd of students moving through the hall, his jaw tightening, “If only I could.”

“Please don’t,” Jake cut in quickly, patting him on the shoulder like he wasn’t kidding.

Jay was just about to retort when his eyes drifted, almost absently, over the open field of the campus lawn that stretched past the wide hallway windows.

He meant to just glance—scan the blur of faces and backpacks—but his feet slowed. His chest stalled.

Because there you were.

Mid-step, mid-conversation with someone he recognized vaguely from your stories—Jisung, wasn’t it? You had mentioned him before.

He watched as you handed over a thick stack of papers, your voice carrying even faintly from where he stood.

Jisung grimaced at the weight of them, his shoulders sagging, and you only rolled your eyes in that way Jay had seen a hundred times before.

But God—it hit different after days of nothing.

His grip on the strap of his bag tightened, knuckles paling as he drank in the sight of you.

Sleeves of your sweater shoved up to your elbows, strands of hair brushing across your face when the breeze caught, your bag slung across your body with a few dried flowers sticking out the side like they were stubborn passengers refusing to leave.

Jay’s jaw clenched. His lips parted before he even realized he was muttering under his breath.

“…So you’d rather keep the dead ones, huh.”

There was something biting in the words, but the ache beneath it was louder.

“Hello?” Jake’s hand suddenly waved in front of his face. “Earth to Jay. You good?”

Jay startled, almost snapping out of a trance. He shook his head quickly, pulling at his tie until it came completely loose around his neck, shoving it into his bag like it was suffocating him.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

They started walking again, but Jay’s head still felt turned in your direction. He had to force his steps to match theirs.

Sunghoon gave him a side glance, smirking like he already knew something was off.

“What, did you just see your ex or something?”

Jake barked out a laugh immediately.

“Of all the insults in the world, that’s what you go for?”

Jay shot them both a flat look, his voice low but certain, “Man, you know I’ve never even had an ex.”

Sunghoon only shrugged, smirk still curling his lips. “Yeah. I know.”

Jake hummed, though his eyes were scanning over the open field now, like trying to piece together who, exactly, had caught Jay’s attention enough to make his breath hitch.

He spotted a few familiar faces he knew from campus—but then his gaze stopped and it landed right on you.

You, with your hair catching sunlight like spun glass, golden at the edges. You, laughing at something Jisung said, your nose scrunching up the way Jake had seen maybe once or twice when he’d pestered you during your library shifts.

He didn’t miss the way Jay’s chest lifted and fell heavier than usual. Like he’d been holding his breath. Like seeing you, after days of absence, was equal parts relief and torture.

Jake’s eyes flicked sideways, catching the almost imperceptible tension in Jay’s shoulders. He didn’t need to follow Jay’s gaze to know what, or rather who, had caused it.

Still, he looked anyway. And when he turned back, he found Jay staring stubbornly forward—too forward, too rigid, like the sea of students ahead suddenly fascinated him.

Jake nudged him lightly with his elbow.

“How long?”

Jay’s brows furrowed. “How long what?”

Jake exchanged a look with Sunghoon, who only gave the smallest nod, a smirk tugging faintly at his lips. Clearing his throat, Jake leaned closer.

“How long have you liked (Y/N)?”

Jay’s eyes widened—not too much, but enough.

Enough for Jake to see it, enough for Sunghoon to huff out a low chuckle like got him. Jay blinked, shook his head slightly as if to dismiss it, turning the corner with them.

“What do you mean?” His tone was too flat, too quick.

Jake sighed, almost exasperated.

“Jay, you’re in love.”

The words landed heavy in the air, heavier than the weight of Jay’s bag or the expectations he carried daily.

His steps faltered just slightly before he caught himself, looking down, running a hand through his dark hair.

“…Oh.”

Sunghoon mumbled without looking up from his phone, “Yeah. Oh.”

Jake pressed. “So? How long?”

Jay exhaled through his nose, staring ahead, refusing to meet either of their eyes as his voice slipped out quietly, almost begrudgingly.

“Since I met her.”

Jake’s brows arched, his lips twitching into the faintest hum. “So… what, about a month and a half?”

Jay gave the slowest nod, staring so hard at the path ahead it was like he was afraid looking anywhere else would betray too much. His grip tightened on his strap again.

Sunghoon’s phone buzzed, and he scoffed, tilting it up. “Jungwon’s spamming me.”

“Tell him to calm down,” Jake muttered, eyes still on Jay.

His gaze was quiet, assessing—watching the way Jay suddenly found the movement of his own shoes unbearably interesting, like scuffing the ground was safer than acknowledging his heart bleeding out in the open.

Jake softened his voice.

“Look, we’re not forcing you to confess. We’re not asking you to declare it to the whole world in some article the reporters will twist into headlines.”

Jay’s brow furrowed, lips pressed tight, but he didn’t interrupt.

Jake went on, “Just try to get it together before she slips away completely.”

That one hit. Jay’s head tilted down, his jaw flexing. He finally murmured, voice so quiet Jake almost missed it.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake smiled faintly, almost sad.

“Then she doesn’t. You can’t force someone to love you back.” He paused, catching Jay’s tense expression.

“But you can show her that you care. That much is always yours to give.”

Jay swallowed, the words lingering longer than he wanted to admit. He nodded, once, like he was still searching for the right response but couldn’t quite land on one.

Sunghoon slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Come on, lover boy. We’re supposed to help Jungwon.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “Seriously, I’m dragging him to one of my parties after this. He needs to socialize.”

The corner of Jay’s mouth twitched before a low laugh finally slipped out. He shook his head, the tension easing just barely from his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re walking, remember?”

Sunghoon smirked, throwing a playful punch at Jay’s shoulder.

And though Jay glanced back once more at the fading view of the field—the sunlight now casting everything golden, your figure already gone from sight—he dropped his gaze again, humming low to himself, as if repeating the thought Jake planted there.

“Show (Y/N) I care, huh…”

The words slipped out under his breath, half scoff, half prayer. He rolled his shoulders back, forcing himself to look ahead, to keep pace with Jake and Sunghoon.

“Come on, let’s go faster,” Sunghoon urged, already speeding up, impatience lacing his tone as they made another turn.

The familiar glass doors loomed ahead, gleaming with streaks of sunlight. Sunghoon shoved them open with one hand, announcing flatly, “We’re here.”

Inside, Jungwon was hunched over a clipboard, brows knitted in concentration. At the sight of them, he groaned dramatically.

“Fucking finally.”

Jake dropped his bag to the ground, unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. You missed us. We get it.”

Before he could finish, a roll of tape came flying across the room, smacking him square in the chest.

“Ow! Hey—” Jake clutched it like a personal wound. “That actually hurt!”

On the table nearby, Sunoo grinned smugly, swinging his legs as if nothing had happened. “You’ll live.”

Jay couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he set his own bag down. The air here was noisy but familiar, calming him in a way that pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He tugged his sleeves up to his elbows, exhaling, “Okay. What do we need to do?”

From the side, Heeseung hummed, arms crossed. “Not that much. Just relocate some of the equipment closer to the field.”

Jay nodded, already moving toward the stacked boxes. Ni-ki intercepted him, eyeing him with his usual bluntness.

“Why do you look like that?”

Jay raised a brow. “Look like what?”

“Like shit.”

Jay groaned, tossing an arm around Ni-ki’s neck and ruffling his hair hard enough to earn a squawk.

“Yeah, well, suck it up, you little shit. What’s up your ass this morning?”

Ni-ki swatted at him, fixing his hair frantically.

“I spent time on this! Leave it!” He huffed, grabbing a box of wires. “And it’s your equally shitty cousin.”

Jay sighed, bending to grab his own box. “What did you two argue about now?”

“She called me a dickhead in front of the whole class because I tripped her.”

“Accidentally or planned it a week in advance?” Sunoo cut in smoothly, brushing past with a box of fairy lights in his arms. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

Ni-ki scowled, “Accidentally! I might hate her, but I’m not a monster.”

Heeseung snickered, walking by with mic stands slung over his shoulder, his leather jacket discarded somewhere in the mess. “Yeah, I doubt that.”

“Mhmm. I agree,” Jungwon muttered from where he held the door open, not even looking up from his clipboard.

Jay shook his head, trailing behind Heeseung as they carried boxes toward the hallway.

“What are these for anyway?”

Jake, juggling an armful of plastic bags filled with streamers, sighed dramatically. “You agreed without knowing? Jay, your kindness is going to be abused someday, I swear.”

Jay only shrugged, unfazed.

“Open mic night next week,” Heeseung answered casually.

Jay nodded, adjusting his grip on the box. Sunoo trailed behind, curious.

“Who’s performing?”

“Just a bunch of student bands and some soloists,” Jungwon called, still balancing the clipboard with one hand as he kept the door propped open.

“Including me,” Heeseung added with a grin. “My girlfriend told me to perform, so.”

Sunoo scoffed loudly, setting down his load.

“Yeah, my best friend—you wouldn’t even be together if I didn’t sign you up for that one months ago. You’re welcome, by the way, Lee Heeseung.”

Heeseung laughed, looking back at the blonde with a grin.

“Yes, thanks a lot, Sunoo.”

Sunghoon muttered under his breath, though not quietly enough, “A bunch of kids, I swear.”

Jay chuckled, shaking his head before looking at Jake.

“What about you? You aren’t performing?”

Jake made a face instantly, as if the suggestion alone offended him. “Hell no. I can’t sing.”

“Yes, you can,” Jay countered easily, side-eying him.

Ni-ki chimed in, balancing three boxes like it was nothing. “Yeah, you can. I’ve heard you.”

Jake groaned, his voice climbing in protest. “No thank you. I have a party to plan, remember?”

Jay just laughed, the sound softer than usual but genuine. His chest felt lighter here, surrounded by their noise and arguments, the chaos pulling him out of the dangerous corners of his mind.

Jake drifted closer, falling into step beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly against Jay’s. “So, you coming?”

Jay raised a brow. “To open mic night? Yeah… probably.”

Jake grinned like he already knew the answer. “Good. You’re helping us set up.”

Jay groaned, dragging his feet a little for emphasis. “Do I really have to?”

“Do you have a date?” Jake shot back instantly.

The question knocked the air out of him for half a beat.

Jay pressed his mouth into a line, the image of you sparking in his mind so suddenly it almost hurt—your hair falling forward as you leaned over flowers, that easy smile you gave people when you thought no one was looking.

He shook his head slowly.

“…No.”

The smell of grass clippings greeted them as they stepped onto the field. The late afternoon sun spilled gold across the empty bleachers, and ahead, a few students were already assembling the framework of a small stage.

Jake’s voice cut through the hum of construction.

“Well, I mean—if you manage to bag (Y/N) last minute, then I’d let you off. You can even have my car if you want.”

Jay let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

“I already have one too many.”

He set his box down near the edge of the stage, dusting his hands on his jeans.

Out of nowhere, Sunoo’s voice chimed in, sharp and curious. “(Y/N) who?”

Jake turned immediately, shooting him a look.

“(L/N) (Y/N).”

Sunoo blinked, tilting his head.

“You mean that really pretty girl who’s always with Park Jisung?”

“Yeah…” Jake narrowed his eyes. “How do you know her?”

Sunoo shrugged, unapologetic. “Just because. What’s up with (Y/N)?”

Jay exhaled through his nose, realizing there was no point dodging it anymore. Crossing his arms over his chest, he admitted flatly, “I like her. That’s all.”

For a second, Sunoo just blinked—once, twice—like he was making sure he heard right. “…You aren’t shitting me, right?”

Jay shook his head.

“Cool,” Sunoo said simply, nodding once. “So when do we get to hang out with her?”

Jake barked out a laugh, instantly slinging an arm around Sunoo’s shoulders and pulling him in.

“Let’s let him man up first, yeah?”

“Hey—” Jay started, rolling his eyes, but Jake was already dragging the blonde a few steps away, the two of them snickering like they’d found a new favorite topic.

Left standing there, Jay let the faint smile slide off his face. The weight pressed back into his chest, heavier now that the others weren’t looking.

He stared out across the field, to the patch of grass where you’d been earlier, the sun painting everything golden.

He shook his head, forcing himself back into motion. Bending down, he hooked his fingers under the edge of another box, lifting it without complaint this time.

His muscles strained, but it was easier than untangling the knot in his chest.

The moonlight seeped through the window blinds, casting pale stripes across the polished floor of the Athletics Organization’s clubroom.

Dust swirled lazily in the dim light, the only sound being the shuffle of papers and Jake’s soft humming as he tucked the last folder back into the drawer.

Behind him, Jay’s voice echoed low and lazy, bag slung over one shoulder.

“You sure you can lock the doors?” Jay asked, already halfway out, his shadow stretching long in the hallway.

Jake waved him off without looking. “I’m not five, Jay.”

Jay smirked, shifting his bag higher. “Suit yourself. Don’t forget to message Jungwon after you pack up.”

Jake only nodded, watching the shadow of his friend finally disappear around the corner before exhaling, shoulders slumping. He muttered under his breath, “The things I do for you, Park Jongseong.”

He grabbed his own things, slung them over his shoulder, and crouched by the door, fumbling with the key. The lock clicked shut with a satisfying snap.

Standing back up, Jake shoved the key into his pocket and glanced down the hall again, moving carefully, footsteps muffled against the floor.

Turning the corner, Jake veered away from Jay’s path, heading instead to the back exit. His shoes scuffed lightly against the tile as he pushed open the heavy door and slipped into the stairwell, the faint hum of the city outside barely audible.

By the time he reached the elevator, the silence pressed on him like a weight. He jabbed the button, tapping his foot impatiently as the numbers glowed their sluggish descent.

The doors slid open with a ding, and Jake leaned against the cool metal walls with a sigh. Just as he pressed for the ground floor, a voice rang out down the hall—harsh, breathless.

“Wait for me, goddammit!”

Jake smirked immediately, pressing the open button.

He leaned back casually, watching as Jisung sprinted into view, hair mussed, scowl plastered on his face. He stumbled into the elevator, brushing his bangs out of his eyes before fixing Jake with a glare.

“Took you long enough,” Jake drawled, lips curling.

“You’re the one asking for a favor,” Jisung snapped, chest still rising and falling from the run, “and I’m the one running after you. Make it make sense.”

Jake only shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Consider it cardio. You could use it.”

Jisung scoffed, leaning against the opposite wall with crossed arms. The elevator jerked slightly as it began its agonizingly slow descent.

Their reflections wavered in the brushed steel, two shadows plotting in a box of silence.

“So,” Jake finally said, tilting his head toward him. “What plan do you have in mind?”

Jisung let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure we won’t end up dead before we even start? Do you know how scary (Y/N) is?”

Jake barked a laugh, his voice echoing off the walls. “I made her angry once or twice.”

“And?” Jisung arched a brow.

Jake smirked. “And I survived, obviously. We just need to work fast. Jay will have my head if he finds out I’m meddling in his love life.”

The elevator hummed, the light above them flickering faintly. Jisung shook his head, muttering, “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Jake said easily, hands tucked into his pockets. His smile sharpened, though, voice low with amusement.

“But trust me—it’ll be worth it. You’ve seen the way he looks at her. That boy’s already half-dead anyway.”

The doors slid open at last, revealing the cool air of the empty lobby.

Jisung huffed, stepping out first, his sneakers squeaking against the tiles. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Jake followed leisurely, grin never faltering. “As always. Don’t worry—I’ll take the fall. But imagine their faces when this works.”

The elevator doors slid open, spilling cool night air across the empty hall. Their footsteps echoed on the tile, shadows stretching long beneath the dim ceiling lights.

Jake shoved his hands into his pockets as he glanced sideways at Jisung.

“So,” Jake started casually, tone sly, “is (Y/N) attending open mic night?”

Jisung let out a breath through his nose, raking a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m trying to drag her into it. But she keeps using your papers as an excuse. Says she has to ‘help you edit.’”

His fingers bent in air quotes, scowl tugging at his lips. “So I’m roping Chenle into it. He owes me anyway.”

Jake hummed, lips quirking, and nodded as he stepped forward, pushing the lobby door open with his shoulder. The city’s muffled hum greeted them—cars passing distantly, cicadas buzzing faintly from the trees outside.

“What about Jay?” Jisung asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he matched Jake’s pace.

“Yeah, managed to get him to sign up as a volunteer.” Jake’s voice was smug, satisfaction coating every word.

Jisung blinked. “…And?”

“And,” Jake drawled, leaning back on his heels as they crossed the quiet parking lot, “I’ll be the one doing his work before the whole event starts. I just need you to keep (Y/N) close. Don’t let her run away.”

Jisung frowned but nodded anyway. “Fine. But I have a question.”

Jake tilted his head, flashing a grin. “Ask away.”

“Why are you so eager to get them together?” Jisung asked bluntly, studying him.

Jake slowed a little, turning his head just enough to let the moonlight catch the curve of his smirk. “Because I know how it feels to be attracted to someone who seems far-fetched. Out of reach.”

Jisung scoffed, tilting his head back. “Aren’t you popular with the ladies? Don’t make it sound like you’re some tragic romantic.”

Jake shrugged, unconcerned, eyes on the stars above. “I don’t really care. Plus…”

His grin softened, almost fond. “I just want to see Jay genuinely happy for once in his life.”

That made Jisung pause. He glanced down at the sidewalk, brows furrowed, before nodding slowly. “I see.”

Jake cut him a sidelong glance, curious. “What do you mean by that tone?”

Jisung exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. (Y/N)’s the type who puts other people before herself. Always has been. Once she started telling me she might be into this guy, she immediately started stepping back. Like she’s trying to keep herself from getting hurt—or hurting him.”

He looked at Jake then, voice dropping. “And I’m assuming that guy is Jay.”

Jake snapped his fingers once, pointing at him with a grin. “Bingo.”

Jisung groaned. “Plan aside, I’m seriously blaming you if we get caught.”

Jake barked out a laugh, clapping him on the back. “Can you calm down? Heeseung mentioned you were a nervous wreck, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Jisung’s head whipped toward him, scowl sharp. “Heeseung said what?”

Jake just shrugged, utterly unbothered. “He said you’re good at basketball but you overthink it. Makes sense now.”

Jisung groaned into his hands, muttering curses under his breath as they reached the street corner, the night buzzing softly around them.

“Alright,” Jake said cheerfully, brushing past his sulking companion. “So where should we start?”

Jisung shot him a glare but answered anyway. “…Open mic night.”

Jake’s grin stretched wider as he looked up at the glowing streetlight above them, the plan already spinning fast in his head. “Perfect.”

You tried to reach for your phone sitting on top of your vanity mirror, but Eunchae swatted your hand away with the precision of a cat, making you pout.

“I said look up, (Y/N),” she scolded, steady hand applying mascara to your lashes.

You huffed but obeyed, chin tilted back, eyes fluttering under her touch.

Meanwhile, Chenle fiddled with the clasp of your necklace, the cool gold pressing briefly against the hollow of your throat as he fastened it. The delicate chain shimmered under the warm glow of your bedroom lamp.

“Well, don’t you look nice when you’re not burying yourself in lab reports,” Jisung remarked, leaning against the vanity with that signature half-smirk.

Eunchae laughed, loud and contagious, putting the mascara tube down before reaching for a highlighter palette.

She dug through the scattered mess on your drawer like it was her personal treasure chest.

“Oh, he’s right,” she teased, loading her brush. With a quick swipe across your cheekbones, light caught on your skin.

You tilted your head, lips tugging into a smug smile. “I look good all the time.”

Chenle snorted. Eunchae rolled her eyes affectionately. “We know, babe,” she said sweetly, “but we need to cover up those eyebags every once in a while.”

You sighed in defeat, already anticipating the teasing that would follow.

“Where’s that Swarovski bracelet I gave you?” Chenle asked suddenly, already scanning the vanity like a hawk.

You pointed lazily at the pink jewelry box on top. “In there.”

He retrieved it with a flourish, slipping the golden bracelet around your wrist with careful fingers. It clicked shut perfectly, glinting as you moved.

You frowned slightly, tugging at it. “Why do I need to doll up for a stupid event anyway?”

“Stupid?” Chenle’s voice pitched up, affronted. “It’s not stupid because I’m part of the committee.”

“And,” Eunchae chimed in before you could retort, “you need to get out of this apartment every once in a while and actually socialize.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Jisung beat you to it.

He clicked his tongue, sliding onto your bed like he owned the place. “Besides us, (Y/N). Talk to other people besides us.”

You crossed your arms, a sharp huff leaving your lips. “I talk to Jake. And Sunoo.”

Jisung rolled his eyes so hard you could practically hear it. “You know what I mean.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

Eunchae, ignoring the back-and-forth, grabbed a hair curler. She tugged a few strands loose from your pulled-back hair, letting them frame your face, then smoothed down your baby hairs with practiced fingers.

“There,” she murmured, leaning back to admire her handiwork. A quick spritz of hairspray sealed the style in place.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, blinking once. For a moment, you didn’t recognize yourself.

A smile—soft, unwilling—slipped onto your face.

Eunchae caught it instantly, pride flashing in her eyes. She hummed in approval, then reached for your hand, flipping it palm-up.

Her gaze zeroed in on your nails, clicking her tongue at the sight of the grown-out gel. “When was the last time you got these done?”

You grimaced. “Almost a month.”

She laughed, light and warm. “Don’t worry. I’ll book us an appointment soon, yeah?”

“Thank you, Eunchae. Really,” you said quietly, sincerity slipping past your defenses.

“What about us?” Chenle interjected, pointing dramatically between himself and Jisung. “No thanks for the moral support?”

You only rolled your eyes, standing as you smoothed the soft wool of your gray sweater down your frame. The cream skirt you wore shifted with the movement, catching at your thighs.

You slung your bag over your shoulder with a practiced motion and looked at the three of them expectantly.

“You three ready?”

Eunchae nodded immediately, pinning her hair up with a clip as she snatched her car keys from the dresser. “Come on, let’s go.”

The drive was short, but stepping out of the car felt like stepping into a whole new world. The campus was alive with life—the kind that only came once every few months.

Food stands lined the edge of the field, their paper lanterns glowing faintly beneath strings of fairy lights that crisscrossed overhead, twinkling like scattered stars.

Souvenir booths crowded near the walkway, selling everything from hand-painted tote bags to glass bracelets that sparkled under the lamplight.

The hum of chatter rose and fell, mingling with laughter and the occasional burst of music from the stage being tested in the distance.

You instinctively reached for Eunchae’s hand, weaving through the thick clusters of students as the air buzzed with energy.

“Ah, wait—” Chenle’s phone lit up. He glanced at the caller ID and groaned. “I need to go, Jungwon’s calling me.”

“Go,” you waved him off, not surprised in the slightest. He disappeared into the crowd in seconds, swallowed whole.

You glanced around, eyes wide at the atmosphere, before turning to Eunchae. “This is… really well planned. I’m impressed.”

Jisung, walking just a step behind, grinned knowingly. “I told you it was. This happens like every three to four months, but it’s the first time you’ve let me drag you here.”

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. “Only because I’m starting to recognize our book authors with how many times I’ve read the same ones over and over again.”

“Worth a shot,” he shrugged, totally unapologetic.

Before you could fire back, Eunchae’s phone buzzed loudly in her hand. She glanced down, muttering a curse under her breath. “Damn it—Kazuha needs me. I’ll be back, okay?”

You raised a brow. “Is she backstage?”

Eunchae nodded frantically, already weaving into the crowd with practiced ease. “Makeup emergency!” she shouted over her shoulder before vanishing.

You turned to Jisung, brow still lifted. “She part of the committee too?”

He shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets as the two of you drifted toward the booths. “Nope. Makeup team. She’s helping out with the performers.”

You eyed him curiously. “And what about you?”

For a second, his lips curved guiltily before he tugged something from his back pocket.

A laminated event ID card dangled between his fingers, his name and photo printed neatly under the bold title: ‘Stage Management.’ He gave it a lazy little wave.

You sighed, dragging out the sound.

“Calm down, (Y/N).” Jisung chuckled at your expression, tucking the card back. “I won’t be needed until much later anyway. We’ve got time.”

Shaking your head, you made your way to one of the drink booths, the sweet scent of sugar syrup drifting around you. “One pink lemonade, please.”

The girl behind the stand slid a cup your way, the condensation cool against your palm.

You thanked her softly, moving aside to let the next customer through before falling into step beside Jisung again.

He was already on his phone, thumbs tapping rapidly across the screen, not paying you any mind. You didn’t bother speaking, letting yourself sink into the scenery instead.

The field stretched out before you—blankets scattered near the front, groups of students lounging on them with snacks in hand, while others milled around the sides or stood clustered in the middle.

Your lips curled into a small smile as your eyes caught something familiar—a flash of blonde hair bobbing above the crowd. Sunoo.

He was in his element, arms full of microphones as he hurriedly handed them out to committee members, his grin bright enough to rival the fairy lights overhead.

You shook your head, amused, before glancing back at Jisung—only to find him squinting at something up ahead.

Curiosity sparked. You followed his line of sight through the shifting bodies, your grip tightening slightly on your lemonade.

Your stomach dropped at the sight of Jake.

The familiar figure cut through the crowd with ease, his stride confident and casual, the lanyard and ID swaying against his chest with each step.

Same dark clothes, same easy grin. He raised a hand in a wave, sunlight glinting off his wristwatch like he’d rehearsed it.

Your pulse spiked, throat tightening as if you’d just been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

“Uh—Jisung—” you muttered quickly, fingers brushing against his sleeve.

He blinked down at you, brow furrowed. “What?”

You glanced between him and the boy closing in on your direction, panic written across your face. But the words wouldn’t come out. Shaking your head, you stepped a little closer to Jisung, using his taller frame as a shield as Jake finally reached you.

“Yo, Jisung! You’re late,” Jake greeted, the smile still plastered on his face.

“Blame her,” Jisung grumbled, jutting a thumb lazily behind him.

Jake leaned sideways just enough to peek—and froze for a split second before his grin stretched wider. “Hi, (Y/N). Having fun so far?”

You forced a small, nervous smile. “Y-yeah. Nice setup.”

Jake chuckled, reaching out for a light handshake. His palm was warm against yours. “Sunoo and Sunghoon fussed over the whole thing. Said they wanted this one to feel livelier than the last.”

You nodded, pulling your hand back quickly. “Well, it worked.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t been to our open mic nights before?” Jake asked, tilting his head toward the banner hung just a few feet away,

‘Open Mic Night Special — Sponsored by Student Council, Athletics Organization, Arts & Design Department, and Music Organization.’

Your lips parted, but you shook your head. “Unfortunately, no.”

Jake’s eyes softened. “Don’t worry. You’ll have fun tonight. Promise.”

Your chest tightened.

Then his attention flicked back to Jisung. “Anyway—Jeno’s been looking all over for you. We need help moving the speakers forward; the sound’s bouncing too much in the back.”

Jisung groaned audibly. “And what about (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be fine, go ahead—” you started, lifting a hand.

But the words caught in your throat when another voice cut through the chatter.

“Jake! Where the hell did you run off to?”

Your blood went cold.

You stiffened, nails digging into your cup as the familiar voice filled the air. Jay was walking toward you, expression set in that usual line of annoyance until his eyes landed on you. His voice faltered mid-sentence.

“Heeseung sent me to—” He blinked, jaw clenching for a second before forcing a thin smile. “—to come get you. His mic isn’t working, and Sunoo’s too busy teaching the juniors how not to break mic stands.”

Jake winced. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. They snapped one like a twig.” Jay’s tone was flat, but his gaze lingered on you a beat too long.

“Of course they did,” Jisung muttered, rubbing his face in exasperation.

Jake nodded quickly, “Alright. Jisung, come on. Let’s handle this before Heeseung murders someone. He’s up in fifteen.”

Jay immediately opened his mouth, “You’re taking Jisung?”

Jake cut him off smoothly with a shrug, grabbing Jisung by the sleeve before he could protest. “Nah. We’ll do your work for you.”

“Oh—yeah, totally,” Jisung said, his voice pitching awkwardly as he stumbled after Jake, his hand flailing in a half-wave before it disappeared in the crowd.

“Let’s go, man. Speakers first—unless you want Heeseung to hit you with a basketball.”

Their voices blended into the noise of the venue, swallowed whole by the buzz of conversation and the music from the stage.

Jay stood there frozen, lips pressed into a thin line as he watched them vanish, leaving only you and him in their wake.

You fiddled with the bracelets hanging on your wrist, suddenly hyperaware of how loose one of them felt, as if it might slip off. You took another sip from your drink, avoiding the weight of his stare.

Jay sighed, clearing his throat. “(Y/N).”

Your head tilted slightly in acknowledgment, but you didn’t meet his eyes. “Jay.” The way you said his name—quiet, clipped—made something twist in his chest.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fiddling with the corner of his event ID. “You… enjoying the evening?”

His voice was careful, almost casual, like he was stepping on glass.

“Yeah.” You nodded, eyes still fixed on the stage. “It’s… good.”

Silence pressed between you, heavy and suffocating. The cheers of the crowd felt miles away, like they existed in another world entirely.

Jay tugged at the lanyard around his neck, the plastic card flicking against his knuckles as if he needed something—anything—to do with his hands.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, his voice breaking the quiet. “Do you—uh, do you want to go up front? Better view.”

That got you to look at him, just for a second, before your eyes flicked away just as fast. “…Yeah. Sure.”

He nodded once. “Alright.”

You two walked side by side, the space between you close but it felt so far away. When someone brushed past a little too close, Jay’s shoulder bumped yours. Neither of you acknowledged it, even though the contact lingered faintly in the back of your mind.

As the crowd grew tighter near the stage, a staff member came barreling past with a stack of folded programs.

Out of instinct, Jay’s hand tugged lightly at the sleeve of your sweater, pulling you just enough out of their path. His touch was gone the next second, but his low murmur followed.

“Sorry. Staff was rushing.”

You glanced back and, sure enough, two others with clipboards were hurrying by, muttering to each other.

Jay gave you a small nod, and you managed a quiet, “Thanks,” before stepping closer to avoid the flow of students shuffling past.

The closer you got to the front, the clearer the setup looked.

Fairy lights draped across the edges of the stage, glowing softly under the fading sky. Red curtains shielded the backstage hustle from sight, and a single mic stand gleamed under the spotlight in the center.

You hummed absentmindedly, taking it all in. It really was pretty.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Jay, his expression fixed on the stage. That’s when you noticed the walkie-talkie in his hand, the black device catching against the stage lights.

Your chest tugged with a small pang of guilt—you’d almost forgotten he was here to work, not just stand beside you.

Leaning closer, your voice dropped. “You could… go ahead, you know.”

His head tilted at you, brows knitting faintly behind his glasses, as if asking silently ‘what do you mean?’

You gestured toward the walkie-talkie. “That. You don’t have to stay here.”

Jay blinked, then exhaled softly, his lips tugging into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ah. Yeah.” He shrugged, eyes returning to the stage.

“I can’t leave you all alone, though.”

You frowned faintly but nodded anyway, deciding not to push.

“Wait a moment.” He lifted the walkie-talkie and turned the volume up. Static crackled before Jisung’s voice burst through.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Is Heeseung getting rea—” Jay started, but Jisung cut him off immediately.

“Yes. He’s already done.”

“What about the music, is it oka—”

“Yes, Jay, relax,” Jisung interrupted again, his voice dripping with exasperation. “We told you—we’ll do your job for you. Calm down and watch over (Y/N), yeah?”

Jay sighed into the receiver, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…Okay. Thanks.”

He shut the walkie-talkie off and shoved it back into his pocket, muttering, “Brat.”

You hid a small smile behind your cup, sipping your drink to cover it.

Jay noticed but pretended not to, clearing his throat instead. “Have you ever seen somebody who looks and sounds like a K-pop idol but never went for the job?”

You tilted your head, still watching the stage as the next crew began setting up. “Anybody besides Jisung and Chenle? No. Why?”

A quiet chuckle slipped from him, soft and unguarded. “Well, you’ll see Heeseung.”

“…And why exactly?” you asked, curiosity sneaking into your tone.

Jay’s gaze didn’t leave the stage. “Well, he’s good, so…” He shrugged one shoulder casually. “You’ll see.”

You only hummed, letting the silence stretch comfortably for a second. That quiet bubble popped the moment a flash of blonde entered your peripheral vision.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned instantly, your lips tugging into a smile as Sunoo weaved through a few students, camera in hand.

“Hey, Sunoo,” you greeted warmly, eyes flicking down to the lens swinging from the strap around his neck. “Let me guess… you need me to pose?”

His grin widened, mischievous. “Yes, but…” He glanced between you and Jay before adding, “I need him in it too.”

Jay raised a brow at the blonde. “And why is that?”

Sunoo blinked at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “You’re joking, right?”

You frowned lightly. “What?”

Sunoo gestured between you both dramatically. “You two are literally matching. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you’re on a little date.”

Your head snapped toward Jay. And only then—when your eyes raked over him—you noticed. Gray wool sweater. Cream pants. White sneakers. The only difference? His glasses.

“…Are you stalking me?” you asked flatly.

Sunoo nearly choked holding back a laugh, while Jay’s face contorted into baffled denial, ears turning red immediately. “What? No! Of course not—this is purely a coincidence.”

You narrowed your eyes, humming slowly like you were judging a suspect. “Mm. Sure.”

But you nodded anyway, and Jay exhaled like he’d just been spared.

“So,” Sunoo cut in, shaking his camera, “pose time.”

You sighed but shuffled a little closer to Jay, who stayed stiff beside you.

“Closer,” Sunoo clicked his tongue.

You took a reluctant step, the space shrinking again.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud.” Without warning, he grabbed Jay’s wrist and slung his arm across your shoulders.

Your grip on your drink tightened, your heart slamming against your ribcage. Jay’s body heat seeped into you despite the thick fabric, and you forced a smile at the lens.

“Perfect!” Sunoo chirped. “Okay, one more—look happy.”

Jay shook his head but a reluctant smile curved his lips anyway. You mirrored him, ignoring how the corner of his arm shifted slightly against your shoulder as the shutter clicked.

“How does it look?” you asked after, leaning toward the screen.

Sunoo flipped it around. The photo showed you both smiling—almost natural, almost easy, if not for the tightness in your grip on your cup.

“Hm.” You hummed. “That’s… nice.”

“I know, right?” Sunoo beamed. Then, more serious, “Jake says Heeseung’s up in three. No, you don’t have to do anything—just cue the other staff since you’re closest to the stage.”

Jay nodded tightly, but Sunoo didn’t give him the chance to retort before bouncing off into the crowd.

The silence he left was heavy.

Jay huffed under his breath, “Brats. I’m surrounded by a bunch of brats.”

You giggled softly, hiding behind your drink. “At least Sunoo’s nice about it.”

Jay scoffed and, in typical Jay fashion, leaned more of his weight against you in retaliation.

“Jay—you’re heavy.”

“And?” he muttered, not moving.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Shut up and get off me, Park.”

That earned you a real smile. He slipped his arm away, straightening again, though his eyes flickered up ahead at the staff signaling to him. He glanced back down just in time to catch you distractedly fiddling with your nails, lips pushed into a tiny pout.

And in that moment, a thought struck him like a punch to the chest: If he blinked, would this moment disappear?

If he looked away, would you run from him again?

If tomorrow came, would you go back to pretending none of this ever happened?

He found himself staring a second too long before clearing his throat, grounding himself with a quiet, “…Don’t pout. It doesn’t suit you.”

You glanced up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Then stop giving me reasons to.”

Jay only smiled sheepishly, lips tugging upward as if you’d caught him red-handed. He looked down at his wrist, fiddling with the cuff of his sweater before glancing at the watch strapped there.

The silver face glimmered under the warm overhead lights, catching the momentary flicker of nerves in his eyes.

When he looked back up, his expression changed—professional, composed—as he caught the expectant gaze of one of the crew waiting by the wings.

With a small nod, he lifted his hand, giving them the go signal.

The chatter around you melted into sharp cheers as the stage bathed in a single spotlight. Out of the darkness stepped Heeseung, effortlessly commanding attention.

He was dressed in a full three-piece suit, sharp lines catching on the spotlight, a small hat perched playfully on his head. He grabbed the mic stand, tapping it once.

“Hi, hello, good evening, Decelis.”

The crowd erupted, whistles and applause echoing off the walls. Heeseung chuckled, leaning back a little.

“I said I wouldn’t come back to any more open mic nights,” he teased, “but my girlfriend insisted.”

He gestured toward the front row where a girl you recognized—a fashion major, one of the popular ones—was filming him with her phone, laughing as she aimed the camera at her cherry-red-haired boyfriend on stage.

Jay snickered quietly beside you, shaking his head in amusement as Heeseung cleared his throat.

“Once again, good evening. I’m Lee Heeseung. And tonight,” he smiled, voice dipping into something softer, “I’ll be singing ‘This Is What Falling in Love Feels Like.’”

The room field immediately.

The first notes spilled from the speakers, and Heeseung leaned into the mic, voice smooth and rich.

“Feel like sun on my skin, so this is love—know it is.”

You found yourself nodding along to the familiar melody, lips parting slightly as you mouthed the next line under your breath. Without meaning to, your eyes flicked sideways.

Jay was watching. Not you—Heeseung.

That boyish, lopsided grin had spread across his face, the one you knew too well.

The one you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. He was smiling at his friend’s performance, so open and genuine, that your chest tightened unexpectedly.

You turned away quickly, back to the stage. Still—you couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at your own lips.

On stage, Heeseung’s gaze never wavered from his girlfriend in the front row.

And for a fleeting moment, you thought—maybe a love like that didn’t sound half too bad.

You risked a glance back at Jay. His grin was still there, faint but present, softening the sharp lines of his face.

You shook your head quickly and forced your attention to the music.

But if you had just kept your eyes on him a little longer, you would’ve noticed—Jay wasn’t looking at Heeseung anymore.

His eyes had shifted, trailing over you instead, his grin faltering into something quieter. Something real.

The stage lights caught on your hair, illuminating it like strands of molten gold as the chilly night breeze from the field lifted them slightly.

You were nodding to the beat, mouthing the lyrics with that small smile that you probably didn’t even notice had formed.

Jay’s chest tightened in a way he couldn’t ignore.

He should’ve been annoyed. Should’ve confronted you for the distance, for the silence you’d forced between you these past weeks.

But in this moment, watching you sing under your breath with the faintest glow on your face, he felt none of that.

Instead, his lips curved into the softest smile he’d worn in a long time.

Because more than being angry, more than demanding answers—he was just happy. Happy to have you here, standing beside him again.

Sunoo, who had been clicking away at Heeseung center stage, lowered the camera for a second, adjusting the lens.

Then, out of instinct, his eyes flicked toward you and Jay.

And for a moment, it wasn’t the performance that caught his breath—it was the two of you.

Jay leaned just slightly closer, enough that his shoulder brushed yours as you laughed at something in the performance. Your smile was wide, almost childlike in the way your eyes sparkled under the lights.

Sunoo’s heart clenched. Without thinking, he lifted the camera again. Click.

A candid shot: the two of you, side by side, mid-laughter, almost leaning against each other like you’d always belonged there.

Sunoo bit his lip, a smile tugging at him. Quietly, to himself, he whispered, “You deserve happiness, Jay.”

But then—he froze. His finger hovered above the delete button. Should he keep it? Or erase the proof of something that maybe wasn’t supposed to be seen?

Still, his gaze wandered back to you two. Jay leaned down slightly, his voice almost lost in the noise.

“Having fun?” he asked, his tone light, casual—but his eyes were searching, hopeful.

You nodded, smiling softly at him before turning your eyes back to the stage. “Yeah… yeah, I am.”

Jay let out a small laugh, not the loud, cocky one people knew him for, but something quiet—relieved.

He looked at you again, the stage lights catching in his eyes, and for a moment he didn’t even bother hiding it.

“(Y/N),” he said gently.

Your head tilted back up at him, the noise of the crowd fading for just a second.

His eyes curved into crescents, that boyish warmth overtaking the usually sharp edges of him.

“…Thank you,” he whispered.

Your smile faltered—just for a second, barely noticeable—but inside, it felt like your chest cracked open. The sincerity in his voice wasn’t playful, it wasn’t teasing.

It was real. And real was terrifying.

You nodded slowly, forcing the corners of your mouth back up. “Don’t mention it,” you murmured, though your voice didn’t carry the same ease.

Jay smiled again, turning his attention back to the performance as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Meanwhile, you bit your lip, a sharp pang of guilt twisting in your chest. Because you knew this—this moment, this closeness—was fragile.

Would he still look at you the same way tomorrow, if you went back to pushing him away? If you went back to the safe choice—walls, distance, excuses?

You swallowed hard, blinking back to the stage, pretending to be absorbed in the performance.

But your mind wasn’t on the music, or the lights, or the crowd’s cheers—it was on him. The boy beside you, so close and yet so out of reach.

You hug yourself tighter as you hurry down the dim path, the muffled noise of the event still ringing faintly from the distance.

Jay’s face flashes in your mind—the faint frown, the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back. He didn’t stop you. He only nodded, and somehow that hurt more.

Your steps quicken, almost frantic now. If you can just reach the exit near the sciences building, if you can just disappear—

A voice cuts through the silence.

“So this is where you escaped to.”

You stop dead, breath hitching. Slowly, your eyes lift, only to see Jake.

Leaning against the cold concrete wall, his posture deceptively casual, arms crossed over his chest like he’s been waiting all along.

His face is unreadable, none of the warm smiles or soft teasing you’re used to. Just neutral. Watchful.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The only sound is the night breeze rustling through the trees. Then Jake pushes himself off the wall, his shoes scraping lightly against the ground.

“You don’t have to,” he says finally, stepping past you as though the decision has already been made.

“I won’t force you to come with me. But…” He pauses, the corner of his mouth tightening. “If you want answers to your own questions—then feel free to follow me.”

You let out a quiet sigh, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

“…Jake.”

He doesn’t turn. His pace remains steady, shoulders relaxed, like he already knows you’ll follow.

You curse under your breath, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

His figure grows smaller with every step he takes, retreating farther and farther, until you groan quietly and hurry after him—keeping a distance, but not too much. Just enough to hear if he decides to talk.

The two of you pass the wide field, still alive with chatter and laughter despite the late hour, but Jake doesn’t spare it a glance. His footsteps remain unbroken, leading you to the looming main building.

He taps his student ID against the scanner, the door unlocking with a muted beep. Without a word, you follow, swiping your own card before the door shuts behind you.

Jake’s stride is confident as he ascends the grand staircase, the kind that consumed most of the entrance hall, his figure framed by the glow of the chandelier above.

You trail behind, every step tugging at your nerves.

He veers left, his hand pushing open a heavy wooden door. The hinges creak faintly before he looks back at you, nodding once.

“Ladies first.”

You hum a faint thanks and step past him, only for the sight beyond to steal your breath.

From here, the field seemed almost unreal—the glittering lights all stitched together into a scene you could almost mistake for a painting.

You rest your palms lightly against the cool stone railing, exhaling. “…Jungwon really outdid himself, huh?”

A chuckle escapes Jake’s lips, low and amused.

“He’s only handling the athletics organization,” he says, leaning back against the balcony with casual ease. “But sometimes it feels like he’s the president.”

You hum again, eyes scanning the crowd below. The energy feels lighter from up here, but your chest still feels tight, the questions pressing heavier.

“Why did you take me here?” you finally ask, glancing at him.

Jake doesn’t answer right away. He shifts his weight, then leans further against the railing, his eyes trained on the view below.

“Look,” he says simply, the word almost heavy.

Your brows furrow, but you wait.

He exhales. “(Y/N), I know we haven’t been friends long enough for you to just listen to me—or even trust whatever’s about to come out of my mouth.”

His voice is steady, but softer now. “But I need you to.”

You turn to him fully, brows knitting. “…Why?”

Jake’s gaze drops to his shoes, the usual warmth in his tone dimmed by something heavier.

“Because I know Jay enough to read him.”

The admission makes your stomach twist. You let out a quiet, awkward sigh, fiddling with the bracelets dangling loosely around your wrist.

Jake looks up at you then, something pleading flickering in his eyes. “Can you please listen to me?”

You sigh, fingers still toying with the trinkets. “Is this you trying to guilt-trip me?”

A quiet laugh escapes him—short, almost disbelieving. “No. This is me talking to you as a friend.”

He lifts his hand then, pointing toward the stage area below. “Look.”

You follow the direction of his finger, squinting at the right side of the backstage.

A cluster of staff and student volunteers scurried about, adjusting wires, carrying boxes, directing performers.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” you mutter.

“Closer.” His tone leaves no room for dismissal.

You do. And there—half-shadowed behind a makeshift wall—you spot Jay.

He was leaned casually against the wood, his blazer still sharp despite the long night, his head tilted as he spoke to two student staffers. They nodded eagerly, jotting things down, before rushing away.

Almost instantly, the polite smile on Jay’s face crumbled. His jaw tightened, his expression hardening, his eyes distant and unguarded in a way you rarely got to see.

You suck in a sharp breath.

“Mhmm.” Jake’s voice cuts into your stunned silence. “See him?”

Your lips part slowly, your throat dry, but you manage a small nod.

Jake nods back, expression unreadable at first, before a small exhale slips past his lips.

“I know this isn’t my story to tell… and Jay might have my head for it,” he admits with a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, “but whatever.”

You stay rooted in place, arms hugging yourself tighter, eyes fixed on Jay a little ways ahead—now with a clipboard in hand, head slightly bowed as he carefully scans the paper he’s been given.

Jake’s voice threads through the still night.

“I’ve known Jay since we were in high school. He’s… someone you could immediately trust after meeting him.”

Jake’s lips twitch upward, though his gaze remains skyward. “He’s got a bit of a reputation, you know—people call him a snob, a troublemaker, a dick.” He huffs out a laugh. “But none of it was true. None of it ever was.”

He finally looks back at you, smile tugging wider but softer. “Jay’s like a brother to me. But… something was always missing. He never really smiled. Not the way you’d expect someone like him to. Not until you came into his life.”

You blink, breath hitching, eyes still glued to Jay.

“What?” The word slips from you in a whisper, almost involuntary

Jake leans back against the stone railing again, his voice lower this time,

“Believe it or not, Jay has never been in love. Ever. He always said he’d wait for the right one—even if it took him a millennia and hundreds of heartbreaks. He never willingly stepped into the dating scene, never entertained things that didn’t feel real. Because… he wanted his first to be his last.”

There’s a pause. A quiet wind passes through the courtyard, rustling the leaves in the distance. Jake folds his arms, as if weighing his own words.

“And yeah,” he admits with a wry smile, “why am I saying this to you and not letting Jay say it himself? I don’t know. I just… I know he’ll struggle to. And I hate watching it eat him alive.”

You swallow hard, pulse thudding.

Slowly, you glance back at Jay—just in time to catch him looking up. His eyes find yours across the short distance, and though he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, his lips curve into the faintest, softest smile.

“He loves you,” Jake says simply. “Even a blind person could see that, clear as day.”

“Oh,” you murmur, caught between disbelief and a quiet ache in your chest.

Jake chuckles under his breath. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Seriously, you two are more alike than you think.” His tone shifts, gentler, more earnest.

“I hate seeing the both of you get hurt from avoiding something that can be solved if you just… had enough guts to face it together. I know you’re both afraid. But isn’t hurting yourselves by avoiding him worse than whatever you’re so scared of?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod slowly, unsure if your body moved on its own.

Jake watches you carefully, then offers a smaller smile. He shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly back on his heels.

“(Y/N)… I’m not saying this to scare you. But everybody can see it. The way you two look at each other? It’s nothing else but love.”

Your voice trembles as you ask, “Is it really?”

Jake doesn’t hesitate. He nods once, firmly. “I’m no love expert, but I know what I see.”

He pushes away from the railing, stepping back toward the exit. “Now… it’s up to you to decide if you’re ready to accept that or not.”

He pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Are you coming back with me?”

You shake your head, leaning against the cold stone wall, fingers gripping the edge as you whisper, “I’ll… go back by myself.”

Jake studies you for a moment, then nods. He turns away, footsteps echoing lightly as he makes for the exit.

“Jake?” Your voice calls out faintly.

He stops, looks back. “Yeah?”

“…Thank you.”

He exhales, almost smiling, and shakes his head. “Don’t thank me.” His gaze flicks briefly toward Jay, still standing with the clipboard, still stealing glances your way.

“Thank Jay. For making you two find each other at all.”

Jay leaned his weight against his arms, elbows braced on the wooden counter, shoulders slouched.

The glass walls in front of the shop framed the darkening sky—an expanse of navy clouds bleeding into ink, the occasional headlights flashing by in the wet streets outside.

He blew at the strands of hair falling into his eyes, exhaling another sigh that fogged faintly against the counter.

“Just in time, huh…” he mumbled, watching a streak of lightning flash faintly in the distance.

It had been a week. A week since he last saw you. A week of silence gnawing at him more than he cared to admit.

He had buried himself in Hyunjae’s morning and evening shifts, making excuses so his cousin could focus on work, pretending he didn’t mind the extra hours.

Anything to keep his mind and hands busy. But now, with the night so still, the loneliness pressed down heavier than the humid summer rainclouds outside.

Jay slumped even further over the counter, half-hiding behind the tall glass vase of sunflowers that sat by the register.

Their golden heads stood too tall, too loud for his mood, yet he curled slightly behind them as if their wide petals could shield him from the world.

His finger lazily poked at one of the blooms, tracing over the bright yellow.

He glanced to the side, eyes catching on the peonies resting nearby—soft pink, freshly sprayed minutes ago, droplets clinging to their petals like tiny crystals under the shop’s warm lights.

“They used to never last long,” he muttered, words meant for no one but himself. “Always sold out… either Mom or Hyunjae kept them aside for you.”

Jay’s lips pressed into a thin line. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about you. But the sight of the untouched peonies sitting pretty and unwanted made the silence in the shop ring louder.

He rubbed at his jaw, groaning lowly. “Great. Now I’m talking to flowers. Fantastic.”

Jay sighed again, heavier this time, before burying his head deeper into the crook of his arm. His lashes brushed against his sleeve as he shut his eyes, letting the sound of thunder rumbling outside seep into the shop, filling every corner.

The bell above the door jingled softly.

Jay didn’t even move. His lips parted with another sigh, assuming it was just another passerby—maybe one of the students from Decelis who usually came in for roses, or worse, to slip him a folded note with a number he’d never call.

He inhaled, sharp through his nose, trying to steady himself.

But when he finally lifted his head, the sight in front of him jolted him fully awake.

You.

Hair loose, cascading just like the last time he saw you—running from him under the starlit field on open mic night.

A white, flowy dress clung gently to your figure, the hem grazing your knees as if the storm outside hadn’t touched you at all.

Without hesitation, you gravitated toward the corner of the shop, fingertips brushing over peonies and lavender as though your body remembered the path here better than your mind.

Jay straightened immediately, wiping his palms against the apron in his lap. His heart thudded so violently he nearly stumbled as he leaned back against the counter for support.

You picked up a small handful of pink peonies, lifting them delicately to your nose. For the briefest moment, he caught it—the flicker of a smile ghosting over your lips.

And then your voice, soft and absent-minded: “Hyunjae… are there daisies?”

Jay’s throat constricted.

You turned then, holding the flowers, and your face—neutral, almost blank—shifted into one of pure shock when your eyes landed on him behind the counter.

Jay didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He only stood there, rooted to the spot, giving you space to take him in as though he wasn’t real.

Slowly, you approached the counter, setting the pink blooms down carefully, almost deliberately, “Just these, please.”

Jay swallowed hard, forcing his body into motion. He picked up the flowers, his fingers brushing over the soft petals, before reaching for the register.

“Hyunjae’s busy… in case you’re wondering.” His gaze flickered up briefly, then away. “I’ve been covering his shifts.”

You nodded wordlessly.

Jay scanned the blooms, punched in numbers, but then paused. His hand lingered over the keys. “No need to pay. It’s on the house.”

You didn’t argue. Didn’t even pretend to protest, just pressed your lips together and looked anywhere but at him.

Jay reached under the counter, pulling out clear plastic wrap. His movements were careful as he bundled the peonies together. He grabbed a pink ribbon, threading it between his fingers, tying it into a neat bow.

His hands faltered for a moment—knuckles tightening—before he loosened his grip with a quiet sigh.

“(Y/N)… can we talk?”

Your chest tightened, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ribbon he’d tied around the flowers. Your lips parted, shaky. “There’s nothing to talk about, Jay.”

Jay exhaled sharply, setting the bouquet down with more force than he intended, the petals trembling against the counter.

“Look—”

“Jay.” Your voice cut through, fragile but firm. “I’m just here for my flowers, please.”

You tried to sound unaffected, to make your tone cool and distant, but the slight tremble in your words betrayed you. You refused to meet his eyes, instead fiddling endlessly with the bracelets on your wrist, each metallic clink amplifying the silence.

Jay shook his head, leaning forward across the counter.

“(Y/N), if I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be begging Hyunjae to take back his shifts. I’d let him take over my projects at the company. I wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of those things.”

Your words were sharp enough to silence him for a moment. You finally looked up, eyes glossy, voice low but cutting.

“If I can’t have my flowers, then I might as well leave.”

Before you could walk away, Jay was already moving. He rounded the counter in two strides, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist.

“Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Your hands balled into fists, trembling under his touch. “Jay, please. I can’t do this right now.”

A crack of thunder rattled the windows, followed by the rapid patter of rain as it slammed harder against the glass. Jay’s thumb brushed absently over your pulse, his own voice breaking with quiet desperation.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me, because I—I don’t know anymore.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“Was it something I said? Something I didn’t say? God, tell me if I made you feel… unworthy, or impossible to be around.”

You shook your head quickly, tears stinging your lashes. “No—you did none of those things. None.”

But still, you pulled away. The absence of his hand burned as you shoved the door open, the bell jingling violently in protest.

The storm swallowed you whole instantly, icy rain soaking into your dress, your hair sticking to your face and shoulders as you walked blindly down the sidewalk.

“(Y/N)!” Jay’s voice chased after you, muffled by the rain. You heard the frantic slam of the door behind you before his footsteps splashed into the puddles, closer, closer.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, pushing forward until he was nearly at your side. “(Y/N), you’re going to get sick—please, just stop—”

“Leave me alone!” you cried, not turning back, feet splashing through the street.

“Please—it’s cold!”

“Why do you care, Jay?” Your voice cracked, ripping through the storm, jagged and raw.

“Why do you care if I don’t show up? Why do you care if I don’t buy flowers anymore, or if I pretend you don’t exist? Why do you care?”

Jay stood frozen, chest rising and falling, the rain plastering his shirt to his frame, his hair dripping into his eyes. He looked at you like your words had cracked him in two, like each syllable had been a blade against his chest.

“Because you act like I don’t care, but I do!” He stepped forward, voice rising with the thunder.

“I care more than you think. Do you really believe I’d just show up everywhere—for anyone? That I’d chase someone through the rain like this if they meant nothing?”

Your breath faltered, but the storm inside you roared louder than the one outside. You forced yourself to meet his eyes at last, despite the water blurring your vision.

“Stop treating me like one of your girls, Jay.”

He froze. “…What?”

You scoffed bitterly, your laugh laced with venom.

“Don’t act innocent, Park Jongseong. That’s all you do, isn’t it? Flirt, charm, toss around smiles until someone falls for you—and then you leave them to pick up the pieces. Is that what this is? Some game you’re playing with me?”

His expression shattered, disbelief flickering across his features before raw pain settled in. He stepped closer, the rain dripping off his jaw as he shook his head.

“No. (Y/N)… there are no other girls.” His voice cracked, desperate. “It’s not like that. It’s never been like that with you.”

You scoffed again, sharper this time, your body trembling as you turned on your heel, trudging through the sheets of rain.

You didn’t care that your dress was soaked through, clinging to your skin, or that your hair whipped around you like a curtain.

You couldn’t bear to listen. Not to him. Not to that voice that had once been your undoing.

But Jay moved faster. In two strides, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a ferocity that spoke louder than any word could.

The rain dripped down his arm, his knuckles white, his grip unrelenting—as if letting go meant losing something he could never get back.

“Please—” his voice cracked, hoarse and raw, as he tugged you back, pulling you flush against his chest. His breath mingled with yours, hot and uneven despite the chill.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, tight, desperate, trembling. “Please, believe me.”

That broke you.

A sob tore through your chest, ragged and loud, swallowed immediately by the storm. Your knees nearly buckled, but Jay was there, spinning you around, leaning you against him as though the rain itself might sweep you away.

His hand cradled the back of your head, pressing your face to his chest, while the other slid around your waist, locking you in place.

“I hate you so much,” you sobbed, fists clutching at his soaked shirt, your words muffled against his heartbeat. “I hate you so much.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he lowered his chin to your hair.

Jay’s hold tightened, his body curving around yours, shielding you from the storm even as it battered him. “I know.”

You sobbed harder, your forehead pressing into his soaked shirt, clinging as if the rain itself was trying to tear you away.

He let you—no, he welcomed it—his arms caging you, moving with a gentleness that didn’t match the violent sky.

Every shiver that wracked your body, he caught. Every tear that fell, he tried to wipe away, though his hands were just as wet from the downpour.

His thumb brushed your cheek, trembling, as if he wanted so badly to erase every trace of your pain.

“Don’t cry, please…” His voice broke, raw and pleading. His dark hair clung to his face, rain running down his sharp jawline, but his eyes—God, his eyes—never left yours.

They burned, desperate, terrified, full of something that made your breath catch. “You’re the only one. The only one I’ve ever loved.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide, your lashes heavy with tears and raindrops. You swore the world stilled—thunder rolling somewhere far away, the storm fading into nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the hammer of your heart.

Fresh tears welled, blurring his face, but you couldn’t look away. “Jay…” you whispered, voice breaking like glass.

He leaned down, his hand cupping your face with a reverence that nearly undid you. His thumb traced your cheekbone, careful, hesitant, as if afraid you’d vanish under his touch.

His forehead pressed to yours, and he let out a breath, shaky, his lips ghosting so close you could feel the warmth of him even through the cold rain.

“May I?” His voice was a whisper, but it roared louder than the thunder.

Your breath hitched. You nodded slowly, trembling, eyes fluttering shut as your hand clutched at his soaked shirt, pulling him closer.

And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was everything. He kissed you as if the world was ending tonight and you were the only thing worth saving.

As if every storm in his life had led him here, to you. His lips moved against yours with a softness that made your knees weak, with a devotion so fierce it burned through the cold seeping into your bones.

You felt his hand cradle the back of your head, holding you steady, keeping you close. The taste of rain, of salt from your tears, mixed between you, but none of it mattered.

What mattered was him—his warmth, his trembling, the way he kissed you like you were the only good thing that had ever happened to him.

He only pulled away to let you breathe, his forehead brushing against yours, lips ghosting yours before he dove back in.

This time, the kiss was deeper, rougher, as if he needed to pour every unspoken word into you. His hand cradled the back of your head, keeping you flush against him, chest to chest, heartbeats tangled.

“Jay?” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his lips.

“Yeah?” His reply was immediate, warm, his eyes soft even as his pulse thundered beneath your touch.

“I… I feel dizzy.”

He froze. Just for a second. Then you slumped, your weight suddenly going limp in his arms.

“(Y/N)?” His voice cracked as he pulled back, searching your face. Your lashes fluttered but didn’t lift. Panic sliced through him. “(Y/n)? Hey—hey, come on.”

His hand tapped lightly against your cheek, then a little firmer. “Wake up, baby. Please.”

No response.

He hissed under his breath, pressing his palm to your forehead. The moment the heat hit his skin, his heart lurched. “Shit—you’re burning up.”

He steadied your limp body against him, his jaw clenched tight, and without a second thought he slipped an arm beneath your knees, the other bracing your waist, and scooped you up bridal style.

You felt so light, frighteningly light, as he held you close.

His strides were quick, urgent, rain still slicking his hair to his forehead as he carried you toward his car.

“Stay with me, please,” he whispered, glancing down at your pale face, “don’t do this to me.”

When he reached the car, he cursed in relief. “Thank God.” The backseat was unlocked. He kicked it open with his foot, carefully maneuvering you inside.

His breath shook as he laid you down as gently as possible, not even caring that your clothes were still dripping wet, soaking into the leather.

He brushed a damp strand of hair from your face, fingers trembling. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he muttered, like saying it out loud would make it true.

Leaning over you, his hand lingered on your cheek, thumb stroking small circles. His eyes searched for any flicker of movement, any sign of you stirring. Nothing. His throat tightened.

“Hang on for me, (Y/N)… okay? Just—just hang on.” His voice cracked at the end, the plea trembling out of him.

He shut the door with one last glance at you, then tore around the car, legs moving faster than they ever had in his life. His shoes hit the pavement in quick, desperate thuds before he yanked open the driver’s door.

“Shit—fuck.” He cursed under his breath, fumbling with the handle, nearly missing it before pulling himself inside.

His hands shook as he reached over the dash, digging for the key he stupidly left.

“Jay, you fucking idiot,” he muttered harshly, voice raw. “Leaving the damn car unlocked—what were you thinking?”

The metallic jingle of the key rang as he snatched it from the compartment, his breath ragged. He shoved it into the ignition with a trembling hand, twisting until the engine roared alive.

For a second, relief crashed over him like a wave—only to disappear the moment his eyes flicked back at you slumped in the backseat.

He swallowed hard, a shaky sigh ripping from his chest. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “Stay with me, (Y/N). Please. Don’t you dare leave me like this.”

Pressing his foot to the gas, he sped off into the night, tires screeching against asphalt. Every second felt like an hour, every red light a curse he blew past, not caring if it meant trouble later.

One hand gripped the wheel so tight his veins stood out, the other raking through his hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain would keep him steady.

“Fuck—fuck, no, you’re gonna be fine,” he whispered frantically, shaking his head. “Just… breathe for me. Move. Anything. Please.”

He glanced at the rearview mirror, then turned his whole body slightly to look back at you, his chest heaving when you didn’t stir.

“Don’t do this to me, (Y/N). Not you. Not you.” His voice broke mid-sentence, drowned in the sound of the engine and the rush of the wind as he pushed the car faster.

Your lashes flutter against the soft glow spilling from the ceiling light, dimmed low so the room feels warmer, gentler—like it’s meant for resting.

A low groan escapes your throat as your body protests the simple act of moving. Pain flares down your arm when you try to shift, making you hiss under your breath.

Instinctively, you shut your eyes again, sinking into the mattress beneath you—it’s soft, almost too soft, cradling you like it was made to keep you there.

The scent hits you next.

Pine. Air freshener. And a faint trace of men’s cologne—clean, a little sharp. It invades your senses with every breath, dragging you slowly back to consciousness.

This isn’t your room.

Your brows furrow as you exhale shakily, cracking your eyes open once more. The ceiling isn’t familiar, the walls aren’t familiar, and when you tug at the comforter draped over you, you freeze.

Gone is the white dress from earlier. Instead, your body is swallowed in a loose white shirt and gray sweatpants, the fabric soft against your skin. Someone changed you.

Your throat tightens, heart thudding as your hand lifts to rub your eyes.

Your voice comes out hoarse, low, filled with disbelief, “What the hell…?”

You sigh, too exhausted to even question who changed your clothes, a dull groan slipping out when the ache in your head pulses sharper.

Your gaze drifts, blurry at first, over the dark-painted walls, the faint glow of the ceiling light casting warmth over everything.

At the foot of the bed, you notice an expensive gaming setup, sleek monitors and a high-backed chair, cords tucked neatly against the desk. A bookshelf stood proudly to the side, filled and organized, and the room itself was spacious.

Your eyes drift lazily to your side, and your breath falters. Jay is there.

He’s slumped over the study table beside the bed, head resting against his folded arms, chest rising and falling with quiet, even breaths. His black shirt clung slightly from the dampness earlier, though it had dried in most places.

His bangs had dried into soft strands that curved against his forehead, his profile softened in sleep. The sharp line of his nose, the delicate shadow of his lashes brushing against his cheeks—it made your chest loosen.

His glasses were folded neatly next to him, like even in his exhaustion he had taken care.

“Oh,” you breathe out, so quiet it almost isn’t a word—more like the sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding.

You wanted to call out his name, to whisper it just to see if he’d stir, but the sharp lance of pain across your temples makes you hiss instead.

“Oh, God…”

The sound startles him awake. His head jerks up, disoriented for a moment before his eyes widen.

He shoots up so fast he nearly topples the chair, dizziness flickering across his expression, but he doesn’t care—he’s already at your side.

“(Y/N),” his voice is soft, panicked, trembling at the edges. His hands hover for a moment before they find your shoulders, steadying you. “You’re awake.”

Your lips part, voice barely above a whisper. “Where… am I?”

Jay exhales shakily, as if he’s been holding his breath for hours. He moves closer, gently guiding your head against his shoulder, his arm curling protectively around you.

“You’re in my apartment,” he murmurs, voice low, careful. “God, you scared me back there.”

You lean against him, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cool ache in your skin. Tilting your head slightly, you look up at him, your voice soft and unsure.

“What… happened?”

Jay sighs, pressing a hand tenderly against your hair, his cheek brushing against the crown of your head. He swallows, cheeks tinting the faintest pink.

“Well… after we—” he hesitates, his voice smaller, almost boyish, “—after we kissed, you just… collapsed. You were burning up. I had to carry you here.”

You wince, guilt tugging at your chest. “God… I’m sorry. What about your car? The seats must be—”

“Unbelievable.” Jay huffs, pulling back just enough to frown down at you. “You pass out in the middle of a storm, running a fever, and the first thing you ask is, ‘what about my car?’”

Despite yourself, a laugh bubbles out, quiet but genuine. “Jay, you own a Ferrari. I think the seats can handle it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head, though the corner of his lips threatens to lift. “And?”

“And,” you tease softly, a smile tugging at your lips, “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“Good,” he says simply, his eyes softening as they linger on you.

Silence settles, thick but not uncomfortable, the kind that presses with the awareness of everything unspoken. Your throat tightens again, and you clear it nervously, eyes darting away.

“So… who changed me?”

Jay stills. The tips of his ears redden instantly, and he rubs the back of his neck with one hand, flustered. His voice drops, careful, like he’s treading lightly.

“I didn’t. Don’t worry. I called my cousin—the one I told you about.” he sighs, pressing his lips together before admitting, “The one Ni-ki’s always fighting with.”

You blink up at him, and his eyes flicker away as if embarrassed by the confession.

“I called her, and—yeah, usually I’d owe her something, that’s just how it is with us, but this time…”

His voice softens. “She said no need. Because apparently—” his throat bobs, his cheeks turning crimson, “apparently I finally introduced a girl to her.”

Your lips part in surprise, but then curve into a smile—gentle, involuntary. You lean a little more into him, and he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, his hand comes up almost instinctively, fingers threading softly through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp.

“If you say so,” you murmur, amused at his stubbornness, though your voice carries a warmth you can’t hide.

Jay swallows and clears his throat, forcing his composure. “Well… how are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly, rubbing your temples. “Just… a little dizzy from sitting up too fast.”

He nods immediately, slipping his arm around your shoulders to carefully guide you against the plush headboard. His movements are cautious, as though you’re made of glass.

His hand brushes your forehead, and he hums under his breath in approval.

“Well. Your fever’s gone down.”

A faint smile pulls at your lips. “It was probably just from hunger.”

Jay presses his tongue against his cheek, giving you a look. “Haven’t I told you before you started ghosting me—to start eating your meals properly?”

Your face heats at the reminder, and you duck your gaze with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.”

He exhales a long sigh, his thumb still absentmindedly grazing your temple. “I know,” he says quietly. Then, after a pause: “So what do you want to eat?”

You tilt your head, studying him, a small playful spark in your eyes. “Are you… going to cook?”

He nods simply, and you grin. “I’d finally get to taste one of your dishes.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, softening into the faintest smile. “Under these circumstances, it’s kind of insane, you know.”

You shrug, lips quirking. “Well. Life’s insane.”

“Fair enough.” He pushes himself up, giving you one last look to make sure you’re steady. “Okay. Stay there. I’ll see what I can find.”

But you pout, the expression instinctive. “But… I wanted to watch you cook.”

Jay freezes for a beat, then glances around the room as though calculating. His eyes land on the blanket draped near the foot of the bed. He nods toward it. “Grab that.”

You blink, confused, but reach for the soft material, clutching it around you. By the time you glance back, he’s already approaching, making a carrying motion with his arms.

“Jay.” You narrow your eyes. “I can walk.”

“I know,” he says simply, voice calm but firm. “But I insist.”

You stare at him, searching for any hint of teasing. There is none—just the quiet determination etched into his features.

You sigh, resigned, but the warmth creeping into your chest betrays you. “…Fine.”

His smile is soft but victorious, and in one fluid motion, he bends, looping an arm behind your legs and another around your back.

Effortlessly, he lifts you. You gasp softly, clutching the blanket closer, but his grip is steady.

The door opens, and the rest of his apartment greets you.

Spacious. Modern. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one wall, sheer curtains pulled aside to reveal the glittering cityscape. The living room is tastefully minimal, a sleek black sofa set against dark wooden floors, a low coffee table glinting faintly under the warm ceiling lights.

To the left, the open kitchen sprawls in full view—polished counters, glossy cabinets, high-end appliances that gleamed like they’d barely been touched.

It’s elegant but lived-in, just like him.

Jay’s voice draws you back. “You’ll see me clearly from here.”

He lowers you gently onto the soft couch, adjusting the blanket around you before pulling back.

You nod, eyes still wandering the expanse of the apartment, before drifting back to him.

He stands there, framed by the glow of the kitchen light, his black shirt clinging to his frame, his hair falling into his eyes.

He looks at you as though he’s memorizing the sight of you curled up in his home.

Jay lets out a quiet breath, the corners of his lips tugging upward into the softest smile. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms lazily, as if he could stand there forever just watching you.

“What do you want to eat?” His voice is gentle, casual, but his eyes never leave you.

Your head snaps up, wide-eyed, startled at the sound of his question.

You pull the blanket tighter against your chest like a shield, cheeks warming when you realize how you must look—dressed in his clothes, hair messy from sleep, curled up on his couch.

“…Anything with soup,” you mumble after a beat, tucking your chin into the fabric. Then, almost shyly, you add in a softer voice, “Please.”

Jay’s chest stirs at that, and he can’t help the low chuckle that escapes him.

“You say that like I wouldn’t make it for you even if you didn’t ask nicely,” he teases, shaking his head as he pushes off the counter.

But inside, he’s not laughing.

Inside, he’s making a mental note: he’s going to have to introduce you to his mom soon. And not just as the loyal flower shop customer she always fusses over.

No, not this time. Not when his mother would take one look at you—curled up in his clothes, asking for soup like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and know exactly what you meant to him.

You nervously play with the ends of your skirt, eyes flicking to the passing streets outside the window. Familiar places you’ve driven past countless times look different now—tinted golden by the way his hand rests against yours.

Jay’s focus stays on the road, his profile sharp and calm, but his free hand is steady, holding yours like it’s second nature. Every now and then, he gives the slightest squeeze.

The music playing low through the speakers hums around the both of you, your phone still connected to the Bluetooth. Jay’s lips move faintly, the softest mumble of lyrics slipping out.

“Baby, I’m perfect for you,” he sings along, barely above a whisper, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear.

Your lips twitch before curling into a smile, a laugh threatening to spill as you turn your gaze on him.

His hair falls softly over his forehead, shifting with every bounce of the car, and the black-and-white plaid polo he threw over his white shirt lays open, casual but unfairly perfect. Denim pants, black Converse—it’s so him.

Effortless, but it knocks the air out of you.

And then you glance down. Your own plaid shirt, the same tones, paired with his spare clothes, matches his.

The realization makes your chest ache in the warmest way possible, and you have to bite your lip to hide the grin that spreads across your face.

The car slows at a red light, and Jay finally glances your way. “What’s up?” His voice is light, curious.

You can’t help it—the laugh bubbles out before you can swallow it down. “It’s nothing. You just…” You tilt your head, cheeks heating, “…you just look cuddly right now.”

Jay blinks before letting out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head as he reaches over, fingers brushing the collar of your plaid shirt to straighten it.

“Out of all the things you could’ve thought of, it’s cuddly?”

You shrug, catching his hand before he can pull away and tugging it back into your lap. Your fingers slip between his, intertwining once again. “That’s because you do.”

His jaw relaxes, his lips tugging upward in the faintest smile before he shakes his head, chuckling to himself. The light flicks green, and he drives on, your joined hands resting comfortably between you.

Your smile softens when you recognize the streets rolling by, the familiar curves and corners you’ve memorized from countless trips.

Jay pulls up to the curb, the car easing to a stop in front of the flower shop. You feel the tiniest tug in your chest when he reluctantly pulls his hand from yours, his warmth leaving your palm a little too soon.

He unbuckles quickly, steps out of the driver’s seat, and rounds the front with long strides.

When he opens your door, he extends his hand out toward you, voice gentle. “Come on.”

You slip your hand into his, smiling up at him as you step out. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he murmurs, and before you can react, he leans down just enough to press the softest kiss to your hair. It’s delicate, but it leaves your chest twisting as though your heart can’t quite keep up.

The both of you walk toward the shop, the small bell above the door jingling as you step inside.

The usual rush of fresh flowers greets you instantly—soft scents mingling in the air, vibrant colors spilling across each aisle like a living painting.

And, of course, Hyunjae.

He’s leaning against the counter, arms folded, a smirk plastered across his face as though he’s been waiting for this exact moment.

His gaze flicks between the two of you, hand in hand, and he doesn’t even bother to hide the smug tilt of his mouth.

“You two make me sick,” he drawls, shaking his head like he’s the long-suffering victim here.

Heat crawls up your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile sheepishly. Jay, on the other hand, only rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Hyunjae.”

Hyunjae raises his arms in mock surrender, though his grin doesn’t falter. “Whatever you say. (Y/N), I seriously don’t know how you put up with him.”

You laugh softly, stepping a little further into the shop. The pink roses immediately catch your eye, delicate and full in bloom, their petals glowing under the soft overhead lights.

You glance back at Hyunjae with a playful grin. “Be a sweetheart for me and grab some fresh ones, would you?”

“Unbelievable.” Hyunjae groans, peeling himself off the counter. “Three weeks of you two figuring things out and Jay’s already rubbed off on you. Really?”

Jay snickers beside you, sliding into the aisle as he leans down to inspect the daisies. “Will you add daisies too?”

You nod, fingertips brushing over the white roses next to the pink ones.

Their cool, smooth petals make you sigh as you speak. “You know…I don’t think Mrs. Park will appreciate getting flowers from her own shop.”

You pout slightly, plucking a few white roses and holding them carefully. Jay, who’s quietly pulling out the daisies with practiced ease, hands them over without hesitation.

“Trust me. She will. As long as they’re flowers—especially since they’re coming from you.”

Your throat tightens, and you can only nod wordlessly, your chest tightening with a strange, fluttery ache.

“Here.” Hyunjae’s voice cuts through your thoughts, breaking the fragile bubble.

You glance over to see him carrying a fresh bucket of pink roses, setting it down just beneath the row of sunflowers on the counter.

You walk over, plucking a few stems with care before laying them gently on the counter. “In pink, please.”

Hyunjae only sighs, though his hands move easily, grabbing the pink wrapping paper from beneath the counter. “Pink it is. With a white ribbon, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

While Hyunjae busies himself with the bouquet, you feel Jay step closer. He lets out a quiet sigh, then slips an arm carefully around your waist, tugging you toward him.

You go willingly, leaning into his side as his voice rumbles low against your ear.

“She’ll love you, okay? She already does.” He pauses, leaning his chin lightly against your hair. “She’ll just love you even more.”

You exhale slowly, leaning into him more, your lips pulling into the faintest pout. “Still…she loves me as her customer. Not as your girlfriend. Even if we aren’t official yet.”

Jay only shakes his head, a small smile curling on his lips as he looks down at you.

His thumb brushes absentminded circles against your side, his voice dropping softer than before.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Hyunjae cleared his throat softly, sliding the bouquet across the counter toward you. The flowers were tied neatly in parchment, a delicate little bow sitting perfectly at the center.

You reached for it, murmuring a small, “Thank you,” as you pulled a bill from your wallet and placed it in his hand.

Hyunjae’s brows immediately furrowed. He glanced at the money, then at you, and finally at Jay, his disbelief written all over his face. “Since when did (Y/N) ever pay?”

You opened your mouth before Jay could even answer, holding up a hand. “It’s for good luck. Let me be.”

That earned a soft laugh from Hyunjae, who shook his head as he tucked the bill into the register. “Good luck, huh? Fine. If that’s what you want to believe.”

He leaned his elbows on the counter, his sharp gaze flicking between you and Jay. His tone was lighter than before, but his words carried weight. “You know, it’s not really my place to say this…”

You tilted your head, waiting.

Hyunjae’s lips curved into the faintest smile as his eyes softened. “But you’re already part of the family, (Y/N). There’s no need to be nervous about it.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. Before you could even think of what to say, Hyunjae shut the register with a quiet click and added with a brighter smile, “So if it makes you feel less nervous—welcome to the family.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your face. You mouthed a soft thank you, and Hyunjae gave you a small nod, like he meant every word.

“I’m only telling the truth,” he said simply, brushing his hands against his apron. “You don’t need any good luck for this.”

You smiled again, warmth pooling in your chest.

“Thanks, man,” Jay said beside you, his voice quieter than usual.

Hyunjae waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Honestly, hearing you say thank you out loud just sounds weird.”

Jay let out a surprised laugh, shoulders shaking, and reached for your hand, tugging you lightly toward the door. You stumbled a little but followed, bouquet pressed against your chest.

“Come on,” Jay murmured as he pushed the glass door open for you, holding it wide as the little bell above chimed.

His eyes lingered on you, just for a second longer than necessary, before he gave you that lopsided grin that always made your heart skip.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the leather seat, the bouquet of flowers pressed tightly against your chest as though it could shield you from the nerves twisting in your stomach.

Through the tinted glass, the streets shifted into something less familiar—larger houses, sprawling lawns, trimmed hedges so neat they looked unreal.

Every property seemed to scream wealth and legacy, and you winced inwardly at how small you felt in comparison.

Jay’s knuckles whitened slightly around the steering wheel, his jaw set the moment the car turned into the neighborhood. The way his shoulders stiffened didn’t go unnoticed.

“Okay,” you muttered, voice a little shaky, “maybe this is a bad idea.”

Jay’s head turned toward you briefly, his eyes steady. “Baby, we’re literally one street away from our house.”

You grimaced, clutching the bouquet tighter. “Still…”

He glanced back at you just in time to catch the way your fingers were twisting anxiously around the ribbon tied at the bouquet’s stem.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You’re doing that thing with your hands again.”

Your eyes snapped down. “What thing?”

Jay’s voice softened with amusement. “You fiddle with everything when you’re nervous.”

Sure enough, your fingertips were tangled with the bow, tugging at the edges. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you muttered, “Oh… sorry.”

He shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching as though he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t apologize. It’s endearing.”

Your face burned hotter, and you quickly turned to look out the window, hoping the passing scenery would distract you. But your nerves only spiked when Jay slowed the car, pulling into a gated property.

The iron gates swung open silently, revealing a yard so vast it looked like it belonged in a movie.

Rows of colorful flowers lined the paths, tall trees framed the driveway, and right in the center stood a pristine white mansion that filled up your entire view.

You blinked, gripping the bouquet so tightly the stems pressed into your palms. “Now I get why Mrs. Park always wanted me to come over,” you muttered under your breath.

Jay chuckled as he cut the engine, turning slightly to look at you. “Told you you’d love it here. You can even take some plants for your next lab project if you want.”

Your eyes widened, scandalized, as you shook your head. “No way. Some of those plants probably cost more than my entire life.”

You were expecting him to laugh, maybe roll his eyes at your exaggeration—but instead, his brows furrowed, dark bangs shifting slightly as they brushed against his forehead.

“Don’t downgrade yourself like that,” he muttered, almost scolding but not unkind.

The seriousness in his tone made your cheeks warm, and you sheepishly looked down, offering him a small, awkward smile. “Right. Sorry.”

Jay hummed, like he was satisfied enough with your correction, before grabbing the paper bags down by his feet in the car.

Without warning, he pulled something from one of them—a small teal box, sleek and elegant, clearly not something he just picked up casually.

“Okay…” he began, voice unusually hesitant as he reached for your hand. “I was planning to give this to you after all this, but I don’t think I can wait.”

Your breath caught as he flipped the box open, revealing the most beautiful golden bracelet you had ever seen. The chain glimmered under the light, delicate with intricate designs etched into the links.

“Jay…” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” he cut you off gently, already looping the bracelet around your wrist with careful precision, his touch lingering longer than necessary. The clasp clicked into place, almost sealing a silent promise.

His lips curled into a smug little smile as he murmured, “No takebacks.”

Then, with a flourish, he raised his own wrist—showing a silver version of the exact same bracelet, resting snugly against his skin. “See? We match.”

Your chest tightened, emotions flooding in faster than you could control. “Jay, this is… this is too much.”

His expression immediately soured, his frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head.

“No, it’s not.” His hand found yours again, warm and steady, before he brought it up to his lips. His kiss was soft, a lingering press against your knuckles that made your pulse stutter.

“I don’t want my parents thinking I’m not spoiling you properly, right?”

You let out a half-laugh, shaking your head as if you could fight the way your heart was racing. “You’re insane.”

Jay chuckled low, eyes glinting as he leaned closer, voice dropping to something intimate—something just for you.

“Insane for you, yeah.”

Your breath hitched, warmth crawling all the way up your neck as he pressed the gentlest kiss to the tip of your nose.

You flushed, caught completely off guard, and he only smiled at the reaction, pulling away like he hadn’t just set your whole chest on fire.

A moment later, he pushed open the driver’s side door, stepping out into the crisp air before rounding the car.

When your door opened, he was there with his hand outstretched, palm warm and steady. You sighed, shaking your head as you slipped your hand into his. “Not fair.”

His grin tilted mischievous. “Nothing’s fair.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He shut the door behind you, leaning down just slightly to ask, “You ready?”

Your stomach dropped at the sight of the looming white-painted mansion staring you down from the end of the pristine driveway.

“No,” you admitted honestly, clutching the bouquet of pink flowers a little tighter against your chest.

Jay only chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s now or never.”

The walk to the front steps felt longer than it was, every second filled with the thundering of your heartbeat and the sound of Jay’s even footsteps beside you.

The polished door, accented with brass handles, looked far too intimidating—like it already knew every insecurity you were carrying.

Jay inhaled deeply, raising a hand to knock, when the door practically burst open on its own.

“(Y/N), dear!”

Mrs. Park’s voice was warm, bright, and unapologetically affectionate as she immediately pulled you into a hug.

Your eyes widened at the sudden contact, arms stiff before you managed to return the embrace hesitantly, your cheek pressed against her shoulder.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes sparkled as if she were seeing someone precious.

You cleared your throat nervously, holding up the bouquet like a shield. “Uhm… these are for you. I—I know they’re not much, but—”

“Oh, how wonderful!” she interrupted, hands coming up to clasp the flowers as though they were made of gold. “You remembered I love flowers!”

Relief rushed through you, your lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Of course, Mrs. Park. No worries.”

But she was barely listening, her eyes raking over you again like she needed to memorize everything about you before tugging you right back into another hug.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed softly against your shoulder, squeezing you tight. “I’m just so glad Jay finally brought a girl home. And I’m even more glad that it’s you.”

Heat rushed to your face as you pulled back, your gaze flicking to Jay for a moment—he was standing just behind her, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

Turning back to Mrs. Park, you managed a quiet, “Thank you for having me.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, nonsense! Come in, come in. I cooked a lot of food.” She turned, ushering you both inside with the energy of someone who had been waiting for this moment forever.

The warmth of the house enveloped you instantly—lavender-scented candles burning faintly, polished wood floors gleaming beneath your shoes.

“Oh, and Jay’s dad is in the living room, by the way,” she added as she led you down the hall. “He’s mumbling something about needing to look presentable so Jay’s first girlfriend would like him.”

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks as her words hung in the air. Slowly, almost cautiously, you turned to look at Jay.

He was already looking at you.

A soft smile curved his lips, the kind that wasn’t laced with his usual sharpness or teasing edge. It was boyish—unguarded—and it mirrored the one tugging at your own mouth before you could even stop it.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

The hallway was filled only with the muffled sounds of conversation from the living room, but between you two, silence felt comfortable. Heavy, maybe, but not suffocating. Like it was saying all the things words couldn’t.

Jay tilted his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t… don’t listen to him. He’s embarrassing.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “He’s not wrong, though.”

Jay’s smile widened just enough to show the tiniest flash of teeth. His hand brushed against yours—not quite holding it, not yet, but lingering there like a promise.

And in that simple moment—his warm gaze steady on you, your laughter still caught in the air—you realized words weren’t needed.

The two of you would be just fine.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

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© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 3

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 20.3k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — hello my loves ! i apologize for the wait but part 3 is finally here ! there’s one last part coming (ik ik this accidentally turned into a mini-series LMAO) so pace yourselves, scream in the comments, and most importantly—stay hydrated 💌

⤷ warnings — college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, fake dating trope, meeting the parents (twice), soft domestic undertones, protective!jay, reader realizing feelings (oops), jay realizing harder (oops x2), mentions of nct’s jaehyun, forehead kisses, unspoken tension turning very spoken, emotional vulnerability, jay cries a little (he’s trying), mutual breakdown, confessions, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — what started as an arrangement is beginning to feel terrifyingly real. after spending the weekend meeting each other’s families—laughter, teasing, and surprisingly warm welcomes—you start to wonder if it’s all just part of the act. but in the quiet of jay’s car, with the city lights flickering around you and his hand warm on your thigh, the walls come down. truths slip out in broken whispers, confessions bloom like bruises, and for the first time, you both admit what’s been clawing at your chests: this isn’t fake anymore.

The studio was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint sound of Chaewon’s breathing as she pushed herself into a deeper forward fold.

You sat on the mat beside her, gently guiding her arms forward while Kazuha hovered nearby, stretching out her own legs. The three of you were the only ones left—everyone else had long since filed out with tired smiles and heavy bags.

Chaewon glanced up at you, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “I know I said I’d stop staying late, but…”

“You didn’t have a choice,” you finished for her with a teasing smile.

She laughed, reaching for her toes again with a determined little huff. “Exactly. Coach has been breathing down my neck about my turns, and honestly…”

She sighed dramatically. “I think she’s starting to dream about my pirouettes.”

Kazuha snorted at that, folding forward to touch her nose to her knee. “I’m surprised you’re even here this late. Usually you’re the first one to disappear.”

“Yeah, well,” Chaewon shot back playfully, “it’s either stay here or hear Coach’s lecture tomorrow. I choose life.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you moved into one last seated stretch with them. “One more and we’re done. Then you’re free to escape Coach’s wrath.”

As soon as you all eased out of the final stretch, Kazuha was already on her feet, tossing her water bottle into her bag. Chaewon wasn’t far behind, zipping up her hoodie as she made her way to the door.

“What’s with the rush?” you asked with a curious tilt of your head, watching them pack up so fast it felt like they were running from something.

“Kazuha decided to help me with my literature paper,” Chae-won replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “So now she’s stuck with me until it’s finished.”

Kazuha rolled her eyes fondly. “Stuck? Please. You’re the one who’s going to make me rewrite every sentence twice.”

“You love it.”

“Do not.”

You chuckled at their bickering, trailing after them as you walked them to the door. Kazuha turned back at the threshold, fixing you with a mischievous grin. “Oh, and say hi to my stinky cousin for me, will you?”

You blinked, caught off guard before realizing exactly who she meant. “Stinky cousin?” you echoed, laughing as you shook your head. “Will do.”

She winked and tugged Chae-won out into the hall. “Don’t stay too long, okay? You’re always the last one out.”

“Got it, mom,” you teased as you waved them off, closing the door gently behind them.

You let out a small sigh, turning back toward your things to sit back down—knock knock.

The sound made you freeze for a split second before a knowing smile curved on your lips. You didn’t even have to guess. Of course.

Pulling the door open again, you were met with Jay standing there like he owned the place—his black hoodie slightly oversized, matching joggers sitting low on his hips, a guitar slung over his shoulder like an afterthought.

His hair was a little mussed from the chilly air outside, and in his other hand, he held up a paper bag that smelled heavenly.

“Hi, pretty,” he said softly, voice warm and teasing, as if he hadn’t just shown up an hour early.

You hummed, trying to keep your face neutral even as your cheeks warmed at the nickname. “Hi, stranger.”

He scoffed with mock offense, stepping into the studio. “Wow. That’s how you greet the guy bringing you food?”

You laughed under your breath, closing the door behind him. “You’re only forgiven if that smells as good as I think it does.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You both made your way to the center of the studio where your things were piled up. Jay dropped his guitar case to the side before plopping down cross-legged on the floor, patting the space next to him with an easy grin. You settled in beside him, tucking your legs under you.

“What’s in the bag, Park?” you asked, eyeing it like you were trying to x-ray through the paper.

He smirked, pulling out two steaming bowls with practiced ease. “Curry. From that place near campus you’re obsessed with.”

Your eyes went wide, and you practically beamed at him. “Wait—my favorite curry? The one with the potato croquettes?”

He nodded, already opening one of the bowls and handing it to you along with utensils. “The one and only. Nothing but the best for my favorite girl.”

Your face heated as you took the bowl from him, trying to hide your flustered smile by looking down at the food. “Jay… You didn’t have to. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said casually, opening his own bowl and digging in like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I couldn’t just let my pretty girl starve after practice. That’d be bad boyfriend behavior.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the way your lips tugged upward. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“And yet here you are, eating curry with me in the middle of an empty studio.” He grinned at you, resting his elbow on his knee and his cheek in his hand as he watched you blow gently on your first spoonful. “So, who’s really ridiculous?”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Still you.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, pretty.” His grin was smug as ever, but the warmth in his tone betrayed the softness he always tried—and failed—to mask around you.

You blew on another spoonful, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at him. “So, how’s your Karma guitar solo coming along?”

Jay hummed low in his throat, finishing his own bite before answering. “Pretty good, actually. I just need to change a few notes here and there, smooth out some transitions, and it’ll be good to go for next week’s rehearsal.”

“After we eat,” he said, voice softening at your eager expression. “Don’t wanna get curry all over my strings.”

You nodded, a small smile playing at your lips as you scooped up another bite. “Deal.”

A beat passed before you leaned your chin onto your hand, eyes watching him as he ate with the kind of casual ease that made the air between you feel impossibly light.

“How was your day anyway?” you asked, curious.

He groaned dramatically, shoving another spoonful of curry into his mouth like the memory itself weighed him down. “Heeseung almost fell down the stairs, so… I guess that was funny?”

You froze, blinking before laughter bubbled out of you, the sound echoing lightly in the studio. “What?”

Jay gave you a crooked grin, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “Yeah. So—during lunch, he’s sitting there all smug and says he’s strong enough to carry Jungwon’s whole drum set down the stairs by himself. Like, the entire kit.”

Your laugh grew louder as you covered your mouth with your hand. “And? What happened?”

Jay chuckled too, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back slightly, enjoying the retelling. “Well, he actually tries it. Gets halfway down and then—boom.”

He clapped his hands together for emphasis. “He slips, lands flat on his ass, and half the drum set crashes down after him.”

You were nearly doubled over now, your bowl forgotten for a moment as tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. “Oh my god. Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jay assured with a small smirk.

“His pride, though? Absolutely obliterated. Jungwon wouldn’t stop teasing him. And Ni-ki—oh god—Ni-ki got it on video. I’m pretty sure he’s already made it his lock screen.”

You laughed, barely managing to set your bowl down before you spilled curry everywhere. “I swear,” you wheezed, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, “you guys are a bunch of kids.”

Jay smirked, stabbing his spoon into his curry with mock offense. “You’re telling me. Babysitting them is practically a full-time job at this point.”

The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet as the two of you continued eating, the only sound being the soft clinking of spoons against bowls and the rain still pattering faintly outside.

Then, after a beat, Jay cleared his throat. “Also…”

You looked up at him mid-bite, his voice just a little too careful for comfort.

“I talked to my parents this morning.” His eyes flicked to yours for a second, gauging your reaction, then back down to his bowl.

He swirled his spoon idly in the remaining curry, almost like he was stalling. “And… I might’ve mentioned I have a girlfriend.”

You froze. “You what—” you choked as the last bite of curry went down the wrong pipe.

Jay’s eyes widened as he immediately reached for the iced tea he’d brought, uncapping it and shoving it toward you. “Whoa—hey, here. Don’t die on me now.”

You took the drink and downed it in desperate gulps, coughing a little as Jay patted your back with his free hand. “Breathe, pretty. Deep breaths.”

Once your coughing fit subsided, you turned to glare at him, setting the iced tea down a little too hard. “You what?”

Jay winced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Okay—look. My mom’s been asking for months if I finally found someone. She caught me off guard, and I… I panicked.”

“You panicked?!” you whispered harshly, pressing a hand to your face. “Jay—”

“And I said I… kinda did,” he continued quickly, voice dropping low as if it would soften the blow. “Even if it’s… you know. Fake.”

Your hand slid down your face as you groaned. “Oh my god. Park Jongseong.”

“I know,” he muttered, staring at his food like it was about to scold him too.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. “Okay. And? Is that it? Please tell me that’s it.”

“…They, uh…” He paused, finally looking up to meet your incredulous stare. “They want to meet you before college week.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

“They just… They’re curious,” he said weakly. “Saturday dinner. At my house.”

“It’s Wednesday, Jay!” you whisper-yelled, running both hands over your face this time. “That’s—what—three days away!”

“I know. I know.” He reached over, carefully prying one of your hands from your face to hold it in his. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was gonna bring it up earlier but…”

“But?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him.

He gave a small, nervous laugh. “You’re scary when you’re mad.”

You swatted at his arm, making him laugh for real this time. “Jay, this isn’t funny! Meeting your parents?!”

He squeezed your hand gently, the playful edge to his smile softening just slightly. “Hey, don’t freak out. You’re the best fake girlfriend I could ask for.”

You stared at him, your stomach flipping in a way that had nothing to do with the curry. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, but I’m also buying dessert after this to make it up to you.” He shot you a hopeful grin. “Deal?”

You sighed, letting your head thump against his shoulder as you muttered, “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Nah,” he said, grinning down at you. “You’ll be great. They’re gonna love you. I already do.”

You froze, feeling your chest tighten as his words sank in—but before you could process it, he was already moving, scooping up his empty bowl like nothing happened.

“Now hurry up and finish. You still have a Karma guitar solo to listen to.”

You let out a low grumble, shoveling in the last spoonfuls of curry while Jay, ever so annoyingly efficient, gathered the empty bowls and tossed them into the nearby trash bin like it was second nature.

“You could at least sound a little less cocky about it,” you muttered under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. I’m just naturally talented.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your knees up to your chest as Jay started moving around the studio.

He grabbed his guitar case with one hand and tugged the amplifier closer with the other, his movements so fluid and familiar it was almost like muscle memory.

Then came the microphone stand he’d left leaning against the wall earlier, his black hoodie shifting slightly as he adjusted it with practiced ease.

You watched him silently, your lips curving into a small smile without realizing it. There was something hypnotic about the way he set everything up—so meticulous yet relaxed, his fingers working effortlessly as if this whole process was a second skin.

When he was done, he tapped the mic lightly, listening for the faint echo bouncing across the studio walls. Satisfied, he turned to you with a playful smirk as you aimed your phone camera at him.

He leaned slightly toward the mic, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “This is Jay from Enhypen, Karma guitar solo take one.”

You giggled, biting your lip as you hit record. “Dramatic much?”

But just as his fingers brushed the strings, ready to start, the studio door creaked open.

The sound made both your heads turn as familiar figures strolled in—Jungwon, Ni-ki, Heeseung, and Sunghoon—all carrying their own instrument cases and backpacks.

They froze for a moment upon seeing the two of you, and you swore the tiniest knowing smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips.

“Yo,” Jungwon said casually, raising a hand in greeting. “Don’t stop. Pretend we’re not here.”

Jay blinked, clearly caught off guard, but Heeseung stepped forward, setting his microphone case down against the wall. “Go on,” he said, nodding toward the setup. “We’ll just observe.”

Jake was already dropping onto the floor beside you with a grin, tugging out his phone like he was about to film too. “Free live performance? Don’t mind if I do.”

“Seriously?” Jay muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Seriously,” Sunghoon echoed as he settled into a chair near the corner.

With a sigh that turned into a quiet laugh, Jay turned back to his guitar. His fingers flexed briefly before resting on the strings, the low hum of the amp filling the space as he strummed experimentally.

The first few notes cut through the air—sharp, clean, and rich with depth. A heavy rock beat built underneath as his fingers danced across the fretboard, smooth yet electric, his body swaying slightly with the rhythm.

Each note was flawless, his precision making it look almost too easy as he transitioned from hard-hitting riffs to softer melodic runs.

You found yourself clutching your phone tighter, the camera still aimed at him as if you could capture the magic in its entirety.

But no recording could do this justice—the way Jay’s brows furrowed in concentration, how his lips parted slightly as his pick dragged across the strings in perfect timing, and the raw energy that seemed to radiate off him in waves.

“Holy shit,” Sunoo whispered under his breath, earning a quiet nudge from Ni-ki.

“Damn right,” Ni-ki said, grinning as he watched their lead guitarist command the room without so much as a single word.

By the time the last note faded, silence hung heavy in the studio.

It was Jungwon who broke it first, his jaw slack as he gawked at Jay. “What the hell, you finally perfected it.” His voice came out almost accusatory, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed.

Heeseung’s laugh echoed across the room as he leaned down to grab his microphone case from where it rested against the wall. “That was insane, man. You’ve been holding out on us, huh?”

Before Jay could respond, Sunoo suddenly appeared beside you, practically bouncing on his toes. “Wait—did you teach him or something?”

You blinked at him, startled, then shook your head quickly. “Me? Sunoo, I know nothing about instruments. I can barely play anything on the recorder.”

Ni-ki pushed himself up from the floor with a lazy grin, his phone already in hand as if he was ready to replay the whole thing.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Jay’s been stressing over that solo for days. This is the first time I’ve seen him play it without swearing halfway through.”

You laughed softly, your eyes drifting back to Jay where he was still cradling his guitar.

Your chest felt oddly warm at Ni-ki’s words, but you pushed it down as you raised your hand, thumb pointed high in the air. “Nice job, rockstar.”

Jay caught your gesture and, despite the faint flush on his cheeks, gave you one of his easy smiles—the kind that made it hard to remember this was supposed to be fake.

“Hey, hey, don’t bask too long in the glory.” Sunghoon’s voice cut in as he shoved his guitar toward Jay’s face, the strap still dangling from his shoulder.

“Fix my E-string, Mr. Perfect Solo. It’s been buzzing like crazy.”

Jay rolled his eyes but took the guitar anyway, resting it on his thigh as his long fingers expertly twisted the tuning pegs. “You could fix this yourself if you didn’t manhandle your strings like a caveman.”

Sunghoon smirked, leaning lazily against the wall. “Why bother when I have you?”

“You guys are hopeless,” Heeseung muttered with a grin, adjusting the strap on his guitar case.

“Agreed.” Ni-ki chimed in with a laugh as he headed toward his bass.

“But hey, at least now our lead guitarist won’t look like he wants to kill someone mid-solo anymore.”

Jay handed Sunghoon’s guitar back after a quick tune-up, his eyes flicking to you for a heartbeat too long. “Done. Anything else? Need me to restring your whole kit too?”

“Tempting,” Sunghoon said with a grin.

Before you could stifle a laugh, Jungwon’s voice cut through the room, catching you completely off guard.

“You know, (Y/n),” he started casually, twirling his drumsticks between nimble fingers, “we might need you here every practice.”

You blinked at him, a little startled, pointing at yourself with a tilt of your head. “Me? Why?”

Jungwon smirked knowingly, leaning back on his stool as his drumsticks tapped against his thighs. “Because Jay does his best when you’re around. It’s like magic or something.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as warmth crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks. “Huh? That’s not—I didn’t—”

“Ahhh, I see it too,” Ni-ki cut in, lounging on one of the amps with his phone in hand.

He absentmindedly tossed his guitar pick in the air before hurling it—playfully, of course—at Jay. It hit his shoulder with a faint plink. “He was so grumpy all week, then you show up and bam, perfect solo.”

Jay’s glare shot toward Ni-ki like a sharp arrow, though it lacked any real bite. “Riki, I will punch you.”

Ni-ki just grinned wider, completely unfazed. “Try me.”

Meanwhile, Sunoo was busy setting up his keyboard on its stand next to Jake, who adjusted the wires without looking up. “It’s true, though,” Sunoo added with a singsong lilt, side-eyeing Jay.

“You’re suspiciously focused whenever your girlfriend visits.” He even made air quotes around the word girlfriend, the teasing tone impossible to miss.

You sank a little lower in your spot, desperately trying to ignore how hot your face felt. “Okay, okay—can we not gang up on me? Or him?” you muttered, flustered, though your lips twitched with the threat of a laugh.

But Jake, ever the quiet observer, finally looked up from helping Sunoo. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he said calmly, “They’re not wrong. You do look lighter when (Y/N)’s here.”

“Really, Jake?” Jay groaned, running a hand down his face. He adjusted the strap of his guitar and shot a look at Heeseung for backup, but the eldest only shrugged with a knowing grin.

“Don’t look at me. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you stammered, eyes darting to Jay, whose own ears were tinged red now.

“Cute,” Heeseung confirmed easily.

Jay pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘I hate all of you’.

Ni-ki, still grinning like a menace, leaned back and propped his feet up on the edge of a chair. “Admit it, hyung. She’s your good luck charm.”

You hid your face in your hands, trying not to combust as Jay’s exasperated sigh turned into a quiet laugh. “You guys are insufferable.”

But even as he said it, his eyes flicked to you—and there was no missing the faint curve of a smile that lingered there, soft and unguarded.

Thursday mornings weren’t supposed to feel this heavy. But there you were—face buried deep into one of Yunjin’s pillows, muffling the urge to scream as the girls lounged around her dorm.

Eunchae, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a half-eaten granola bar in hand, tilted her head at you like you were some strange, wounded animal. “Does anyone know what’s wrong with her?”

Kazuha let out a dramatic sigh from where she was sprawled at the foot of the bed, her long hair spilling over the edge. “Jay’s parents want to meet her.”

Sakura’s head snapped up from her phone so fast, “Your fake boyfriend’s parents?”

You groaned into the pillow again before finally lifting your head with a pitiful expression. “I don’t even know if it’s fake anymore.”

Just then, Yunjin emerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand, raising an eyebrow like she already knew the entire story. “Well, I mean—is he showing signs of actually liking you?”

Chaewon shot her a look from her spot on the vanity stool. “How the hell did you even hear us from in there?”

“Thin walls,” Yunjin replied easily, plopping herself on the bed beside you and Eunchae. “Also, your voices carry like crazy.”

You flopped onto your back, the pillow now squished to your chest, and let out a long, helpless groan. “I don’t know.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed slightly, her phone forgotten in her lap. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Pushing the pillow aside, you rubbed at your face like it could scrub away the confusion swirling in your chest. “It’s confusing. He’s confusing.”

“Oh?” Chaewon prompted, clearly intrigued now.

“One moment he’s acting all sweet—buying me food, drying my hair, kissing my head like—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.” You gestured vaguely, words tumbling out like they’d been dammed up for days.

“And the next, he’s getting all shy. Like I’ll catch him staring and he’ll look away so fast it makes me want to scream.”

Kazuha propped her chin on her palm, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Classic, human contradiction.”

Eunchae sat up straighter, tossing her granola wrapper onto Yunjin’s desk. “Okay, but can we go back to the part where you said his parents want to meet you?”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto your back like the weight of the world had just crushed your chest. “Jay told his parents that he has a girlfriend.”

The word felt foreign—dangerously warm—on your tongue, and you let it hang in the air for a moment, testing how it sounded in your voice. Girlfriend. “And now they want to meet me, I suppose.”

You threw an arm over your eyes, wishing the universe could swallow you whole. “What am I even gonna do?” you mumbled, the words muffled by your sleeve.

Yunjin, ever the instigator, leaned back against your legs with a sly grin. “(Y/N), I need you to be brutally honest with me right now.”

You peeked at her through your arm, your brows furrowed suspiciously. “About…?”

“Do you like him?” she asked, her tone almost teasing but her eyes surprisingly sharp. “Like—actually like him.”

You sat up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as your lips parted, trying to form a reply.

“I—” You faltered, your brain scrambling for an answer that didn’t make your stomach churn. “…I don’t know.”

Yunjin let out a laugh that was more knowing than mocking, her voice ringing around the dorm. “No. No, you do know. Don’t even try to pull that with me. I know you, and I know when you’re lying to yourself.”

You let your head drop back onto the pillow with a frustrated groan, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Define like.”

Kazuha raised her brows, biting back a laugh as she chimed in. “Like as in… when you’re around him, does it feel a little too easy? Too comfortable? Like maybe you could get used to it?”

Sakura joined in, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “And do you ever catch yourself wondering what it’d be like if it wasn’t fake? Like, if it was actually real?”

You stayed silent for a moment too long, and Eunchae let out a loud gasp, smacking her hands together. “Oh my god. You do like him.”

“I—” You covered your face again, muffling a groan. “Maybe? I don’t know. He’s just—ugh—he’s confusing!”

There was a pause before Chaewon’s calm voice cut through the room. “Maybe he’s scared.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward her.

Chaewon, unfazed by the sudden attention, simply shrugged. “I mean, think about it. He’s probably just as confused as you are, (Y/N).”

You peeked through your fingers, brows furrowed as you sat up a little. “What do you mean?”

She met your gaze evenly, her expression steady in that unnerving Chaewon way. “Based on the things you’ve told us—neither of you really knows where the line is anymore, right? Between what’s fake and what’s not?”

Her words settled into the room like a quiet truth you weren’t ready to name.

You exhaled, rubbing your face as if that could clear the fog from your head. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” you muttered, voice lower now.

“What if he’s just… good at playing the part? I mean, he is Park Jongseong. He could sell the act without even trying.”

Sakura, who’d been unusually quiet, mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. “But you’re not playing anymore.”

You froze, eyes flicking to her. She was sitting cross-legged, idly twirling a strand of her hair as her sharp gaze locked on yours. “Not you, at least.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You could only stare at her from where you sat, your heart suddenly beating a little too fast.

“I don’t know, guys…” you said softly, barely above a whisper. “I really don’t know.”

Yunjin reached over and squeezed your ankle gently, her voice gentle but knowing. “Then maybe it’s time to stop asking what he feels—and figure out what you want.”

You swallowed hard, her words echoing like a drumbeat in your chest.

Sakura’s voice piped up then, deceptively casual as she scrolled through her phone. “Either way…” she began, her thumb swiping across the screen lazily, “it sounds like you two are tired of pretending.”

She glanced up at you briefly, a faint smile tugging at her lips before she returned her attention to her feed. “Just figure it out before one of you drives the other insane.”

The room quieted after that, all three of them watching you as if waiting for the epiphany to hit.

But before you could process anything—the sharp trill of your phone made you jump slightly.

You scrambled to grab it, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on the caller ID.

Speak of the devil.

“Jay.” You muttered his name softly without meaning to.

You slid your thumb across the screen and pressed it to your ear, trying to sound composed. “Hello?”

“Hi, pretty girl,” came Jay’s familiar voice, warm and teasing. “Are you busy?”

All four girls perked up instantly, eyes zeroing in on you like hawks.

Sakura, seated closest to you, leaned in slightly and shook her head furiously, whispering under her breath, “Say no!”

You covered the mic slightly with your hand, glaring at her with wide eyes before clearing your throat. “Uh… no. I’m not busy.”

Jay let out a breath of relief on the other end, the sound making something in your chest twist. “Okay, good. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me today. You don’t have afternoon classes, right?”

Your brain short-circuited at the word date. All the air seemed to vanish from the room as you stammered, “Y-Yes.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like warm honey in your ear. “Is that a yes to the date or a yes to no afternoon classes?”

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you replied, “To both, Jay.”

There was a pause, and then his laugh—low and absolutely heart-melting—drifted through the line. “Okay then, take your time. I’m parked outside your dorm.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as you shot upright. “You’re what?”

“I’m outside,” he repeated, his tone impossibly casual. “No pressure though. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

The girls erupted into silent chaos around you.

Eunchae clutched a pillow to her face to hide her squeal, Kazuha smacked your knee lightly with her hand mouthing, “Go get ready!” while Yunjin looked entirely too smug.

You could hear the faint sound of music and a car engine in the background of the call as you forced out, “O-Okay. Give me… give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” Jay said, his voice dipping softer now. “I’ll be here, pretty girl.”

You hung up shakily and dropped your phone into your lap as the girls stared you down like a pack of wolves.

“You’re going,” Yunjin declared.

Before you could even open your mouth to protest, Sakura shot up from her spot, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re still sitting there?” she exclaimed, her tone part-scolding, part-amused.

“Girl, there is a hot guitarist outside waiting to take you on a date, and you’re—what—moping on Yunjin’s bed?”

Kazuha grabbed a pillow and smacked your thigh with it—not hard, but enough to make you yelp. “Up. Now.”

“Get your ass up.” Chaewon pointed at you, her tone sharp as her eyes narrowed. “We’re helping you get ready. No negotiations.”

“I—” You sputtered, still flat on your back, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “Guys, I’m not ready for this—”

“Yes, you are.” Eunchae swooped in like a hawk, grabbing your wrists and tugging you upright with surprising strength for her size.

“Come on. We’re going to your dorm. We need access to your closet, your makeup—basically your whole life.”

“But—”

“No buts!” Yunjin chimed in, already picking up your phone and handing it to you. “Text him to give you fifteen minutes. Twenty if we’re feeling generous.”

Sakura leaned down and grabbed your bag, tossing it over her shoulder like it was hers. “We’re not letting you go out there looking like you’ve been crying into Yunjin’s pillow. No offense.”

You scowled as Eunchae successfully yanked you to your feet, nearly toppling over in the process. “You guys are insane,” you grumbled.

“Insanely supportive,” Kazuha corrected with a grin as she slipped her arm through yours. “Now move before I carry you down the hall.”

You tugged nervously at the edge of your frilly dress, the soft fabric slipping between your fingers as you walked down the dorm lobby.

Thank God Sakura picked out the short-sleeved one—it was humid enough that the thought of wearing long sleeves made you want to melt.

Still, your palms felt clammy for a completely different reason as you exhaled slowly and pushed open the glass doors.

The sight that greeted you nearly made you stop in your tracks.

Park Jongseong, leaning casually against a sleek black sports car. And not just any car—your eyes caught the gleam of a Ferrari logo on the hood before they drifted helplessly back to him.

He was dressed in a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark dress pants hugging his frame, and black leather shoes resting neatly against the pavement.

His hair—usually gelled back for band practice—was loose today, soft strands falling over his forehead in a way that made your chest tighten.

You nearly tripped on your own feet trying to snap yourself out of it.

He’s just Jay. Except ‘just Jay’ had apparently leveled up into a full-fledged heartthrob with a sports car.

The sound of your steps drew his attention. He turned slightly, eyes landing on you—and for a moment, he stilled. His gaze softened instantly, lips parting just barely as if the sight of you knocked the air out of his lungs.

There was a split second where it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of you—his dark eyes drinking in the way your dress fluttered slightly with the breeze, your hair curled perfectly around your face, and your lips tugging nervously into a smile.

“Hi, pretty,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual, almost reverent.

You looked up at him, cheeks heating as you returned the smile. “Hey, handsome.”

That made him pause, a slow grin pulling at his lips as he straightened his posture. “Well, that’s new.”

You let out a breathy laugh, eyes glinting playfully. “What? You really do look handsome, Jay.”

He shook his head softly, a faint flush coloring his ears as he chuckled. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he muttered, moving closer until he was just in front of you.

His hand slid gently to the small of your back as if it was second nature, guiding you towards the car.

“Dangerous?” you teased, raising a brow.

“For my heart, yeah.” He opened the passenger door for you, meeting your gaze with a boyish smile that nearly undid you. “Now get in before I actually combust standing here.”

You laughed again, ducking your head as you climbed into the car, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. He slid into the driver’s seat with that same boyish grin still tugging at his lips.

You tilted your head, amused, watching as he settled in and glanced your way like you’d just caught him daydreaming.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, curious.

Jay shook his head, his grin widening just a little. “Nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just… really happy you’re here.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard for a moment. Before you could say anything, he leaned over slightly, reaching past your shoulder to grab the seatbelt.

The subtle brush of his arm near your face made your breath catch, and your eyes followed his movements as he gently tugged the strap across you and clicked it into place.

His fingers tapped twice against the buckle resting on your stomach, almost absentmindedly, before he pulled back and fastened his own.

Leaning into the seat, you let out a small huff, trying to mask the way your heart was thundering. “So…” you started, turning your head toward him. “Where are we going?”

His lips curved into a teasing smirk as he shifted the car into drive. “That’s a surprise,” he said smoothly. “But just so you know—I’m spoiling you today.”

Your brows furrowed, a playful glare shooting his way. “Jay…”

He only clicked his tongue, his grin never faltering. “I’m immune to that, (Y/N). Try harder.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, crossing your arms as he steered the car out of the lot and toward the field’s nearest exit.

The world outside blurred past in a hazy mix of greens and soft sunlight, but inside, it felt like the air was warmer somehow—thicker with a softness you weren’t ready to put a name to.

“You can connect your phone to the Bluetooth, pretty,” he said casually, his eyes still focused on the road.

You perked up, reaching for your tote. “What music do you want?”

“Anything you want,” he replied without hesitation. “I trust your music taste.”

Shaking your head with a fond smile, you unlocked your phone. The first thing you noticed on the car’s screen was the lack of devices saved—just his band’s names and his own. Your eyes flicked to him curiously.

“Don’t worry,” he said suddenly, catching your glance. “I’m loyal to you. Haven’t had any girl in this car besides my mom.”

A laugh bubbled out of you as you shot him a look. “Jay, I didn’t even say anything.”

He stopped at a red light, the car humming quietly beneath you as he turned his head toward you fully now, eyes soft. “Yeah, but I need to reassure you anyway.”

Your chest tightened a little at his sincerity, and you found yourself smiling as you murmured, “Yeah, but I know you, Jay—not all of you, but I know you.”

That seemed to make something flicker in his eyes. His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile as he reached out, resting his hand on the edge of your seat. He hesitated, fingers curling slightly as he glanced at you.

“Can I?” he asked quietly, nodding slightly toward where his hand hovered near your thigh.

You swallowed, warmth blooming in your chest as you nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

His hand rested gently on your bare thigh, his thumb brushing the soft fabric of your dress as if testing your comfort. He gave it a light squeeze, the gesture careful yet grounding.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, yeah?” he murmured, voice soft.

You laughed, placing your hand over his instinctively, your thumb rubbing lightly over his knuckles. “With you? Never.”

His eyes softened even more at that, and as the light turned green and he began driving again, his thumb stayed tracing light circles on your skin, like he didn’t want to let go.

You laughed, shaking your head as Jay clicked his tongue disapprovingly the second your hand brushed the passenger door handle.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt with one swift motion. Before you could even process it, he was already out of the car, circling around to your side.

“Jay—” you started, still grinning as he pulled the door open smoothly.

“Out,” he said firmly but with a teasing smile, offering his hand. “And don’t even think about opening your own door again. You hear me?”

You placed your hand in his, letting him help you out of the car. “So dramatic,” you teased, your laughter spilling into the warm air.

He shut the door gently behind you, locking the car with a soft beep as his hand found yours again. Intertwining your fingers with his, he tugged you toward the sidewalk with a shake of his head.

“It’s not dramatic,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s just the bare minimum I should do for you.”

That made your chest tighten unexpectedly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “You say that like you’re trying to set the bar way too high for any other guy.”

“Good,” he replied without missing a beat. “That’s the plan.”

You let out another laugh as he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The late afternoon air felt cooler here, tinged with the faint scent of expensive perfumes wafting from the nearby boutiques.

You realized you two were no longer near campus—this was the high-end district of Seoul, filled with designer stores, sleek cafes, and towering luxury hotels.

“Where are we going?” you asked, tilting your head to glance at him as he guided you around a group of tourists.

“Secret,” Jay said, lips curling into that mischievous smirk that made your heart stutter.

You sighed dramatically, though you couldn’t hide your grin. “You love keeping me in suspense, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he hummed. “But I promise it’s worth it.”

As you walked, your small bag started slipping off your shoulder, but before you could adjust it, Jay had already noticed.

“Here—let me,” he said, reaching for it. You opened your mouth to protest, but he’d already slid the strap over his own shoulder like it was second nature.

You stared for a second before breaking into a laugh. “You look so cute carrying that, you know?”

Jay raised a brow but didn’t hand it back. “Cute? No. Cool. I’m redefining what cool looks like.”

You snorted, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted the tote strap over his shoulder. “What happened to Decelis’ finest guitarist, huh? The one who makes girls swoon and guys jealous just by existing?”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes flicking down at you with a kind of warmth that made your stomach flutter. “He fell in love with a ballerina—that’s what happened.”

Your laugh echoed down the sidewalk before you could stop it, earning a sheepish grin from Jay as he tugged you a little closer.

“Cheesy,” you teased lightly, but your voice betrayed the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“You love it,” he murmured, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you crossed the last street.

Before you could respond, he stopped in front of a pristine glass storefront. You blinked, staring up at the familiar elegant lettering.

“Tiffany & Co…?” you asked slowly, brows furrowing as you looked from the glittering jewelry displays to him.

Jay didn’t even falter. He gave a polite nod to the doormen, who immediately held the door open for him like he was a regular. You hesitated, letting him pull you inside as the cool air of the luxury boutique wrapped around you.

“For your mom?” you asked again, tilting your head up at him.

“Yes,” Jay said simply. Then, his lips quirked as he added, “And for you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, tugging lightly on his hand. “No, Jay. Absolutely not. This is too much.”

His grin didn’t waver as he tugged you further inside, his fingers tightening around yours just enough to remind you he wasn’t letting go. “What did I say about spoiling you, hmm?”

“Jay—” you started again, but he only shot you a pointed look over his shoulder, the kind that had your protests dying in your throat.

“This isn’t a debate,” he said, voice calm but playful as he led you toward the necklace section. “You’re getting something. End of story.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a helpless smile as you let him drag you deeper into the store. An assistant approached with a polite bow, but Jay held up a hand.

“We’ll ask for assistance when we need it,” he said smoothly, his tone polite but firm. She nodded, stepping back a few feet to give you space but remaining close enough to help if needed.

You watched him in quiet awe as he leaned slightly over the glass display case, eyes scanning the delicate gold and silver chains laid out like art pieces.

There was something about the way he moved—calm, certain, like he belonged here—that sent a strange warmth through your chest.

“So…” Jay murmured, his voice thoughtful. “Which one do you think she’d appreciate?”

You blinked, realizing he was asking for your opinion. “Well, what does your mom prefer? Gold or silver?”

“Gold,” he said without hesitation, his gaze never leaving the display.

You hummed, your eyes moving slowly over the rows of necklaces.

You spotted a few that stood out and leaned closer, pointing gently. “The lock ones on the right—they’re elegant but simple. Or the double links near them. Both feel classic.”

Jay followed your finger, his lips twitching into a small smile as his eyes softened. “Yeah, I think you’re right. She’d like that.”

Without wasting another second, he raised a hand slightly and caught the attention of the assistant waiting nearby. “Could we see these four up close, please?” he asked smoothly, his tone respectful yet effortlessly confident.

“Of course, sir,” she said with a polite bow, immediately retrieving the keys from her waist and unlocking the glass case.

She delicately set the velvet trays on the counter, each one gleaming under the boutique’s soft lights.

Jay glanced at you and tilted his head toward the display. “Think you can hold these for me?”

You blinked, surprised at his request. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” His lips quirked, and there was something so boyish in his grin that it made your heart flutter. “I trust your judgment, pretty.”

The assistant smiled faintly but didn’t comment as she carefully lifted the necklaces, handing them to you one by one. You cradled the delicate chains in your hands, careful not to let them tangle as Jay studied each one.

He picked up the first of the four—the double-link gold necklace—letting the chain glint between his fingers. As he did, his other hand came to rest gently against your lower back.

“Do you think this one’s better?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost as if the question wasn’t entirely about the necklace.

You stepped closer instinctively, the space between you two shrinking as your eyes flicked between the necklace he held and the others resting against your palms.

The scent of his cologne was warm and familiar, wrapping around you like a second skin.

You tilted your head, brows furrowed slightly in thought. “Yeah… it does look better. It’s more delicate. Feels timeless, you know?”

His gaze flickered down at you for a brief second, and you swore there was something softer in his eyes before he turned back to the assistant.

“We’ll take this one,” he said decisively. Then, after a beat, he added, “And the bracelet version too—same style.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, already moving to fetch the matching bracelet.

Jay hummed, satisfied, and gently guided you away from the necklace section, his hand still resting on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch lingered as he led you toward one of the elegant displays near the window.

He stopped in front of one of the displays, eyes scanning the rows of delicate pieces arranged perfectly on velvet.

“Which do you prefer?” he asked casually, his voice low but laced with something more—an edge of curiosity. “Gold or silver?”

You let out a small sigh, knowing where this was going. “Gold,” you admitted quietly, trying not to meet his eyes.

He nodded as if he already expected the answer, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Good choice.”

Before you could say anything else, movement caught his eye. The assistant was walking toward you again, carrying another velvet tray carefully in both hands. Jay raised a brow and greeted her with a polite nod.

“Hi, yes,” he said smoothly, “can we also see the ribbon jewelry set in gold?”

Your head snapped up, brows furrowed as you turned to him. “Jay—” you started, ready to protest.

But he was quicker. His arm slid fully around your waist this time, pulling you flush to his side in a way that made your words catch in your throat. “Shh. Humor me, yeah?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching as he shot you a teasing look.

You could feel your face heat, but before you could recover, the assistant placed the tray delicately on the glass counter in front of you.

“This set includes the necklace, earrings, and two matching bracelets,” she explained pleasantly. “The design is one of our more popular styles—timeless yet modern.”

Jay’s eyes flicked over the pieces briefly before he spoke again. “Can we also see the bracelets individually? I want to compare them side by side.”

“Of course, sir.” She gave him a professional smile and moved swiftly to arrange them, opening another tray to present the individual bracelets.

You glanced up at him with wide eyes, whispering harshly, “Jay, this is too much—”

But he only tightened his hold on you slightly, leaning down just enough so his words were meant for you alone. “Didn’t I tell you?” His voice was warm, almost coaxing. “You’re next after my mom.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You swore the pounding of your heart could be heard over the soft music playing in the store.

Jay’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down your lower back, his thumb tracing idle circles against the fabric of your dress. “Relax, pretty,” he murmured, voice so soft it made your breath catch. “I got you.”

You turned your face slightly toward him, your protest barely a whisper. “Jay, this is way too much. I can’t—”

But he wasn’t looking at you; his sharp eyes were fixed on the velvet tray, the glint of gold reflecting in them as if he were memorizing every curve and clasp of the pieces. With a quiet hum, he nodded as though making a final decision.

“We’ll take the whole set,” Jay said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Thank you.”

The assistant’s eyes lit up with professional delight as she gave a small bow. “Of course, sir. I’ll have them prepared for packaging right away. Would you like them gift-wrapped?”

“Two separate wraps,” Jay replied smoothly, his hand still anchored at your waist.

You blinked up at him, still trying to form words, your stomach doing an anxious flip at his casual declaration. “Park Jong—”

“Shh,” he hushed you gently, giving your side a little squeeze. “You’re not talking me out of this.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said, his tone playful yet resolute. “Didn’t I say I’d spoil you today?”

You could only sigh in defeat, your shoulders dropping as he laced your fingers together again. He led you toward the cashier with an easy stride, handing over his black card like it was second nature.

The assistant, all smiles and bows, handed him the elegantly wrapped Tiffany bags with a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

Jay took them with one hand, the other still holding yours, and nodded politely. “Thank you.”

As the two of you stepped out of the store, the cool breeze brushing past, Jay glanced at you and chuckled softly. “Stop frowning. We’re just starting our date.”

You gave him a side-eye, your brow raised in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to keep wasting your money on me.”

He let out a short huff, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “It’s not wasting,” he corrected, his voice bordering on mock offense. “I’m spoiling you because I want to.”

“Jay—”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “No arguments. Now come on.”

Before you could say anything else, he was tugging you gently toward another store just a few doors down. It wasn’t until you looked up at the glass windows that your heart sank further.

“Dior? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” he said casually, pushing the door open and guiding you inside.

You barely had time to admire the pristine interior before Jay was leading you straight to the makeup section, his expression smug. “Here’s the deal,” he said, stopping in front of the counter filled with rows of lipsticks and foundations. “We are not leaving this store unless you walk out with at least three full paper bags of products.”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as you turned to him with wide eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” He leaned slightly, so close you could smell the faint trace of his cologne. “Pretty girls deserve pretty things. And I don’t want to hear a word of protest.”

“I don’t even wear that much makeup!” you argued, heat rising to your cheeks.

Jay chuckled, the sound low and far too amused for your liking. “Don’t act like I haven’t seen your lip gloss collection,” he teased, reaching out to tap the tip of your nose with his finger.

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me? How do you—”

He shrugged nonchalantly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. “Plus, Kazuha told me—said you only buy those when you do well on your performances.”

He leaned against the pristine white counter, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on you like you were the only person in the room. “So consider this a little pregame before college week.”

“Jay—” you groaned, trying to bury your face in your hands, but he was faster. He gently pulled your hands away, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent your heart tumbling.

“What?” he said, tilting his head slightly, that soft smile still plastered on his face. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Now, pick your favorites, or I swear I’ll empty out this entire store if I have to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying your best to look stern. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He raised a brow, already reaching for a display of blush compacts and handing you one. “Here, this one’s perfect for you. See how soft the color is? Matches how your cheeks look right now.”

You groaned again, fighting the smile threatening to break free. “I’m never going shopping with you again.”

The soft glow of golden chandeliers bathed the rooftop restaurant in warmth, the classical music weaving gently through the quiet hum of conversations around you.

The plates in front of you were long forgotten, your laughter spilling into the air as Jay recounted stories about his family.

“…and I swear, my mom has this weird habit of showing off my most embarrassing childhood photos to every single guest whenever I bring the guys over. Like, full-on photo albums—me with missing teeth, crooked bowl cuts, the works.”

You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand as you leaned just slightly closer to him. “You? Bowl cuts? No way.”

Jay’s lips curved into a sheepish grin, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Oh, it was tragic. Jungwon still brings it up whenever he wants to piss me off.”

Your eyes flickered across the booth, landing on the small mountain of shopping bags piled neatly on the seats across from you. Dior, Tiffany, Prada, Chanel—little luxury boxes tied with ribbons—it was enough to make your head spin. Jay noticed, following your gaze.

“There’s a lot more coming, you know,” he said softly, swirling the wine in his glass with practiced ease. “This isn’t going to be our last date. I promise.”

Your lips parted slightly at his words, but before you could speak, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

“Yeah?” you murmured, warmth blooming in your chest as you tilted your head to look at him.

“Yeah.” His smile softened, almost boyish, as his dark eyes lingered on yours. “You’re stuck with me now, pretty girl.”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips as you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling his body relax against yours. You caught the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and warm—comforting in the cool night air drifting in from the open balcony doors.

Jay pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his fingers lacing with yours. “This feels right, doesn’t it?” he murmured against your hair.

Your chest tightened at his words, but you found yourself nodding slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “It does.”

For a fleeting moment, Jay’s thumb brushed over your knuckles like he wanted to say more—like there was something heavy sitting in his chest that he couldn’t quite push out.

But before either of you could name whatever this was, you let out a quiet sigh and broke the moment.

“It’s getting late,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone light. “Should we head back?”

Jay blinked at you, lips parting as if to protest, but he caught himself. Instead, he gave you the smallest smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Let’s get you home, pretty girl.”

He slid out of the leather booth first, his movements fluid and effortless, then turned back to you with his hand outstretched. “Come on.”

You placed your hand in his, letting him help you up. His grip was warm—steady.

“Thanks,” you whispered, still avoiding his gaze, and he just hummed softly in response.

With surprising ease, Jay gathered the mountain of luxury paper bags in one arm, the soft crinkle of expensive packaging filling the air.

He somehow still managed to keep your small bag slung on his shoulder, his free hand gently finding its place at your lower back as he guided you toward the exit.

The receptionist bowed politely as you approached. “Have a lovely evening,” they said warmly, already reaching to press the elevator button for you both.

“Thank you,” Jay said with a polite nod, flashing them a brief, charming smile before glancing down at you. “Did you have fun?”

You nodded, lips curling faintly despite the whirlwind in your chest. “Yeah. More than I thought I would.”

“That’s good,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice low and laced with something unreadable.

You hummed softly as you both stepped inside the elevator, the golden lights reflecting off the polished walls. You leaned ever so slightly into him, and Jay—like it was second nature—wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Still,” you murmured, tilting your head up to glance at him. “You went overboard.”

He smirked down at you, eyes crinkling in that boyish way that made your stomach flip. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Jay—”

The soft ding of the elevator cut you off as the doors slid open to reveal the lobby. He held you against him a second longer before gently guiding you forward, his hand never leaving your lower back.

The warm night air kissed your skin as you both stepped outside. Jay led you down the steps and toward his car parked in front of the restaurant—its sleek black frame glinting under the streetlights like something out of a movie.

He popped the trunk open, and your mouth fell open slightly at the sight. A pile of designer paper bags stared back at you like a monument to today’s extravagance.

You turned to him, eyes narrowing in playful disbelief. “Overboard,” you said flatly, crossing your arms.

Jay only chuckled, completely unbothered as he placed the last few shopping bags carefully into the trunk. “That’s called giving my girlfriend the love she deserves.”

“Girlfriend,” you echoed under your breath, testing the word again like it was foreign.

He shut the trunk with a soft thud and turned back to you, his grin widening at your expression. “Don’t give me that look. I warned you, didn’t I? Spoiling you is non-negotiable.”

You sighed dramatically as he guided you to the passenger seat, his hand warm and steady on your back. “Men. I swear.”

Jay’s laughter followed you as he opened the car door for you. “You say that now, but you didn’t seem to mind when I carried your bag earlier,” he teased.

You shot him a glare as you settled into the seat. “That’s different. That was chivalry, not… whatever this is.”

He leaned in slightly, smirking as he buckled your seatbelt for you. “This is me making sure my ballerina never forgets how much she means to me—even if it’s fake.”

Your breath caught for a second at the way his voice softened at the end. But before you could respond, he closed the door gently and rounded the car, slipping effortlessly into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life, low and smooth, as Jay pulled the car out of the parking lot. The night had settled into a quiet calm, the streets of Seoul mostly empty now, save for the occasional taxi or late-night pedestrian.

Jay’s thumb rubbed lazy circles on your thigh, his other hand steady on the wheel as he drove.

You, on the other hand, toyed absentmindedly with the silver bracelets dangling off his wrist, watching the way they caught the dim lights from passing streetlamps.

He hummed along with the tune, the sound so low it almost blended with the music. As the car slowed to a red light, Jay turned his head slightly, his eyes soft and warm in the glow of the traffic signal.

“Do you wanna go on another one next week?” he asked, voice careful but hopeful.

Your lips curved into a small smile as you met his gaze. He looked so devastatingly gentle in that moment, the boyishness in his expression completely disarming. “I’d like that,” you replied softly.

A sound of approval rumbled from his chest, and he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before turning his attention back to the road as the light flicked green.

You bit back a grin, tracing little patterns over the back of his hand with your fingertips before speaking up again. “I forgot to tell you something.”

“Mmhm?” Jay glanced at you, brows raising slightly in curiosity.

“I was talking to my older brother yesterday on call,” you began, fiddling with the hem of your dress now. “And, well… he may or may not have spilled to my parents that I’m dating someone.”

Jay barked out a laugh, the sound echoing through the car as he shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, really now?” he teased, giving your thigh another squeeze that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“Don’t laugh!” you said with mock indignation, though your cheeks were already heating. “He didn’t even let me explain it’s fake—he just went on and on about how ‘finally, she has a boyfriend.’”

Jay grinned, eyes flicking to you briefly with a glint of amusement. “Well… maybe it’s not such a bad thing. At least now they’re expecting me too.”

You shot him a look. “Jay—”

“What?” he said innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “I should thank your brother for making my life easier. Guess we’re both meeting the parents soon, huh?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as he laughed again, his fingers tapping affectionately against your thigh like he was enjoying every second of your flustered state.

“Relax, pretty. We’ll survive this,” Jay said warmly. “Besides, fake or not, I’ll make a good impression.”

“You better,” you replied with a teasing side glance, though your stomach flipped at how easily he said it—like meeting your parents wasn’t a terrifying milestone but just another thing on his to-do list.

Jay smirked, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he took a sharp turn into a shortcut you recognized. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting soft, fleeting shadows across his face.

“I’m pretty sure your brother and I would get along just fine,” he said confidently, eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Good luck with that. He hates every boy that so much as breathes in my direction.”

Jay chuckled at that, the sound low and amused as he neared the university gates. His car slowed to a crawl as he scanned his ID, the gate lifting lazily to let him through.

“First of all,” he began, his voice carrying that trademark confidence, “I’m not a boy. I’m a man. And second…” He glanced at you again, something softer now in his eyes. “You don’t have to overthink this, (Y/N). Trust me—I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You looked at him, studying the little details in his expression. The sharp line of his jaw, the slight curve of his lips, the uncharacteristic gentleness in his gaze. With a small sigh, you admitted, “I trust you. Enough, at least.”

Jay’s grin widened like you’d just handed him the win in some unspoken game. “Good. Because I won’t let you down.”

As he turned down the road that ran alongside the university’s field, his tone shifted—lighter, more teasing. “So, it’s this Sunday, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” you murmured, fiddling with the hem of your dress again.

Jay laughed, shaking his head as he cruised past the empty bleachers and toward your dorm building. “Cute. My parents this Saturday, then yours the next.”

You gave him an incredulous look, your brows knitting together. “You make it sound like we’re actually—”

“Dating?” he finished for you smoothly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a small, knowing smirk.

Your face heated instantly, and you quickly looked away, glaring out the window to hide it. “Shut up.”

But Jay only chuckled, pulling to a stop in front of your dorm and shifting the car into park. “Relax, pretty. One step at a time.”

You smiled at him softly, your heart still doing that ridiculous fluttering thing it always seemed to do around him. Jay unbuckled his seatbelt, pushing his door open and stepping out into the cool night air.

You followed him with your eyes as he rounded the sleek car with unhurried steps, the faint sound of his leather shoes against the pavement oddly comforting.

He opened your door with ease, offering his already outstretched hand. “Let’s go, pretty,” he said with that small grin that made your chest ache in the most confusing way.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased lightly, slipping your hand into his.

“Always,” he replied, helping you out of the car with a gentle tug.

He didn’t let go as he moved to the trunk, popping it open to reveal the small mountain of designer shopping bags. You were about to reach for your share when his hand darted out, his voice firm yet playful. “No.”

You blinked up at him. “Jay—”

“Nope,” he interrupted smoothly, gathering your bags with one arm and slinging them on his arm effortlessly. “What did I say about letting me spoil you? Hands off.”

“Meanie,” you muttered, trying to hide your fond smile as he came back to your side.

“And yet, here you are,” he said, intertwining his fingers with yours as though it was second nature. The warmth of his palm against yours made something in your stomach flip.

The two of you walked toward the dorm entrance, the sound of your shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor as you headed to the nearest elevator. Jay pressed the button, and to your surprise, the doors slid open immediately.

Inside, the ride was quiet—not the awkward kind, but the sort that felt calming. Comfortable.

Jay’s thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, and you caught yourself sneaking a glance at him, only to find him already looking down at you with the faintest of smiles.

The elevator dinged, and you both stepped out, walking side by side down the familiar hallway until you reached your door. You stopped, turning to him with a small smile and nodding at the number plate.

“Well… this is my stop.”

Jay smiled back, his hand still securely holding yours like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. “Looks like it.”

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing inside. “Just drop the bags here. I’ll sort them out later.”

He obeyed, setting the bags neatly by the door before straightening to his full height again. Behind him, Doobu was sitting on your bed, tail flicking lazily. Jay’s face brightened at the sight.

“Hey there, little princess,” he greeted softly, earning a slow blink and a small meow from your cat. Jay chuckled. “I think she likes me more than your brother will.”

You laughed as you stepped closer to him. “Don’t push your luck.”

Jay turned back to you, his smile softening into something that made your breath catch for the hundredth time that day. “I really hope you had fun, (Y/N). And not just because you’re trying to spare my ego or something.”

You tilted your head at him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “Jay,” you started, your voice warm, “I really did. Thank you. For all of this. You didn’t have to, but—you did. So… thank you.”

His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you gently closer. The scent of his cologne hit you all over again—clean, warm, undeniably Jay.

Before you could overthink it, you leaned up onto your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He stilled instantly, eyes blinking wide as if his brain short-circuited.

You grinned, barely holding back a giggle as you pressed another kiss to the same spot, lingering just a second longer this time.

Jay let out a sharp laugh, his ears faintly pink. “You little tease,” he murmured, his voice lower now, playful yet slightly dazed.

You laughed, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Get used to it, Decelis’ finest guitarist.”

His grin widened at the nickname, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that sent shivers up your spine. “Oh, I already am.”

And just before he finally, reluctantly stepped back toward the door, he gave you one last look—soft, boyish, and so devastatingly warm. “Goodnight, pretty. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Jay,” you whispered, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him leave.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, a pristine white cake box resting delicately on your lap. Your fingers absently toyed with the soft pink ribbon tied neatly around it, occasionally brushing against the glossy strawberries glistening on top of the cheesecake visible through the clear window.

With your other hand, you fiddled with the necklace resting against your collarbone—the same gold chain Jay had bought you two days ago. It felt heavier than usual today, like it carried the weight of your thoughts.

You sighed. Again.

Jay, who had been stealing glances at you from the driver’s seat, finally let out a quiet sigh of his own. Without saying a word, he reached over and gently pried your fingers from the pendant, intertwining your hand with his instead.

He lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles before letting your joined hands rest on his thigh.

“Relax, (Y/N),” he said, his tone warm but firm. “They’re going to love you. Yeah?”

You bit your lip and turned to him with a pout. “You say that like it’s a guarantee.”

“It is.” His voice didn’t waver, not even a little.

The car slowed as the light ahead turned red, and Jay smoothly brought it to a stop. You shifted slightly in your seat, twisting to face him fully. “Jay,” you murmured softly, “come closer for a second.”

He raised a brow but leaned in obediently, his warm brown eyes meeting yours in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.

You reached up, brushing a stubborn strand of his dark hair away from his forehead, tucking it gently back into place. Your fingers brushed the rim of his glasses as you pushed them slightly up the bridge of his nose.

“There,” you said with a satisfied little smile. “Done.”

Jay’s lips quirked, but he didn’t lean back. “That was it? You called me over just to fix my hair and glasses?”

“And to tell you,” you added, pulling away slightly as you eyed him with mock seriousness, “that you really look like a human strawberry right now.”

For a moment, Jay blinked at you. Then, his laughter filled the car, warm and rich. “A strawberry? Really?”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, pointing at his outfit with your free hand. “When you said you wanted to match, I thought you were joking. But no—you actually showed up in a pink button-up.”

Jay glanced down at his shirt with an exaggerated frown. The sleeves were rolled up neatly to his elbows, two buttons undone at the top just enough to reveal the thin silver chain resting against his collarbone.

He shifted slightly in his seat, his black dress pants stretching as he adjusted. “And what’s wrong with that?” he teased. “I happen to pull off pink extremely well, thank you very much.”

You snorted. “I didn’t say it looked bad. Just… sweet. Soft. Strawberry-like.”

“Soft, huh?” He tilted his head at you, his grin morphing into something more boyish. Then, as if to flip the tables, he reached out suddenly, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear with gentle fingers.

“I think it’s cute,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a fleeting touch. “Matching with you like this? Feels right.”

The air between you seemed to still for a moment. Your breath caught as you took in the sight of him—his pink shirt, the faint scent of his cologne, and those warm, steady eyes.

Jay’s gaze softened even more as he caught it. Without saying a word, he brought your joined hands to his lips again, pressing another featherlight kiss to your knuckles before returning his hand to rest on your thigh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the car turned smoothly into a private driveway, making you pause as your surroundings shifted.

Your eyes widened at the sight ahead—fresh flower beds lining both sides of the pavement in neat rows, bursts of color blooming under the watchful hands of gardeners tending to them carefully.

The faint scent of roses and jasmine carried into the car through the slightly cracked window.

“Jay,” you whispered, in awe.

He only hummed, lips tugging into a knowing smile as he slowed to a stop in front of tall black gates. A security guard stationed in a small booth glanced up, instantly recognizing the sleek car.

As Jay drove further in, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the grand fountain in the center of the roundabout, water cascading down in elegant streams.

The driveway curved around it, leading to a cluster of parked luxury cars on one side and the towering white doors of the house ahead.

Your fingers unconsciously tightened around the ribbon on the cake box still resting in your lap.

“Relax, okay?” Jay’s voice cut through your daze, warm and steady as always. “Breathe. They’re going to love you.”

You turned your head to him, biting your lip nervously, but his reassuring smile was enough to make your shoulders ease—just a little.

The car rolled into the nearest empty space, and Jay shifted it into park before cutting the engine. Without giving you a chance to fumble with the door handle, he was already out, rounding the car in confident strides.

He opened your door smoothly, his hand reaching for the cake as his other wrapped snugly around your waist once you stepped out.

His thumb rubbed small circles against your side, calming you in the middle of your racing thoughts.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice low just for you. “Promise.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but your words got stuck in your throat as your eyes shot up at the sound of the white doors opening.

A tall, graceful woman stepped out, dressed in an elegant but simple dress that somehow made her presence even more commanding.

She smiled warmly the second her eyes landed on the two of you, and your stomach twisted in nervous knots.

Jay’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly as he straightened, calling out, “Hey, Mom.”

Her face lit up even more as she closed the distance, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps. She didn’t hesitate—her arms instantly wrapping around her only son in a tight hug.

“Jay,” she said with a soft laugh. “You never visit without making me wait at the door.”

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple as he adjusted the cake in his other hand. “Didn’t expect you to be outside already.”

Her gaze flicked past him to you, and before you could so much as bow or offer a nervous greeting, her warm smile widened.

“And this must be (Y/N),” she said brightly.

You straightened, clutching your hands nervously in front of you. “Hi, Mrs. Park. It’s so nice to—”

But your sentence was cut off by a soft gasp as she closed the distance and pulled you right into a hug.

You stiffened in surprise, eyes going wide, but her embrace was so gentle, so natural, that you found yourself slowly relaxing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured with a laugh, “no need for formalities. You’re practically family already.”

You blinked at her in stunned silence as she pulled back slightly, holding you at arm’s length to get a better look at you.

Jay, still holding the cake, chuckled under his breath as his mother’s hands gently brushed at your sleeves like she was fixing invisible wrinkles.

You blinked at her in stunned silence as she pulled back slightly, holding you at arm’s length like she was memorizing every little detail of you. Her warm smile never faltered, her eyes crinkling with quiet amusement.

“You’re even prettier in person,” she said sweetly before turning her gaze—now sharper, slightly teasing—to her son. “Good taste, Jay.”

Jay smirked like he’d been waiting for that compliment all day. “I told you so.”

Before you could recover from the heat flooding your cheeks, Mrs. Park looped her arm through yours without hesitation, as though you’d known her for years.

“Come in, sweetheart. Lunch is almost ready,” she said, gently tugging you forward. “Jay’s father is upstairs taking some calls, but he’ll be down in a bit.”

The grand double doors opened fully to reveal the inside of the Park residence.

Your breath caught slightly at the sight—marble floors, high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, and tasteful pieces of art hung neatly along the cream walls.

Jay followed behind with an easy stride, the cheesecake box now in the hands of a waiting maid who bowed politely before heading toward the kitchen.

He slipped past you two to settle onto one of the elegant cream sofas in the living room, his long legs crossing as he leaned back comfortably.

“Oh yeah, Mom,” Jay said, casually resting an arm along the back of the sofa. “Your gifts are still in the car. I’ll grab them later.”

His mother turned to him so fast you thought you might’ve imagined it, clicking her tongue with mock disapproval.

“Your pretty girlfriend is sitting right in front of you, and you’re thinking about gifts for me?”

Your lips parted in a quiet giggle at the sight of them—Jay rolling his eyes while Mrs. Park fixed him with a look that could cut glass if it wanted to.

“Don’t mind him,” she said, squeezing your arm before sitting beside you gracefully. “He can be a little stupid sometimes.”

You stifled another laugh, but it slipped out anyway as you said, “Yeah. He is.”

Jay’s head snapped toward the both of you, his eyes narrowing as his jaw dropped slightly in exaggerated offense. “Wow. I visit for the first time in months, and this is what I get? Betrayal from both of you?”

Mrs. Park waved him off like a fly, completely unfazed by her son’s theatrics. “Hush.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as she turned her full attention to you. Her voice softened a little, though her eyes still held that spark of curiosity only a mother could have.

“So tell me, (Y/N),” she started, folding her hands in her lap. “What year are you in? Same year as Jay?”

You nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am. We’re both in third second year.”

“And your major?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Dance,” you replied with a small smile. “I focus mostly on ballet.”

Her eyes lit up at that. “Ballet? How lovely! Do you enjoy it?”

“I do. It’s challenging but rewarding.”

She hummed approvingly, the corner of her lips twitching up. “I’ll have to see a performance someday. Jay never stops bragging about you, you know.”

Jay, who was lazily scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t listening, immediately sat up straighter. “Mom—”

But Mrs. Park wasn’t finished. Her tone was still gentle, but there was something playful—something probing—beneath her next question.

“Do you love my son?”

The room went quiet. Jay stiffened visibly, his head snapping toward you as he muttered in a panicked voice, “Mom—”

But you didn’t let him finish.

“Yes,” you said softly, meeting Mrs. Park’s eyes with surprising steadiness.

Jay froze beside you, lips parting slightly as his brows shot up.

Mrs. Park’s smile softened into something warm—warm and knowing—as she reached over to pat your hand affectionately. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

You were about to respond, but a deep, booming voice echoed from the hallway, startling you slightly.

“Is that who I think it is?”

All three of you turned your heads at once. Jay’s lips tugged into a knowing smile, already bracing himself as a tall, broad-shouldered man came into view.

He moved with the confidence of someone who owned the room without trying. His dark hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his crisp dress shirt neatly tucked into tailored slacks, yet his grin was boyish—almost identical to Jay’s.

“Dad,” Jay greeted casually as he stood, the older man pulling his son into a tight hug and giving him a few firm pats on the back.

“And this must be (Y/N),” Mr. Park said warmly, his gaze falling on you with such familiarity that it made your stomach flutter nervously.

You began to stand out of reflex, but he waved you down with a hearty laugh. “No, no need for that.”

Still flustered, you reached out a hand to shake instead. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

He chuckled, gripping your hand firmly yet gently. “Ah, so polite. I still can’t believe my future daughter-in-law is finally here.”

Your cheeks flamed instantly, heat crawling up your neck as you sputtered out a quiet, “Oh, um—”

“Dad, not you too,” Jay groaned, dragging a hand down his face as his father laughed even harder, the sound booming around the elegant living room.

“I’m just saying what your mother already confirmed,” Mr. Park teased, clapping Jay on the shoulder so hard it nearly made him stumble.

Your lips curved into a smile as you watched the two banter effortlessly. It was almost uncanny—Jay standing there with a scowl that didn’t reach his eyes, his father grinning knowingly at him.

They mirrored each other, from their sharp jawlines to the way their brows furrowed in mock annoyance.

“They’re like copies of each other, aren’t they?” a soft voice murmured beside you.

You turned your head to see Mrs. Park leaning closer, amusement dancing in her eyes as she whispered conspiratorially, “Uncanny, right?”

You nodded with a small laugh, whispering back, “Exactly alike.”

Mrs. Park straightened with a graceful sigh, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. She approached her husband, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Well, we’ll leave you two to talk. I should check on lunch.”

She glanced toward Jay with a knowing smile. “Jay, give (Y/N) a tour of the house, will you? Don’t let her get bored.”

“Yes, Mom,” Jay replied dutifully, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Mr. Park chuckled, his voice booming again as he teased, “And don’t keep her in one place too long. She might realize what she’s getting into.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, covering your mouth, as Jay scoffed and shot his dad a playful glare. “Ha. Ha. Real funny, Dad.”

Jay turned to you then, a faux pout tugging at his lips as he walked over.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and swayed you gently side to side. “And you,” he teased, narrowing his eyes fondly. “Don’t encourage him.”

You giggled, pressing your palms against his chest as he pulled back just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you defended, still laughing.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Jay shook his head, the faintest grin tugging at his lips as he gave your hand a squeeze and started walking further into the house.

“You and your dad are so alike,” you said teasingly, eyeing their similarities—their confident stride, the way they carried their humor with ease.

Jay let out a playful groan. “Unfortunately.” He rubbed his thumb gently over your knuckles as if to distract himself from the jab, though his smile gave him away.

You giggled softly at his reaction, and the two of you continued down the long, sunlit hallway. Your eyes caught on the oversized childhood portraits lining the walls—each frame grand and polished, the photos inside capturing various milestones of Jay’s younger years.

One in particular made you slow your steps. It was a photo of him, probably no older than seven, sitting cross-legged on the grass with a toothy grin, holding what looked like a baby bird in his tiny palms. His cheeks were round, his hair a little too long and messy.

“You were so cute,” you said with a teasing lilt, pointing at the frame. “What happened?”

Jay stopped with you, his eyes landing on the photo, and a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Well, he turned emo like you said,” he replied dryly, making you burst out laughing.

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully, and he grinned down at you as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

He tilted his head slightly so it rested gently against yours for a moment, the two of you walking in slow, comfortable strides.

“This house is so… big,” you murmured after a beat, your fingers still intertwined with his.

Jay hummed. “Too big sometimes,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t feel that way when I’m here with you.”

Your heart thudded at his words, and you chose to say nothing—just squeezing his hand gently as the hallway opened up to tall glass doors leading to the garden.

He pushed them open for you, the scent of roses and freshly cut grass greeting your senses. A soft breeze brushed past, carrying faint notes of lavender from one of the far beds.

You stepped inside and turned to take in the view—the rows of rose bushes, the way the sunlight dappled across the lawn, and the sound of birds chirping lazily in the distance.

“It’s so peaceful,” you whispered, resting your hands on the railing.

Jay stepped up behind you, his arms sliding around your waist naturally. You leaned back into him, sighing contentedly as he pressed his chin lightly to your shoulder.

“What’s in that pretty little mind of yours?” he murmured, his voice soft and low.

“Nothing,” you replied, tilting your head slightly so you could glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Your parents… they’re really nice people. It’s not as scary as I thought it’d be.”

You shifted slightly in his arms, turning enough to press a light kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. He stilled for a moment, then exhaled, his hands tightening around your waist.

“I love the garden,” you said softly, facing forward again. “It’s so peaceful. Like, I could stay here all day.”

Jay rested his chin on the crown of your head, his fingers rubbing gentle circles against your stomach. “I used to run here a lot,” he admitted.

“Whenever I’d get sick of hearing my tutors drone on back in middle school, I’d sneak out here and just breathe.”

You chuckled quietly, craning your neck slightly to look up at him. “Very Jay of you,” you teased.

“Hey,” he said with a small huff of laughter, his lips curving upward as he looked down at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s very you to ditch lessons and go find flowers,” you replied with a grin, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

Jay leaned down a little, his nose brushing against your temple as he murmured, “Maybe I was waiting for someone to enjoy them with.”

Your breath caught slightly at his words, but before you could reply, a faint voice called out from the house—Mrs. Park letting you know lunch was ready.

The dining room was warm with the faint smell of garlic butter and roasted vegetables wafting through the air.

You and Mrs. Park were laughing, your hands lightly covering your mouth as Jay sat stiffly beside you, his ears tinged red as he stubbornly chewed on a carrot stick, eyes fixed anywhere but on yours.

You were mid-story, recalling with animated gestures how Jay had, for the fifth time in a row, flat-out refused to let you pay for lunch when you’d tried last weekend.

“I swear, I even sneakily handed my card to the waiter before the meal ended, and you know what he did?” you said dramatically, turning to Mrs. Park for effect. “Jay somehow still found out and slipped his in after.”

Mrs. Park gasped in mock offense, her hand flying to her chest. “No!”

“Yes!” you huffed, laughing lightly. “I mean, I understand he wants to be a good boyfriend, but please, let me pay sometimes! Just once.”

You turned to look at Jay beside you, your lips tugging into a teasing smile. “Right, Jay?”

Jay didn’t even lift his gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line as he reached across the table to take another carrot from the plate. His ears betrayed him though, glowing crimson.

Mrs. Park laughed warmly, shaking her head as she took a sip of her wine. “That’s his love language, dear. He’s been like that since he was young—refuses to let us pay for anything once he started earning on his own.”

You laughed too, resting your chin in your hand as you looked at Jay fondly. “He’s really stubborn,” you murmured with a smile, your eyes softening despite your teasing tone.

Jay, still silent, wordlessly reached for the pitcher of iced tea in front of him. Without even looking, he gently poured some into your glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he set it down carefully.

You blinked at the small gesture, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you,” you said softly, almost shyly this time.

Mrs. Park hid her smile behind her napkin, clearly amused by the silent little exchange.

“You know,” she said, leaning slightly toward you conspiratorially, “he may be stubborn, but he’s always been like this with the people he cares about. You should’ve seen him when I tried to pay for his guitar lessons. He wouldn’t speak to me for three days until I let him cover them himself.”

You giggled at the image, turning to Jay with playful disbelief. “Three days? Really?”

He groaned lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom, you don’t have to tell everything.”

Mr. Park, who had been quietly observing the lively exchange with a soft, almost amused smile, finally set down his glass of water and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“We do have to tell everything,” he said with a knowing chuckle, his sharp eyes twinkling under the warm light.

“Did you know that before you came along, Jay had been telling us for months that he felt lonely? That something was missing?”

You turned your head to look at Jay, who had frozen mid-chew, his ears turning an even darker shade of crimson as he dropped his gaze to his plate.

“Dad…” Jay muttered in quiet protest, rubbing the back of his neck again. His voice was soft, but his lips quirked slightly like he was trying—failing—to hide his flustered smile.

But you didn’t laugh. Instead, your hand found its way to his arm, resting gently atop his sleeve.

Your thumb brushed softly against the fabric as you said with a quiet smile, “Well, I’m glad I could fill that void.”

Jay’s head snapped up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your breath catch.

His lips parted slightly, and for a second, he looked like he wanted to say something—anything—but all he could do was smile at you, a real, warm smile that reached his eyes.

Mrs. Park, sitting across from the two of you, pressed her fingers to her lips with a little laugh. “Ah,” she murmured fondly, “young love. It’s been a while since we had this kind of sweetness in the house.”

Jay let out a soft laugh, his free hand moving under the table to gently squeeze yours in silent gratitude. “Mom…” he groaned again, though this time there was no real heat behind it.

Mr. Park only chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for another slice of bread. “Don’t ‘Mom’ her. She’s right. It’s refreshing to see you like this, son.”

You tilted your head slightly, your heart tugging at the sight of Jay’s sheepish expression. “Like what?” you asked curiously.

Mr. Park’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he answered smoothly, “Happy.”

The sun was dipping low on a calm Sunday evening, painting the horizon in soft shades of orange and pink as Jay’s sleek black car purred quietly along the streets.

You sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the ribbon tied neatly around a box of pastries resting on your lap.

Beside the box was a bouquet of fresh flowers—peonies and white lilies wrapped elegantly in soft brown paper—and a smaller Tiffany bag peeking out under the bouquet, all courtesy of Jay’s insistence.

“You didn’t have to get so much,” you mumbled, casting him a sideways glance as he turned the wheel smoothly, his sunglasses perched low on his nose despite the fading sun.

Jay smirked, his free hand resting lazily on the gearshift as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Correction: I wanted to. Your mom deserves the flowers and jewelry, your dad’s getting the wine, and your brother—well—” he chuckled lowly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “he’ll have to settle for pastries. I’ll win him over eventually.”

You groaned dramatically, leaning your head back against the seat. “Jay, seriously, my mom’s probably going to cry when she sees all of this. And my dad—he’s going to think you’re bribing him.”

“Good,” Jay replied without missing a beat. “Then the jewelry and wine are already doing their job.”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you still let me spoil you.” His lips curved into that teasing, boyish grin that always seemed to melt your resolve.

You tried to stifle a smile but failed, glancing out the window instead as familiar streets began to appear. “Take a left on the next street,” you murmured, tracing your thumb over the cool glass of the wine bottle. “We’re almost there.”

Jay nodded, his jaw tightening slightly as he signaled left. He didn’t say anything at first, his hand slipping from the gearshift to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing faint circles against your skin.

You smiled faintly, placing your hand atop his and fiddling absentmindedly with the leather strap of his watch. “A little. But I know they’ll love you,” you murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Then, with a sigh, you added, “I’m not sure about Jaehyun though.”

Jay chuckled lowly at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Your brother? I got it. I got this.” He smirked, his confidence oozing as he returned his attention to the road.

“Just… slow down,” you murmured as you caught sight of the familiar street. “The house is near the end—white gates, can’t miss it.”

Jay eased his foot off the gas slightly, his fingers flexing gently around the wheel as his eyes scanned ahead.

The pristine white and warm brown wood clashed beautifully together, surrounded by a modest but lush garden. The open white gates beckoned him forward, and he pulled into the driveway smoothly.

He parked beside a sleek black Volvo, eyes catching on the polished rims as he let out a low whistle. “Nice car. Who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s Jaehyun’s,” you replied nonchalantly, your hand gripping the pastry box tighter as nerves bubbled faintly in your chest.

Jay tilted his head with a teasing grin. “Not rich, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare, rolling your eyes. “Compared to you? No.”

He barked out a laugh as he shifted the car into park, shutting off the engine. “Touché, pretty girl. Touché.”

Before you could even reach for the door handle, Jay was already out of the car, moving around with purposeful strides. He pulled the door open smoothly, offering you his hand with that boyish smile that never failed to make your chest flutter.

You placed your hand in Jay’s, letting him help you out of the car with practiced ease. His grip was warm, steady, calming you as he reached for the flowers and bottle of wine with his free hand.

You gave him a small nod, exhaling softly as the two of you walked up the familiar pathway to the porch. The jasmine from your mother’s garden mingled with the faint sound of laughter and splashing water drifting from the backyard.

Your heart thumped wildly when you rang the doorbell. It wasn’t even two seconds before the door swung open, revealing your older brother standing there with an unreadable expression.

His dark eyes flicked from you to Jay, tilting his head slightly in that way he always did when he was sizing someone up.

Jay didn’t flinch. He stayed perfectly still beside you, his face neutral, his posture calm yet confident as he held the bouquet and wine in one hand.

You groaned under your breath. “Jaehyun, stop that. You’re being ridiculous.”

But Jaehyun didn’t budge. He crossed his arms slowly, his stance wide like he was about to interrogate Jay right there on the porch. “So. You’re Jay.”

“Yes,” Jay answered coolly, his voice level but polite.

Jaehyun hummed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head. “What’s your favorite basketball team?”

Jay’s lips twitched faintly at the corner before he replied without hesitation, “Lakers.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Jaehyun let out a dramatic sigh, his arms falling back to his sides as he muttered, “Okay. I like you.”

You blinked at them, jaw dropping slightly. “That’s it? That’s the test? Are you serious right now?”

“Basketball says a lot about a man,” Jaehyun said matter-of-factly, reaching for the box of pastries you were holding out for him. “What’s this?”

“Jay bought these for everyone,” you said with a huff, still staring at the two of them like they’d just spoken in code.

Jaehyun peeked into the box, his eyes lighting up slightly. “Is that… a small cream cake?”

Jay nodded, a quiet laugh escaping him. “It is.”

Jaehyun finally—finally—smiled, a genuine one this time. “Yeah. I like you.”

Jay chuckled softly in return, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he stepped inside with you.

“Mom! Dad!” Jaehyun called over his shoulder as he started toward the kitchen. “(Y/N) and Jay are here!”

You stared between them, completely dumbfounded, before muttering under your breath, “Unbelievable. That’s all it took?”

Jay leaned slightly closer, his lips tugging up into that smug grin you knew all too well. “Told you I got this.”

Your mom and dad emerged from the hallway just as Jay’s smug grin softened into something warmer. Your mom’s face lit up at the sight of you both, her arms already outstretched as she hurried forward.

“There’s my baby girl!” she said, pulling you into a tight hug that smelled faintly of jasmine and home-cooked meals. You laughed, hugging her back as she swayed you slightly from side to side.

“Hi, Mom,” you murmured with a soft smile.

Then, to your surprise, she didn’t hesitate to wrap Jay into a warm embrace too. “And you must be Jay! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Jay’s eyes widened slightly, but he returned her hug politely, his lips tugging into a small, respectful smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Jeong.”

Your dad was right behind her, his face breaking into a grin as he hugged you briefly before extending his hand to Jay. “So this is the famous Jay, huh?”

Jay straightened, setting his shoulders as he shook your dad’s hand firmly. “Yes, sir. Thank you for having me.”

“You’re taller than I expected,” your dad chuckled, clapping Jay on the shoulder with a hearty pat. “Good grip too. I like that.”

“Dad,” you hissed, embarrassed, but Jay only let out a small laugh, his confidence never faltering.

You fumbled to hand your mom the Tiffany paper bag as you said, “Here, Mom. This is for you. And don’t let Jay fool you—I told him not to go overboard.”

Your mom blinked in surprise as Jay handed her the bouquet of peonies and lilies, his boyish grin returning.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t go overboard,” he said innocently, though you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“And for you, sir,” Jay added, turning to your dad as he handed him the bottle of aged wine.

Your dad took it with a low whistle, turning the bottle in his hands and admiring the label. “A Cabernet Sauvignon? Aged this well?” He looked at Jay with an approving nod and a grin. “You have excellent taste. I approve.”

You laughed under your breath as Jay dipped his head slightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

“Jay…” your mom started gently, holding the Tiffany bag like it was far too delicate to touch. “You didn’t have to get us anything.”

But Jay shook his head, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as he stood just close enough to make you feel secure. “Nonsense, Mrs. Jeong. I’m here for your approval. It’s only right I make a good impression.”

Your mom’s eyes softened as she gave you a knowing look, her lips curving upward into a tender smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “He’s a keeper.”

Jay’s lips curved into a soft smile at your mom’s words, the kind that reached his eyes and made your chest feel impossibly warm.

Your mom clapped her hands together with a cheerful brightness. “I hope you two are hungry! Come on, let’s eat dinner.”

You moved to help her instinctively, brushing your hand along Jay’s arm as you passed. He gave you a small nod and an encouraging smile as if to say ‘go ahead’, and you smiled back before slipping into the kitchen with your mom.

Behind you, you could hear Jaehyun sling an arm around Jay’s shoulder with a casual familiarity that surprised even you.

“Come on, superstar,” he teased, steering Jay toward the dining table as your dad fell in step on Jay’s other side.

“So, Jay,” your dad said, his tone friendly but curious, “what’s your major?”

Jay’s voice was polite yet confident as he replied, “Business, sir. But I’m also in a band—we’ve been playing together for a while now. We compose our own songs too.”

Jaehyun perked up at that, his head tilting with interest. “Really? That’s actually pretty cool.”

Jay chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck modestly. “Thanks. It’s been a passion of mine since I was a kid.”

You, carrying a serving plate of grilled fish from the counter to the table, glanced over your shoulder with a little sigh. “Jaehyun’s somewhat in a band too,” you said teasingly. “It’s called NCT—when he actually has the time for it.”

Jaehyun grinned at your jab, his arm still lazily draped around Jay’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re pretty good. But yeah, it’s true, we don’t really get much time these days.”

Jay glanced at him, his curiosity piqued. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your day job then?”

“I’m an architect,” Jaehyun said proudly but without arrogance. “Got my license two years ago. Been designing residential spaces and some commercial buildings since.”

Jay nodded with genuine respect, his expression warm. “That’s impressive. Balancing music and architecture? I don’t know how you manage.”

Jaehyun chuckled, giving Jay’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before letting go as they reached the dining area. “It’s not easy, but you do what you love, right?”

Your dad, who had been quietly listening with a small smile, patted Jay’s back approvingly as they all began to settle at the table. “You’re alright, Jay. You’ve got good values. I like that.”

Jay ducked his head slightly in appreciation, a rare flicker of shyness crossing his features. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

You returned just in time to catch the exchange, setting down a bowl of steaming vegetables and shooting Jay a fond, knowing smile. “Already charming the men of the house, huh?” you teased.

Jay only met your gaze, his lips tugging into that boyish grin you loved, and replied smoothly, “Gotta earn my spot, don’t I?”

You laughed lightly at Jay’s comment, shaking your head as you turned toward the oven. “You’re ridiculous,” you said fondly, tugging the mitts over your hands before opening the door.

The warm, savory aroma of roasted chicken filled the kitchen as you carefully reached in to pull out the tray. But in your rush to place it on the counter, the edge of your hand brushed against the hot metal.

You hissed, instinctively jerking back as pain bloomed across your skin. “Ow—!”

The sound of chairs scraping back echoed in the dining room almost instantly. Before you could even process it, Jay was already at your side, his movements fluid but his expression tight with concern.

“Let me see,” he murmured, gently catching your hand in his. His thumb brushed carefully over the reddening mark at the side of your palm, and his brows furrowed.

You frowned at the sight, trying to shake it off. “It’s fine, Jay. Just a little—”

“Fine?” Jay clicked his tongue in soft disapproval, his voice low but tinged with worry. “You’ve got a performance on Wednesday, pretty, and you manage to injure yourself.”

You grumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed under his tender scrutiny, and leaned your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “It’s not that bad…”

“Mmhm,” Jay hummed skeptically as he guided you toward the sink. He turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature before gently placing your hand under the cool stream. “Humor me.”

Behind you, you could feel the eyes of your family watching—soft, curious, and maybe a little amused.

Jaehyun’s voice broke the silence, a teasing lilt to it as he murmured, “Well, she’s Jay’s problem now.”

Your mom smacked his arm lightly, but she was smiling. “Jaehyun.”

Jay didn’t even flinch at the comment, his focus entirely on you as he adjusted the angle of your hand beneath the water.

“Does that sting less?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “A little.”

Jay’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his thumb rubbed soothing circles against your wrist as he said, “Next time, let me handle the oven. Or at least don’t rush. You’re already perfect—I don’t need you adding battle scars to prove it.”

That earned a small laugh from your dad as he observed the two of you from the table. “Protective, isn’t he?” he said warmly, sharing a glance with your mom.

Your mom’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I like him even more now.”

You looked up at Jay, seeing the way his jaw relaxed ever so slightly at your parents’ approval. “You’re making quite the impression,” you whispered teasingly.

Jay smirked faintly but didn’t let go of your hand. “Good. I plan on staying in their good graces and—yours.”

You rolled your eyes softly, though your lips betrayed you with a small smile.

He hummed as he patted your hand dry, turning off the faucet before interlacing your fingers with his. “We’ll put ointment on that when it fully dries, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, letting him guide you back toward the dining room.

Jay pulled out a chair for you like it was second nature, waiting until you were seated before taking the spot next to you. He rested his hand briefly on your knee under the table, as if to silently reassure you once more.

Your mom, already settled across from the two of you, clapped her hands together with a bright smile. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

By now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the warm glow of the overhead lights and flickering candles on the table. The comforting scent of home-cooked food mingled with soft laughter that echoed off the walls.

Halfway through dinner, Jay leaned back slightly in his chair, his grin widening as he teased, “I still can’t believe you almost strangled your first cat to death because of… what was it? Cute aggression?”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as your brother barked out a laugh. “Jaehyun!” you hissed, glaring across the table.

He only shrugged innocently, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, he needed to know if he wants to be Doobu’s dad. You scare me when it comes to cats sometimes.”

Jay tried—failed—not to laugh, his hand coming up to hide his smile as he muttered, “Noted. So, no kittens for a surprise gift then?”

“Jay!” you exclaimed, hiding your face in your hands as your family laughed.

Your dad, who had been quietly observing the playful banter, reached for the wine bottle, gesturing toward Jay’s glass. “Want a refill, son?”

Jay shook his head politely, his expression softening. “As much as I’d love to, sir, I’ll be driving us back later.”

Your dad gave a slow, approving nod, twirling the bottle in his hand with a thoughtful hum. Then, with a teasing grin, he glanced between you and Jay. “(Y/N), you better end up marrying him.”

Your entire body stiffened, heat rushing to your cheeks as you stammered, “Dad, please…”

Jaehyun cackled as your mom sighed dramatically, though you caught the gentle curve of her lips as she muttered, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Jay, on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat. He reached for your hand under the table, squeezing it gently as he said with an almost shy smile, “Well, one day, I’d like that too.”

You whipped your head toward him, wide-eyed, but he only chuckled softly at your stunned expression, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your knuckles as if he hadn’t just said something that made your heart feel like it would burst.

“See?” your dad said proudly, leaning back in his chair. “I like this guy.”

Jaehyun raised his glass with a smirk. “Yeah, me too. He survived the Lakers question and the cat confession. He’s solid.”

Your mom only chuckled fondly, catching your flustered expression. “Sweetheart, you picked a good one.”

And there you were, sitting with the three most important people in your life, with Jay beside you fitting so effortlessly into the picture it was almost scary—in the best possible way.

The soft hum of music filled the car as the city lights streaked past outside your window. Your fingers tapped lightly against your leg in time with the melody before you let out a laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“I still can’t believe Jaehyun sounds like that,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Jay’s lips curved into a smile as his hand tightened slightly on the wheel. “What? He sounds good.”

“Exactly,” you huffed, turning your head toward him. “And all I got from the sibling lottery was dancing skills. Totally unfair.”

Jay chuckled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh gently, his rings cool against your skin. “You’re incredible at what you do. Don’t downplay yourself like that.”

You sighed softly, your hand finding his on your thigh, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the silver bands adorning his long fingers.

Your thumb brushed over one particularly sleek ring as you murmured, almost too quietly, “You two get along well… almost as if this were—” You cut yourself off with another sigh, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

Jay’s jaw tensed slightly, his gaze flickering from the slow-moving traffic ahead to your profile. His thumb rubbed gentle circles against your skin as he let out a quiet, bitter chuckle.

“Almost as if it were real,” he echoed, his voice low, carrying a weight that made your chest ache.

You still didn’t meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the window as the night blurred outside.

Jay’s grip on your thigh lingered for a moment longer before he let out another quiet sigh, a humorless smile tugging faintly at his lips as he nodded to himself, as if silently acknowledging something only he could hear.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the music. “Almost.”

You nodded faintly, your eyes fixed on the blur of headlights and taillights streaking past the window. You refused to look at him, afraid that even the slightest glance would undo the careful grip you had on yourself.

The sting behind your eyes grew sharper as you sucked in a shaky breath, pressing your lips together.

Jay’s thumb brushed against your thigh again as his voice cut gently through the silence. “You okay?”

You managed a small nod, though your body betrayed you—your shoulders tensed, and your hand had stilled over his, no longer tracing the cool metal of his rings.

You leaned back against the leather seat, head tilting slightly to rest against it.

“I always am,” you murmured, so quietly it was almost lost beneath the music.

Jay’s hand tightened over yours, his voice suddenly firmer, low but resolute. “Don’t lie to me, (Y/N).”

Your chest rose and fell with a shaky exhale. You stayed silent for a moment, gripping the fabric of your dress with your free hand as if it could ground you. Slowly—hesitantly—you turned your head toward him.

Your glossy eyes met his, the dim dashboard lights catching the faint shimmer of unshed tears. You forced a smile, one that wavered and cracked at the edges as you whispered, “I’m not.”

His brows furrowed deeply, the smirk and light teasing that so often played on his lips completely gone now, replaced by an expression so raw—so tender—it almost hurt to look at.

Jay’s hands reached up, cradling your face with a gentleness that made your chest tighten. His thumbs brushed the streaks of tears falling down your cheeks, and he swore softly under his breath.

“God…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Thank whoever’s listening for this traffic.”

You let out a weak, watery laugh through your tears, leaning into his touch as your hands reached up to press over his. “Jay?” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Yeah, pretty?” His reply was equally soft, but there was an edge there—a nervousness he couldn’t quite hide.

Your lips quivered as you looked up at him, eyes glassy and vulnerable. “Is this still fake?”

His fingers paused for a fraction of a second against your skin.

You felt his breath hitch, the faintest falter in his steady exterior as his eyes searched yours for any trace of doubt or hesitation.

“Are you still doing this just so people at Decelis would shut up… or are you playing with me?” The last part cracked—your voice breaking as the tears came faster now, falling freely onto his hands.

But Jay didn’t pull away. Not when you looked this fragile, this heartbreakingly honest. He only cupped your face tighter, his thumbs moving to catch every tear he could as his own chest rose and fell unevenly.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said gently. “Look at me.”

You did, though it felt like your heart might burst.

His gaze burned into yours—not with anger, not even with frustration, but with an intensity that made the air in the car feel thick.

“I proposed this whole idea because I wanted everyone to leave you and me alone. I thought—hell, I convinced myself—it was just a game. Just something to keep the rumors quiet, to protect you and… maybe me too.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing to yours. “But then you… you went and ruined everything, didn’t you? You went and made me care.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out as his hands trembled slightly against your skin.

“I don’t know if this is fake anymore, pretty girl,” he whispered, voice raw.

“Because every time you smile at me like I’m worth the trouble… every time you hold my hand like it’s second nature… every time I hear you laugh—God, I can’t tell where the pretending stops and where you begin.”

A choked sound escaped you as he tilted your chin gently, forcing you to meet the depths of his eyes.

“You’ve managed to show me what it feels like to be seen, (Y/N). To be wanted. To be loved in a way I didn’t even think I deserved.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but his hands remained steady on your face.

“This isn’t fake to me anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

He smiled then—not his cocky grin, not his teasing smirk, but something small and heartbreakingly sincere. “And if you’ll let me, I don’t ever want it to be.”

Your breath hitched. His words—soft, trembling, so devastatingly honest—landed heavy on your chest, cracking something wide open inside you.

For weeks you’d been holding it all in, biting your tongue, burying the way your heart had begun to ache every time he looked at you like this, and now the dam finally broke.

“Jay…” Your voice wavered, your fingers clutching his wrists where they cradled your face like he was terrified to let you go.

You shook your head slightly, blinking through the tears that blurred his face.

“I agreed to this because I wanted peace. I wanted to feel normal again. To stop being the girl everyone whispered about in the hallways—to stop being the one they pitied or picked apart.”

Your shoulders trembled as a sob pushed past your lips, raw and unrestrained. “But then you—you just had to come in and ruin that too.”

Jay flinched, but his hands didn’t falter, his thumbs still brushing away the tears even as more fell. “Ruin it?” he asked softly.

“You ruined it because you made me feel safe again,” you whispered brokenly.

“You made me feel like I wasn’t some spectacle, like I could just… exist. And then you went and made me laugh again, made me—God, you made me start hoping for more.”

Jay’s brow furrowed as you pressed your hands over his, your tears falling hot and fast against his skin.

“I told myself over and over this was fake. That when it ended, I’d go back to how things were. But Jay—” your voice cracked on his name, “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want this to end. I want you. I want this. All of it.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The only sound was the faint hum of the car engine, the low croon of the song playing through the speakers, and the frantic rush of both your breaths.

Then Jay let out a shaky laugh—one full of relief and disbelief—as his forehead pressed to yours. “(Y/N)…” he whispered, and it was both a prayer and a confession.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft—not at first. It was desperate, aching, like weeks of pent-up longing and unsaid words bursting all at once.

His lips pressed to yours with a fervor that made your tears spill over again, his hands slipping from your face to your jaw, tilting you closer as if he was terrified this moment wasn’t real.

You gasped softly against his mouth, and he took it as permission, one of his hands tangling in your hair as the other pulled you closer across the console, your seatbelt the only thing keeping you from melting fully into him.

You kissed him back like you were trying to memorize him—the warmth of his mouth, the taste of his lips, the way his thumb brushed your cheek so tenderly even as the kiss deepened.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathless, your tears still wet on your cheeks.

“This isn’t fake,” Jay murmured again, his voice low and wrecked. “Not to me. Not anymore.”

You let out a tearful laugh, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips. “Not to me either.”

For a moment longer, Jay just looked at you—like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he wasn’t ready to let go. His hands lingered on your face, thumbs stroking tenderly as his gaze traced every curve of your expression.

Then the sound of a car horn behind you broke the fragile stillness, and Jay exhaled shakily, giving you the smallest, sweetest smile before leaning in to press one last kiss to your forehead.

“Seatbelt, pretty. I don’t wanna be the reason you get hurt again.” His voice was low, still carrying the remnants of everything unspoken between you.

You nodded, a faint warmth curling in your chest as you slowly buckled yourself back in. Jay pulled his hands away with a reluctance you felt too, his fingers brushing against yours like he didn’t want to lose the contact completely.

The car started moving again, the hum of the engine blending with the soft music still playing.

But this time, it wasn’t awkward or suffocating—there was a lightness, a fragile sense of peace that settled over you like a blanket.

Jay’s hand found its way back to your thigh, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your skin. He didn’t say anything, but the small squeeze he gave spoke volumes.

You glanced out the window at the city lights streaking past, a small smile tugging at your lips for the first time in what felt like forever.

For once, your heart didn’t feel heavy.

“You’re quiet,” Jay murmured after a while, his eyes still focused on the road but softening as they flicked briefly to you.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shook your head, your fingers sliding over the rings on his hand again, tracing the cool metal absently. “Nothing bad,” you said honestly, a faint laugh in your voice. “For the first time in a long time, nothing feels bad.”

Jay smiled at that, and though he didn’t say it, his fingers tightened slightly over your thigh like he understood. Like he felt it too.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries @dearestdreamies @chuuyaobsessed

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 21.3k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — finally part two is here !! i had so much fun writing this—soft moments, stolen glances, and all. i hope you guys feel the slow pull between them as much as i did. part three’s already brewing in my head, so pace yourselves loves, we’re only getting started 🤍

⤷ warnings — college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, slow burn, friends(?) to lovers trope, soft!jay, mutual pining, reader falls first (definitely), domestic undertones, accidental vulnerability, soft tension, unspoken feelings, skinship, fluff, angst

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — three days. that’s all it takes for the boundaries to shift. one moment it’s just an arrangement—shared hands for the crowd, borrowed smiles for the rumors. the next, it’s late nights spent in quiet kitchens, borrowed jackets that still smell like him, and a warmth that lingers long after the rain has stopped. it’s easy to forget where the act ends and the real thing begins. but then he whispers promises against your hair, and you start to wonder if maybe this isn’t just a game anymore. or, where pretending feels a little too real, and you’re no longer sure if you want him to stop.

Jay walked just close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every now and then, his hand occasionally reaching over to pet Doobu as she purred contently in your arms.

The soft sound of her breathing mixed with your quiet laughter.

“So Heeseung went live on Instagram once,” Jay said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And for some reason—don’t even ask—he picked up my guitar and started messing with it. He thought he was being funny.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, already grinning. “He didn’t.”

Jay nodded, lips twitching like he was trying to suppress a smile. “He did. And then people started tagging me in the comments. I saw it, tuned my guitar back properly.”

That broke you. A laugh bubbled out of your chest as you hugged Doobu closer.

“Oh my god—that’s like… in ballet terms, that’s as bad as when your pointe shoes get laced up wrong. Total violation of personal space.”

Jay raised a brow, amused. “I have no idea what that means, but… yeah. I’ll take your word for it.”

Still smiling, you tilted your head at him. “Do you want to know about ballet?”

“Actually, yeah. I’ve been wondering,” he admitted as you both turned the corner.

“Take a right here,” you said softly, shifting Doobu slightly in your arms so she wouldn’t slip.

Jay followed, his steps slow and unhurried. “So… why ballet?”

You hummed, thoughtful. “I guess… it was something I really liked. When I was younger, I found the performances so beautiful—my mom told me to try it, and I did. I ended up loving it. So… here I am.”

Jay nodded quietly, his dark eyes on you as a faint breeze ruffled his hoodie. Then he tilted his head, voice dropping into that teasing tone you were starting to recognize. “In Decelis too… You must be rich.”

You laughed, shaking your head quickly. “I’m not. I mean—I got in on a scholarship, so… yeah.”

“That just means you’re really good,” Jay said matter-of-factly, and for a moment, his tone carried no teasing—just simple, quiet admiration.

Your cheeks warmed, but you looked away, pointing at the building with large glass windows just ahead. “That’s my dorm. We’re here.”

Jay’s steps slowed as you approached the steps. He opened the door for you with a small smile. “After you.”

“Thank you.” You stepped inside, glancing at him as he lingered at the entrance. “Do you… want to come up? You don’t have to, but—”

Jay’s hand flexed slightly around the paper bags he still carried. “No, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t.” You shook your head, a small grin pulling at your lips. “Come on. Let’s go.”

His eyes flicked to yours for a beat, and then he let out a quiet laugh. “Okay. Just for a bit.”

You led him to the elevator, your slippers making soft sounds against the tiled floor. He followed close behind, pressing the call button. Almost instantly, the elevator dinged and opened.

“Fifth floor, please,” you said as you stepped inside, shifting Doobu so she rested more comfortably in your arms.

Jay pressed the button, his knuckles brushing the panel lightly. The doors closed with a soft hum, the faint reflection of you both visible in the polished metal.

He looked at you briefly, lips quirking in the faintest smile as he spoke.

Jay leaned against the elevator wall as the soft hum of its ascent filled the quiet space.

His reflection in the polished metal flickered faintly as he spoke, voice low and teasing, “You know, if you ever wanna sneak off again, head to the quad. I’ll pick you up.”

You gasped dramatically, eyes going wide as you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him.

“Park Jongseong,” you said, mock scandal dripping from your tone. “That’s so low of you.”

Jay’s grin widened, the sound of his quiet laugh bouncing lightly off the elevator walls. “What? Your cat’s cute. I wouldn’t mind being her getaway driver.”

You huffed, clutching Doobu closer as she nuzzled contentedly against your hoodie. “I know she’s cute,” you admitted begrudgingly, “but she’s such a little troublemaker. I swear she does this on purpose.”

Jay’s hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing over the top of Doobu’s head, scratching gently behind her ears.

“Can’t blame her. She’s got a curious streak… kinda like her owner.”

Before you could retort, the elevator gave a soft ding and the doors slid open to reveal the fifth floor’s warmly lit hallway.

“Come on,” you murmured, stepping out as Jay followed closely behind, his hands now tucked casually into his hoodie pockets.

He glanced around as you led the way down the hall, his eyes flicking to the neatly numbered doors as if committing them all to memory. His gaze lingered for a fraction longer when you stopped at one of the nearer units—Room 507.

You shifted Doobu in your arms, the white furball now half-asleep again as you hesitated at your door.

Heat crept up your ears when you glanced back at Jay, who was watching you with a patient, expectant look.

“Um… could you—uh—hold her for a bit? I just need to unlock the door.”

Jay nodded without hesitation, stepping closer. “Yeah. Give her to me.”

Carefully, you handed Doobu over, your fingers brushing his hoodie sleeve in the process. “Thanks,” you murmured with a small, thankful smile as he adjusted his arms to cradle her gently.

“No problem,” Jay replied softly, his voice warm as Doobu immediately settled into his hold, eyes fluttering shut again.

He looked down at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “She’s so relaxed. You’d think I was her actual owner.”

You chuckled nervously, turning back to the door as you fished your keys from your hoodie pocket. The soft jingle echoed in the hallway as you found the right one, slipping it into the lock.

“Sorry for the mess,” you mumbled, cheeks heating as you twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Jay tilted his head slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “Somehow I doubt your ‘mess’ and my ‘mess’ are the same thing.”

You laughed softly as you pushed the door open, the warm scent of vanilla from your room spilling out faintly. “You’d be surprised,” you said, stepping in first to flick on the lights.

The room wasn’t even messy—just lived in. A soft cream throw blanket draped over your small couch, a few books stacked on the coffee table, ballet shoes peeking from under your bed, and a lingering coziness that smelled faintly of your shampoo.

Jay took one step in, Doobu curling lazily against his chest like she’d been with him all her life.

A sleek TV sat propped up on a modest wooden stand, a small stack of DVDs and game controllers tucked neatly beside it.

Near the far corner, a vanity mirror framed in glowing bulbs sat atop a dresser cluttered with skincare bottles and a stray pair of earrings.

Fairy lights dangled loosely along the ceiling, their warm yellow glow casting soft shadows across the space. A kitchenette hugged one wall, clean and minimal, with a mug drying upside down on the counter.

A bookshelf stood proudly near your bed, filled with everything from classic literature to ballet history texts, a few dog-eared novels stacked horizontally where they no longer fit.

But it was the wall above your bed that caught Jay’s eye—an entire collage of polaroids and ribbon cutouts, little scraps of you.

Friends laughing in candid shots, blurry pictures of stage lights from performances, faded ribbons from past competitions pinned carefully like trophies. It was vibrant and soft all at once—like you.

Jay blinked, taking in the details quietly, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“Messy,” he said finally, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure. This looks like a Pinterest board threw up in here.”

You froze halfway through tugging off your hoodie, cheeks heating. “Shut up,” you hissed, ducking your head to hide your fluster. “It’s… cozy, okay? I like it this way.”

Jay smirked, bending slightly as Doobu let out a soft meow in his arms. “You’re really bad at taking compliments, you know that?”

Rolling your eyes, you took Doobu back into your arms, the little cat stretching her paws lazily before nuzzling into your hoodie again.

“I’m great at taking compliments,” you said, voice muffled as you buried your face briefly into Doobu’s fur. “I just… filter which ones I believe.”

Jay hummed like he wanted to say something more, but instead he leaned casually against the doorframe, hands sliding into the pockets of his cream trousers.

You cleared your throat, setting Doobu gently down on the bed. “Uh—you can… sit down, you know. Make yourself comfortable.”

Jay arched a brow, a teasing glint flickering in his eyes as he pushed off the frame slightly. “You’re telling me to sit down like I’m the guest of honor or something.”

You exhaled sharply, trying not to let your fluster show as you reached for his wrist. “I am telling you to sit. Here. Couch.”

He let you pull him with no resistance, his long fingers still half-tucked in his pockets as his amused smirk grew. “Okay, okay,” he murmured as you stopped him in front of the couch and all but shoved him down gently.

“There. Stay put.”

Jay chuckled as he sank into the cushions, legs spreading comfortably as his arm draped along the backrest.

“Bossy,” he teased lightly, tilting his head to watch you grab fresh clothes from the rack beside your vanity.

You shot him a look over your shoulder, your face already burning. “Don’t. Start.”

He only raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing that faint grin as you disappeared into the bathroom with your clothes.

For a moment, silence settled in the room again, save for the faint tick of the clock and the low hum of the air conditioning. Jay let his eyes wander, his hands idly drumming against his thighs.

The first thing he noticed was the line of Dior lip glosses neatly arranged on your vanity. He leaned his head back slightly and hummed under his breath.

“Dior, huh? Someone’s got taste…” His gaze swept across the space again, taking in the soft pastel palette of your room, the fairy lights draped carelessly above, the plush throw pillows piled on the couch.

“Talk about contrast,” he murmured, a quiet laugh escaping him as he thought about his own room—dark walls, a clutter of guitar picks and stray lyric sheets, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air.

Yours felt lighter, softer. Like breathing fresh air after being cooped up too long.

The sound of the bathroom door clicking open snapped him from his thoughts. He straightened slightly as you stepped out, now dressed in light-washed jeans, a black shirt peeking from under a cream hoodie.

Your hair was quickly brushed and your skin glowed faintly in the soft light, a Dior gloss—cherry pink—already in your hand as you dabbed it on without much thought.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you said sheepishly, meeting his eyes with a small smile.

Jay shook his head as he rose to his feet. “You were quick. Don’t worry about it.” His tone was softer now, almost careful.

You grinned faintly, slipping your gloss back into the vanity drawer. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

As you scooped your keys from the table, you turned to Doobu still curled up on your bed. Pointing a stern finger at her, you said, “No more outside time for you, Doobu. I mean it.”

Jay let out a quiet laugh behind you, reaching for the door as you switched off the main light and let the fairy lights cast their warm glow over the room.

The soft twinkle reflected in his eyes as he glanced back briefly, committing the sight to memory.

You locked the door with a click, turning to him. “Where to?”

You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your laughter as Jay animatedly waved his hands around from across the small ramen shop table.

“No, no—listen,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggeratedly serious expression, his cap casting a faint shadow over his eyes.

“Jungwon was like—” He cleared his throat and pitched his voice higher, imitating the younger’s slightly frantic tone. “‘Come on, Jay. Come on, Jay. Don’t say anything! Stop talking, stop—stop—’”

You burst out laughing, nearly knocking your chopsticks off the table. “Oh my god, stop—you’re too good at that.”

Jay grinned, his eyes crinkling as he shrugged innocently.

“What? That’s exactly what he sounded like. I swear I thought he was going to faint when I said, ‘oh yeah, we’re working on—’” He clamped his hand over his mouth dramatically, earning another fit of laughter from you.

“You’re really one of the funniest people I’ve ever met,” you said between laughs, shaking your head in disbelief.

Jay leaned back in his chair, a smug little smile tugging at his lips. “That’s an achievement. I’ll take the trophy now.”

You rolled your eyes fondly as you reached for the menu. “Seriously, though… almost leaking your own song?”

“It wasn’t even on purpose!” he defended, throwing his hands up slightly. “I guess I was just… too excited for College Week.”

You raised a brow at him, lips twitching. “Oh? You guys have another song?”

He nodded, idly spinning his water glass between his fingers. “Yeah. This time it’s a song called Shout Out. It’s more sentimental than Karma.”

“That’s so fitting,” you teased, glancing down at the menu—only to stiffen slightly at the prices listed beside each dish.

Before you could even open your mouth, Jay’s voice cut in smoothly. “Hey. Don’t think too hard about it. Pick whatever you’re craving—I got it, yeah?”

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him, lips parting to protest, but he raised a hand like he’d already anticipated it.

“Nope. Don’t even start,” he said firmly, a playful edge in his tone. “Consider it my apology for dragging you and Doobu out so late.”

You let out a sigh but smiled anyway. “Fine. But you’re seriously too much sometimes, Jay.”

Jay smirked, resting his chin in his palm as his eyes softened slightly on you. “Maybe. But admit it, I’m fun company.”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered with a grin as you finally pointed at your choice on the menu. “Okay. I’ll get the miso ramen. And—uh—a side of gyoza?”

“Good choice,” Jay said with an approving nod before glancing at the menu himself. “I’ll get the tonkatsu. Extra spicy. And another side of gyoza. Can’t go wrong with those.”

As the waiter came to take your orders, you found yourself glancing around the small shop. The faint hum of soft jazz played overhead, the warm light above your table casting a gentle glow on Jay’s features as he absentmindedly fiddled with his chopsticks.

When the waiter left, Jay leaned back comfortably again. “So,” he said, that same soft smile still tugging at his lips.

“Tell me more about your performances,” Jay said as he leaned forward slightly, propping his elbow on the table. “You’re going to perform during College Week too, right?”

You nodded, fiddling absently with your chopsticks. “Yeah, I mean… we perform before you guys every year. Like a… opening act?”

Jay’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. “Oh—you’re the ones with the overly lullabying music?”

You gasped dramatically, swatting lightly at the air between you. “Excuse me?” you said with a laugh.

“I guess we are. But hey, someone’s gotta make the crowd feel all dreamy before you guys come in and break their eardrums.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

You twirled your straw in your glass. “Though—I mean, I guess this year’s different. We’re finally performing a pretty huge production piece. Something more memorable.”

Jay’s gaze stayed fixed on you, one elbow propped lazily on the table, his fingers idly tapping against his water glass.

“And I guess…” you continued, lips curving into a small smile, “I have a reason to stay later this time. Since you guys will be performing after us anyway.”

That made him pause, his brows raising slightly as he tilted his head at you. “Wait—you’ve never watched any of our performances?”

You blinked at him, chewing lightly on your bottom lip before tilting your head in return. “Is that… a bad thing?” you asked, voice teasing.

Jay shook his head almost immediately, a faint laugh slipping out. “No,” he said, his grin softening into something warmer. “Just the more reason for me to do better this year. Since you’ll be watching.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and you ducked your head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat creeping up your cheeks. But judging from the small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, he definitely noticed.

Still, he didn’t comment—just let the moment hang there gently between you, the quiet hum of the ramen shop filling the space.

The waiter arrived then, placing two steaming bowls of ramen on the table, the rich aroma of broth and spices instantly making your stomach growl.

“Tonkatsu for you, miso for you. Enjoy,” he said politely, setting down a plate of golden-brown gyoza as well.

“Thanks,” you and Jay said in near perfect unison, glancing at each other with faint smiles after.

Jay leaned back slightly, rubbing his palms together. “Alright—let’s eat.” His eyes flicked mischievously toward the gyoza. “But fair warning—if I finish first, I’m stealing those.”

You raised a brow, feigning offense as you adjusted your chopsticks. “In your dreams, Park Jongseong. Those are mine.”

He grinned, the corners of his lips tugging higher than you’d seen all week. “Yeah? Watch me.”

The two of you dug in, the clink of chopsticks and soft laughter between bites filling your little corner of the shop.

Neither of you noticed at first—not the subtle shift of heads from tables nearby, nor the quiet gasps as a few Decelis students did a double take.

“Is that—”

“Holy shit, it is.”

“Park Jongseong. With a girl? And he’s smiling?”

Phones slipped subtly out of pockets as some of the students tried to sneak photos without being obvious.

After all, it wasn’t every day you saw the stoic-faced guitarist of Decelis’ most popular band—the one who rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary—leaning forward over a bowl of miso ramen, laughing and teasing a girl like he’d known her forever.

One table, full of arts majors, whispered animatedly:

“Is that Jeong (Y/N)? She’s in our department, right?”

“She’s in ballet. I think… I’ve seen her with Kazuha.”

“No way… he likes her?”

Meanwhile, Jay remained completely oblivious—or maybe he just didn’t care. His long fingers twirled noodles effortlessly, his posture relaxed, head slightly tilted as he listened to you animatedly talk about pointe shoes.

At a corner table, three students sat hunched over their phones, the glow of their screens reflected in wide eyes.

“Holy shit, zoom in—is that really Park Jongseong?” one whispered, pinching the screen to enlarge a blurry photo of Jay’s profile.

“It is! Look at the cap and the hoodie—he literally wore that after practice last week,” another hissed back, their tone urgent like they were breaking major news.

“Isn’t this… kind of a good source of gossip?” the first said, eyes darting nervously between Jay and the girl across from him—you.

The third leaned in closer, whispering like they were plotting a heist. “I mean… you could post it on the school’s gossip page. Everyone follows it.”

“Won’t they know it’s us?” the second asked, glancing around anxiously as though Jay might suddenly sense their scheming.

“You can send anonymous posts, dumbass,” the third snorted quietly. “Half the juicy stuff on there’s from people like us.”

They all turned their heads slightly in unison, pretending to sip on their drinks while sneaking another glance at you two.

Jay was laughing softly, head tilted back slightly, and you were smiling so wide it made them freeze for a second.

“…Do you think they’re, like… dating?” one muttered, leaning so far forward their chair creaked.

“Who wouldn’t date him? Look at him.”

Another girl, barely glancing up from her screen, muttered under her breath, “Well… I already submitted it. God, I’m just hoping I don’t get hunted down for this.”

“I—” she lowered her voice even further, leaning in like they were plotting international espionage. “I sent the photo to the gossip page. Anonymous, obviously.” She gestured vaguely to her phone, its screen dimming before anyone else could see proof.

“You’re insane,” the second whispered sharply, eyes wide as they darted between Jay’s table and their friend. “What if it blows up? You know how people get when it’s Jay.”

The third girl bit her lip, bouncing her leg nervously under the table. “This could actually start a war. Like—Decelis girls are rabid for him.”

The first scoffed but kept her voice low. “Please. He’s the one laughing and smiling with her. No one’s gonna blame us.”

The morning air was crisp as you walked beside Kazuha, her long hair tied in a neat ponytail that swayed slightly with each step.

She was already deep in thought, hands gesturing as she discussed the adjustments needed for the ensemble positions in one of the key scenes of your upcoming performance.

“So for that transition after the lift,” she said, brows furrowing, “I think we need to change the diagonal line to a V formation. It’ll fill the stage better once the curtains fully open.”

You nodded, hugging your jacket tighter around you as the cool air bit at your cheeks. “Yeah, that makes sense. The current one feels… a little too cramped for the audience’s perspective.”

Yunjin, walking on your other side with a stack of papers tucked under her arm, glanced up from the rehearsal notes she was scanning. “The performance is in, like… a week and a half, right?”

Kazuha sighed softly but nodded. “Yes. And we still have a lot to go through.”

You groaned, shifting the weight of your dance bag on your shoulder. “Don’t remind me. I can’t even rest without getting yelled at by our coach every morning. I swear she’s got some kind of sixth sense.”

That earned a soft laugh from Yunjin as she flipped to another page. “She probably does. Remember last year? She found out about Chaewon’s sprained ankle before Chaewon even told us.”

Kazuha let out a small laugh too, shaking her head. “Scary but… effective.”

You three turned into the university’s main gates, the familiar sight of towering glass windows and pristine hallways greeting you.

Your steps echoed faintly against the polished floors, but it wasn’t the sound that caught your attention.

It was the stares.

They were subtle at first—lingering glances from groups of students leaning against lockers, hushed whispers trailing in your wake.

You straightened your posture instinctively, forcing your focus on Kazuha as she continued talking about stage placements.

“So, we might have to ask the tech team to adjust the spotlights too,” she said, not noticing the way your eyes briefly flicked to a group of students murmuring to each other by the bulletin board.

“Mm… yeah,” you said quickly, nodding as if to ground yourself in the conversation.

“And maybe we should suggest they do a dry run with us next practice? Just so we’re sure the lighting cues match the music.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Kazuha agreed, her lips quirking upward slightly as she adjusted her tote bag.

Yunjin hummed in agreement too, her eyes still scanning her notes. “I’ll bring it up to the coach later.”

You exhaled quietly, trying to shake off the feeling of eyes on your back. You forced yourself to keep pace with your friends, asking Kazuha another question.

“Do you know if the props department finalized the backdrop yet? Or are we still waiting on their approval?”

Kazuha tilted her head slightly as she thought. “They sent a draft last night. I’ll show it to you later—it’s actually pretty nice.”

“Perfect. Maybe we’ll finally stop tripping over the old backdrops this year,” Yunjin said dryly as she shifted her papers and reached for the door to your first class. She pushed it open, holding it just long enough for you and Kazuha to slip inside behind her.

You were thankful—at least you had this class together. If there was one silver lining to your packed schedule, it was that the three of you always had at least one class to survive as a unit.

But the moment your group stepped in, the atmoshphere in the room changed.

It was subtle at first, like a hush spreading through the front rows, but then a ripple of murmurs followed—soft giggles, whispers too quick to catch, a few phones held lower than usual like people didn’t want to be caught staring.

It felt like the room had somehow gone quiet and loud at the same time.

You furrowed your brows but kept walking, following Kazuha and Yunjin to your usual seats near the middle. Your steps felt heavier with every glance thrown your way—like everyone suddenly remembered you existed.

Yunjin, ever the bold one, plopped her bag down and raised a brow, glancing at one of your classmates sitting nearby. “Okay… what’s going on?”

The girl blinked at her, hesitated, then leaned in conspiratorially. “You didn’t hear?”

You’d barely set your bag down when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning, you found a small group of students peeking at you from behind their seats, wide-eyed and grinning.

“(Y/N)!” one of them whispered excitedly, like they were sharing a secret. “You never told us you were dating the guitarist of Enhypen!”

You blinked. “…I’m sorry—what?”

The group tittered among themselves, holding back laughter like they’d been dying to bring this up.

“You and Jay!” another chimed in, phone clutched tight as if they were ready to pull up evidence. “You were seen eating ramen together last night—like together together.”

Your brows shot up, and you shook your head so quickly it made your hair sway. “Wait, hold on. I’m not—”

“Then how come you two were on a date last night?” someone piped up from the front row, a smug tilt to their voice.

Your head whipped toward them, your brows furrowing even deeper. “Wait—what? How did you even know about that?”

Another voice chimed in, half whispering but loud enough for everyone to hear. “(Y/N)… there were pictures.”

Kazuha’s head snapped up from where she was unzipping her ballet tote, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What pictures?” she asked calmly, though her tone held an edge sharp enough to cut glass.

Before you could even react, a phone was suddenly shoved in your face. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked on the screen.

It was grainy, taken from across the ramen shop, but clear enough. You and Jay. Sitting across from each other.

Your hand covering your mouth mid-laugh while Jay leaned forward, his knuckles resting casually under his chin as he smiled at you.

The warm lights of the shop softened everything, making the scene look far too intimate—romantic even.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “What… where did you even—”

“An anonymous sender,” someone else piped up behind you, sounding far too entertained. “It got posted on the university gossip page this morning.”

Yunjin, standing beside you, let out a sharp laugh—not out of humor but disbelief—as she snatched the phone from the girl’s hand. “Are you serious right now?” she said, scrolling through the post with narrowed eyes.

“This is what Decelis students are doing with their lives? Playing paparazzi?”

Kazuha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as her gaze swept over the room. “So let me get this straight—you’re all making up relationship rumors over one picture of them eating ramen?”

“It wasn’t just ramen!” a boy in the back said, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “There’s another picture! He even walked her back to her dorm. And—”

“Enough!” Yunjin snapped, slamming the phone down onto the nearest desk, making a few students jump. Her eyes darted back to you, voice softening slightly.

“(Y/N), don’t let this get to you. You know how fast this place eats up any ‘scandal.’”

You exhaled shakily, your face burning as you forced a small laugh. “It’s… fine. Let them think whatever they want. It’s not like it’s true anyway.”

Kazuha placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her voice calm and steady. “You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. They’re the ones crossing the line.”

You nodded slowly, biting down the retort building in your throat. What was even the point?

Anything you said now would only feed into their gossip. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line and lowered your gaze, forcing the words down.

“Yeah,” you murmured faintly, though your voice lacked conviction. “You’re right.”

Kazuha’s thumb rubbed small circles against your shoulder before she pulled her hand away, slipping into her seat beside you.

Yunjin, on the other side, gave your arm a reassuring pat as you sank into your chair, the weight of every pair of eyes still prickling at your skin.

“Just breathe, okay?” Yunjin whispered under her breath, leaning slightly toward you as she began to pull her own papers from her tote.

“This will blow over. It always does.”

You offered her a small, tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes before dropping your bag onto the desk with a soft thud.

Slowly, methodically, you began pulling out your notebook, your pen case, your planner—anything to keep your hands occupied as your brain tried to ignore the hiss of whispers that still laced the air around you.

“Didn’t think she was his type…”

“She’s probably just using him to get clout.”

“Or maybe he’s the one using her.”

The murmurs continued, hushed but cruel, as though you weren’t even there.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you uncapped your pen, the tip pressing too hard against the paper as you absently doodled a small flower in the corner of your notes.

“Hey,” Kazuha said softly, turning in her seat to face you. “Ignore them. They don’t know anything.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes still fixed on the messy little flower sketch blooming under your pen. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” she said simply, her voice a quiet anchor.

Yunjin leaned her elbow on the desk, glaring subtly at the students across the room who hadn’t stopped sneaking glances at your table.

“God, the audacity of people here. You laugh with one guy, and suddenly you’re Decelis’ hottest headline.”

“Yunjin—” you started, but she waved you off.

“No, seriously. Let’s see them try saying this crap when Jay himself walks in here. Bet they’d choke on their words,” she muttered, flipping through her papers a little too forcefully.

You forced a laugh at that, though your cheeks burned with unease. “He’s not going to walk in here. This isn’t even his class.”

But even as the words left your lips, a flicker of dread pooled in your stomach at the thought.

What if he heard the whispers and saw the looks and thought… you’d started them?

You shoved the thought down and focused on underlining the date on your planner with shaking hands.

You grumbled under your breath, fingers dragging harshly through your hair before you pressed both hands over your face, willing your nerves to settle.

Your lunch sat cold and forgotten in front of you, the kimchi barely touched except for the absentminded pokes you’d made with your chopsticks.

Eunchae, sitting across from you, watched quietly with knitted brows, her spoon clinking softly against her bowl.

“Hey…” she said hesitantly, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the cafeteria.

Before you could respond, a sharp, irritated voice cut through.

“What?”

Your head snapped up just in time to see Chaewon glaring daggers at a group of passing students. The group, caught in her icy stare, immediately looked away and scurried off like startled mice.

You blinked, startled at her sudden bite. “Chaewon…” you murmured. “You don’t have to scare everyone.”

She sighed, breaking her glare as her eyes softened on you. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

Kazuha, sitting beside her, nodded solemnly as she stabbed at her salad. “She’s right. If you don’t put them in their place, they’ll keep thinking they can talk about you like that.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh, staring back down at your tray. “I don’t want to make things worse…”

Before Kazuha could even open her mouth to argue, a shift in the room’s atmosphere made you freeze.

It was like someone had blanketed the entire cafeteria in a thick hush. Conversations faltered. Spoons hovered midair. Heads began to turn, whispers threading their way from table to table.

You frowned slightly, confused, until Yunjin tilted her chin subtly toward the entrance.

“Don’t freak out,” she murmured.

But then you saw them.

Seven boys—each effortlessly drawing attention without even trying. They strolled into the cafeteria with unbothered expressions, eyes straight ahead as if the stares and hushed gossip didn’t exist.

Your stomach flipped violently as your eyes caught on a familiar figure in a black bomber jacket and lightwash jeans.

Jay.

As the group cut through the rows of tables, Heeseung cracked a grin at something Jungwon muttered. Jake ruffled Ni-ki’s hair before Ni-ki swatted him away. Sunghoon trailed behind, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

But then Jay slowed.

Halfway through the cafeteria, he casually bid the others goodbye, gesturing toward an empty table near the windows. The others gave him nods, and he peeled off—heading straight for your table.

You could’ve sworn your soul left your body.

“Oh no,” you whispered, staring down at your untouched kimchi like it held the answers to life.

“This is it. He doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore. He’s going to say it’s better if we don’t talk.”

Yunjin moved closer to you, catching your panicked expression.

Her sharp eyes flicked to Jay as he approached with long, unhurried strides. “Hey. Breathe. It doesn’t look like he’s about to bite your head off.”

But you couldn’t move—not as he stopped right beside your table, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes soft but unreadable as he looked down at you.

“Hey,” Jay said, his voice warm. Softer than you expected. “Do you want to talk?”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise as your lips parted soundlessly. “I—”

Your friends all exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from smug to encouraging.

Chaewon arched a brow at you meaningfully. Yunjin gave you a small nudge with her elbow. “Go on.”

Kazuha smiled faintly, folding her hands on the table. “We’ll keep your food safe.”

Your throat felt tight as you glanced between Jay and your friends. His gaze didn’t waver—not impatient, not demanding, just patient. Waiting.

Finally, you nodded once, small and tentative. “Y-Yeah… okay.”

He smiled, relief flashing across his features before he stepped aside slightly to give you space.

You pushed your chair back slowly, heart thundering as you stood. “Sorry,” you mumbled to your friends, though you weren’t sure what for.

“Don’t be,” Chaewon said with a teasing smirk. “Text us if we need to drag you back.”

“Or if we need to fight,” Yunjin added with a wink.

You shot them a flustered look before following Jay as he led the way out of the cafeteria, his pace unhurried. You could feel the weight of countless stares on your back as you went, whispers blooming like wildfire in your wake.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt it—a warm, reassuring hand settling lightly against the small of your back.

Your breath hitched. Your steps faltered for half a second.

Jay leaned down slightly, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his breath by your ear as he murmured, voice low and steady, “Ignore them. They don’t deserve any of your attention.”

You stiffened for a moment, not out of discomfort but from the way your heart stuttered in your chest.

Slowly, you turned your head up to him, your voice barely above a whisper, tinted with curiosity. “Then, who does?”

Jay glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes softened as he tilted his head ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against the edge of your blouse.

“Me,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your cheeks flamed, heat crawling all the way to the tips of your ears.

But surprisingly, you didn’t move away. You let him guide you gently, his hand remaining in place only long enough to steer you past the stares and into quieter hallways.

The sound of your sneakers against the polished floor filled the silence as you both walked, the hum of vending machines and distant chatter fading with each step.

The tension in your chest eased little by little, though your mind refused to stop replaying the warmth of his hand on your back and the casual confidence of his words.

Finally, Jay stopped in front of a plain wooden door tucked into a quieter corner of the building. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking it with a faint click before glancing back at you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now.

You stepped inside carefully, your eyes scanning the empty room.

The fluorescent lights flickered to life above, revealing chairs pushed neatly against the walls and two lone seats set in the middle—almost like a makeshift interview setup. A faint scent of fresh paper and disinfectant lingered in the air.

Jay followed you in, letting the door close with a muted thud behind him. “This room’s usually like this,” he said casually, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs.

“They use it for business proposal presentations… or council meetings when the big room’s full.”

He gestured toward one of the two chairs, his expression easygoing. “Sit. Please.”

You hesitated for a beat before moving forward and sinking into the seat, clutching your hands nervously in your lap.

Jay took the other chair across from you, leaning back slightly as he rested one ankle on his knee, fingers lacing loosely in his lap.

For a moment, the only sound between you was the faint buzz of the lights above. Then Jay exhaled softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his tone calm and careful, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You inhaled shakily, eyes falling to your lap where your fingers were fiddling nervously with the edge of your blouse. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Jay didn’t push. He stayed still, leaning slightly forward in his chair as if closing the gap between you would make the words come easier.

“Everything’s happening too fast,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “And it feels like my life, my choices—suddenly became everybody’s business.”

Your words cracked faintly at the end, and you swallowed hard, forcing back the tightness in your chest as you finally dared to look up at him. Your eyes were glassy, a sheen of tears catching the sterile light.

Jay’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression tender as he leaned in closer. He sighed softly.

“Is this how you usually feel?” you asked, voice small and unsure.

He gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out a neatly folded black handkerchief. Without a word, he held it out to you.

You blinked at it before murmuring a quiet, “Thanks,” and taking it hesitantly.

“Yes,” Jay said finally, his thumb brushing against his palm as if grounding himself.

“But that doesn’t mean I let it get to me. I don’t care about their noise when they don’t even know me.”

He hesitated for a breath before his hand reached across the small gap between you, gently closing over yours where it gripped the handkerchief too tightly.

His touch was warm and calming, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke again.

“(Y/N), I know they’re spouting bullshit out there. Gossip is just… gossip. They don’t know anything about you. Or me.”

You sniffled, trying to lighten the thick air between you. “Says the famous one,” you teased weakly, your lips tugging up just slightly.

Jay let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and warm in the quiet room.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, his smile softening as he tugged the handkerchief gently from your hold.

Before you could react, he leaned in a little closer, his hand deft and surprisingly tender as he dabbed under your lashes, catching the tears that had managed to escape.

“Stop crying now,” he murmured, his voice gentle but laced with a hint of teasing. “I pulled you away to talk to you, not make you cry, you know.”

A small laugh bubbled out of you, watery and embarrassed, as you lowered your gaze. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Jay shook his head slightly, his dark eyes still fixed on you as he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

Then he leaned back slightly, his fingers brushing against his knee as he exhaled through his nose. “I have a proposal.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “A proposal?”

His lips quirked—not quite a smirk, but something softer, almost shy. “Yeah. How about we give them something real to talk about?”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Jay’s gaze flicked to the side for a second, his fingers tapping against his thigh nervously. “Well… only if you’re comfortable with it. And I—I don’t want to force you into anything, okay? Like, if it’s too weird or—”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped as you reached forward, your fingers brushing his arm lightly. “Jay, calm down.”

He stuttered to a stop, his cheeks blooming a faint shade of red as his lips parted. “Sorry… I just—I mean…” His voice dipped lower as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes for a moment.

“What if we fake date?”

Your brows shot up, surprise written all over your face. “Fake date?” you repeated, leaning back slightly in your seat, head tilting as you regarded him.

“How is that going to help?”

Jay sat up straighter, determination replacing some of his earlier hesitation. “It will. Think about it—if we own up to it, maybe people will stop talking. They’ll stop whispering and speculating because there won’t be anything left for them to ‘discover.’”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly. “All they’ve talked about this morning was me and you.”

Your lips parted in shock. “You’ve heard that too?”

He shrugged, his expression wry. “They weren’t exactly subtle.” His hand shifted, propping against the armrest of his chair as he leaned his chin into his palm, eyes fixed on you with quiet expectation.

“So… are you in?”

You glanced down at your hands for a moment, thoughts swirling. Part of you knew it was risky—dangerous even—letting people believe something that wasn’t true.

But at the same time, maybe it could help. If you and Jay played into the rumor, controlled the narrative, maybe the stares and whispers would die down faster.

And—your mind whispered traitorously—if it’s with Jay, would it really be so bad?

Your eyes flicked back to him slowly, his posture so relaxed yet his eyes holding just a flicker of nervousness. You nodded once, small but certain.

Jay’s brows lifted a fraction. “Wait—that’s a yes?”

A small laugh bubbled from your chest, easing some of the tension in the room. “It’s a yes.”

“Oh god,” Jay muttered, letting out a relieved laugh as he leaned back in his chair, covering his face with his hands for a second. “Great. Because this would’ve been really embarrassing otherwise.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Jay…” you said with a laugh, watching as he peeked at you through his fingers, still looking half-shy and half-relieved.

“What?” he said, dropping his hands and smiling sheepishly. “You don’t understand—if you’d said no, I’d have had to transfer schools or something.”

“Oh, come on,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a soft laugh. “You’d survive.”

Jay lowered his hands, the grin still tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “You do realize people see me as some emo guitarist with no heart, right?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him as your smile lingered. “I don’t.”

He blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in your tone. Then—just faintly—his lips curled into a small, quiet smile that didn’t quite reach his usual confident smirk.

It was softer. It was real.

Jay didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stood up smoothly, extending his hand toward you. “Come on.”

You blinked at his outstretched hand, then placed yours in his, letting him pull you up.

“What now?” you asked curiously, steadying yourself as he grabbed his black jacket draped over the back of his chair.

He stepped closer—close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his cologne—and carefully draped the jacket over your shoulders.

The fabric was warm and smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry. His fingers lingered for a moment as he adjusted it, tugging the lapels gently until you were snug in the oversized material.

You blinked up at him, flustered. “Jay…?”

He met your gaze, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “We do this naturally,” he said, voice low but steady.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you slid your arms properly through the jacket sleeves, the oversized fit practically swallowing you whole.

“There,” Jay said softly, satisfied as he took a small step back to admire his handiwork.

Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed your hand again, his long fingers curling loosely around yours. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You let out a surprised laugh as he tugged you gently toward the door. “Wait—where are we going?”

“What’s your next class?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at you with an easy grin.

“Performance training. Fourth floor,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your heart was thudding at the casual way he held your hand.

“Perfect,” he said simply. Jay pulled his keys from his pocket with his free hand, locking the room behind you with a soft click.

As the two of you stepped into the quiet hallway, his thumb brushed idly against the back of your hand, sending a small spark of warmth up your arm.

“You know,” he mused lightly as you walked, “people are going to lose their minds when they see us.”

You shot him a teasing glance, hugging his jacket closer to yourself. “And you’re okay with that?”

Jay looked down at you, his smile curling mischievously now. “Let them talk. Isn’t that the point?”

You could only laugh, shaking your head at his words, the sound soft but real. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, letting him tug you gently toward the nearest elevator.

“Unbelievably charming?” Jay teased without missing a beat, glancing back at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Unbelievably something,” you retorted, hugging his jacket a little tighter around your shoulders.

The elevator doors slid open with a chime, revealing an almost full car of students. The hum of conversations dulled instantly when you both stepped in, as if the air had been sucked out of the space.

You could feel the weight of their stares burning into your back, whispers beginning to bloom like wildfire again—but you and Jay? You didn’t so much as flinch.

If anything, Jay’s grip on your hand only tightened as he subtly moved his body closer to yours, his arm brushing yours in the cramped space.

“What room?” he asked you quietly, voice low enough that only you could hear over the faint hum of the elevator.

You tilted your head slightly toward him. “Room 408.”

He nodded, his thumb rubbing lazily over the back of your hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The small, absentminded gesture made your chest tighten for reasons you couldn’t quite place.

You caught sight of your reflection in the polished metal of the elevator walls—his black jacket still draped over your shoulders, your hands linked, his posture casual yet protective.

You wondered, briefly, if this was what it might look like if it weren’t fake.

The elevator chimed again, the doors sliding open on the fourth floor. Jay stepped out first but didn’t let go of your hand, tugging you gently along.

The whispers started again behind you as the doors closed, but you barely heard them this time.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It was six in the evening and the studio was buzzing with muted conversations, the faint squeak of ballet shoes against polished wood, and the soft shuffle of fabric as dancers adjusted their skirts.

You nodded eagerly, brushing a stray hair from your face as your coach clapped her hands loudly.

“Alright, dancers—positions! Let’s clean the second half from the top,” she called, her voice stern yet warm. “And please—fingers! Hands are not claws. You’re not hunting prey.”

A few girls giggled softly at her remark, and you couldn’t help but smile too as you wiped the sheen of sweat forming on your forehead with the edge of your sleeve.

You were about to walk back to the center when your coach’s eyes caught yours. She raised her hand and beckoned you over.

“(Y/N), come here a second.”

You jogged toward her, the sound of your slippers padding lightly against the floor. “What’s the matter, coach?” you asked, catching your breath as you stopped in front of her.

She smiled kindly, her hands folded behind her back. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Actually, I wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind helping me out.”

Your brows furrowed slightly in curiosity. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Well…” She leaned in just a little, speaking low so only you could hear.

“After practice, would you and Yunjin mind getting everyone’s measurements for the final fittings? I need them sent over tonight so the costume department has time to adjust. I’d do it myself, but…” she gestured to the clipboard in her hand with a small sigh, “I’m staying back for a meeting after this.”

You nodded instantly. “Not at all, coach. I can handle it.”

“Perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a lifesaver.” She patted your shoulder briefly before straightening.

“Now get back into formation before I change my mind about calling you a sweetheart.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you jogged back toward your place.

The coach clapped her hands again, her eyes sweeping over the group like a hawk. “Alright—last run for today! I want grace, I want strength, I want artistry. And no, before you ask—falling out of a pirouette does not count as artistry.”

Groans rippled through the room, but you all fell back into your spots, shoulders lifting as you prepared.

Your chest rose and fell in rhythm as you lifted your arms, letting your body melt into the choreography. The music filled your lungs, your legs burning slightly as you held your arabesque a beat longer than usual.

“Good, good,” your coach’s voice echoed over the melody.

“(Y/N), mind your port de bras—don’t let it droop. Kazuha, sharper in the turns! And everyone—remember, this isn’t just steps. Tell me the story!”

The floor creaked faintly under your weight as you moved, sweat trailing down the back of your neck, but you didn’t falter.

Not when college week was so close. Not when this performance mattered so much.

As the music came to its tender close, you exhaled deeply, chest heaving as you dropped your arms gently.

Your coach clapped once. “Better. Much better. That’s the energy I want! Take five, then we’ll cool down.”

You bent slightly, hands on your knees as you caught your breath, already running through the routine in your mind again.

From across the studio, Yunjin—clipboard in hand, hair tied in a loose bun—flashed you a thumbs up.

Around you, the room hummed with life again as the dancers dispersed—some chatting in clusters, others flopping onto the floor in dramatic exhaustion.

“Kazuha, please,” you heard Chaewon wail from somewhere to your right. “I still have energy for at least another hour!”

“You’ve been dancing for four,” Kazuha said calmly, pressing her hand to Chawon’s shoulder like she was trying to ground a hyperactive child. “Sit down before you combust.”

You stifled a laugh and made your way over to Yunjin, clutching your water bottle like a lifeline. She was scribbling something on her clipboard, her brows furrowed in deep thought.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying not to startle her. “Coach asked me to rope you into measurement duty later.”

Yunjin looked up, eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh really? She knows I’m too much of a pushover to say no.”

You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “We can do it tomorrow if that’s okay with you. I mean, we’re both dead tired—”

But Yunjin shook her head before you could even finish. “No need.” She made another quick note on her clipboard and clicked her pen shut.

You blinked at her, confused. “No need? What do you mean?”

She tucked the pen behind her ear and gave you a breezy grin.

“I’ve already got it handled. I’ll coordinate with the other members of the costume department tonight. I’ll send out a group chat to set up measurement stations tomorrow. You don’t need to fuss over it.”

“Yunjin…” You let out a heavy sigh, guilt tugging at your chest. “I was supposed to help with that. Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” she said simply, waving you off as she slung the clipboard under her arm.

“You’re already carrying enough. Besides, I’m not in pointe shoes for four hours straight, so I have no excuse.”

You exhaled, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over you. “Thanks, Jin. Seriously. I owe you.”

“You can repay me by buying me milk tea later,” she teased with a wink. “Large size. Extra pearls.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Deal.”

“Alright, everyone!” Coach’s voice boomed across the studio, cutting through the chatter. “Circle up for cooldown. Don’t make me say it twice—your muscles will hate you tomorrow if you skip this.”

The dancers groaned collectively but began gathering in a loose circle, some dragging their feet dramatically. You joined the group, dropping down onto the polished wood floor with a tired huff.

Next to you, Kazuha stretched her arms overhead, giving you a knowing smile. “Survived another day.”

“Barely,” you murmured, already easing into a seated forward fold as Coach clapped her hands and started the cooldown routine.

It was comforting—the soft shuffle of tired dancers, the stretch of overworked muscles, and the low murmur of voices winding down after hours of practice.

But in the blink of an eye, the calm turned into a wave of movement.

One by one, your classmates started piling out of the studio, chattering about dinner plans and upcoming assignments, shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor.

The sound of duffel bags zipping shut and water bottles being tossed into totes filled the air.

It wasn’t long before the room emptied, leaving you and Kazuha as usual—the last two standing. Or rather, sitting.

She remained cross-legged beside you, her expression relaxed as she scrolled through her phone, strands of hair sticking to her temples from sweat.

“Okay, okay. I need to use the restroom,” Kazuha finally said, pushing herself up with a small groan.

She grabbed her jacket off the floor and slung it over her shoulder. “You’ll be fine for five minutes, right?”

You glanced up at her with a tired grin. “Go. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kazuha paused near the doorway, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Do you want me to grab you anything on the way back? Food? Bubble tea?”

You narrowed your eyes at her teasing tone, already knowing where this was heading. “Don’t you dare start.”

But before you could even huff properly, she bolted out of the studio like a flash, laughing under her breath as her voice echoed down the hall. “Think about it! You might need comfort food after this!”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head with a small laugh as you leaned back on your palms. “Typical Zuha.”

The studio fell silent again, save for the faint creak of the air conditioning and the dull thud of your heartbeat finally steadying.

You glanced around—bags piled neatly by the mirrors, ballet shoes strewn on the benches, lights faintly reflecting off the polished wood floor.

Pushing yourself off the ground with a little groan, you grabbed your phone from your tote bag and connected it to the studio speakers.

With a few taps, a familiar melody filled the room, echoing warmly in the open space. You huffed, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face.

“Might as well be productive,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your shoulders as you stepped into position.

The soft piano introduction sent a wave of calm over you, your body falling naturally into the choreography.

Your satin skirt fluttered around your legs with every turn, the delicate fabric catching in the faint light.

Your movements grew fluid—each arabesque melting into a pirouette, each plié steady and precise. It was just you and the song, the rest of the world fading beyond the mirrored walls.

As the final notes played, you eased into your ending pose. A deep exhale escaped your lips, a sheen of sweat clinging to your skin. Straightening your posture, you let the quiet settle again.

But before you could fully catch your breath, three soft knocks sounded against the studio door.

You blinked, startled, and quickly dusted yourself off, running a hand over your slightly damp hair. Without bothering to peek through the glass panel, you strode over and pulled the door open.

Jay.

Guitar case slung casually over one shoulder, a plastic bag hanging from his other hand. He was still dressed in the same black shirt and jeans from earlier, his sleeves slightly rolled up.

“Hey,” he greeted simply, voice warm in the otherwise quiet hallway. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Jay? What… are you doing here?”

He tilted his head slightly, his usual stoic expression softening into a small grin. “My last class ended early, and band practice doesn’t start for another hour,” he said casually, stepping fully into the studio. “So, I thought… might as well be early.”

You moved aside instinctively, still gripping the door as you gestured for him to enter. “Oh. Right. Makes sense.”

As he stepped past you, you caught the faint smell of cologne mixed with something earthy and clean—like he’d walked straight from the evening breeze.

“And,” Jay added with a little more playfulness this time, setting his guitar case carefully against the wall and pulling a plastic bag from his wrist, “I’m trying to be a good boyfriend anyways.”

That made you pause mid-step, your breath catching faintly as your cheeks flushed.

You glanced at him, your lips twitching between a nervous smile and something incredulous. “Boyfriend, huh?”

He caught your gaze briefly, smirking faintly but saying nothing.

Instead, he grabbed two nearby chairs, scraping them gently across the polished wood floor. He turned them to face each other before sliding them up against the wall.

“Come sit,” he said simply, gesturing for you to take one of the chairs. “You look like you could use a break before your legs decide to give out.”

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, still flustered but oddly comforted. “Fine. But only because my legs actually might.”

You crossed the room and sat on the chair he set out, purposely scooting it a little away to put some space between you.

But Jay’s brows furrowed ever so slightly as he noticed, his hand reaching out without hesitation to grab the edge of your chair.

“Hey,” he muttered, pulling you closer until the legs of your chair lightly scraped against his. “None of that distance stuff. We’re supposed to be dating, remember?”

You sputtered, warmth creeping up your neck. “I—Jay!”

“What?” he asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Before you could argue further, he reached for the plastic bag resting at his feet and pulled out a small carton of banana milk and a neatly wrapped loaf of milk bread. He held them out to you casually.

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Wait—how’d you… how’d you know I like milk bread too?”

Jay didn’t miss a beat as he grabbed his own drink from the bag—an energy drink, the top already popped open.

“I asked Ni-ki,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip. “Who asked Kazuha.”

You stared at him incredulously, unable to stop the smile forming on your lips. “Kazuha already unblocked Ni-ki?”

Jay shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “I guess so. Or maybe Ni-ki just bribed her for information. You know how he is.”

As you were still processing that, Jay gently reached over again, plucking the banana milk from your hands.

He tore the straw from its wrapper with one swift move and punched it into the carton with ease before handing it back to you.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the carton back, cheeks warming even more at the simple gesture.

“Thanks,” you murmured, trying not to let your voice give too much away.

Jay leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle casually on his knee as he watched you take a sip. “You don’t have to thank me every time, you know.”

You glanced at him from over the rim of your carton, lips quirking. “Maybe I just feel like you’re spoiling me.”

He smirked faintly, his gaze flicking away briefly as if to hide the warmth creeping into his eyes. “Good. Get used to it.”

You let out a soft breath, leaning your head back against the cool studio wall. The fatigue settling into your limbs made it feel easier to just sink into the stillness for a moment.

Jay tilted his head, watching you with those calm, unreadable eyes before giving your arm a light nudge.

“Don’t lean on the wall,” he said, voice low but teasing. “Lean on me instead.”

You shot him a sideways glance, lips pressing into a thin line like you were considering fighting him on it, but the way he was already patting his shoulder expectantly made you sigh in defeat.

“You’re so persistent,” you muttered, shifting closer until your head came to rest on his shoulder.

The scent of his cologne—subtle yet expensive—immediately filled your senses. It wasn’t overpowering, but warm and grounding, the kind of scent that could become addicting if you weren’t careful.

You forced yourself to take another sip of your banana milk, hoping the sweetness would mask the strange flutter in your chest.

“Are you like this with every girl you date?” you asked quietly, almost testing, as your thumb rubbed over the carton’s edge.

Jay hummed, his head turning slightly so the side of his face brushed against your hair. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever dated.”

You let out a short huff of disbelief. “Stop lying, Park Jongseong.”

He chuckled at your reaction, his voice low and rich as it rumbled in his chest. “I’m not lying. You really are the first.”

The confession made your throat tighten for reasons you couldn’t quite name. You turned your gaze down to the milk bread still resting in your lap, picking at the edges of the plastic wrap nervously.

“Well, you’re mine too,” you admitted softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, “even if it’s fake.”

Jay chuckled quietly at that, but it wasn’t the amused sound you were used to—it was quieter, almost bitter around the edges. “Yeah,” he murmured, leaning his head gently against yours.

The weight of it sent a little shiver down your spine, and for a second neither of you moved, the faint thrum of the studio speakers humming in the background like a heartbeat.

Without thinking, you reached for his free hand, fingers brushing against his knuckles before intertwining with his. His larger hand folded instinctively around yours, warm and steady, as you pulled it onto your lap.

Jay didn’t say anything, but you caught the faintest upward curl of his lips reflected in the mirror across the studio.

He leaned in a little closer, gaze softening as he studied your mirrored forms—your loose hair slightly frizzed from practice, his dark shirt and jeans stark against your lighter tones.

His lips twitched, almost like he was amused at the contrast, but the smile he gave himself was small, private, and a little too fond for comfort.

“Kazuha’s taking too long,” you said after a moment, trying to shake off the quiet.

“Yeah?” Jay asked lazily, his thumb tracing a light circle over the back of your hand. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Said she needed to go to the bathroom,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “But knowing her, she’s probably halfway back from the convenience store.”

Jay let out a soft laugh, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Just like Ni-ki. I swear those two are more alike than they’d ever admit.”

“They really are,” you said with a small laugh of your own. “Chaos magnets.”

“Mmhm,” Jay agreed, the corners of his mouth quirking upward again.

He set down his half-finished energy drink on the floor beside him, leaning forward slightly as he fished his phone from his jeans pocket.

You blinked as he opened the camera app and tilted the screen toward the two of you, positioning it just right.

“Come on, pretty,” he coaxed, voice soft but playful as his thumb hovered over the shutter button.

You bit your lip, cheeks warming again as you leaned slightly closer to him for the photo.

Jay’s arm brushed yours as the phone clicked softly, capturing the two of you in the warm, lazy glow of the studio lights.

Before you could pull back, he flipped the camera one more time, holding it at a slightly higher angle.

You turned your head just as he snapped another picture, catching your profile in the frame, your loose hair falling effortlessly over your shoulder.

Jay studied the second photo, lips quirking upward faintly like he was proud of his candid capture. “Perfect,” he murmured to himself.

“Can I see?” you asked, craning your neck a little.

He angled the phone toward you, and you caught the sight of yourself leaning slightly against him, hair a little messy but soft, his hand still intertwined with yours in your lap.

“Not bad,” you teased lightly, sipping at your banana milk.

Jay let out a small chuckle, thumb hovering over the ‘post’ button as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Can I put this on my story?”

You froze for a heartbeat, eyes darting between him and the phone. But the image staring back at you didn’t feel awkward or fake—it felt oddly comfortable.

“Yeah,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.

His grin widened—barely, but enough for you to notice—as he quickly typed out a single little swan emoji followed before he hit ‘post.’

You blinked at the words, trying not to let your smile give too much away as you took another sip of your drink. “White swan?” you asked, amusement creeping into your tone.

Jay glanced down at you, his dark eyes glinting. “What? You don’t like it?”

You shook your head, cheeks warming as you ducked slightly. “No… it’s cute.”

The studio felt more like a playground than a rehearsal room.

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt as Jake bolted across the space, Sunghoon hot on his heels with a rolled-up sheet of paper like a sword.

“Sim Jaeyun!” Sunghoon yelled, his voice cracking slightly as he swung the paper at Jake’s retreating back.

Jake screeched dramatically, nearly tripping over a stray cable. “It was an accident, I swear!”

“Accident my ass!” Sunghoon shouted, finally whacking Jake on the shoulder with the makeshift sword. Jake yelped and flailed like a kid caught red-handed.

From his seat, Jay gave them a tired glance. “This is a music studio, not a playground,” he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Heeseung, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, couldn’t hide his grin. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

On the other side of the room, Kazuha was locked in a bickering match with Ni-ki over a knotted mess of amp wires.

“I told you to untangle these before rehearsal!” Kazuha snapped, tugging on one stubborn cable.

Ni-ki threw his hands up defensively. “Hey! Don’t blame me—Jay was the last one to use this amp!”

“Ni-ki, don’t you dare drag me into your mess,” Jay said lazily without even looking up.

Amid all this, Jay finally set his guitar aside and stood. He made his way to where you sat on the floor with your knees pulled up and your bag acting as a makeshift backrest.

Without a word, he dropped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him, and then—to your surprise—he gently laid his head across your thighs with a dramatic sigh.

“They scare me sometimes,” he murmured, staring blankly up at the ceiling as if Jake and Sunghoon’s antics were some unsolvable cosmic riddle.

You bit back a laugh, reaching down instinctively to run your fingers through his dark hair.

“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” you teased, your fingers combing gently through the soft strands.

Jay let out another exaggerated sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. “Hell no. You don’t get used to idiots. You just survive them.”

You shook your head, laughing under your breath. “Survive them? You’re dramatic.”

“I’m honest,” he shot back, cracking one eye open to look at you. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re lucky you haven’t been around them for long. Me? I’ve seen things.”

You raised a brow, fingers still threading lazily through his hair. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Jake pouring an entire bottle of soda on his guitar case because he thought it was waterproof,” Jay deadpanned. “And Sunghoon trying to dry it with a blow dryer while the guitar was still inside.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of you at the mental image. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I was.”

You were about to tease him again when you realized—the room had gone eerily quiet.

The laughter, the yelling, even Kazuha’s dramatic scolding of Ni-ki—all of it had stopped.

Your fingers froze in Jay’s hair as you slowly looked up, only to find everyone staring.

Heeseung stood frozen mid-page flip, eyes wide. Jungwon had paused with his pencil half-raised like he’d forgotten what writing was. Kazuha and Ni-ki were no longer bickering about wires, now both gawking at you like you’d grown a second head.

Sunoo was the first to break the tense silence with his sharp voice cutting through: “Since when did you two get so close?”

Jay cracked open one eye, looking at Sunoo lazily as though this wasn’t the most incriminating position to be in—head in your lap, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

“…We’re dating.”

You could feel your soul leave your body.

“What?!” Ni-ki shouted so loud Kazuha flinched. “What the fuck—since when?!”

Kazuha blinked rapidly, voice rising in pitch. “I’m sorry—what?! Jay, repeat that!”

“Since when?!” Sunoo echoed again, clutching his chest like Jay had just personally betrayed him.

Jay sat up slightly but didn’t move far, propping his chin lazily in his hand as his smirk grew wider. “Do I need to print you all a timeline?”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped as Jungwon mumbled under his breath, “This has to be a prank. Jay doesn’t even like people.”

Kazuha’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “You—you’re dating—(Y/N)?”

Jay’s dark eyes slid to her as he tilted his head. “Problem?”

She sputtered. “No! I just—I didn’t—I didn’t know you knew how to date!”

“Rude,” Jay said dryly, but there was amusement tugging at his lips. He finally leaned fully away from you, though not before brushing his hand over yours casually.

You, meanwhile, wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Jay—” you hissed under your breath, cheeks burning.

“What?” he whispered back with the faintest smirk. “We’re fake dating, right? So why not sell it?”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you muttered, face still hot as you looked away from the group.

Jay only smirked, standing up and casually ruffling your hair as he passed. “Says you, pretty.”

You swatted at his hand, glare sharp, but it only made him chuckle lowly as he strode off—the picture of someone completely unbothered.

As your eyes lingered on his back, you felt someone sit beside you. Kazuha had dropped onto the floor next to you, her brows arched so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline.

“(Y/N),” she whispered sharply, leaning in close, her ponytail swinging. “You have three seconds—three—before I combust. Start talking.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line, waving your hands slightly. “Shh—it’s fake.”

Kazuha blinked. “…Fake?” Her voice was still hushed but dripping with disbelief.

“Yeah,” you whispered, shifting uncomfortably as you leaned your head back against the cool mirror behind you.

“We did it so… everybody would shut up. About all the gossip. About me. About him.”

Kazuha’s brows furrowed as she processed the words. Her gaze flicked between you and Jay across the room—where he was now slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder, laughing at something Jungwon said.

She moved a little closer, her tone softer now. “Well… as long as you two don’t regret it.”

You offered her a small, tired smile, fingers playing with the edge of your sleeve. “Yeah. I know. It’s not… it’s not like we’re planning for this to last forever.”

Kazuha sighed, her hand settling gently on your arm in a way that made the tightness in your chest loosen slightly.

“I just… don’t want you getting hurt, (Y/n). You’re too soft for this, and he’s—” She stopped herself with a quiet exhale. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you whispered back, looking at her with a faint smile. “And… I’m glad you care about me that way.”

Your gaze drifted back across the room—unwilling, yet magnetic.

Jay had his guitar fully strapped on now, his fingers effortlessly checking the tuning as his bandmates huddled around him.

Despite his focus on Jungwon’s animated explanation, he caught your eyes across the distance.

The faintest smile tugged at his lips. One so soft and unguarded it felt wrong for it to belong to the Park Jongseong people whispered about.

Then he turned back, nodding at something Jungwon said, his voice low but calm.

You swallowed down the weight blooming in your chest, unsure what to call it.

It had been three days since you agreed to fake date Park Jongseong.

Three days of shared meals.

Three days of him showing up at the studio earlier than necessary, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you practice with that lazy smile.

Three days of him walking you to your next class—hand in hand like it was second nature—his own classes long forgotten as he grinned at you like you were his syllabus.

And now, you were alone.

The warm air of the coffee shop clung to your oversized bomber jacket, the faint remnants of Jay’s cologne still lingering in the fabric like a quiet ghost.

Your fingers flew across your keyboard, the laptop screen glowing harshly against the dim, cozy lights of the café. Half-empty mugs littered the table—one of them yours, the other untouched, bought out of habit as if Jay were here too.

You let out a groan, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. “Ugh. Why is this so hard?” you mumbled under your breath, staring at the blinking cursor taunting you with the words ‘final paper due before college week’ at the top of your document.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the lack of Jay.

You sighed again, slumping into the wooden chair.

Dangerous. This was dangerous. Because Park Jongseong wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Like air you couldn’t stop breathing. Like the warmth in your chest when he’d casually brush the back of your hand with his thumb during a walk.

‘You’re getting attached,’ a voice in your head whispered—you knew it was true.

Your phone buzzed suddenly, sliding slightly on the table. You blinked, snatching it up as your heart did a stupid little leap at the name lighting up your screen.

jay 🐈‍⬛ [3:27 P.M.]: what are you doing right now, pretty?

You exhaled, typing back quickly.

you [3:27 P.M.]: drowning in a final paper. what about you?

It didn’t even take him thirty seconds to reply.

jay 🐈‍⬛ [3:27 P.M.]: i know, look outside.

Brows furrowing, you twisted in your seat, eyes scanning past the glass window. And there he was.

Park Jongseong, dressed casually in a black cardigan layered over a white shirt and jeans, a black messenger bag slung across his body. Black-framed glasses sat neatly on his nose, catching the warm café lights. A small grin played at his lips as he walked toward the entrance, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Your laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, your cheeks warming as he stepped into the cozy café light and headed straight for your booth. He moved with that same calm, unhurried stride that always made people turn their heads without him even trying.

As he reached you, Jay tipped his chin toward the empty space on the leather seat next to you, one brow raised playfully. “Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head with a grin, scooting over instinctively to give him space. “Nope. All yours.”

“Good,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement as his gaze flicked briefly to the faint remains of your croissant on the plate.

But instead of sitting down, he rested his hand casually on the booth’s backrest and asked, “What do you want?”

“Food,” he clarified with a small smile, nodding toward the menu displayed on the table. “What do you want? You’ve been here for hours—you’ve probably run off caffeine alone.”

“I already had coffee,” you admitted, gesturing to the half-empty cup beside your laptop, “and a matcha latte. Plus…” You pointed sheepishly to the empty plate. “A croissant. Even.”

Jay’s eyes followed your gesture, then drifted back to you, unimpressed. “That’s it?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a sheepish smile.

But he only shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Do you want those red velvet cookies you like? And another cup of matcha?”

Your lips twitched into a small, embarrassed grin as you nodded, unable to argue. “Maybe… yeah.”

“Thought so.” His voice softened with a quiet fondness as he glanced down at your nearly drained cup again.

“Oh,” you said quickly, remembering, “I actually got you coffee earlier, but…” You gestured toward the untouched cup in front of you, ice long since melted. “It’s, uh, a little sad now.”

Jay looked at it, then back at you, the corner of his lips twitching upward as he interrupted, “I’ll drink it. Don’t worry.”

You raised a brow. “You sure? It’s basically room temperature coffee-flavored water at this point.”

“I’ve survived worse.” His grin deepened as he reached for the cup and took a sip anyway, not even flinching. “See? Still good.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in disbelief as you muttered, “You’re unbelievable.”

Jay set his messenger bag down gently beside you, only grabbing his wallet before straightening up again.

“I’ll get your order. Stay here. And don’t touch your laptop for five minutes, okay? Your brain needs a break.”

You watched him retreat toward the counter, his black cardigan catching in the warm café lights, and you couldn’t help the way your heart squeezed a little at how effortless he made it feel—this caring, this being around you.

It didn’t even take two minutes before he was back, balancing a small plate in one hand with a red velvet cookie neatly placed in the center and an iced matcha latte in the other.

He set them down gently on the table like they were precious cargo, the ice in the matcha clinking softly as he slid the plate closer to you.

“There,” Jay said with quiet satisfaction, sliding into the booth beside you. He pulled his messenger bag into his lap, unzipping it to fish out his own laptop. “Now you have no excuse not to take a break.”

You smiled at him gratefully, fingers curling around the cold cup. “Thank you, Jay.”

He arched a brow at you as he flipped open his laptop, the corners of his lips twitching into that familiar teasing grin. “So, how’s my pretty girl doing?”

You nearly choked on your sip of matcha, setting the cup down with a soft thunk. “You—” You groaned, burying your face into your hands as your cheeks burned. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes as he rested an elbow on the table, chin propped in his palm. “It’s the truth.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered through your hands, trying and failing to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Jay only chuckled, reaching out to gently tug your hands away from your face. “C’mere.”

You sighed in defeat and leaned against his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you as his arm automatically draped across your shoulders. His thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles against your upper arm.

“This paper’s going to be the end of me,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as you pressed your face lightly into the soft fabric of his cardigan.

Jay tilted his head slightly, glancing down at you with a soft huff of laughter. “No, it’s not. You’re too stubborn to let a paper win.”

You groaned again, closing your eyes as he gently shifted his hand to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. “I’m serious, Jay. I’ve rewritten this paragraph five times. I feel like my brain’s turned to mush.”

“You’re too cute when you’re frustrated,” Jay teased, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles on your shoulder as you buried your face in your hands.

You groaned louder this time. “Stop trying to charm me and help me instead,” you mumbled through your palms.

He laughed under his breath, warm and soft. “Alright, alright. I’ll help you. Come on—send me the document.”

You peeked at him from between your fingers, eyes narrowing playfully. “You? Help me? Jay, you hate English too. I know you do.”

Jay smirked, leaning slightly closer as his black-framed glasses slipped just a little down his nose. “Are you forgetting I grew up in the States?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard before a laugh escaped your lips. “Oh my God… yeah. I forgot about that.” You leaned your head back against his shoulder, eyes closing briefly.

“That’s actually so unfair. You’re good at everything, aren’t you?”

Jay chuckled, his hand moving from your shoulder to tap your chin so you’d look at him. “Not everything. But helping my pretty girlfriend survive her final paper? That I can do.”

You tilted your head at him, trying not to smile too hard as you asked, “Are you really sure about helping me? I don’t want to hear you complain halfway through.”

“Do you even have to ask?” he replied smoothly, already pulling out his laptop and sliding it closer. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he murmured, “Password?”

You sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide your smile as you pushed your laptop toward him. “Fine, Mr. Fluent. But if I still fail this paper, I’m blaming you.”

Jay laughed, eyes crinkling as he adjusted his glasses. “Deal. But trust me—you won’t. Now, let’s see what’s turning your brain to mush.”

The warmth of his presence next to you, his voice laced with soft amusement, made it dangerously easy to forget this was all supposed to be fake.

Before either of you noticed, time had slipped past. The soft hum of the coffee shop dimmed as people filtered out, chairs scraping lightly against the floor.

Your eyes wandered to the window, catching the faint blur of water streaking down the glass.

“It’s raining,” you murmured, voice soft with surprise.

Jay’s fingers paused on the keyboard, his black-framed glasses reflecting the dull glow of his screen as he looked at you. Then, he turned his head toward the window, sighing. “Well, we can’t do anything about it now.”

You frowned, hugging the bomber jacket closer as your thoughts drifted. “I need to feed Doobu.”

Jay’s gaze flicked back to you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You really are such a mom to that cat,” he teased lightly.

When your frown deepened, he chuckled and shut his laptop with a soft snap. “Good thing I’m prepared then.”

Your brows knitted as he leaned back in his chair and reached for his messenger bag. With an almost theatrical flourish, he pulled out a sleek black umbrella and gave it a little twirl in his hand.

“Really?” you asked, surprise breaking through your pout.

“Really,” he said, grin widening as he stood and offered you a hand. “Now pack up, pretty. We’re heading back before the rain gets any worse.”

You hesitated for a beat, staring at his outstretched hand and the casual way he said we’re heading back—like it was natural for him to be the one bringing you home.

With a soft huff, you started gathering your things, mumbling, “You act like I didn’t have a plan for getting back.”

Jay smirked knowingly. “Did that plan involve walking back alone in the rain with your laptop and a stack of papers?”

“…Maybe.”

He clicked his tongue, amusement glinting in his eyes.

As you zipped your bag and pushed it onto your shoulder, Jay was already standing, the black umbrella held loosely in one hand. His other hand was outstretched toward you, palm open, waiting.

You blinked at his hand for a moment before slipping your own into his, feeling the gentle but firm grip as his fingers curled around yours.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with a teasing undertone, dark eyes watching your face like he was memorizing it.

You gave a small nod, lips tugging upward despite the way your cheeks heated under his gaze. “Yeah. Let’s go before it gets any worse.”

The dorm lobby was alive with chatter—the low hum of voices, the occasional squeak of wet sneakers against polished floors, and the rhythmic drip of umbrellas shaking out rainwater.

You stood just inside the entrance, your bomber jacket clinging damply to your frame as Jay stepped back from the glass doors, his black cardigan wrung tightly in his hands.

He sighed, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair, water droplets falling to the floor with each movement. One foot still hovered near the door as if he’d been contemplating braving the downpour again, but he turned back to you instead.

“Here,” he murmured, slipping the soaked bomber jacket from your shoulders with a gentle tug. “No use keeping this on. You’ll catch a cold.”

You groaned softly at the clammy sensation of the fabric leaving your skin. “Ugh. I can already feel it in my bones.”

Jay chuckled under his breath, tucking the wet jacket over his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re so dramatic,” he teased, his dark eyes crinkling with amusement as he reached for your hand again. “Dry enough to head up?”

You nodded, though a small frown lingered on your lips. “I guess so.”

He caught the expression and tugged lightly at your hand, guiding you toward the elevators as laughter slipped past his lips. “Why’re you frowning like I just stole your cat?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, cheeks warming as you grumbled, “Because I feel gross, and it’s all your fault for saying we’d be fine with one umbrella.”

Jay grinned, unbothered by the small cluster of students watching from the lounge area—phones in their laps, murmurs passing quickly between them like wildfire.

It was still strange for them to see Park Jongseong—Decelis’ stoic, untouchable guitarist—smiling like this, soft and easy, his hand wrapped around yours as if he had no care for the whispers.

“Alright, I’ll take the blame,” he said warmly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as the elevator dinged open. “But for the record, we were fine. I didn’t hear you complaining when you were stealing my body heat earlier.”

You huffed, attempting to mask your flustered smile as you stepped into the elevator. “That’s because I had no choice. You’re warm. Like… unnaturally warm.”

Jay followed you in, his grin growing wider as he leaned slightly against the elevator wall, still holding your hand as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Maybe I just run hot because of all the staring we’re getting.”

You shot him a look, realizing just how quiet the lobby had become behind you, the eyes still trailing as the elevator doors began to close.

“Let them stare,” Jay added, his tone softer now, eyes on you instead of anyone else. “They’ll get tired of it eventually.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, shaking your head as you muttered, “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes fondly but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned against him, the soft fabric of his soaked cardigan brushing your cheek.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your frame, tugging you closer in a loose embrace despite being drenched himself. His warmth was faint but grounding, his palm rubbing slow circles on your shoulder in an effort to coax heat back into your chilled body.

Jay smirked faintly, eyes soft as he looked down. “Then we’ll be sick together. At least we’ll match.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “That’s not something to be proud of.”

The elevator dinged softly as the doors slid open to the fifth floor, cool air greeting the both of you as you stepped out.

Jay’s hand remained at your lower back, fingers resting lightly as you walked side by side down the hallway.

It didn’t escape your notice how natural it felt—how his steps matched yours, how he didn’t even have to ask which door anymore.

You shuffled the keys in your hand, fiddling with them briefly before finally finding the right one. “I swear my hands have turned numb,” you mumbled, attempting to insert the key while Jay hovered just close enough to catch it if it slipped.

“You need gloves,” he said absentmindedly, watching you with a small crease in his brows. “I’ll bring you some next time.”

“Next time?” you teased lightly, pushing the door open.

He grinned, unbothered. “Yeah. What, you think I’m letting you walk around in this weather alone again?”

Before you could respond, a familiar meow cut through your thoughts. Doobu padded toward you, tail flicking as her paws made soft thuds against the floor.

You couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on your face. “Hi, girl,” you cooed, crouching slightly to hold your hands out. “Give us a moment, yeah?”

Jay chuckled softly behind you, closing the door after you both stepped inside. He immediately began toeing off his sneakers, placing them neatly by the door. You followed suit, tugging off your damp socks and placing them near your shoes.

“Doobu looks offended you came home late,” Jay teased, eyes flicking to your cat as she stood by the doorway, watching him like a sentinel.

“She’s just being dramatic,” you said, waving Doobu off playfully. “She missed me, didn’t you, baby?”

Doobu blinked slowly at you before turning her gaze—suspicious and unyielding—back to Jay.

To your surprise, Jay crouched down, resting on the balls of his feet as he extended a hand toward her.

“Hey there, princess,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and careful, like he was approaching royalty.

You watched with wide eyes as Doobu—your notoriously selective little cat—didn’t hesitate. She leaned her fluffy head into his hand, her tail flicking lazily as she allowed him to scratch under her chin.

Jay’s grin widened, eyes softening at the white fluffball now purring beneath his fingers. “See? I told you she loves me.”

You swallowed hard, your hands rubbing your arms absently as your chest tightened—not with unease, but something else you refused to name.

Clearing your throat lightly, you asked, “Jay…?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, not even looking up as his fingers continued their careful strokes through Doobu’s fur.

You shifted your weight nervously from one foot to the other, cheeks burning as you avoided his eyes. “Do you… uh…” You paused, gripping the hem of your shirt tightly. “Do you want to stay over?”

That caught his attention. Jay’s hand stilled in Doobu’s fur as his eyes flicked up to you. He didn’t speak immediately—just watched you with a look that was almost unreadable. Your gaze darted away, heat climbing all the way to your ears.

When he finally did speak, his lips twitched into an amused smile as he let out a soft laugh.

“No need. The rain’s gonna stop eventually.” He stood, brushing his palms on his jeans, still looking at you with that knowing glint in his eyes.

You raised a brow skeptically, stepping closer to the window just as a loud clap of thunder rattled the glass. Sheets of rain poured relentlessly outside, heavy and unyielding.

“Really, Jay?” you asked, your voice deadpan as you turned back to him with a single raised brow.

Jay ran a hand through his damp hair, laughing under his breath. “Okay, okay… maybe not. But hey—we’ll see, yeah?”

You sighed, fighting the way your lips wanted to curl upward. “Right.” Gesturing toward your vanity chair, you added, “Sit down, will you? You’re dripping all over my floor.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, plopping down in the chair with an exaggerated sigh as Doobu circled his feet like she’d adopted him already.

You knelt by your drawer, pulling out a folded set of your clothes and tossing them gently onto the bed for later. “Do you want to shower first or…?” You glanced back at him briefly, then looked away just as quickly.

“I’ll need to throw your clothes in the dryer if you’re planning to head out when—if—the rain stops.”

Jay leaned back in the chair, his black-framed glasses slightly fogged from the temperature change. His eyes glinted with amusement as he watched you shuffle through your drawer.

“Offering me your shower, your dryer… should I be worried you’re trying to make me stay longer?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, though your lips threatened to betray you with a smile. “Don’t make me take it back.”

He chuckled, stretching his arms above his head lazily. “Fine, fine. I’ll shower. Only because my clothes are sticking to me like a second skin.”

“Gross.” You wrinkled your nose teasingly, standing up with your hands on your hips.

Jay grinned as he began pulling off his damp cardigan. “You offered. Don’t act so surprised.”

You caught his smirk as you quickly turned your back to him, cheeks blazing. “Bathroom’s to the left. Towels are in the cabinet.”

“Got it.” He stood, ruffling your hair playfully as he passed you. “Thanks, pretty.”

You swatted at his hand half-heartedly, muttering, “Just go already.”

As the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut echoed in the room, you exhaled, shoulders sagging a little as if trying to shake off the heat blooming in your chest.

But of course, that didn’t help.

Trying to distract yourself, you knelt again by your drawers, fingers fumbling slightly as you rummaged for an oversized shirt and a pair of soft pajama pants—something Jay could wear while his clothes dried.

Your hands stilled for a moment as you stared at the folded fabric in your grasp.

Shaking your head, you pushed to your feet, clutching the clothes to your chest like a flimsy shield. You padded toward the bathroom door and raised a hand to knock, hesitating for half a second before rapping lightly on the wood.

“Jay?” you called softly, praying your voice didn’t betray the fluster simmering in your veins. “Are you… um, are you fully dressed, or…?”

There was a beat of silence, then the door creaked open just enough for his face to peek through.

Black hair damp and sticking slightly to his forehead, glasses fogged faintly at the edges from the bathroom’s heat—he was still fully clothed, a teasing grin tugged at his lips as his dark eyes flicked to the bundle of clothes in your arms.

“Planning to see me naked or what?” he drawled, leaning a little too casually against the doorframe.

Your mouth dropped open, heat crawling up your neck. “W-what?!”

Jay’s grin widened, clearly enjoying himself as he tilted his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you, pretty. I know I look good—”

“Shut up.” You grumbled, shoving the bundle of clothes against his chest hard enough that he had to catch them. “Here. Wear these before I regret offering you my dryer privileges.”

His laugh echoed warmly as you grabbed the door handle, avoiding his gaze entirely. “Relax, I’m kidding—”

The words were cut off when you shoved the door closed in his face, his amused chuckle lingering through the wood like a ghost haunting your sanity.

You slumped forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the door, the faint sound of running water starting again on the other side.

“What am I getting myself into?” you whispered to no one in particular, clutching the edge of your hoodie as if it could steady the wild thrum of your heart.

Doobu, perched on the corner of your bed, blinked at you like she knew. Like she always knew.

Every little thing felt dangerous now.

It wasn’t part of the deal. None of this was.

You were supposed to keep this clean. Keep it simple.

But how could you, when the lines between fake and real blurred every single time he looked at you with those soft, knowing eyes?

Doobu’s tail flicked lazily against the sheets, her gaze still fixed on you.

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered to her. “I know. I’m an idiot.”

Your shoulders shook as you tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh.

Jay’s reflection in the mirror only made it worse: his black-framed glasses slightly fogged from the heat of the room, fluffy, towel-dried hair falling haphazardly over his brows as he pouted behind you, hands working the blow dryer through your still-damp strands.

“Seriously, (Y/N),” he groaned, swaying slightly on his feet like it physically hurt him to say it, “pink Hello Kitty pajamas? With matching socks?”

You bit your lip hard, but the laugh still slipped out. “You look adorable, though.”

His eyes flicked up in the mirror, narrowing playfully at you. “Adorable? I’m a grown man, you know. The guitarist of a band. Not your—your sleepover buddy in Sanrio merch.”

“Mmhm.” You met his gaze in the glass, your grin widening as you teased, “You’re matching with me too, so you can’t even complain.”

Jay huffed, dramatic as ever, and reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. Then, with a resigned sigh, he placed his chin carefully on top of your head, his fingers still gently raking through your hair.

“Be glad they’re fluffy,” he muttered. “If they weren’t, I’d have thrown a fit.”

You giggled, patting the top of his head like he was a sulky cat. “You’re surviving, big guy. Promise.”

When he was satisfied your hair wasn’t damp anymore, he switched off the blow dryer and set it aside. You stood, stretching a little as he followed you wordlessly to the bed. Both of you sank down onto the edge, the springs giving a soft creak.

Outside, thunder rolled low and lazy, followed by a flash of light that seeped through the cracks of your curtains.

Jay sighed, tipping his head sideways until it rested on your shoulder, his voice quieter now. “At this rate,” he murmured, “I think I’ll have to sleep over.”

You tilted your head slightly, catching sight of his soft profile, his lashes brushing his glasses. “That’s what I’m saying,” you replied with a small smile.

His lips curved into a grin against your shoulder. “Do I get extra points for being a respectful fake boyfriend and asking first?”

You laughed, leaning your head lightly against his. “I think you’ve already earned them, Jongseong. You dried my hair in Hello Kitty pajamas.”

He chuckled, shoulders shaking faintly. “Touché.”

Another rumble of thunder echoed outside, but in the warmth of your room, with Jay pressed comfortably against your side, it didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Jay shifted, leaning back slightly so he could meet your eyes, his voice soft but teasing. “Do you want to eat?”

You blinked at him, eyebrows raising as you glanced at the window where rain still poured in heavy sheets. “Jay, no one’s going to deliver food in this weather.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I didn’t say anything about delivery. I’ll cook.”

You turned to fully face him now, your expression somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You can cook?”

He stood, stretching a little as your shirt fell loose around him, then looked down at you with that confident half-smile of his. “I can. I’m pretty good at it, actually. So, what do you want?”

You paused for a moment, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them. “Anything with soup. I want something warm.”

His grin widened as he gave a mock salute. “Soup it is. Your personal chef, at your service.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he made his way to the small kitchenette tucked into the corner of your dorm. He flicked on the light above the stove, already pushing his black-framed glasses up into his hair to keep them from fogging.

“Alright, chef Park Jongseong reporting for duty. What do we have to work with?”

You leaned back against the pillows, watching him open the fridge. “Literally everything.”

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder as he started checking the contents of your fridge and drawers. “You know, for someone who claims she doesn’t cook much, you’re stocked like a mini grocery store.”

You let out a small groan, pulling the comforter over your head like a turtle retreating into its shell. “That’s because Yunjin’s always dragging me to the supermarket with her. She acts like we’re shopping for a family of five.”

Jay laughed as he pulled out a few ingredients, setting them on the counter. “So basically, I should thank Yunjin for keeping you from starving?”

“Exactly.” You peeked out from under the blanket just in time to see him open a cabinet, finding pots and pans with a triumphant little hum.

He moved like he belonged there—like stepping into your small kitchen wasn’t foreign to him at all. In one smooth motion, Jay set the pot on the stove, grabbed vegetables from the fridge, and pulled oil and condiments from the shelves as if he’d memorized where everything was.

You didn’t even remember showing him.

It was amazing. Endearing, too, in a way that made your chest ache.

How did he manage to fit so seamlessly into your world? Into your space?

You hugged your knees tighter, eyes following the way his shirt shifted with every movement, the soft strands of his hair falling into his face until he brushed them back with a flick of his fingers.

With a small huff, you pushed the blanket off and stood up, padding softly across the room until you were behind him.

Jay was just tilting the bottle of oil over the pot when you slipped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his back.

He froze mid-pour, setting the oil bottle carefully down on the counter. His hands hovered for a moment before he let them fall over yours, thumbs brushing lightly against your knuckles.

“…What’s up?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, “Nothing.”

His head turned slightly, as if trying to catch your expression. “Doesn’t sound like nothing, pretty.”

You exhaled shakily. “Thank you… for everything.”

Jay let out a quiet chuckle, one hand leaving yours to rest over your forearm, squeezing it gently.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just—” He stopped himself when he felt you press a little closer, like you didn’t want to let go.

Slowly, he turned in your embrace, his hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs brushed softly under your eyes, catching the faint glassiness there.

“Hey… why do you look like you’re about to cry?” he murmured, his brows knitting together as he searched your expression.

You shook your head quickly, eyes falling shut under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m not,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed the tightness in your chest.

Jay sighed, his hands gentle as ever as he tugged you closer. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he said quietly, leaning down until his lips brushed the crown of your head.

He pressed a lingering kiss there, the warmth of it sinking straight into your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moved—just standing there in the soft kitchen light, his forehead resting against your hair as his arms curled protectively around you.

“Stay here for a bit,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the sound of the rain outside. “Let me take care of you.”

You stayed still for another moment, his warmth and the steady thrum of his heartbeat making it so tempting to stay there forever. But with a small sigh, you loosened your hold on him.

“Go on. Finish cooking, Jay,” you said softly, stepping back.

His brows furrowed as he caught your wrist, keeping you close. “Promise me you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low but firm.

You blinked up at him, meeting those searching brown eyes behind his glasses. For a heartbeat, it felt like he was seeing through every wall you’d ever built.

But you managed a small, reassuring smile, nodding as you said, “I’m okay, Jay. Really.”

His eyes scanned your face one more time, as if memorizing every detail, before he let out a quiet breath and nodded. “Alright,” he said gently, finally releasing your hand. “But you tell me if you’re not, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your smile growing just a little softer.

He lingered for half a second before turning back to the stove, picking up where he left off with his chopping and stirring. You, on the other hand, padded back to the bed, curling up against the pillows as you grabbed the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” you called out, flipping through the streaming apps idly.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation, his focus on carefully stirring the pot.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so easy to please.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Not really. I just trust your taste, pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you quickly turned back to the TV, muttering, “Fine. But don’t blame me if we end up watching some cheesy rom-com.”

“Cheesy rom-com with you sounds perfect,” he teased, and you groaned, burying your face in the pillow as you tried—and failed—not to smile.

In the kitchen, Jay hummed softly under his breath, the sound blending with the gentle clatter of utensils and the comforting scent of soup starting to fill your dorm.

Every now and then, he’d glance your way, his expression softening like he couldn’t believe you were really here—like this wasn’t just some arrangement.

Time slipped quietly between you both after that. The sound of the rain outside became background noise to the soft dialogue of the movie you’d picked—a mellow rom-com that played lazily on the screen.

You had gotten so lost in the plot, your legs curled up beneath you, blanket tucked over your lap, that you didn’t notice when Jay padded softly around the room behind you.

At some point, the faint clinking of dishes came from the kitchenette, followed by the low hiss of something being poured. But your eyes stayed glued to the screen as your fingers fidgeted absently with the edge of the blanket.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped gently beside you that you tore your gaze away, startled.

Jay sat down next to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he placed two plates down on the small table in front of you—each holding a hollowed-out round of bread filled generously with steaming vegetable chowder.

Your brows arched in surprise as you glanced from the plates back up to him. “Wait, what’s this?”

“Vegetable chowder,” he said simply, brushing his slightly damp hair from his forehead. “In bread bowls. Thought I’d go a little fancy for you.”

Before you could answer, he got up again, moving back to the kitchenette where he grabbed two glasses of water.

He returned and set them down neatly beside the plates, as though he’d done this a hundred times before.

You blinked at him, warmth blooming in your chest as you murmured, “You didn’t have to, Jay.”

He looked at you then, his eyes soft, almost teasing. “You say that like I don’t want to.”

Your lips twitched upward into a small smile as you reached for the plate he slid toward you. “Thank you,” you said softly, wrapping your fingers around the spoon resting on the side.

Jay’s eyes followed your movements as you scooped up a bit of the steaming chowder, bringing it to your lips carefully.

You blew on it a little before tasting it, the warm, savory flavor melting on your tongue.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise as you looked back at him. “Wait… this is actually really good.”

“Actually?” he repeated with a mock frown, though there was amusement dancing in his eyes. “That’s all I get?”

You laughed, the sound slipping out before you could even stop it, and quickly covered your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you said between little giggles. “It’s really well made. Creamy, perfectly seasoned, not too heavy—I love it.”

His grin softened into something warmer as he leaned an elbow on his knee, chin resting against his palm as he watched you take another bite. “Thank you,” he murmured.

You licked your lips, savoring another spoonful before looking up at him again, curiosity flickering across your face. “Seriously though… where did you learn to cook this good? You’re like—surprisingly domestic.”

Jay chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling pleasantly in his chest. He leaned back against the headboard, stretching one arm across the top as he thought.

“My mom, mostly. She loves to cook, so she made me help out the chefs a lot when I was younger. Said every man should know how to make at least one good meal.”

You grinned at the image of a tiny Jay peeling vegetables or stirring soup under his mom’s watchful eye. “That’s so cute. And the ‘chefs’ part?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… them too. I mean, my parents hired some of the best chefs back home. I picked up a lot just by hanging around the kitchen when I didn’t feel like doing homework.”

Your eyes went wide, and you pointed your spoon at him dramatically. “Wait—you have chefs? Oh my God. You really are rich rich.”

Jay let out a laugh that had his shoulders shaking, his head tilting back slightly. “I told you,” he said with a smirk, “I’m not rich. My parents are. Big difference.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a smile tugging at your lips as you took another bite. “Totally sounds like something a rich person would say.”

Dinner passed in a comfortable ease, the sound of rain still thrumming heavily against the window, but it felt less suffocating now—almost soothing.

You found yourself laughing too easily at Jay’s sarcastic remarks about the plot of the movie playing faintly in the background, and he seemed just as content throwing glances your way between bites.

By the time both your bowls sat empty on the small table, the two of you had migrated further up the bed.

Jay’s glasses had been discarded somewhere near the footboard, and you were now curled beside him, the both of you cocooned in the thick duvet as the movie rolled on.

“I still can’t believe he didn’t run after her in the first place,” Jay muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the screen where the male lead was pacing a dimly lit airport.

“Like, are you serious? She literally confessed, cried, and this guy just stood there like a log.”

You hummed, nodding faintly as you shifted closer to him. “I know, right? Classic. We love emotionally constipated male leads,” you mumbled, voice quieter now as you rested your head fully against his shoulder.

His arm tightened instinctively around your frame, hand brushing lightly up and down your upper arm as his focus returned to the screen.

Another scene played out—a heated fight, tears, a final desperate plea—and Jay made another comment, his voice soft and laced with mock exasperation. But when there was no reply, his brow furrowed slightly.

“(Y/N)?” he murmured, glancing down.

You didn’t answer.

Instead, he found you sound asleep against him, lips parted slightly, your lashes casting delicate shadows over your cheeks.

His expression softened in an instant. A quiet laugh left him—low, breathy, fond—as he carefully reached for the remote to lower the volume.

“Of course you’d knock out now,” he teased softly, though there was no bite to it.

Jay shifted carefully, sliding down until his head rested against the pillows. He pulled you with him, repositioning you so your cheek rested comfortably over his chest, his arms wrapping securely around you.

Your fingers, loose at first, instinctively curled into his shirt like they belonged there.

He smiled at the small gesture, his thumb brushing tenderly over your shoulder as he pressed his lips lightly to the crown of your head.

“Sleep, pretty girl,” he whispered into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Outside, the rain continued its steady rhythm against the glass, but in the warmth of your room, nestled in Jay’s arms, it felt a world away.

Light spilled into your room in faint golden streaks, slipping past the curtains and painting your walls in a quiet, sleepy glow.

The world outside was still a little dark, the rain from last night leaving droplets clinging to the window.

You moved slightly under the covers, the movement making you aware of the steady warmth pressed against your side.

Your brows furrowed for a second before the memories came flooding back—his laugh over dinner, the way his fingers brushed your hair dry, his arm pulling you closer as you both sank into the mattress.

It wasn’t a dream.

You sighed softly, instinctively shuffling closer to the heat, letting the fabric of his t-shirt brush against your cheek as you tucked your face against his chest.

He smelled faintly of your soap and something that was just… Jay. Comforting. Familiar.

If this was fake, your heart was clearly doing a terrible job at remembering it.

You tilted your head slightly, gaze catching on his sleeping face—his dark hair a little messy, strands sprawled across your pillow; his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks as he breathed steadily, lips parted just slightly.

He looked younger like this. Softer.

A smile tugged at your lips before you sighed again and started to moved away, only to freeze as his arms instinctively tightened around you, pulling you back flush against his chest.

“Jay,” you whispered under your breath, trying not to laugh as you wiggled slightly. “You’re literally—like—a human seatbelt right now.”

His hold didn’t loosen.

Groaning softly, you reached out blindly for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers barely grazing it before it almost slipped.

You let out a panicked squeak, fumbling as you caught it just in time. Relief washed over you as you lay back with a soft sigh, unlocking the screen to check the time.

6:07 AM. Just in time.

A low, sleepy groan sounded from above you, and you turned your head slightly to see Jay’s lashes flutter as he stirred. His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

“…what time is it?” he murmured, his brows drawing together slightly.

You glanced back at your phone before looking at him again, his dark eyes only half-open but focused on you now. “Six. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

He hummed low in his chest, voice still heavy with sleep. “Mm… six? Too early.”

“I know,” you whispered, a small laugh escaping as you tried to slide away again. “But I should get up—”

Before you could finish, his arm looped fully around your waist, tugging you back so quickly that you let out a surprised yelp.

“Jay!”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into your hair, voice muffled and almost childlike. “You’re warm.”

You froze for a moment, your cheeks heating as you stared at the ceiling. “…You’re clingy.”

“Mmhm.”

But still, you let yourself relax back into his hold, your phone falling onto the mattress beside you.

“…You drool in your sleep,” you teased after a moment, just to distract yourself from how loud your heart was pounding.

His lips curved lazily against your hair. “Liar.”

You huffed out a laugh, fingers instinctively starting to trace light, absentminded circles over the fabric of his shirt—right along his stomach.

Jay flinched slightly at the ticklish touch but didn’t stop you, a soft chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as his hand shifted to cradle the back of it gently.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, his dark eyes still heavy with sleep but impossibly warm as they softened on you. “Good morning,” he whispered.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Good morning,” you whispered back.

Jay let out a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. “We have classes this morning, right?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with reluctance.

“Mm,” you hummed a yes, not trusting your voice to sound normal with how close his face was to yours.

He groaned dramatically, his head falling back onto the pillow. “This is way too early. Who invented morning classes? I just wanna talk.”

You laughed, patting his chest lightly. “This is normal for me. I take forever to get ready.”

His brows raised slightly, a playful grin tugging at his lips as his hand rubbed soothing circles on your arm. “You? Taking forever to get ready? No way.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes with a laugh.

Before he could say something else, the mattress dipped, and both of your heads snapped to the side just in time to see Doobu hopping up onto the bed.

Her fluffy white paws padded across the blanket until she stopped right at Jay’s stomach.

Without hesitation, she circled twice then plopped herself down, curling up like she owned the spot.

You blinked at the sight, and Jay glanced down in surprise as the small weight settled on him. “Well… good morning to you too, Doobu,” he said with a soft laugh, lifting a hand to tentatively scratch behind her ears.

You reached over to pet her as well, smiling at your cat. “Hi, Doobu. You’re really getting comfortable there, huh?”

“She’s got good taste,” Jay teased, watching as Doobu purred loudly under your combined affection.

“Or maybe she just likes warm, grumpy guitarists,” you shot back, laughing when Jay gave you a mock-offended look.

“She doesn’t even know I play guitar.”

“She knows enough.”

Jay snorted, shifting slightly as he kept petting Doobu. “Great. My competition for your affection is your cat. I can’t win this one, can I?”

You leaned your chin back on his chest, grinning at him. “Not unless you can purr like her.”

He raised a brow. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you countered with a cheeky smile.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing over your jaw for a brief moment before settling back on Doobu. “Fair enough.”

Eventually, the two of you managed to drag yourselves out of bed—though not without Jay dramatically groaning about how ‘it’s illegal to get up this early.’

You rolled your eyes and tugged him toward the kitchenette where the two of you brushed your teeth side by side at the small sink.

Your reflections stared back at you from the faint sheen of the kitchen window, where rain streaked down lazily and blurred the view of the nearby field outside.

The ground was still soaked, puddles reflecting the gray morning sky.

Jay wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his black-framed glasses slightly fogged from the temperature shift.

“We both have rehearsals today, right?” he asked, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, spitting out toothpaste foam before grabbing your hand towel.

“There was a bunch of guitar cases when I peeked into the studio yesterday. Were those yours?”

Jay leaned his hip against the counter, grinning sheepishly as he folded his arms. “And the others too. We all kind of tried to ditch practice early yesterday, but I guess karma’s making us pay for it today.”

You laughed softly, handing him his folded clothes that had been hanging near the bed to dry. “Here. Better change before your precious guitars start a search party for you.”

He smirked, taking them from your hands. “Aye aye, captain. I’ll get dressed real quick.” He disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

While he changed, you rifled through your drawers and quickly pulled out your outfit—black jeans, a pink frilly blouse, and your favorite soft pink cardigan.

As soon as Jay emerged, now looking effortlessly put together in his black cardigan layered over his white shirt and jeans again, you darted into the bathroom to change and wash your face.

By the time you came out, he was standing by your vanity, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag.

You took his place at the seat, doing your skincare and swiping on some lip gloss as Jay picked up his phone to check something.

“You ready?” he asked after a moment, watching you toss your lip gloss back into your pouch.

“Almost. Can you refill Doobu’s bowl, please?” you said without looking up, focused on zipping your bag.

“Sure. Where’s her food?”

You pointed to the lower drawer by the fridge. “There.”

He crouched down easily, pulling it open and fishing out the bag of Doobu’s food. She must’ve heard the familiar sound because she immediately pranced over, tail held high and brushing against Jay’s shin.

“You’re so spoiled,” Jay murmured to the cat, shaking out the food into her bowl before straightening. “But I get it. You’re cute.”

“She’s training you already,” you teased, sliding your laptop into its sleeve.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, smirking as he put the bag back and shut the drawer. “Not hard. Your whole apartment’s kind of training me.”

“Training you?” you asked, amused as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Yeah.” He grabbed cardigan from the back of your chair and shook it out lightly before slipping it on.

“To… I don’t know. Make dinner, feed cats, be the kind of guy who carries an umbrella without forgetting it in every store.”

“Sounds like you’re saying I’m turning you domestic.”

“Sounds like you’re admitting you like having me here.”

You shot him a playful glare as you brushed past to put on your shoes. “Shut up and put your shoes on, Park.”

But you didn’t miss the soft grin tugging at his lips as he obeyed, crouching down beside you at the door.

You tried—tried so hard—not to let your eyes linger. Not to let your heart skip at the way he tied his sneakers with practiced ease, one hand braced casually on his knee.

But it was useless. Everything about him was slipping through the cracks you’d carefully built in your chest.

If this was fake, if all of this—his quiet laughter in your kitchen, his hands in your hair, his patient presence folded into your small world—was just part of the act—

Then what did it say about you that you wanted the real thing?

You shook the thought away quickly, standing as Jay followed suit. His shoulder brushed yours lightly, and for a second it felt… too normal. Too easy.

You grabbed your keys from the counter, sparing one last glance at Doobu still curled up on your bed. “Bye, Doobu. Be good while I’m gone, yeah?” you said softly.

Jay crouched slightly, pointing at her like he was scolding a child. “And stop stressing your mom out, okay?”

You laughed, fumbling with your lock as he straightened up, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured as the door clicked shut.

“Ridiculously charming,” he countered with a wink that had you rolling your eyes—but not without smiling.

Outside, the air was cool and damp, the faint smell of rain lingering as Jay stretched his hand out toward you expectantly.

“Come on,” he said with a small tilt of his head, fingers wiggling slightly like he was daring you not to take them. “We’ve got all morning before classes start.”

You stared for a beat too long before slipping your hand into his. His grasp was warm, familiar.

“You’re turning soft, Jay,” you teased, the words laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

His lips quirked as he squeezed your hand, a flash of mischief lighting his eyes. “Only for you.”

And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself believe him, if only for a moment.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries @dearestdreamies

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ sugar in the soil ( pjs ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 14.1k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — college au, psychology major!jay, biology major!reader, college!enhypen, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, rich!jay, kinda emotionally guarded!reader, perceptive!jay, reluctant protector!jay, awkward!jay, tension-filled bickering, sarcastic flirting, subtle care, reader is stubborn and independent, reader is unintentionally endearing, jay is smug but secretly soft, scenes of vulnerability, quiet comfort, slight possessiveness, light jealousy, foreshadowing deeper feelings, developing trust, soft domestic hints, fluff, family pressure, mild angst, absence of routine comfort, hints of longing, mentions of the other parts from this series

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — your fascination with flowers was a quiet love you turned into your future. majoring in biology at decelis university, you often found yourself needing rare blooms, fresh clippings, or just the scent of something calming after long hours in the lab. that’s why the little flower shop down the street became your second home. the staff knew your name. mrs. park always had tea ready. until one afternoon, the usual calm was replaced with someone entirely unexpected—park jongseong, of all people. golden boy. heir to a business empire. the last person you'd expect to be arranging sunflowers behind the counter like he belonged there. or, where your love for flowers leads you to someone who’s far more than just his reputation.

Jay slowed the car as the familiar street came into view, one he’d been driving through since high school. The turn into the quieter lane was muscle memory by now, his hands steady on the wheel.

He glanced sideways, just briefly, and the sight almost made him forget the road for a second.

You were leaning back comfortably, head tilted toward the window, breathing slow and even. His black hoodie was now pulled up to your chest, the sleeves bundled together and resting against your cheek like a makeshift pillow.

Jay’s lips quirked upward, a quiet chuckle escaping before he shook his head lightly.

He eased the car around another corner and muttered under his breath, “Guess those lab reports tired you out, huh?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, more for himself than for you.

Reaching toward the center console, he turned the volume on the radio down to a faint hum, giving you the kind of silence you probably didn’t get enough of lately.

“Just for a few minutes,” he murmured again, almost as if promising to cherish the moment.

The road ahead stretched under the soft wash of streetlamps, but Jay’s thoughts wandered.

He hadn’t expected this—how quickly you’d gone from just a name he barely paid attention to, one he’d hear when his mom would mention the flower shop after driving her to the company to someone he’d maybe bumped into once or twice on campus without thinking twice.

And now here you were.

Sleeping in his car like it was the most natural thing in the world. Trusting him enough to rest without hesitation, even though you’d only really known each other for a little over a week.

It felt surreal.

And that—he swallowed quietly—scared him.

He tightened his grip slightly on the wheel, eyes flicking toward you again before returning to the road.

“You’re making this way too easy,” he said softly, almost like he was afraid the words might wake you.

Jay tilted his head slightly, eyes lingering on your relaxed expression.

“…Is this what Heeseung meant?” he muttered under his breath. “This is how he felt when he met his girlfriend?”

A quiet scoff left him, and he glanced toward you just to make sure you hadn’t stirred. But your head remained resting against the car window, arms tucked in, lashes fluttering slightly from the motion of the ride.

He sighed and faced forward again, one hand loose on the wheel as the other tapped quietly against his thigh.

The night was quiet, streets painted in soft amber from the streetlights. As he made another slow turn, the familiar silhouette of the flower shop came into view—lights still glowing warmly inside.

He eased the car to a stop in the empty space out front, eyes catching the faint outline of his cousin Hyunjae lounging behind the counter, looking half-asleep himself.

Turning off the engine, Jay leaned back in his seat for a moment. His eyes returned to you, peaceful and still in your little cocoon of oversized fabric. He let out a slow breath.

How was he supposed to wake you up without feeling like the bad guy?

He reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing your shoulder.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, “we’re here.”

No reaction.

He tried again, this time gently shaking you, voice softer. “(Y/N)… come on, wake up.”

You shifted slightly with a tiny groan, brows furrowing as you nestled further into the hoodie like a kitten curling deeper into warmth.

Jay couldn’t help it—he smiled. Soft. A little helpless.

Some strands of your hair had fallen across your face, and without even realizing it, he reached up and tucked them behind your ear, hand lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“(Y/N),” he murmured again, shaking you once more. “We’re at the flower shop. Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

You stirred finally, eyes blinking open slowly, adjusting to the dim streetlights outside the window. You turned your head to him, voice groggy.

“…We’re here?”

Jay nodded, gesturing to the storefront beside your window. “Yeah. You still wanna go in?”

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, murmuring something under your breath, but Jay immediately leaned over with a light frown.

“Don’t do that. Your eyes will get irritated.”

You paused mid-motion, hand frozen. “Oh. Right,” you mumbled, awkwardly lowering it.

Jay leaned back, eyes briefly scanning your face before they dropped to his hoodie that lay across your lap.

“You can keep that,” he said, noticing the goosebumps on your arms despite the fabric.

You blinked. “Huh? No—Jay, it’s yours. I can’t possibly—”

He gave you a pointed look. Blank-faced. Silent.

You stared. He raised a brow.

You tried to hold the stare. Really, you did. But his expression remained unreadable—all calm— like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to fold. And he was right.

Because you broke first, gaze dropping as you turned away with a fake little cough, muttering under your breath, “Ego staring contests should be illegal.”

When you glanced back, he was still looking at you.

With a defeated sigh, you reached for the hoodie resting in your lap. You hesitated for a split second, then pulled it over your head.

The fabric was soft and oversized, the sleeves swallowing your hands as the familiar scent hit you all at once—cedarwood, crisp citrus, and something warm you couldn’t name. Something that just was him.

It made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

You looked back at him, voice flat. “Better?”

Jay’s eyes flickered over you—the hoodie on your frame, the way you were curled slightly against the seat, hair messy from sleep, and the barest trace of pink still dusting your cheeks.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the softness in his gaze, but he was already moving—unbuckling his seatbelt and nodding toward the shop beside you.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Your fingers curled tighter into the hoodie sleeves.

Jay was already out of the car by the time you reached for the handle. He rounded the front and opened your door before you even had a chance to step out.

“You didn’t have to—” you started, but he just shook his head once.

“It’s late. And you’re still half asleep.”

You squinted at him. “Was not.”

“Were too,” he replied, holding out a hand to help you out. His palm was warm when your fingers brushed against it.

Your feet hit the pavement, still heavy from sleep, and you wobbled slightly.

Jay steadied you, his hand settling on the small of your back instinctively. He didn’t say anything about it. Neither did you.

But your heart might’ve skipped—just once.

He let go just as quickly as he’d touched you, stepping back like it hadn’t happened. “You good?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Without another word, he walked ahead, pulling open the glass-lined door to the flower shop.

You mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Jay replied easily, holding the door open until you stepped inside.

Warm light bathed the shop in a soft golden glow, the air immediately sweeter with the scent of fresh florals.

The familiar face behind the counter, Hyunjae, looked up and gave you a kind smile.

“Good evening,” he greeted you.

You smiled back, brushing the sleep from your features. “Good evening.”

But Hyunjae’s casual mood disappeared the moment he noticed who was walking in just behind you. His eyes flicked past your shoulder, and the lazy grin on his face faltered—just slightly.

Jay.

His whole body tensed slightly, and you could see his eyes widen just for a second before he shut his mouth, swallowed whatever teasing remark he had ready, and found the cash register very interesting.

Jay shot him a glare that could've frozen fire. Hyunjae immediately zipped his lips.

Jay said nothing, just walked behind you closely—closer than necessary.

You slowed when you passed the rows of arranged stems near the wall. The lavender was bundled in soft bushels, the purple heads bobbing with the breeze from the ceiling fan.

You leaned in slightly, taking in their gentle scent.

Jay noticed the small smile on your face as you paused in front of the buckets of blooms, eyes scanning like you were memorizing every petal.

“Like them?” he asked, stopping beside you, his voice low and casual.

You nodded without looking at him. “They’re one of my favorites.”

He tilted his head slightly, hands in his pockets. “One of?”

You turned to him at that, a little amused by his curiosity. “What’s your favorite then?”

You blinked, a little surprised that he even cared enough to ask. “Pink peonies,” you said after a beat, the words soft.

“They’re delicate, but they last longer than people think.”

Jay gave a small nod, the kind he always did when tucking something important away—like he’d carved that answer into stone in the back of his mind, under lock and key.

You stepped forward, hands already busy as you picked up a few stems of lavender, then paused to admire the nearby roses—purple-dyed ones and the pale blue variety stacked delicately in buckets.

Their scent was sweet and nostalgic, curling into your nose like a memory. You grabbed those too, cradling the flowers to your chest as your arms began to overflow.

“…Can you help?” you mumbled sheepishly, shifting your grip. “The daisies in front of you—can you get me like… ten stems?”

Jay looked down at the white-petaled flowers and then back up at you, one brow raised. “Only ten?”

You rolled your eyes with a quiet smile. “Yes. Ten.”

He picked them up carefully, as if even plucking daisies was an art form in his hands. “Anything else?”

You glanced over the flowers one more time, then shook your head. “Nope. Come on.”

You made your way to the counter, careful not to bump the bouquet in your arms. The scent of florals wrapped around you like a light blanket.

You placed your collection down gently, watching the colors bloom against the countertop as Hyunjae greeted you again.

“Hi, (Y/N). Would that be all?”

You nodded and reached into your bag for your wallet—but Jay’s hand was already sliding his card across the counter with practiced ease.

“Hey!” you protested, spinning toward him. “You already paid for dinner!”

Jay didn’t even look at you. “Ignore her,” he told Hyunjae calmly, lips twitching like he was barely holding in a smirk.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him while he only grinned, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Hyunjae glanced between the two of you and shook his head with a knowing smile, sliding Jay’s card back. “Still your problem, not mine.”

“Do you want the fancy wrappers?” he asked you then, switching gears. “We just got a new one in pink.”

Your irritation was forgotten instantly as your head perked up. “Ooh, can you use the white ribbon with it, please?”

Hyunjae nodded, ducking under the counter and grabbing the soft-pink wrapper and matching ribbon.

His fingers moved quickly, practiced from years of flower-wrapping, the bouquet folding into something even more beautiful with every twist and tie.

“Here you go. And don’t thank me—thank Jay.”

You turned slowly, bouquet in hand, expression flat. “Seriously, I can’t understand you sometimes.”

Jay only shrugged, calm as ever, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not that hard to figure out.”

You huffed and turned on your heel, the ribbon of the bouquet fluttering as you walked toward the door, muttering curses about “stubborn, annoying men” under your breath.

Behind you, Jay and Hyunjae exchanged a quiet laugh.

“Give me a minute,” you said, slowing as your gaze swept over the shop once more. “Just want to look around a little.”

Jay nodded, watching you disappear toward the other aisle, your fingers brushing gently against a hanging pot of ferns as you wandered.

Once you were out of earshot, Jay leaned closer to Hyunjae, voice lowered. “Do we still have pink carnations in the back?”

Hyunjae’s brow arched slightly. “For (Y/N)?”

Jay didn’t answer directly—he just gave him a look. That was enough.

Hyunjae’s expression changed, something teasing lighting his eyes. “You want a full bouquet?”

Jay’s gaze drifted to you again, still gently browsing the plants like you had all the time in the world. The artificial light from the window hit your profile, soft and golden.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “Be quick.”

Hyunjae didn’t press further. “Don’t worry. I was making some earlier. I’ll grab it now,” he said, already heading through the back door with a knowing grin.

Jay exhaled through his nose, gaze flickering away from his cousin. His eyes found you almost instantly—half-hidden behind a shelf of succulents, standing still in front of the aloe vera plants.

You weren’t doing anything dramatic, just softly touching the edge of one of the fleshy green leaves, fingertips ghosting over it like it was delicate.

He blinked once, slowly.

“…You’re acting like they’re babies,” he muttered under his breath, lips twitching slightly. He wasn’t teasing—not really. More quietly endeared.

You didn’t hear him, too focused on the way the plant gently bent under your hand and sprang back up.

Something about the way you admired small things in silence always made Jay feel like the world was a little slower, a little softer when you were around.

Hyunjae reappeared then, holding a neat little bouquet of soft pink carnations—tightly wrapped and finished with a simple white ribbon. Jay stepped in quickly, cutting off his path with a subtle shift of his shoulder.

“Put that in one of those brown kraft paper sleeves,” Jay said, not quite whispering, but not loud either.

Hyunjae blinked at him for a second, then smirked knowingly again.

“Got it,” he said, reaching under the counter for the wrapping. He folded the bouquet into it smoothly and handed it over.

Jay took it gently, careful not to crush the petals. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

Hyunjae waved him off. “No worries. Just…”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Try not to fuck this up, yeah? If she ends up being your first girlfriend, I wouldn’t even be mad. She’s my favorite regular.”

Jay’s laugh came out softer than expected, a breath more than a sound. “I’ll take note of that,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

He gave Hyunjae a quick nod, then walked over to where you were now examining a hanging pot of ivy.

“All done?” you asked as he approached, your voice gentle but cheerful.

“Yeah,” he replied, adjusting something behind his back quickly. “Hyunjae just needed to give me something.”

You nodded, not thinking too much of it, and the two of you headed out of the shop. The city air had cooled a little more by then, and you instinctively clutched your bouquet closer.

Jay beat you to the car, pulling open the passenger door without a word. You looked at him for a second, surprised but quietly pleased.

“…Thanks,” you mumbled as you stepped in, settling in with the flowers on your lap.

He closed the door gently and rounded to the driver’s side, slipping in with practiced ease. The car rumbled softly to life under his hands.

“So…” he said as he adjusted the steering wheel. “Where to?”

You pointed at the phone sitting on the dashboard mount. “Do you mind?”

“Oh—no, not at all. Please. Be my guest,” he said quickly, already unlocking it and passing it over to you.

You took it, tapping in your address with a few swift motions. “Here.”

He glanced at the screen, noting the time and distance. His brows furrowed slightly. “Wait. You walk this? Every morning?”

You nodded like it was no big deal. “Yeah. I like the walk. It clears my head.”

Jay shook his head slowly, sighing. “Women confuse me sometimes.”

You snorted, leaning back into the leather seat with a playful look. “Ha ha. Very funny, Park. Just drive.”

Jay chuckled, slipping his phone back into the holder as he shifted into gear. “Yes ma’am.”

You turned your head to hide your smile, not missing the way his tone had gone just a little softer than usual. The car eased smoothly off the curb, headlights casting a mellow wash across the asphalt.

Outside, the city slipped by in quiet blurs—convenience stores still lit up, occasional passersby hunched in jackets, neon signs reflecting off the glass.

Inside, the only sound was the faint rustle of the bouquet on your lap as you adjusted it absently, the soft petals brushing against your hands.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe.

“Hey,” you said gently, glancing at Jay. His eyes were focused on the road, but he made a slight tilt of his head toward you—barely a nod, just enough to say ‘I’m listening.’

“Can I play some music?” you asked.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said without hesitation.

You smiled a little, already seeing your device was still connected to his car’s Bluetooth. You scrolled through your library and tapped a playlist—soft classical strings filtered through the speakers, wrapping the cabin in quiet elegance.

Jay blinked once, the faintest of reactions crossing his face. “This is my study music.”

You looked over, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, one hand on the steering wheel, the other draped loosely over the gearstick. “It’s calming.”

“It is,” you agreed, leaning back into the seat, eyes drifting toward the window.

The reflections of shop windows and streetlights slid across the glass like passing thoughts, and for a moment, you just let the music fill the silence. It felt warm. Private.

Still, something tugged at your attention. You glanced at him again, his profile calm and unbothered, jawline catching the occasional light from outside.

You hesitated for half a second, then said it anyway. “Hey, Jay?”

His eyes didn’t leave the road, but he tilted his head a little again—same as before. Your lips tugged into a small smile at that. You liked that gesture more than you meant to.

“You mentioned you play guitar, right?”

His brow ticked up just slightly. “Yeah. What about it?”

You fidgeted with the kraft paper wrapped around your bouquet. “What songs can you play?”

That made him glance at you, just as the car rolled to a gentle stop at a red light. One eyebrow quirked up, his voice amused. “Why? You planning to request something?”

You looked away, eyes dropping to your lap as you muttered, “I don’t know, I’m just curious. Like… are you good at it?”

Jay let out a soft laugh, tilting his head again. “I mean, I’m decent. I think.”

He reached up, resting his hand against his jaw for a second. “I can play pretty much anything, as long as I have enough time to learn the chords.”

You looked up again, a smile blooming across your face. “Really? That’s cool.”

The light turned green, and the car moved again. Jay’s eyes flicked back to the road, his voice casual. “It’s really not that impressive.”

“It is,” you insisted. “I can barely hold an instrument. I have the attention span of a goldfish.”

Jay chuckled at that, glancing sideways. “Well. You can’t be good at everything.”

You laughed. “Wow. Backhanded compliment?”

“I’m being realistic,” he said smoothly. “Just because I can read body language doesn’t mean I know how to take care of plants.”

You let out a little giggle. “Leave all the plants to Mrs. Park, please.”

Jay laughed for real then—a soft, relaxed sound that made something in your chest go all floaty. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.

You turned your head again, studying his profile lit by the faint dashboard glow. You hesitated for a beat, then, “Hey, Jay.”

He didn’t even hide his laugh this time, his fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel as he let out a soft, amused sigh.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that tonight,” he teased, lips twitching. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

You grinned. “Can you cook?”

He hummed, glancing at you quickly before nodding. “Yeah, I actually can. That’s probably the only thing I’m genuinely confident in.”

Your brows lifted. “Wow. It really runs in the family, huh?”

Jay shook his head, still smiling. “Well, I can cook. Bake? Not so much.”

You watched him with interest as he added, “First time I ever tried baking cookies… I added salt instead of sugar.” He grimaced slightly at the memory. “They tasted like misery and ocean water.”

You burst into quiet laughter. “Oh my god—”

Jay shrugged with faux drama. “My mom didn’t let me near the oven for a month after that.”

“I’m honestly amazed by her though,” you said, sighing softly as you turned to look out the window. “I’ve tried her muffin recipe like, three times already. It’s never right. It’s either too bland or way too sweet.”

Jay smiled at the frustration in your voice. “Do you want me to ask her for the real one?”

You blinked. “You’d do that?”

“It’s not some top-secret family recipe,” he said with a small shrug. “But seeing as you’re her favorite customer, I think she’d be willing to make an exception.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Mhm. So she says.”

Jay shot you a knowing look, but didn’t argue.

You looked at him again, fiddling with the edge of the bouquet on your lap. “So… when can I try one of your dishes, then?”

Jay glanced at you, surprised—but his lips curled up slowly into a faint smirk. “So, I’m your chauffeur and your chef now?”

You smiled, tilting your head. “You said you could cook.”

“I’m wounded, (Y/N),” he said with faux offense, hand pressed briefly against his chest like you’d dealt a fatal blow.

You laughed again, warmth bubbling in your chest at how easy this all felt. “Okay, fine. No pressure. No cooking.”

Jay shook his head, still smiling. “No, I’ll cook for you,” he said, voice casual but oddly sincere. “After finals. Or whenever I’m free.”

He paused, then added, softer, “I could take you back to my house with me.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Slow down,” you teased, trying not to let your smile get too wide. “What happened to the awkward boy I knew?”

Jay kept his eyes on the road, but you could see the way his ears were turning just a little pink under the cabin light.

“Well,” he said dryly, “he’s very tired. So now he’s becoming an overconfident jerk.”

You let out a small, warm laugh. “Transformation arc?”

“Something like that.”

You tapped your fingers against your thigh, then admitted, “Your mom’s actually invited me a few times already.”

Jay’s eyes flickered to you. “And?”

“And I keep saying no.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You bit your lip, sheepish. “I don’t know. It’s kind of embarrassing?”

Jay barked out a laugh. “Why would that be embarrassing?”

“I don’t know!” you repeated, groaning lightly. “It just… feels weird. Like I’m intruding.”

Jay shook his head, amusement still tugging at his lips. “You should really stop by sometime,” he said. “You’d love her garden.”

You smiled quietly to yourself, heart warm. “…Yeah. Maybe I will.”

The car rolled through a dim intersection, the city winding quieter and softer as you neared your neighborhood. The orange glow of passing street lamps lit the inside of the car in slow flashes—light, then shadow, then light again.

The dashboard glowed gently. Your eyes followed the passing trees, half-lost in thought.

You leaned forward slightly, pointing just ahead. “Oh—take a right here. It’s faster that way.”

“Got it,” Jay said, smoothly turning the wheel as the street curved around.

The music still played softly in the background—those quiet classical strings that had underscored the entire drive like a lullaby. The flowers rustled lightly again in your lap.

You glanced down at them, fingers brushing gently over a petal. Your hands had warmed the paper wrapping, the scent of roses and eucalyptus clinging faintly to your skin.

They were a little crooked now, slightly crushed from how tightly you’d been holding them. But still beautiful.

Jay hummed under his breath before speaking. “Is this it?” he asked, glancing at the white building through the windshield.

You nodded. “Yeah. That’s my apartment.”

Jay tilted his head, giving it a once-over before smiling. “Looks pretty cozy.”

“It is,” you said, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “It’s really nice. You should stop by sometime.”

Jay huffed a laugh at the way you threw his words back at him, “Oh, now you’re stealing my lines?” he teased.

You smiled at him, half-shrugging, and he shook his head in disbelief as he opened his door, “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door, yeah?”

Before you could even respond, he was stepping out of the car and reaching under his seat to grab something. Then he made his way over to your side of the car—unhurried, casual, but with purpose.

The door opened with a soft click, and Jay offered his hand. “Milady.”

You took it gently, mumbling, “Thanks.”

He sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused, “When are you gonna stop saying thanks every time I open a door for you?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Hmm… never.”

Jay laughed, eyes crinkling in that way you liked so much, “You call me stubborn, but I think you’re more stubborn than me.”

You both laughed softly as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement the only sound besides the rustle of flowers and faint music still drifting from the car.

You walked together toward the steps of your apartment building.

Jay slowed down as you reached the top, turning to face you properly. His eyes found yours, soft and a little nervous, and he smiled—just slightly, just enough.

“Well,” he said, voice low. “This is your stop.”

You smiled back, mimicking him. “Yeah. This is my stop.”

There was a brief, warm silence. The kind that made you not want to go inside just yet.

Jay cleared his throat suddenly, and you noticed the way his cheeks were dusted in pink, whether from the cold or something else entirely. He rocked slightly on his heels.

“I, uh…” he started.

You tilted your head with a knowing smile, “Yes?”

Jay sighed. “I just… wanted to thank you. For today. Studying with me in the library. Letting me drive you around. Even letting me treat you to dinner. And—and I’m still sorry, by the way, if you felt forced earlier 'cause my mom made me drive you to school and—like—I know she can be a little intense and—”

You let out a soft laugh, placing your hand gently over his fingers—the ones dangling awkwardly by his side, the ones not hiding behind his back. His ramble came to a halt at your touch.

“Jay,” you said gently, “you’re rambling again. Calm down.”

He blinked, startled, and then gave a sheepish chuckle. “Right. Sorry. Just—uh, just wanted to thank you for today. So…”

He finally removed the hand that had been hidden behind his back.

Your eyes widened slightly.

There, in his hand, was a small, fresh bouquet of pink carnations. The paper wrap crinkled softly as he extended it toward you—fingers a little stiff, like he wasn’t quite sure how to hold something so delicate and meaningful at the same time.

You blinked, caught completely off guard, heart lurching at the sight.

“Jay…”

He cleared his throat, gaze glued to the sidewalk beside your shoe. “They’re your favorite, right?” he mumbled. “I remembered. From earlier at the flower shop. You said you liked how they looked like… little clouds or something.”

The bouquet really was beautiful. The petals were pale and frilled, soft pink fading into gentle cream at the edges.

A few still had droplets of dew clinging to them, like they hadn’t quite woken up yet. The whole bunch looked handpicked—not perfect, but sincere. Sweet. Real.

You reached for them slowly, like you were afraid to crush them. Or maybe afraid that if you blinked, the moment would pass.

The flowers were still cool from the car, the paper wrap soft and slightly wrinkled from being held so tightly.

You lifted them closer, breathing in their faint, sweet scent.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered, voice small. “Thank you.”

Jay gave a little nod, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His shoulders were hunched, his posture awkward like he didn’t know what to do with himself now.

His cheeks were tinged with pink—and not just from the cold.

“You can go in now,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear. “It’s, um… it’s getting late.”

You looked back at the door briefly. And then, like you couldn’t help yourself, you looked at him again. “Yeah,” you said gently. “It is.”

He nodded again. “Well… good night, (Y/N).”

You stepped a little closer, heart thudding somewhere near your throat. “Good night, Jay.”

And then—on impulse, warm from your toes to your cheeks—you leaned up onto your tiptoes, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and pulled back before he could fully react.

Jay’s breath caught audibly. His heart stopped for half a beat and then slammed into motion again like a door had been thrown open inside his chest.

His eyes flew open wide. He stared at you like you’d just upended gravity.

You pulled back, smiling like nothing had happened—even though everything had. “Drive back home safe, okay?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then slowly nodded.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smiled again and finally turned, stepping toward the door. As you slipped inside, you waved one last time, and then the door gently closed behind you.

Jay stood still.

The night was quiet around him, the city humming gently in the background—but all he could hear was the sound of your laugh, the brush of your lips, the little papery crinkle of the bouquet still fresh in your hands.

He reached up, fingers hovering, and pressed a palm to his cheek where your kiss had landed. His lips parted, eyes wide in disbelief.

Your lip gloss was still there—a faint tacky warmth—and he swore his entire face was on fire now.

Then, like something inside him finally snapped, he burst into the softest, breathiest laugh.

And then he fist pumped the air.

“YES,” he hissed, as if any louder might wake the whole street. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He bounced once on the balls of his feet, adrenaline buzzing in his chest. He jogged back to the car, barely touching the ground, his smile now stupid-wide and crooked, the kind that showed every ounce of disbelief and joy and nerves all at once.

As he reached for the door, he laughed again—shakier this time. Like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered to himself as he slid into the driver’s seat.

The steering wheel felt cold under his hands, but he couldn’t even feel his fingers. He just sat there for a second. Staring up at your building. Still grinning like a total fool.

He took a deep breath, let it out slow, and started the engine.

You fix the last row of cookies in the white pastry box in front of you—carefully nudging a slightly uneven one back into formation. Then you close the lid gently, stacking it on top of the first box beside it.

You frown thoughtfully, lips pursed as you glance at the golden-brown edges peeking through the wax paper.

“…Is twenty-four enough?” you mutter to yourself, not totally convinced. But there’s no time to start over.

You sling your tote bag over your shoulder, grab both cookie boxes from the counter, and make your way to the front door. The scent of brown sugar and butter still clings to your sleeves as you hook your keys from where they hang on your ID lanyard.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you twist the lock with practiced ease.

Your skirt brushes lightly against your thighs as you step out, the fabric catching the wind. It’s still chilly outside, but the kind of chilly that feels fresh—not biting.

The sun is bright today, gleaming off the sidewalks and rooftops, and your breath turns soft in the air. You smile despite yourself.

Despite the long walk, you don’t mind taking your time.

The familiar neighborhood unfolds around you as you make your way down the tree-lined sidewalk. The same dogs barking in the distance.

The same old man at the bus stop with his newspaper and tea. The same mossy crack in the curb that you always jump over out of habit.

And finally, there it is—just ahead.

The little flower shop on the corner, ‘Park & Bloom’ painted across the window in delicate white script.

The old roses that usually framed the doorway have been swapped out now, replaced by sun-bright sunflowers strung in a little garland above the bell.

You slow down, humming softly, admiring the cheerful change.

Then you push open the door. The bells chime lightly, announcing your arrival—and you’re immediately met with the fresh, earthy scent of blooms and soil and something faintly citrusy.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Mrs. Park’s familiar voice floats from the back.

You laugh under your breath and step fully inside, the warmth of the shop instantly hugging your chilled skin. “Good morning, Mrs. Park.”

You stroll down one of the narrow aisles, eyes flicking over daisies, hyacinths, and something new in the succulents section. But it’s the brassicas that catch your eye—purple-cored and leafy, still a little damp from the morning spray.

You pick two medium-sized pots, tucking them carefully in your arms as you head straight for the counter.

“In a hurry today?” Mrs. Park asks with a kind smile, already wiping her hands on her apron.

You shake your head with a sigh, setting the plants gently down in front of her. “Not really. Just… busy morning in the lab. My schedule looks like hell this week.”

Her face softens with sympathy. “Well, if it cheers you up, dear—go on.”

You glance over instinctively to the little wooden tray by the side of the counter, stacked neatly with her usual homemade baked goods—you reach out and grab a lemon bar without hesitation, biting into it as the buttery crust and tangy zest melt instantly on your tongue.

“Oh my God,” you mutter mid-chew. “I still have no idea how you make them taste this good.”

Mrs. Park chuckles as she wraps your plants in brown paper. “You flatter me too much, (Y/N). Jay say the same thing, and I always tell them—it's the love.”

You smile, your heart warmed more by her words than the lemon bar. Then suddenly, you remember—

“Oh! I almost forgot.”

You set one of the cookie boxes down on the counter, sliding it gently toward her.

“They’re not as good as yours,” you admit sheepishly, “but I wanted to thank you. You’re always so kind to me, and I really appreciate it.”

Her hands still on the counter. Her gaze softens even more—a real, tender kind of softness—as she looks at you.

“You’re like a daughter to me,” she says warmly. “And for that, you’re not paying for those plants.”

Your brows knit as you immediately protest, “But—”

“No buts. That’s final.”

She lifts the box of cookies and sets it delicately beside the register like it’s something precious.

You huff lightly, defeated but smiling, as you lower yourself to grab the wrapped brassicas from the floor—but before your fingers even touch the paper, the familiar jingle of the shop bell sounds again.

You glance toward the door and freeze when you see Jay standing there.

The sun glows at his back like a spotlight, wind ruffling the edge of his white hoodie as he steps inside. He’s a little flushed from the cold, his hair slightly windswept, cheeks pink at the edges.

His eyes find yours immediately, and his lips pull into that shy, slightly crooked smile.

“Hey,” he says softly.

Your lips curve without thinking. “Hey.”

He walks over to the counter, nodding to his mom in greeting. “Morning, Mom. I just need to grab a few papers.”

Mrs. Park waves him toward the back, and he steps quickly behind the counter, rummaging through a thin drawer before pulling out a couple of neatly stapled stacks.

But as he turns to leave, his gaze lands on the plants at your feet then flicks to you.

“Need help?” he asks, already walking back around the counter.

You shake your head, hoisting one plant slightly. “No, I’m good—”

He clicks his tongue, ignoring you completely as he reaches down and grabs both pots in his arms like they weigh nothing.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the door.

You shoot him a look but trail after him anyway, throwing a helpless glance over your shoulder at Mrs. Park.

She only chuckles, shaking her head fondly as she waves you off with a dismissive flick of her hand, like this—you and Jay—was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jay pushes the door open and holds it for you without a word. The sunlight hits both of you as you step outside, bright and chilled at the same time.

“These are pretty heavy,” he murmurs, carefully adjusting his grip.

“We need them for the lab,” you explain as you walk beside him.

“I figured.” He nods, lips twitching slightly. “Busy week?”

You groan. “Hell week.”

Jay laughs under his breath, unlocking his car. “Sounds about right.”

He sets the plants down in the back seat gently, checking them once to make sure they’re steady, before walking around to the passenger side and opening the door for you.

You blink at him.

“…Thanks,” you say, sliding in.

“Anytime,” he replies, and you catch the smile in his voice before he shuts the door and circles around to the driver’s side.

The car starts with a quiet hum, and within seconds, warm air flows through the vents—gentle and golden against your skin. You sigh audibly, the relief so immediate you nearly melt into the seat.

Your legs stretch out slightly, the heated air nipping at your thighs. You buckle your seatbelt, turning to Jay with a smirk.

“You know,” you say casually, “a few more of these rides, and I’d really get used to it.”

He glances at you, smiling. “I don’t mind.”

You arch a brow. “Mhmm. Sure.”

He chuckles as he makes a turn. “Okay, maybe I like being your personal chauffeur.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn’t fade.

“Oh—yeah. I almost forgot about this,” you say suddenly, reaching into your bag.

You pull out the soft, freshly folded hoodie you borrowed last night—still smelling faintly like his detergent and the warm-cotton scent you couldn’t quite place.

You hold it out to him.

Jay glances down at it once, then back to the road.

“Keep it,” he says.

You blink. “What? No, it’s yours. I washed it and everything—”

“I’m serious,” he says, glancing at you again. “Keep it.”

You stare at him. “Jay, this thing is like, stupid expensive. You don’t just give someone a hoodie like this.”

He shrugs, smiling again—a little softer this time.

“You’re not wearing a cardigan today.”

You frown. “So?”

“And,” he continues, “you literally melted into the seat the second I turned the heater on.”

You flush instantly. “And?”

“So you clearly need something to keep you warm,” he finishes, glancing at you briefly. “And I know how cold the labs get. Just keep it.”

You stare at him, defeated.

“…You’re impossible to argue with.”

“Yup,” he says simply, flicking the turn signal.

You roll your eyes again, but your fingers curl around the hoodie anyway. It’s soft and warm, like a hug that’s still clinging to you.

You don’t say anything right away—but you can feel your smile curling at the corners of your lips as you tug it gently into your lap.

Jay glances at you sideways with a grin tugging at his lips.

“I told you so,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You roll your eyes playfully, letting out a small huff as you pull the hoodie over your body.

“Only because it’s cold,” you mutter, but your tone is light, and the way you burrow deeper into the hoodie betrays the comfort you’re feeling.

Jay hums, smug. “And I’m telling you to keep that hoodie.”

You pause, fingers idly running along the fabric as you look out the window, the buildings passing by in a blur.

You don’t respond right away, but the silence is easy. Warm. Until Jay suddenly clears his throat, a soft but nervous sound.

“Hey, (Y/N)…” he says.

You glance back at him. “Hmm?”

He keeps his eyes on the road, but you can see the way his fingers tap on the steering wheel like he’s working up the courage.

“Remember how you keep asking me questions?”

You blink, caught off guard before a chuckle escapes your lips. “What about it?”

Jay bites back a smile, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Can I ask you some now?”

You shrug, amused. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Turning your body slightly in your seat, you pull the hood up over your head like a makeshift pillow against the window—careful not to mess up your hair, of course.

Jay sneaks a glance, eyes lingering for half a second longer than necessary before refocusing on the road.

“What time do your classes start today?” he asks.

You scoff, half-laughing. “Despite our painfully packed schedule? Nine. Why?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just asking.”

“Alright,” you say, amused. “Next question, then?”

Jay smiles faintly. “What’s your favorite drink and dish?”

You hum in thought. “Right now? A green tea frappuccino. I’m literally craving one.”

Jay laughs at that, “And food?”

“Pasta,” you answer easily, shifting in your seat. “Literally any kind. They’re all my favorite.”

Jay grins. “That’s nice.”

You tilt your head, suspicious. “Why?”

He shrugs again, smirking. “Those are my favorites too.”

You raise a brow. “I don’t believe you.”

He chuckles, then gestures toward the dashboard. “Grab my phone.”

You follow his gaze and spot it clipped neatly into place. You hesitate. “Why?”

“Just grab it,” he repeats, turning the steering wheel gently.

You pluck the phone from the dashboard. “What am I supposed to do with this? You’re driving.”

“Open it,” he says casually.

You blink. “Okay… what’s the password?” you ask in a teasing tone, already expecting something ridiculous.

Jay says without hesitation, “My birthday. April 20, 2002.”

Your hands pause mid-air. “Seriously?”

He nods. “Yep. Go ahead.”

You type it in. 042002.

The screen unlocks immediately, revealing his home screen—a sleek photo of a Formula One car mid-race. Chrome and scarlet glint under stadium lights.

“Formula One?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jay nods, eyes still on the road. “Yeah. Do you know the sport?”

You nod slowly. “I know the basics. Teams, some of the drivers. Why? Is that your dream job or something?”

“No. Just a hobby.”

You look down at the phone, then glance back at him. “You’re really just trusting me with your phone?”

Jay shrugs, the corner of his lips tilting into a soft smile. “I have nothing to hide, (Y/N). Don’t worry.”

At the next red light, he briefly turns to you—smiling fully this time, his white hoodie bunched around his neck, collar slightly askew.

His eyes crinkle at the edges as he tilts his head, like he’s memorizing how you look in that moment.

“Open the Photos app.”

You do.

The screen fills with a gallery of images—some recent, some older. The first one is a blurry selfie of Jake making a ridiculous face next to Jay, who looks mildly confused and mid-blink. You laugh softly.

Then the next one: a clean shot of a green tea frappuccino, perfectly angled with sunlight gleaming on the cup, and next to it, a plate of creamy carbonara pasta. The timestamp says last week.

You scroll slowly.

There are more photos—Jay in suits, Jay in airports, Jay in front of sports cars. Some with his friends, most with just him. There’s a recurring theme of muted colors, designer brands, and that signature serious expression he wears like armor.

But every so often, there are selfies. Casual, half-lazy, him lying back on a couch, messy hair, or trying on sunglasses. You can’t help but smile.

Then there are photos of shopping bags—Prada, Dior, Bottega. A few flat lays of clothes that look eerily similar to things you’ve complimented in passing.

Your fingers hover, heart beating a little faster.

“You take a lot of photos,” you murmur, still scrolling.

Jay hums. “It helps me remember stuff. People. Moments.”

You hesitate. “Do you always look like that in pictures?”

Jay laughs. “Like what?”

You turn the phone toward him, showing one of the selfies where he looks completely unbothered and gorgeous. “Like you were carved by the gods or something.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, cheeks tinged pink. “Was that a compliment?”

“No,” you say instantly, biting back a smile. “Observation.”

He smiles again, eyes on the road but you can tell he’s trying not to grin too wide.

You scroll back to the pasta and drink photo and gently hug his hoodie tighter around you.

“You really weren’t lying, huh?”

Jay just glances at you, eyes soft.

“Mhm,” he hums, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “I told you—we like the same things.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Who knew Park Jongseong was not what commoners thought he was?”

Jay chokes out a playful cough. “Okay, now that’s just overboard.”

“What? It’s true,” you giggle, leaning back against the seat.

“I’m rich, not a monster,” he says with mock seriousness, lifting his wrist for a moment to reveal the sleek silver watch catching the faint morning light.

“It’s only six… forty,” you note after a glance at the time, the slim silver hands on his analog watch catching the early morning light, glinting against the smooth curve of the metal.

“Pretty early,” he agrees, his fingers drumming lazily against the steering wheel in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

Then, almost too casually, “Wanna eat?”

You blink, tilting your head at him. “Wait, is this why you were asking me my favorite food?”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a laugh, shoulders shifting with an easy shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

A small chuckle escapes you, the sound curling into the quiet space of the car. “I could eat.”

“Any cravings?” he asks, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, like he already knows your answer but just wants to hear you say it.

You give him a knowing look, one brow slightly arched.

“Okay,” he relents with a soft chuckle, eyes flicking back to the road. “Green tea frappuccino and pasta it is.”

The hum of the engine fills the next few minutes, the city slipping by in gentle blurs of grey buildings and the occasional splash of neon signs still glowing faintly from the night before.

You rest your cheek against the back of your hand, watching as the streets grow quieter the further you drive.

The hum of the engine fills the next few minutes, the city slipping by in gentle blurs of grey buildings and the occasional splash of neon signs still glowing faintly from the night before.

You rest your cheek against the back of your hand, watching as the streets grow quieter the further you drive.

When the car slows, it’s in front of a tucked-away café with warm light spilling from its windows. The smell of fresh coffee drifts faintly even from outside.

He parks neatly in an empty spot, shutting off the engine in one smooth motion before stepping out.

Jay circles the car without a word, and by the time you’ve reached for the door handle, he’s already there, opening it for you.

You take his offered hand as you step down, the warmth of his palm lingering a second longer than necessary. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replies easily, his voice low and sure as he closes the door behind you.

As you glance back at the car, a small thought slips out. “My plants won’t die in the backseat, right?”

His keys jingle as he locks the vehicle, the corner of his mouth curling. “Nope. It’s pretty chilly. They’ll be fine.”

“Thanks… again,” you murmur, and he holds the café door open for you.

The moment you step inside, a soft wave of warmth envelops you, along with the mingled scents of coffee, sugar, and freshly baked bread.

It’s quiet—only a couple of people ahead in line, murmuring to the barista.

You fall into place beside him, letting your eyes wander over the rustic wood counters and the chalkboard menu until he breaks the silence.

“You can find a seat for us,” he says without looking away from the display case.

“Are you sure?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Positive. Plus, I already know your order.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, the warmth in your chest spreading. “Okay. I’ll get us one near the windows. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” He smiles—soft, direct, and somehow still casual, though there’s something in his gaze that lingers just a fraction too long before you turn to go.

You weave between the tables, choosing a booth tucked right by the wide windows. Outside, the sky is still the pale, quiet blue of early morning.

The leather seat is cool under your hands as you slide in, setting your bag beside you.

From here, you can see Jay at the cashier—posture relaxed, one hand in his pocket as he speaks to the barista. The air conditioning blows gently from the ceiling above him, catching the ends of his hair and making the strands sway just slightly.

You tell yourself you’re only glancing, but your eyes linger longer than they should, tracing the line of his shoulders beneath the crisp white hoodie, the easy slope of his back, all the way down to the worn black Converse covering his feet.

He shifts slightly, leaning on one leg, and the movement draws your gaze again before you force yourself to look away.

Your fingers automatically reach for the charms dangling from your bracelet, fidgeting with them to distract yourself.

Jay was… well, he was a lot of things—handsome, charming, smart. The kind of person who carried himself like the world was already his, yet somehow still remembered how you liked your coffee without asking.

You were just… you. There was a line here—an unspoken boundary—and you knew it. He was nice. That was all.

So why did your chest feel warm? Why did your heartbeat pick up whenever his gaze found yours, or his voice softened when he said your name?

You exhale quietly, muttering under your breath, “I’m screwed.”

The faint hum of the centrifuge filled the quiet corners of the lab, mingling with the scratch of pens against paper. You tapped the end of your pen against the table, eyes drifting over the paragraph you’d just written.

You frowned, muttering under your breath, “That sounds stupid,” before scribbling over the words and rewriting the sentence.

The smell of ethanol and something vaguely metallic hung in the air, but you barely noticed anymore.

Sliding the sheet across the table, you pushed it toward Jisung, who was hunched over his own notes. He scanned your writing, his pen stilling for a moment before he nodded.

“Yeah, that’s good,” he said simply, already passing it back.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you took the paper again, tucking your hair behind your ear and answering another short question in the margin.

The seconds stretched. The rhythmic clicking of a keyboard from the far end of the room filled the silence.

“Hey, Jisung?” you murmured, still writing.

“What,” he replied without looking up, his focus glued to his part of the report.

You hesitated. The tip of your pen hovered just above the page

“…Have you ever been in love?”

The scratch of his pen stopped. You could feel his attention shift to you, even if you didn’t lift your eyes from your paper. He blinked once, twice, and for a second you thought maybe he wouldn’t answer. Then he leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Well… do elementary school crushes count?”

You let out a small laugh, glancing at him for the first time. “A crush is a crush, Jisung. Just tell me.”

“If it does,” he said, lips quirking, “then yeah. I have.”

You nodded slowly, the pen in your hand still but your thoughts running.

Your eyes drifted back to the page, skimming over the sentences you’d just written as if they were more important than the way your chest had gone tight.

“What does it feel like?” you asked quietly.

He stopped writing again, his gaze flicking toward the front of the lab. The professor’s desk sat empty, chair tucked neatly in, no sign of the usual pile of graded assignments. His shoulders eased just a little.

“I mean… it’s been so long,” he said finally, uncapping a different colored pen and twirling it between his fingers. “But I guess it feels… funny.”

You looked up, brows knitting. “Funny?”

He shrugged, eyes on the diagram he was labeling. “Yeah. Not, like, ha-ha funny. Just… your stomach does this weird thing. And you think about them even when you don’t mean to. It’s distracting.”

Your brows furrowed as you sat there, letting his words settle over you like dust on an unused shelf—light, but impossible to ignore. Distracting. Stomach doing weird things.

You exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to your paper again. The pen in your hand moved automatically, scribbling another line of analysis just to fill the space between you.

“How do you deal with it?” you asked, your voice a little quieter now, almost hidden under the low hum of the lab equipment.

Jisung’s pen stilled. He let out a short sigh, like he was trying to figure out if you were actually serious.

“Why are you asking me all of these questions out of nowhere?” He looked at you properly this time, brows raised. “It’s not like you’re in love or anything.”

You bit your lip, chewing on his words as your mind flickered back to the conversation from earlier in the week. The late-night drive. The soft music. The way his hoodie sleeves had bunched up when he leaned on the counter.

You didn’t even realize you’d gone quiet until Jisung sucked in a breath.

“…Who’s the guy?” he asked, voice somewhere between teasing and cautious.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening before you shook it immediately. “There’s no one.”

“I know that look, (Y/N).” His tone was firm, but there was amusement glinting in his eyes. “I’ve watched too many romance movies to ignore that look.”

You let out a sigh, setting your pen down with a faint clack against the desk. One hand ran through your hair, fingertips catching on the ends.

“Just forget it,” you muttered. “I can’t see it happening anyway.”

The words tasted a little bitter as they left your mouth. You couldn’t stop the faint pull at your lips—the kind that wasn’t a smile at all.

Still, you pushed through, writing the final sentence on your part of the report before sliding the paper toward him.

“I have a stapler in my bag,” you said, already reaching down to rummage through it. “Give me a minute.”

Jisung didn’t answer right away, flipping through both his and your sheets with quiet focus. Then, without looking up, he said, “It’s Jay, isn’t it?”

Your hands froze in your bag. Slowly, you looked up, your gaze meeting his. You hesitated for a heartbeat before giving a small, reluctant nod.

Jisung’s lips curved into the faintest smile—not teasing this time, but something gentler. “We’ll talk about this, okay?”

You huffed softly and finally pulled out the stapler, setting it in his open palm. He stood, stretching before crossing the room to gather the rest of your group’s work.

And you sat there, trying not to think about how ‘funny’ your stomach had felt all week.

The cold air nipped at the fabric of your sweater, sneaking in through the loose weave and brushing against your skin. Your steps crunched softly against the pavement, the faint scent of damp leaves lingering from the earlier drizzle.

Beside you, Jisung shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, his sneakers scuffing lazily with each step.

“We’ve been walking in silence for ten minutes, (Y/N),” he finally said, tilting his head to glance at you.

You huffed, the sound visible in the little puff of condensation that escaped your lips. “I just… can’t find the right words, okay?”

He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re just like Chenle.”

That made you laugh, the sound cracking through the quiet street. “What can I say? His attitude rubbed off on me.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Jisung deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Now get talking.”

You blew out another slow breath, watching it dissipate into the cold air. “Well… I like Jay.”

He stopped for half a beat, eyebrows rising before he looked at you incredulously. “That’s it?”

“Yes, Jisung. That’s it.”

“No, that’s not it, (Y/N).” He stepped in front of you for a second, walking backward just to make his point. “We both know you’re a hopeless romantic.”

You swatted his arm as you passed him, muttering, “Shut up, Park Jisung.”

“I mean, seriously,” he went on, catching up easily. “Who just says they like someone and leaves it at that?”

Your gaze dropped to the ground, the tip of your shoe nudging a loose pebble along the sidewalk. “I didn’t… when I first started liking him.”

Jisung’s footsteps slowed, giving you space to talk.

“All I knew was that I… liked-liked him.” The admission came out softer than you expected, the words barely rising above the distant hum of traffic.

You paused, your mind flickering through snapshots of the last two weeks—the late-night conversations, the way he always remembered the smallest details, the quiet warmth in his smile when he thought you weren’t looking.

When you turned your head, Jisung was already watching you. His expression was patient, steady, like he had all the time in the world to wait for the rest of your story.

Your eyes flicked back to the pavement, watching the cracks in the concrete pass beneath your shoes. “Jay’s… nice,” you began slowly, almost testing the word out loud.

“Unlike whatever rumors people try to start about him. He’s kind, and he never really pushes to know you unless he’s sure you’re comfortable around him.”

The corner of your mouth tugged upward. “And he’s a huge dork.” You let out a soft laugh, the sound warm in the chilly air.

“People call him cold and distant, but he’s really just an… attractive dork. Like, the kind that trips over his words when he’s excited but still somehow makes it sound charming. The kind that remembers random stuff you said in passing three weeks ago and brings it up like it’s the most normal thing.”

You caught yourself smiling too much and quickly looked away, your voice picking up speed the way his always did when he got carried away talking to you.

“And he rambles—God, he rambles—about music or some random fact he read, and it’s… nice. It’s him.”

Jisung didn’t say a word, but you could feel his attention, like he was catching every single syllable.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted finally, glancing up at him with a sheepish grin. “I guess I do like Park Jongseong.”

“So,” Jisung hummed, “you two have been hanging out for a while together, then?”

“Almost three weeks,” you said with a small nod. Then you tilted your head at him. “What’s your verdict?”

He chuckled at the phrasing, shaking his head. “My verdict is… you do like him. That’s all I can say.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he lifted a hand, stopping you. “But—” he continued, “what’s stopping you?”

Your steps faltered just slightly, the rhythm of your walk thrown off. “…What do you mean?”

Jisung gave you a look like the answer should be obvious. “(Y/N), you like him. You like Park Jongseong. What’s stopping you from pursuing him?”

That pulled a short, humorless laugh from you. “Everything.”

Jisung’s brows knitted together, the faint crease in his forehead deepening. He let out a slow sigh, his breath curling into the cold air.

“I don’t know why you downgrade yourself so much. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

You huffed out a laugh, brushing it off. “You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

He shook his head immediately, his voice firmer. “No, seriously. I don’t know how you’re so smart and still manage to take care of yourself as much as you do. I can barely get out of bed every morning, and you…”

He gestured vaguely at you, as if that explained it all. “You’re doing it. Every single day.”

You smiled, amused by the earnestness in his tone. “Excuse me, Jisung—”

“I’m serious,” he cut in, glancing at you briefly before looking ahead again. “You’re so much more than whatever you tell people you are, (Y/N). I just… I hope you see that. You know?”

The words sat heavy in your chest, and all you could do was nod wordlessly, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond.

Your shoe nudged another loose pebble, sending it skittering down the sidewalk.

The familiar golden glow from the pavement a few steps ahead caught your eye.

You glanced up, recognizing the warm, hazy light spilling from the windows of the flower shop you knew by heart.

“Well,” you said, tilting your head toward the storefront, “this is my stop.”

Jisung’s gaze followed yours, and he nodded knowingly. “Yeah. Go get some for your living room vase—those flowers you have are close to wilting.”

You gasped dramatically, “They are not!”

He laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Mmhm. Denial. Have a good night, (Y/N). I’ll see you next week.”

You nodded, the corner of your lips lifting. “Yeah, it’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” he confirmed with a grin. “So don’t worry about our paper. Get some rest, okay?”

“Mhm. Good night, Jisung.” You stepped backward toward the shop’s door, lifting a hand in a wave. “Have fun with Jeno and the others.”

His laugh carried down the sidewalk as he turned to leave. “Always do.”

You watched Jisung’s retreating figure disappear into the night, your breath puffing faintly in the cool air. Turning your head toward the flower shop’s wide glass windows, your steps slowed.

Jay was there.

He was still in that same white hoodie you’d seen him in days ago, though now an apron was tied neatly around his waist. He sat back behind the counter, setting down a spray bottle, droplets still clinging to his fingertips.

His movements were unhurried as he placed it aside, adjusting the thick textbook sprawled open in front of him.

The soft yellow light from the shop caught the lenses of his glasses, making them glint as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose.

You frowned without realizing it, the sight tugging something inside you.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you pushed the door open. The bell above chimed, and Jay’s head immediately lifted from the page.

A smile spread across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Hey,” he said, already standing.

“Hey,” you replied, your own small smile slipping through despite the weight in your chest.

You walked toward the front counter, and Jay’s gaze followed your every step.

He was quick to notice the difference—the usual light bounce in your stride missing, replaced by something heavier.

“Uh,” you started, brushing your hair over your shoulder, “there aren’t any more lavenders or tulips?”

If you’d seen yourself through Jay’s eyes, you’d know you looked ethereal in that moment—hair catching the warm shop light, eyes steady on his, voice soft.

He shook his head slowly. “No… a bunch of students from Decelis bought most of them. Just a few minutes ago, actually. I’m sorry.”

You huffed a faint laugh. “You don’t have to say sorry for flowers, Jay. You’re literally selling them.”

That made him smile again, something unspoken flickering in his eyes.

You wandered to the nearest display, fingertips grazing petals before picking a few stems of daisies and soft pink chrysanthemums.

Setting them gently on the counter in front of him, you said, “Just these, please.”

Jay nodded, sliding his textbook aside. “Fancy paper or newspaper?”

“Newspaper, please.”

He wrapped them with practiced hands, the paper rustling between you. When he handed the bouquet over, you thought the transaction was done—but then his gaze darted away, his mouth opening and closing like he was holding something back.

“Uh… I actually got something for you,” he blurted. “Wait here.”

Brows lifting, you tilted your head as he crouched behind the counter.

He rummaged for a moment, the sound of shifting boxes and paper filling the small space, before he rose again—holding out a small bunch of pink carnations wrapped simply in clear plastic.

You blinked, taking them carefully. “What’s this for?”

He shuffled on his feet, looking both awkward and determined.

“Well… I know they’re your favorite. You told me, uh, four days ago. I gave you a bouquet then, but I managed to save some of them for you since, you know… the pretty flowers were sold out.”

A soft laugh escaped you, your fingers cradling the flowers like they were made of glass. “Thank you, Jay. Truly.”

“No worries,” he murmured, his smile gentle. “Plus, you looked kinda down, so I wanted to help.”

Your eyes flickered to him, the warmth in your chest warring with the quiet ache of the day. “Were my emotions that obvious?”

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “So, uh… are you busy?”

You shook your head. “No. Why?”

“I know a way to cheer you up.”

You raised a brow. “Aren’t you on your shift?”

Jay quickly shook his head. “Wait here.”

Before you could protest, he disappeared into the back, the curtain swaying behind him. You heard the faint creak of a door and then his voice, low but clear, speaking to someone.

“Seriously, Jay?” a voice answered—unmistakably Hyunjae’s.

You smiled despite yourself.

A moment later, Hyunjae emerged, rubbing the back of his head. “I swear…” He shot Jay a look. “I was stuck in a board meeting all day and finally sat down, and you—”

Jay only grinned and gave his cousin a light punch to the shoulder. “I’ll give you one of my watches. Now shut up.”

Hyunjae scoffed. “I can buy my own, thank you very much. What I need is sleep.”

“Not my problem,” Jay replied with mock innocence, stepping up beside you. “Come on, let’s go.”

You raised a brow when Jay pulled his car into the quiet parking lot of a nearby park.

The streetlamps were sparse, their soft glow scattered across the pavement, and the crickets in the grass filled the silence between you.

“Why are we here?” you asked, suspicion curling in your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately, just switched off the engine, got out, and rounded the hood until he reached your side.

With one smooth motion, he opened the passenger door for you, holding out his hand.

You took it, your fingers brushing against his warm palm. “Are you sure you’re not out here to murder me?” you teased.

His laugh was quiet but genuine. “No, I swear.”

Still, you caught the way his hand lingered around yours before he reluctantly let go, clicking the car shut with his keys. Without another word, he started down the pathway, the night air curling around you both.

“You owe me a ride home after this, Jongseong,” you called after him.

That made him laugh again, this time louder, your use of his full name clearly hitting a nerve. He glanced back at you, eyes crinkling. “I was planning to give you a ride anyway.”

You shook your head, catching up to him. “So… where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said simply.

“But okay, where?” you pressed, feigning impatience.

He turned to give you a look, equal parts amused and exasperated. “(Y/N), do you know what a surprise is?”

“Yes,” you shot back instantly, “but I also know that I like annoying you.”

He let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “I’m well aware.”

Before you could poke him again, he reached out and gently grabbed your wrist, the pressure light but steady. “Come on.”

You let him guide you, though you mumbled under your breath, “Okay, now this is just sketchy.”

Jay glanced at you over his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

That made you falter for half a step. His eyes were on you—searching yours, waiting. There was no malice there, no frustration, no trace of anything sharp or cold. Just an earnest warmth.

You nodded slowly. “…Yeah.”

His grip softened, and he turned the corner with you in tow. The moment you looked up, the scent of fresh waffle cones and vanilla drifted toward you.

A small, pastel-painted ice cream shop sat at the end of the path, its windows glowing invitingly against the night.

Your eyes widened. “Woah.”

Jay’s lips curved into a grin, like he’d been waiting for that exact reaction. “Told you.”

You gave him a quick side glance before following as he stepped ahead, reaching for the glass door. The small silver bells above it jingled as he pushed it open, holding it there until you stepped inside.

Warm air and the sweet scent of sugar and cream wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the cool night outside.

There were a few other people scattered around—a couple sharing a sundae in the corner, two kids swinging their legs at the counter stools—and you caught the faint hum of an old pop song playing through hidden speakers.

“How did you even find this place?” you asked, eyes roaming over the pastel walls and the framed photographs of families and kids holding ice cream cones.

Jay’s mouth curved upward, but there was a glint in his eye that told you the story wasn’t going to be something ordinary. “I ran away from home when I was ten.”

Your brows shot up. “You ran away? Why?”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I was being forced into—I don’t know, probably five hours of endless tutoring sessions. I’d had enough. So I took my bike and just rode it for about an hour until I ended up here.”

You tilted your head, already picturing it.

“There was this old lady behind the counter back then,” he went on, his tone a little softer now. “She saw I’d been crying and told me I could get mine for free. That’s it, I guess.”

You hummed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I can imagine a little Jay running around.”

“Am I at least cute in your imagination?” he asked, leaning slightly toward you, his voice low enough to make it feel like a secret.

You didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

Jay let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes before straightening. “Right.”

You bit back a laugh as he gestured toward the glass display case, where rows of ice cream tubs gleamed under the bright lights. Swirls of pink, chocolate, soft yellow, and pale mint green all lined up like a painter’s palette.

“Be my guest,” he said, stepping aside so you could look.

Your gaze scanned over the choices before your finger landed on a familiar one. “Cookies and cream.”

He nodded, already flagging down the person behind the counter. “Solid choice. What size?”

“Small,” you said, before glancing at him. “What about you?”

“Pistachio,” he replied, pointing at the pale green tub.

You tilted your head. “Is it any good?”

Jay’s expression was confident, almost smug. “Yes. Very.”

You caught the way his brows furrowed just slightly as he said it, like he was that determined to sell you on it, and you had to bite back a smile.

“Still cookies and cream,” you said, your voice final but teasing.

Jay shot you a quick glance, a little amused, a little smug. “Worth a try,” he murmured, before giving your orders to the cashier with an easy confidence.

You waited by the counter, watching him pull his card from his wallet. There was something so casual in the way he moved—yet you couldn’t help but notice the small curve of his lips when the cashier handed him the two cups.

“Here,” he said, holding one out to you. His hand was steady, fingers brushing yours for just a fraction longer than necessary.

“Thanks,” you replied, smiling faintly as you took it. The cold of the cup seeped into your palm, grounding you.

He guided you out the door with a soft, “C’mon,” the bells chiming behind you as you stepped back into the night air.

The walk back toward the park was easy, your footsteps falling into sync without trying.

Streetlamps painted the sidewalk in warm pools of light, and the air was cool enough to make the ice cream feel like a luxury instead of a risk.

“Does it taste good?” Jay asked, glancing sideways at you.

You nodded mid-bite, then raised your spoon, pointing it toward him. “Say ah.”

Jay blinked, caught off guard. “Are you sure?”

You gave a small, shy smile, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “I don’t have germs, Jay.”

That earned you the tiniest huff of a laugh from him, though you swore you saw the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

He leaned slightly closer, lowering his head toward the spoon like he was indulging you, his eyes flicking briefly up to yours before he took the bite.

He hummed low in his throat, licking his lips as if savoring it. “It’s not half bad,” he admitted.

You gave him a look over the rim of your cup. “Are your taste buds broken, Jay?”

He laughed, that soft, low kind that somehow made the air feel warmer. “Maybe,” he said, brushing past you and gently tugging your wrist to guide you along the sidewalk.

The two of you slipped into the park where he’d left his car earlier, the street noise fading behind you. You passed by the dark outline of his vehicle, and Jay waved his cup lightly in the air. “I just prefer this.”

“Pistachio is okay,” you allowed with a shrug.

“Here—come on, taste it.” He was already raising a spoon toward you, the pale green ice cream catching the dim glow of the streetlamp.

You eyed it like it was dangerous, because in a way it was. Not the flavor—him.

The way he was leaning just slightly closer, the way his mouth twitched at the corners. Still, you leaned forward, ignoring the fact that your heart had started to race, and took the bite.

He watched you as if your reaction mattered more than it should. “Well?”

You tilted your head, swallowing. “…It’s good.”

Jay’s smile broke slow and triumphant. “I told you so.”

Before you could respond, he pointed toward an empty bench under the skeletal shadow of a tree. “Come on—let’s sit there, yeah?”

You followed, settling beside him with a sigh as the cold wooden seat pressed through your coat. “Who knew ice cream in cold weather would be good, huh?”

“I did,” he said without missing a beat, his tone smug in the most infuriatingly endearing way. “That’s why I took you here.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving another spoonful of cookies and cream into your mouth to keep from smiling too much.

Jay hummed, leaning back, his gaze flicking to you. “Feeling better already?”

You shook your head, a small frown tugging at your lips. The reminder hit you then—the reason you were here, sitting in the cold with him instead of doing anything else.

The conversation you’d been avoiding. The thing you didn’t want to feel tonight.

You took another slow bite of your ice cream, letting the cold linger on your tongue before glancing up. The sky stretched endlessly above you, speckled with stars, and the full moon glowed so bright it felt close enough to touch.

The sight tugged a smile out of you before you could help it.

“Hey, Jay,” you murmured, still watching the sky.

“What’s up?” he asked easily.

But before you could open your mouth again, he spoke—his voice softer this time, careful. “I hope you don’t feel like I’m… forcing you to say anything. That wasn’t my intention.”

Your gaze flicked to him. His head was bent, eyes locked on the half-melted swirl in his cup like it might give him answers.

His spoon twisted between his fingers, fidgety. “I just wanted to cheer you up,” he added quietly. “That’s all.”

You watched him for a beat, the way his shoulders seemed a little tighter, like he was afraid he’d overstepped. Then you looked back up at the stars. “Yeah… I know.”

You scooped another bite, the sweetness hitting your tongue as you said, almost casually, “Jay… have you ever been in love?”

He froze mid-motion, his spoon hovering above his cup. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. But you kept your gaze on the stars, leaning back into the bench.

“No,” he said after a beat.

You hummed faintly, like that was the answer you expected.

Then his voice dropped, almost like he didn’t mean for it to escape. “…Not until recently, anyways.”

He went back to his ice cream then, pretending to focus on it, and maybe it was better that way—because if he’d kept his eyes on you, he would’ve seen the way your smile faltered.

“Oh. Okay.”

When he finally glanced back up, you were already looking down at your own cup, scooping another bite like you had nothing else on your mind.

“What’s with the sudden question?” he asked, brow furrowed.

You shrugged, keeping your tone light. “Nothing. Just curious.”

But he didn’t look convinced. His gaze lingered a moment longer, studying your face like he could read between your words, before he let out a small breath and looked away.

You sighed to yourself, willing the heaviness in your chest to settle. It didn’t. Instead, it sat there—thick and stubborn—while you scooped the last bite of ice cream into your mouth, the sweetness doing nothing to wash it away.

“I’m done,” you said finally, setting the spoon inside the empty cup.

Jay looked up at you, eyes meeting yours like he’d been waiting for you to speak. “Oh. Me too.”

He gave his cup a little shake, turning it upside down so a stray drip landed with a soft plop inside, and the motion made you smile—just a little.

It was the kind of smile you had to force, hoping it would feel real once it reached your lips.

You pushed yourself to your feet, tilting your head toward him. “Let’s go.”

He nodded, reaching out to take your empty cup without even thinking, his fingers brushing yours briefly before he tossed both into the bin beside him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You started walking ahead, the sound of his footsteps falling in behind you.

And just like that, the smile vanished—slipping from your face faster than you meant it to. The corners of your mouth sank, your jaw tightening as the air felt colder than it had a minute ago.

You could almost feel the weight creeping back in, heavier with every step, pressing down on your ribs until it was hard to breathe.

It was barely morning, the sun just beginning to stretch pale gold across the streets, the light still sleepy and thin.

The air was warm in a way that didn’t feel like morning at all, and Jay tugged at the collar of his denim jacket with a small frown.

“Why is it so hot today…” he muttered, adjusting the glasses perched on his nose as he pushed open the glass door to the flower shop.

The little silver bell above chimed, greeting him with that familiar sound he’d heard a hundred times before.

But to his surprise—your usual soft humming, your voice greeting him before the bell even stopped ringing—was missing.

Jay slowed his steps, scanning the shop like maybe you’d pop up from behind a shelf of sunflowers. Instead, he saw his mom carefully arranging a bouquet behind the counter.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning,” Jay replied automatically, still glancing toward the back door. “Don’t you have a board meeting today?”

Mrs. Park tucked a sprig of baby’s breath into the bouquet, shaking her head. “It got canceled. One of the team managers called in sick—he was the one in charge of running it.”

Jay nodded slowly, moving behind the counter to the small cubby where he’d left a stack of books last night. “When’s the company dinner again?” he asked, pulling two from the pile.

“Two weeks from now. Why?”

He groaned, sliding the books into his bag with more force than necessary. “Dad won’t get off my back about bringing a date.”

His mom’s laugh was soft but knowing. “Oh, you know he’s just teasing.”

Jay shot her a look, squinting slightly. “Is it teasing? Because it doesn’t feel like teasing.”

Mrs. Park only shook her head fondly at him.

He reached over to the pastry rack, unwrapping one of the cupcakes they kept for walk-in customers, and took a bite before speaking again.

“Do I really have to be there? I’ve got a quiz before the event.”

“You know you do, Jay,” she sighed gently, rearranging the roses in the tall glass vase on the counter.

“It’s just one evening. You’ll be able to focus on pursuing that psychology doctorate after you graduate and help your father once you’re done.”

He only hummed in response, chewing slowly. Psychology doctorate. The words sounded heavy every time he heard them—like they belonged to someone older, more certain, more ready than he sometimes felt.

“Yeah, I know,” he said finally, though his voice was softer.

Mrs. Park moved on to a pot of pink carnations, brushing her fingers lightly over the petals. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

Jay straightened a little at your name. “Wasn’t she here earlier?”

“I have no idea,” his mom said, brows knitting just slightly. “She didn’t stop over this morning. She might be running late—but that girl never runs late.”

Jay nodded, though something about that unsettled him. “Okay… Tell her I said good morning? I can’t wait around, I’ve got a morning lecture.”

“Alright. Bye, Jay. Take care.”

He smiled one last time before pulling the door open. “Bye, Mom.”

The bell chimed again as he stepped out, the faint ring trailing after him into the quiet street.

The morning light had brightened in just those few minutes, spilling gold across the storefronts. The warmth hit his face instantly, thicker than it should be at this hour, and he squinted against it.

But it wasn’t just the sun making him frown.

It was the absence of you.

He’d gotten too used to seeing you in the mornings—leaning against the counter with a coffee in hand, hair still slightly messy from the rush to get here on time, a quiet smile that didn’t quite belong to the flowers or the customers, but to him.

The stillness without you felt wrong.

Jay adjusted the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder, glancing up and down the street like maybe you’d just appear, hurrying toward the shop.

When you didn’t, he muttered under his breath, “Weird.”

He slipped a hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone as he walked toward where his car was parked.

The screen lit up with a wash of notifications, none of them yours. His thumb hesitated before opening your chat.

The last thing he’d sent stared back at him: ‘Good night, (Y/N).’

And your reply—just a single heart reaction.

Jay let out a quiet sigh through his nose, the kind that was half frustration, half something else he didn’t want to name yet. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and unlocked his car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he started the engine, letting the low hum fill the silence.

As he pulled away from the curb, the image of the empty flower shop that morning stuck with him longer than it should have.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

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© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 5

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 13.4k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — can’t believe this is the final part of this mini-series, i hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. thank you for falling in love with these two right alongside me—i’m so grateful for all the love and support you’ve given this little story. enjoy, my loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, fake dating to lovers trope, friends to lovers trope, established relationship, soft domestic undertones, protective!jay, possessive!jay, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, fingering (f receiving), grinding, cockwarming (kinda), marking (hickeys), light hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, manhandling, body worship, creampie, slight breeding kink, overstimulation, slight dom!jay, aftercare, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — park jongseong was never easily impressed—not with his taste, not with his upbringing. but the moment the lights dimmed and you took the stage, he knew he was in trouble. what started as playful glances and soft praises spiraled quickly into something heavier—something that lingered on his hands every time they touched your skin. with the weight of college week behind you, and the warmth of each other in quiet, stolen nights, the line between restraint and surrender blurs. because now, in the glow of moonlight and tangled sheets, there’s no holding back.

Jay wasn’t someone who was easily impressed. Not because he was cold or hard to please, but because he’d been raised in a world where taste was everything—where excellence wasn’t celebrated, it was expected.

He knew art. He knew music. And he knew beauty when he saw it.

But nothing—nothing—prepared him for you.

The lights dimmed. The chatter from the crowd faded to an anticipatory hush. Even the usual chaos of the backstage quieted as the opening notes of the orchestra swelled across the field.

Jay’s breath caught as he watched you step into position, all clad in delicate white, feathers catching the stage lights like fireflies in the dark.

You looked ethereal. Untouchable. And when you began to move, each twist and turn so precise yet impossibly soft, Jay felt something lodge in his throat.

“What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath, almost inaudibly.

From their side-stage vantage point, the rest of the band could see too. But where Ni-ki and Jungwon leaned against the wall still snickering over setlist notes, Jay couldn’t even blink.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his guitar case as he leaned slightly forward, completely entranced.

“You’re drooling.”

The pat on his back snapped him out of his trance.

Jay jerked his head to see Jake grinning at him, all teeth and mischief, the faint sound of your pointe shoes tapping across the stage still ringing in Jay’s ears.

“I am not,” Jay said flatly, though his voice was a little too tight to sound convincing.

Jake chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Right. Totally not.”

Before Jay could retort, Sunghoon slung an arm casually over his shoulder, his gaze flicking back toward the stage.

“Shut up and watch,” Sunghoon murmured.

Jay raised a brow at him. “You do not know shit about ballet.”

Sungoon tilted his head with an unimpressed look. “And you do?”

“I kind of do,” Jay admitted smoothly, his eyes never leaving you as you leapt across the stage with effortless grace. “I know the story though.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Of Swan Lake?”

“Mm,” Jay hummed in affirmation, his jaw tightening as Sion’s hands brushed your waist in a lift.

He didn’t miss the way your expression never faltered, perfect and serene even as his blood boiled just a little.

“Odette, Siegfried, Rothbart… the tragic curse. The ending changes depending on which version they’re doing.”

Sunghoon looked at him, mildly surprised. “Huh. Look at you. A man of culture.”

Jay gave a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes—not when you were spinning like your life depended on it, feathers swirling in your wake.

Jake’s grin widened as he leaned closer. “Bro, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. Not even when you got your Les Paul signed.”

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering just loud enough for them to hear:

“She’s better than any fucking Les Paul.”

“Pfft—” Jake muttered under his breath, giving Jay’s shoulder a shove with a shit-eating grin.

But before Jay could snap back, Heeseung’s voice cut through their quiet corner of the stage.

“Hey! You three, huddle up. Now.”

Jay groaned low in his throat, reluctant to pull his eyes away from you mid-spin as the soft spotlight followed your every move.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, tugging slightly at his in-ears.

“Don’t be dramatic, Romeo,” Sunghoon teased, nudging Jay toward the group.

Reluctantly, Jay followed, dragging his feet until he stood in the loose circle Heeseung had formed with Jungwon and Ni-ki.

Jungwon—already in leader mode—was ticking names off the setlist on his phone. “Karma, One in a Billion, Blessed-Cursed, Attention Please, Mixed Up, Moonstruck…”

“And,” he added with a knowing glance at Jay, “the one that Jay begged us to add.”

Jay rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

He reached up to adjust his in-ears, his voice dropping into a defensive grumble. “I did not beg. I suggested it.”

Sunoo, leaning lazily against a road case nearby, chimed in with a grin. “You suggested it with puppy eyes and a full speech about why it fits the mood.”

Jay leveled a flat look at him. “Sunoo. I’ve known you what—six years? Since senior year? And you still think I’m the type to do puppy eyes?”

Sunoo only smiled sweetly, resting his chin on his hand. “Not usually. But for (Y/N)? I can see it.”

Jay huffed out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head as Jungwon finished reviewing.

“You guys ready?” Heeseung asked, eyes scanning the group.

The collective muttering of “Yeah” and “Let’s go” followed, though Jay’s response came a beat late—his gaze still flickering back toward the stage.

“Alright. You’re dismissed,” Jungwon said. “But be back twenty minutes before showtime.”

Ni-ki clapped his hands together. “Perfect. I’m going to get water before I combust.”

But as the others peeled off, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, and Jungwon all instinctively gravitated back toward the side-stage view, their eyes once again glued to your performance.

That’s when Yunjin approached, holding a clipboard in one hand as she scanned the area. Her eyes landed on the four boys standing like silent sentinels.

“You guys want chairs? You look like statues.”

They nodded almost in unison, Sunoo grinning brightly at her.

“Thanks,” Jungwon added, and Yunjin smirked before flagging down a tech team member. She gave him quick instructions, and soon enough, four folding chairs were placed just off the wings.

Yunjin stayed for a moment, standing beside Sunoo as her eyes followed your graceful form on stage.

“(Y/N)’s great, right?” she said conversationally.

Jay’s answer came out without a pause, his voice low and almost reverent. “She’s amazing.”

Yunjin turned to him, laughing softly as she caught the way his jaw was tight and his fingers drummed absently against his thigh.

“Is this your first time watching her?”

Jay gave a short nod, eyes never leaving you for even a second. “First full performance.”

“You should’ve seen her at rehearsals. Sion could barely keep up with her,” Yunjin teased, her voice lilting.

At the mention of your partner, Jay’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. I saw enough.”

Jake stifled a laugh, leaning forward in his chair to nudge Jay with his elbow. “You’re so gone for her it’s insane.”

“Shut up,” Jay said calmly, but his ears were turning pink as he readjusted his chain with one hand.

It was a small, nervous habit, one he wasn’t even aware of as his eyes followed your every move on stage.

You had no idea, but from the moment the music swelled and your white feathers caught the lights, Jay hadn’t blinked more than twice.

Even when you exited to the side for a brief water break, your hands shaking slightly as Sakura and Eunchae fluttered around you—reapplying glitter, adjusting your headpiece, offering tissues—Jay didn’t look away.

From where he sat near the wings, his fingers drumming idly against his thigh, he watched as you gulped down water, your chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

You were so focused, so locked into your element, it almost startled him.

He always knew you as this little shy and bubbly ballerina who laughed too much and hid behind her hands whenever he teased you.

But this—this was different. There was a fire in your eyes now. A sharpness to your posture.

It was mesmerizing.

“This is wild,” Sunoo whispered beside him, half in awe. But Jay didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable save for the faintest glint of pride.

When the final act came, Jay’s entire body leaned forward in his chair, forearms resting on his knees as you and Sion performed the last sequence—your arms sweeping wide, feet gliding across the stage with such power and elegance it felt like the air itself held still.

The lights dimmed. The music faded. The curtain fell.

The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause so loud it shook the walls. But Jay was already on his feet, his hands coming together in sharp claps—louder, faster, more intense than anyone else backstage.

You spotted him almost instantly. Your eyes, wide and sparkling with adrenaline, locked onto his across the dim backstage.

And without thinking, without hesitation, you ran.

Jay barely had time to brace himself before you crashed into him, arms looping tight around his neck as your laughter bubbled out against his shoulder.

He let out a surprised laugh too, his strong arms winding tight around your waist as he instinctively lifted you off the ground, spinning you side to side like you weighed nothing.

The sudden movement drew a few gasps and laughs from the staff nearby.

Flash after flash erupted as photographers from the school’s media team—there to document both performances—snapped away at the sweet reunion.

“God—” Jay’s laugh rumbled low in his chest as he set you back down gently, brushing a stray feather off your shoulder.

“They’re never gonna let me live this down.”

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked breathlessly, your fingers still clutching the back of his shirt as your heart tried to calm itself.

Jay’s hands stayed securely at your waist, thumbs rubbing soft circles there. He looked down at you like you’d hung the stars yourself, a smirk curling on his lips.

“You were incredible.”

The words made your chest tighten pleasantly.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jay was already cupping your face tenderly, his calloused thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

“I know art when I see it,” he murmured, his voice low, “And you, Jeong (Y/N), were a fucking masterpiece.”

Your lips curved into a shy, glittery smile as your eyes searched his. “You’re funny,” you whispered, but your cheeks were warm.

“And yet, I’m right.” He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as the cameras flashed again from a few feet away.

“Can I get some tissues?” Jay asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. One of the costume team girls—arms already full of fabric—grinned and tossed him a box.

“Thanks,” he said, catching it easily with one hand.

He tugged out a few sheets and began dabbing gently at your dewy skin, careful not to smudge your makeup too much.

“You’re gonna ruin her look for pictures,” Eunchae teased as she came up beside you, offering a cold water bottle.

“She doesn’t need a ‘look.’ She’s stunning,” Jay shot back without missing a beat, though his tone was playful.

Eunchae rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’re whipped.”

You took the bottle with a grateful nod, mumbling a soft “thank you” just before Sunoo popped up behind Jay like a mischievous sprite.

“You did so well! I’m so proud of you, (Y/N)!” Sunoo gushed, clasping his hands dramatically.

You laughed, the warmth in your chest growing as you said, “Thank you, Sunoo.”

Then Jungwon, ever the composed leader, gave your shoulder a firm pat as he passed by. “Nice job out there. You killed it.”

“Thanks, Jungwon,” you replied, still flushed from all the praise.

But Jungwon didn’t linger. He turned to the remaining three of his bandmates, clapping his hands together like a coach corralling a distracted team.

“Alright. We still have half an hour before we’re on. Get ready, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake muttered, though his eyes were still flicking between you and Jay with an amused smile.

Jay, however, wasn’t letting go of you just yet. His hands stayed planted firmly at your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

“God, you’re so clingy,” you teased softly, but there was no real bite to it.

“Clingy? You just danced an hour straight, and I haven’t seen you properly for two hours.” He smirked faintly, lowering his head so his lips brushed your ear. “Let me have my moment, pretty.”

Before you could retort, a voice called out brightly—“Jeong (Y/N), my baby! Good job out there!”

You both turned to see Yunjin approaching, her camera slung over her shoulder as she waved. Behind her, Chaewon trailed along, tugging her own headpiece to the side with a slight huff.

“I don’t know how you did that, but you did.” Chaewon’s eyes flitted over your feathered skirt and the faint shimmer of sweat at your temples.

“And you didn’t even trip once. Witchcraft.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Thanks, guys. What’s up?”

“We’re taking pictures,” Yunjin said cheerily, nodding toward the group of dancers already gathering at the side.

She flicked her gaze to Jay then, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Can we also steal you two for a few shots after that?”

Jay raised a brow but nodded coolly, his fingers still resting at your waist.

“Good,” Yunjin said with a little clap of her hands. Then she reached out, gently tugging you away from Jay. “Come on, ballerina. Your fan club’s waiting.”

Jay’s hands slipped reluctantly from your waist as Yunjin whisked you toward the group.

His lips tugged into a fond smile as he watched you laugh with the other dancers, the feathers of your costume catching in the lights like you were still mid-performance.

When Yunjin finally waved Jay over, his long strides were almost too eager to reach you.

His hand went straight back to your waist the second he was close enough, pulling you lightly against his side as if the short separation had been unbearable.

You tilted your head up at him with a grin. “You’re a little too good at this boyfriend thing, Park.”

“Gotta play the part, don’t I?” he murmured, his tone warm but his eyes soft in a way only you got to see.

“Alright, you two, hold still,” Yunjin instructed, snapping a few photos as you leaned your head against Jay’s shoulder.

One of his hands rested lazily on your waist while the other toyed with the ends of your hair, and the way he looked down at you—like you were the only thing in the room—made Yunjin’s camera click faster.

“Perfect. Go get changed now. I know that skirt’s heavy as hell,” Yunjin said finally, lowering her camera with a satisfied grin.

You let out a little huff as Eunchae approached with your change of clothes folded neatly in her arms.

“Here,” she said, pressing the outfit into your hands. “You were so amazing. I love you.”

You ruffled her hair fondly. “Love you too. Thanks, Eunchae.”

As the girls walked away, Jay’s eyes immediately found yours again, his hand slipping back to your lower back instinctively.

“Help me?” you asked with a sheepish smile, clutching the outfit to your chest.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Say less.” His response was a little too eager as he adjusted his chain and held his hand out for you to take.

“God, you’re so dramatic,” you teased as he carefully helped you down the stairs at the side of the stage, his hand never once leaving yours.

“I’m not dramatic,” he countered with a faint smirk. “I’m attentive. Huge difference.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back playfully as he held the curtain open for you.

“Yeah.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to that low drawl that made your stomach flutter.

“And if helping you out of this outfit is part of being a good boyfriend, I’m very good at my job.”

You scoffed softly, but the corner of your lips quirked up. “You make it sound like it’s all business.”

“It’s not.” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m just saying I take my responsibilities seriously.”

By the time you both reached the bathrooms near the field, your steps had slowed, your arms clutching your spare clothes to your chest.

Jay pushed open the door for you with his shoulder, his other hand steady at your elbow. The faint sound of the crowd still cheering outside echoed through the walls as he guided you inside.

“Go on, I’ll wait,” he said gently, handing you your clothes.

He leaned against the counter by the sinks, his tall frame cutting a lazy figure as his fingers brushed through his dark hair.

His chain glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights as he fiddled with it absently, watching himself in the mirror.

You stepped into one of the stalls, shutting the door behind you but not locking it. A sigh escaped you as you stared at the tiny cubicle, suddenly realizing how heavy the costume had been.

The zipper at your back tugged when you reached for it, but the angle made it impossible to get all the way down.

You pressed your lips together in frustration before cracking the door open slightly.

“Jay?”

He straightened from his lean, his sharp gaze flicking to the stall door. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

You poked your head out just enough for him to see your pout. “Help me unzip the back, please.”

A soft laugh rumbled from his chest as he pushed off the counter and strode toward you. “Could’ve just said you wanted my hands on you again, pretty.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat rising in your cheeks as you turned around inside the stall, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He stepped in, closing it behind him with a quiet click.

The space suddenly felt too small, the air heavy with tension as his fingers brushed the zipper at your nape.

“Hold still,” Jay murmured.

Slowly, he dragged the zipper down, his knuckles grazing your spine as the cool air hit your skin. Goosebumps prickled at your arms as he helped you peel off the heavy costume, setting it carefully aside.

“How the hell did you walk in this thing?” he asked, holding up the stiff, feathered skirt with a faint shake of his head.

You gave a soft laugh, stepping out of the skirt as you reached for your blouse. “Practice, Jay. Years of it.”

His lips quirked into a knowing grin as he handed you the blouse, his eyes carefully avoiding the mirror in front of you both. “You make it look easy.”

You groaned faintly as you tugged your pants up, trying not to stumble in the cramped space. Jay’s hands came to steady your hips without a second thought.

“Relax,” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”

When you finally straightened, Jay’s fingers moved to the delicate headpiece still perched on your hair.

One by one, he removed the pins, working gently until your hair spilled free in loose waves down your back. You let out a soft sound of contentment, closing your eyes.

“That’s so much better,” you breathed.

He hummed, his dark eyes lingering on the way your hair framed your face. “Looks better down anyway.”

You turned then, your arms brushing his chest as you carefully hung the delicate white costume on the hook. But the moment your eyes met his, something in his gaze shifted.

Before you could step back, his hands found your waist again, pulling you flush to him with practiced ease.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” he teased, his smirk lazy but his grip firm.

“Couldn’t,” you admitted softly, your fingers curling lightly around the chain at his neck.

Wordlessly, you leaned up and captured his lips in a slow, heated kiss.

His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between your bodies.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, your thumb brushed over his jaw as your lips curved into a teasing smile.

“You left your hair soft. Good.”

Jay’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement, his breathing heavy as his thumb stroked lazily over your hip. “What, my girlfriend’s watching me?”

His lips curved into that smug smile you secretly adored. “I know you like it that way.”

You hummed softly in agreement, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I do.”

His grin widened, but before he could retort, you leaned back up, your lips finding his again.

This time, it was more urgent—messier. Whimpers escaped you between kisses, and Jay swallowed down his own groans as his hand traveled lower, giving your ass a firm squeeze that made you whine into his mouth.

“Jay—” you murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to press a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He tilted his head without hesitation, giving you more access as his hands flexed on your hips.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” he groaned lowly, his voice thick with need as you nipped lightly at the edge of his jaw before trailing lower.

Your lips grazed over his collar, then down to the black and red patterned trim of his shirt.

“Red looks good on you,” you mumbled against his skin, your voice muffled but sultry as your fingers brushed against the undone buttons.

That earned you a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you made your way back up to meet his lips again.

The kiss was slower this time—deeper, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

When you finally pulled away, Jay’s eyes flicked down, a hoarse laugh leaving him as he caught sight of his shirt.

The crisp white fabric was now littered with faint red lip marks and smudges, a vivid reminder of where your mouth had been.

He ran a thumb over one of the stains near his collarbone and looked back up at you with that lazy, dangerous smirk. “That’s one way to brand me, pretty.”

You bit your lip to hide your grin, fingers brushing lightly over one of the marks on his chest. “Looks better on you than I thought.”

By the time you and Jay made it back to the chaotic backstage, the adrenaline was still humming in your veins.

You were quick to scan the room for Sakura, spotting her by the racks of costumes as she carefully packed away feathered headpieces and satin skirts.

“I’ll help you get this put away,” you said, clutching the heavy costume to your chest as you rushed over.

She turned at the sound of your voice and smiled knowingly, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Hmm… took your sweet time, didn’t you?” she teased, taking the outfit from your hands.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks still warm as you muttered, “Don’t start.”

But the grin tugging at the corner of your lips betrayed you as Sakura giggled and motioned for you to go.

“Go, go. Your rockstar’s about to take the stage. I’ll handle this.”

Meanwhile, Jay had made his way back to where his band was gathered. The moment he stepped into their line of sight, the snickers and whistles started.

Jungwon was the first to speak up, spinning his drumsticks between his fingers with a teasing grin.

“Is that (Y/N)’s way of keeping other people away from you?” he asked, nodding pointedly at the faint lipstick smudges still visible near Jay’s jaw.

Jay shot him a glare but didn’t bother wiping at the marks, only running a hand through his hair with a smug little smirk.

Heeseung, leaning lazily against an amp, pushed his newly dyed red hair out of his eyes as he smirked.

“Come on, dude. Your belt chain’s all loose,” he drawled, nudging Jay’s side with his elbow.

Jay glanced down at the unhooked accessory hanging crookedly from his belt loop and chuckled under his breath.

“Shit,” he muttered, quickly fixing it as the others kept poking fun.

Jake walked over, handing Jay his guitar with a shake of his head. “Well, you look like a wreck.”

“Wreck in love,” Sunoo added under his breath, earning himself a sharp look from Jay.

Ni-ki, ever the wild card, shrugged as he adjusted his earpiece. “It looks cool, though. Kinda rockstar of you.”

You, oblivious to their playful ribbing, had just finished saying goodbye to Sakura and hurried over to Jay’s side.

The band quieted for a split second when they saw you, some of them hiding grins as they watched Jay’s eyes soften at your approach.

“Good luck, guys,” you said warmly, offering them a smile that made even Jungwon pause for a beat before flashing you one in return.

But your gaze was locked on Jay. You reached up to press a light kiss to his cheek, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw where your lipstick still faintly stained his skin.

“Go kill it out there, rockstar,” you whispered teasingly.

Jay grinned, his free hand finding your waist for a fleeting second. “Only if my pretty girl’s watching.”

You shook your head with a fond laugh, stepping away just as Kazuha and Eunchae waved at you from near the stairs leading to the audience area.

“Go be a menace,” Kazuha teased when you reached them, shooting a glance at Jay as she looped her arm through yours.

“I don’t even have to try,” you replied with a smirk, glancing over your shoulder one last time.

Jay was watching you leave, his guitar slung over his shoulder, fingers idly strumming a few chords as he tried to play off the fond look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, you, Kazuha, and Eunchae wove your way through the packed field. Students were shoulder to shoulder now, the summer air thick with heat and the buzz of anticipation.

You grumbled quietly as someone brushed past you too close.

“There are so many people,” you muttered, fanning yourself with your hand as you tried not to get swallowed by the sea of students.

“Power through, (Y/N),” Kazuha teased with a grin, giving your hand a light tug.

It wasn’t long before you spotted Chaewon and Yunjin standing near the stage barricade, already in prime position.

Yunjin had her walkie-talkie in one hand, speaking low and calm into it, her other hand resting casually on the barrier. Chaewon waved as you approached.

“Oh my God, it’s so hot out here,” you groaned dramatically, leaning against Chaewon’s shoulder as she laughed.

“Here,” she said, fishing a small electric fan out of her bag and pressing it into your hand. “You’ll survive.”

“Bless you,” you murmured with a grateful smile, switching it on and feeling the breeze hit your face.

Yunjin looked up from her walkie-talkie, smirking slightly.

“Three more minutes and they’re on,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Kazuha raised a brow. “I thought no business after our performance,” she teased, eyeing the walkie-talkie.

Eunchae nodded in agreement, clutching her phone in one hand. “Yeah, weren’t you the one saying ‘We’re off the clock, let’s relax’?”

Yunjin’s smirk widened. “Oh please, I’m here as a friend. Sakura’s the one stuck backstage cleaning up feathers. Someone has to keep the chaos in check.”

You laughed, switching the fan to Chaewon for a moment. “Sakura’s probably cursing us out in her head, but she’ll be here later. She’s the head of the costume department, after all. Can’t exactly leave till her kingdom’s in order.”

As you spoke, the bright stage lights flared and the field erupted into louder cheers. The hosts stepped out onto stage, mics in hand, their voices booming through the speakers.

“Alright!” one of them said, earning a chorus of screams and applause. “You’ve seen incredible performances all day, but we know what you’re all really waiting for.”

The other host laughed, leaning dramatically toward the crowd. “We heard the whispers… ‘Who could it be? Which band’s closing tonight?’”

Students yelled guesses over the barricades—some calling out random bands, others already chanting one name in unison.

“So let’s not drag this out any longer. Please welcome to the stage—”

The lights cut for a brief second. A collective hush spread over the crowd, broken only by faint laughter from the hosts. Then—

“ENHYPEN!”

Shrieks tore through the air as spotlights blazed back to life. You felt the vibration in your chest from the screams alone as students jumped, phones shooting up instantly to record.

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head as Chaewon and Eunchae joined in the cheers. Even Kazuha clapped along lightly, the corner of her mouth twitching up in amusement.

“Showtime,” Yunjin muttered under her breath, her eyes flicking toward the stage with an amused smile.

Jay and his band walking out one by one. Jungwon took his spot behind the drum kit, Sunoo waving brightly at the crowd while Jake and Heeseung adjusted their guitars.

Jay’s fingers flexed around the neck of his guitar as the stage lights cut brighter, outlining his figure in a warm, golden hue. His chain caught the light again, glinting against the sharp lines of his collarbone.

He tilted his chin slightly, scanning the crowd—not with nervousness, but with that same unbothered confidence that made him seem untouchable.

Until, of course, his eyes caught yours.

For just a moment, amidst the deafening cheers and pounding bass from the speakers, he smirked and sent a wink your way.

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks as Chaewon immediately caught it and let out an amused snort.

“God, he’s so obvious,” Kazuha teased under her breath, nudging you as she clutched her phone, already recording.

You waved her off, trying desperately to focus on the music and not on the fact that Jay Park Jongseong, your rockstar boyfriend, was doing a phenomenal job of distracting you—even from across the field.

Jungwon clicked his drumsticks together. “One, two—”

“Connect! Hello, we are ENHYPEN!” the band called out in unison as the opening riffs of ‘Karma’ ripped through the night air.

The field exploded.

Students jumped and screamed, waving their arms in the air as Jay’s fingers danced expertly along the guitar strings. His movements were fluid, precise—like the music was an extension of him.

Through the transitions between songs, Jay still managed to sneak glances at you. Sometimes a smirk, other times another teasing wink that had Yunjin laughing into her hands beside you.

“Oh, he’s shameless,” Chaewon whispered in your ear, shaking you lightly by the shoulders as you tried—tried—to ignore the playful jeers of students nearby who noticed where Jay’s attention kept falling.

You hid your face in Chaewon’s shoulder briefly, though you couldn’t stop the stupidly wide smile tugging at your lips.

As the moon fully emerged behind the stage, washing the field in a silvery glow, Heeseung stepped forward, adjusting his mic stand with a grin.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” he called out.

The crowd responded with deafening screams that made even you flinch slightly. Heeseung laughed softly, his dimples deepening.

“Well,” he continued, “our set was supposed to end with Moonstruck, but one of our members said we needed a surprise song.”

Laughter rippled through the audience. Jake chuckled into his mic, adding, “Can we call that one member out?” His eyes flicked toward Jay with playful mischief.

Jay’s low laugh echoed across the field as he stepped forward. His voice, smooth and teasing, filled every corner of the venue.

“Having a good evening so far, Decelis?”

The cheers roared louder.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, your chest warm.

Jay sighed lightly into the mic, shifting his guitar slightly as he spoke again. “For anyone who doesn’t know me—I’m Jay.” He paused as another cheer went up.

“And well… I suggested this next one. I figured since we’re lucky enough to have such a big stage tonight, we should use it to show off a little.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Even the other members chuckled behind him.

“This song’s pretty sentimental,” Jay continued, his tone softening. “So if you’re here with your date or even your friends, don’t forget to hug them, yeah?”

Jungwon leaned into his mic, his eyes bright. “This is Every Breath You Take by The Police. We hope you enjoy our cover.”

As the iconic opening chords filled the air, the crowd screamed even louder, phones shooting up in waves of glowing screens.

Jay’s fingers moved effortlessly across the strings as he stepped forward again. “And… I’m dedicating this song to my girlfriend.”

A hush fell for a split second, almost like the field collectively held its breath. Then—another eruption of cheers, louder than before.

Jay’s eyes found yours immediately. He tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking in that knowing smirk. “She performed right before us… yeah, she was the White Swan in Swan Lake.”

Your hands flew to your mouth as your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Tears pricked your eyes despite your attempt to blink them back.

Chaewon squealed beside you, shaking you side to side.

“Jeong (Y/N),” Jay said softly, his voice almost lost under the collective screams but somehow cutting right through to you.

“This is for you.”

Your knees nearly buckled as Kazuha steadied you with a laugh. “Girl, breathe!”

But you couldn’t help it—there he was.

Your boyfriend. Standing tall on stage, his guitar slung perfectly over his shoulder, his fingers poised as if he was born for this exact moment.

The soft opening chords of ‘Every Breath You Take’ echoed over the field, the crowd instantly recognizing it and screaming.

But Jay’s voice—low, smooth, and dripping with unspoken emotion—cut through all of it.

“Every breath you take, every move you make…”

Your breath hitched as your hands shot up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t stop smiling, even as the tears threatened to spill over.

The sound of his voice was so raw, so sincere, that it sent shivers down your spine. He sang as if the words were meant for no one else.

Every now and then, his sharp eyes flicked in your direction—lingering longer than necessary, even as Jake’s harmonies floated softly behind him and Heeseung’s fingers moved effortlessly over the guitar.

You exhaled shakily, biting down on your lip to suppress the sob that threatened to escape. Your heart was pounding so hard you swore it was keeping time with Jungwon’s drums.

Chaewon leaned in, her voice teasing despite the watery smile on her face. “He’s eating this stage alive—and you too.”

You let out a breathy laugh, blinking away tears as you whispered, “I know…”

Jay’s voice grew stronger as the band hit the chorus, his hand gripping the mic stand tightly. “Oh, can’t you see. You belong to me…”

The LED screen behind them caught his profile—sharp jaw, loose strands of hair falling into his eyes, his silver chain glinting under the lights.

He looked every bit the rockstar, but the way he sang those words made it feel like the crowd didn’t even exist.

It was just you and him.

And as the song neared its end, Jay glanced at you again. His lips curled into the faintest, fondest smile.

“I’ll be watching you…”

He held your gaze even as his head tilted slightly toward the camera, his smirk reflecting larger-than-life on the LED screen behind them.

The crowd erupted into screams and applause, chants of “Enhypen!” filling the field as the music faded. Jungwon leaned forward, sweat glistening on his forehead, and spoke into his mic with a bright grin.

“We are ENHYPEN! Happy College Week, everyone!”

Jake raised his hands with a grin as the crowd screamed even louder. “You guys were amazing tonight—thank you for all the energy!”

Sunoo added with a playful wink, “Make sure to tag us in all your videos!”

Jay, however, still had his eyes on you.

His smirk softened into something quieter, warmer, as he adjusted his guitar strap and took a step back with the rest of the band, letting the crowd’s cheers wash over them.

Even as the hosts came back out to thank everyone and officially close the concert, Jay’s eyes didn’t leave yours—not for a second.

When he and the rest of the band finally stepped down from the stage and made their way across the field, the only thing separating you was the metal barrier.

The second Jay reached it, he didn’t hesitate. His hand gripped the cold railing as he leaned over just enough to loop an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

Without a word, he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft yet grounding, like he needed the reassurance that you were really there, waiting for him.

You smiled against his mouth before pulling back slightly, eyes twinkling under the field lights. “Good job, rockstar.”

Jay’s lips curled into a grin that made your knees weak. “Thank you, pretty.”

Before you could respond, the crowd around you started cheering—not just for the band but for the very obvious display of affection. You flushed as Kazuha giggled beside you and Chaewon clapped her hands dramatically.

Jay only smirked, unfazed, as if kissing you in front of half the student body was the most natural thing in the world

His thumb brushed your cheekbone affectionately before he finally let go, stepping back with the others as security ushered them toward the backstage area.

“See you in a bit,” he mouthed with a wink, his fingers briefly tapping against the barrier before he disappeared behind the curtain with his guitar slung back over his shoulder.

The moment he was out of sight, Kazuha nudged you hard. “Do you have any idea how many people just saw that?”

Chaewon snorted, fanning herself dramatically. “I felt single as hell watching that. Where’s my own boyfriend?”

You just laughed breathlessly, still feeling the press of his lips on yours. “Shut up. Both of you.”

But you couldn’t hide the stupid smile on your face no matter how hard you tried.

The air in Jay’s apartment was warm with laughter, the smell of sizzling meat and garlic filling every corner.

You nearly doubled over laughing as Sunoo dramatically slammed his shot glass down beside you, eyes watering from the burn of soju.

“Another!” he demanded, waving his hands wildly at Ni-ki, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a platter of meat ready to go.

“If I’m going down tonight, I’m going down happy!”

“Down where?!” Ni-ki barked out a laugh, nearly dropping a slice of pork belly. “You’re literally at Jay’s apartment. Calm down.”

You giggled, shaking your head as you poured another shot for Sunoo and one for yourself. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m enabling this.”

“Because you love me,” Sunoo said sweetly, leaning his head on your shoulder for a second before sitting back up. “Now bottoms up, swan. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Next top you, Jay shot Sunoo a withering glare while gripping the tongs a little too tightly. “Stop calling her that, Kim Sunoo.”

“Oh, what? Swan? I mean, she is our White Swan. The crowd practically bowed to her last night.” Sunoo grinned cheekily and lifted his glass, clinking it against yours before you both downed the soju in one gulp.

“Unbelievable,” Jay muttered under his breath, turning back to flip the meat on the grill.

His chain dangled against his chest as he moved, sleeves rolled up and jaw tight—not just from cooking but from watching you and Sunoo down your second shot together.

Sitting across Jay, Sunghoon leaned back on his palms with a smirk. “You’re gonna set off the fire alarm if you keep grilling like that.”

Jay shot him a look. “Do you want to eat or not?”

“Not if it’s charred like my will to live,” Sunghoon teased, ducking when Jay flicked a piece of lettuce at him.

“Lettuce,” Jungwon’s voice cut through their bickering, his arm extended as he motioned for the plate on the table.

“Dude, pass the lettuce. You’ve been hogging it for like ten minutes.”

“Yeah, give it to him,” Heeseung added from where he was stirring the noodles on the stove. “You can’t have samgyeopsal without lettuce. Basic rules, bro.”

Jay sighed dramatically, grabbing the plate and sliding it toward Jungwon with a muttered, “Happy now?”

“Very.” Jungwon grinned and immediately started assembling his wrap.

Across the table, Jake was busy stuffing his face with a hefty spoonful of rice and pork belly, but his eyes darted toward Ni-ki, who was lounging next to him with his long legs stretched out and his hair slightly mussed from leaning back earlier.

“What?” Ni-ki said suspiciously, noticing Jake’s pointed stare.

Jake chewed slowly, swallowing with an audible gulp before shrugging. “I was just thinking…”

“Don’t think,” Ni-ki warned flatly, narrowing his eyes.

Jake chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, now that the performance is over and you’re in a… relatively good mood—”

“Define good mood,” Sunghoon muttered from the side, snickering into his cup.

“—I feel like I should, uh… confess something,” Jake finished, eyes flicking nervously between Ni-ki and the meat sizzling on the grill like it might save him.

Ni-ki raised a brow, suspicion mounting. “Jake.”

Jake let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, listen. I may have been the one who… accidentally broke your bass strings last month.”

The room fell silent for a split second.

Ni-ki froze, his head turning toward Jake so slowly it was almost cinematic. Then his hand shot out for the empty shot glass in front of him, fingers curling around it with murderous intent.

“You what?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jungwon practically leapt out of his seat, grabbing Ni-ki’s wrist before the glass could go flying at Jake’s head.

“Slow down, Ni-ki! No violence at the dinner table.”

“Let me go, Jungwon,” Ni-ki said through gritted teeth, his usually calm demeanor completely gone as he glared daggers at Jake.

“I just wanna talk. With my hands.”

Jay chuckled lowly from the grill, not even bothering to look up. “This is gonna be good.”

“No, it’s not,” Jungwon said sternly, holding Ni-ki’s arm in place. “Riki, what do we say when we’re angry?”

Ni-ki turned his head toward Jungwon with the fakest, most annoyed smile you’d ever seen. “Fuck you?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but a snort still escaped, earning you a playful nudge from Sunoo beside you.

“Riki. No.” Jungwon sighed like a tired parent and shook his head.

Jake, meanwhile, raised his hands defensively. “Come on, I already bought you new strings! Really nice ones too! Isn’t that enough? Let bygones be bygones?”

Ni-ki sighed loudly, clearly debating murder in his head before finally letting his arm drop. “Shut the fuck up. You broke it anyway.”

Jake grinned sheepishly. “But I fixed it! I’m a good friend, right?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Sunoo grinned, popping a piece of pork into his mouth like he was watching a K-drama unfold live.

Jay finally spoke up, voice dripping with amusement as he flipped another slice of pork belly. “Riki, save your energy. You’ll need it later when Jake inevitably screws up again.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jake muttered dryly, earning another round of laughter from around the table.

You shook your head fondly at the chaos as Jay’s hand slid casually onto your thigh under the table, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against the fabric of your pants.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered lowly, “I present to you… my kids.”

You bit back a laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his amused gaze.

“Come on,” you murmured, picking up the soju bottle to refill his shot glass. “I love them. They’re so cute—we’re like a little crazy family.”

Jay let out a low chuckle, his hand squeezing your thigh gently as he teased, “Crazy’s the right word.”

But before he could retort further, Heeseung suddenly shot up from his seat, sending his chair screeching across the floor as he pointed at Sunghoon. “You think you’re funny?!”

Sunghoon was already halfway to the living room, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Oh, come on—it was a joke!”

Jay groaned, pulling back slightly as he raised his voice over the laughter. “Don’t break my TV, assholes!”

Heeseung didn’t even glance back as he bolted after Sunghoon, yelling, “If it breaks, ask your rich ass to buy ten more!”

“Shut up!” Jay barked, but there was no real bite to it. He sighed deeply like a tired father, grabbing the tongs to pull the perfectly grilled meat off the hot plate.

He stacked the pork belly neatly onto a plate and handed it down the table toward Jungwon, muttering, “Here. At least some of us are civilized.”

Jungwon chuckled, taking the plate and passing it along. “Thanks.”

You hid your smile behind your glass as you took another sip, Jay’s hand still warm on your leg as he gave it another affectionate squeeze.

“You know…” he said softly, his lips quirking, “for someone who ‘loves’ this chaos, you look just as exhausted as me.”

You grinned, resting your hand over his on your thigh. “Exhausted? No. Entertained? Absolutely.”

Jay chuckled low, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as his eyes softened.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, clinking shot glasses, and the occasional loud thud of someone tripping over the edge of the carpet.

Before you knew it, the only ones left were Heeseung and Jake—everyone else having already stumbled out earlier with noisy goodbyes and promises to ‘do this again.’

You and Jay stood side by side on the door, watching the last two of his bandmates hastily and messily putting on their shoes by the door.

Heeseung was trying to help Jake, but Jake kept swatting at his hands in drunken defiance.

Out of nowhere, Jake suddenly straightened up—or as much as his swaying body would allow—and said with a goofy grin, “You know, I’m so glad you get one big-ass penthouse for an apartment.”

Jay raised a brow, clearly amused as he leaned on the door frame, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because—” Jake dragged out the word dramatically, still fumbling with his laces.

“Because I can scream and nobody will give a fuck! You’ve got the whole floor to yourself, man. Look—”

Before anyone could stop him, Jake cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a loud, drawn-out scream:

“Lee Heeseung is an idiot!”

Heeseung, who was crouched down to tie Jake’s other sneaker, smacked him hard on the back of the head with a laugh.

“You’re the idiot!”

He stood up and yanked Jake by the arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you start howling at the moon or something.”

Jay’s shoulders shook with laughter, hands stuffed in his sweatpants pockets. “Thanks for coming over, guys. You sure I don’t need to walk you back to your dorms?”

Heeseung shook his head firmly, steadying Jake as the younger boy leaned heavily on him. “Nah, I’m sober enough. And this idiot only lives one floor down anyway.”

“‘M not an idiot,” Jake mumbled half-heartedly as he waved sloppily at you both.

“Sure you’re not,” Heeseung teased, giving Jay a nod of thanks. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Anytime,” Jay replied with a small smile.

You waved at them too, biting back a laugh. “Get home safe, okay?”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the apartment in sudden, comforting silence.

Jay turned the deadbolt with a soft sigh before glancing back at you, a little grin tugging at his lips as his eyes lingered on where you were curled up on his couch.

“So…” he said, his voice dropping slightly, warm and teasing. “Where were we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes fondly as you leaned away from the door and padded toward the kitchen. “We were about to clean the dishes, Jay.”

Jay’s face immediately twisted into an exaggerated pout as he trailed after you like a sulky kid.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, grabbing a couple of plates off the counter and holding them up like they were some kind of betrayal.

You snorted, already turning on the tap and squirting soap onto the sponge.

“What? You performed, what—six, seven songs? You mean to tell me you’re not tired after screaming your lungs out?”

“I wasn’t screaming,” he muttered defensively, setting the plates gently in the sink. “I was performing. It’s different.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, scrubbing a plate as the warm water splashed against your fingers.

“You literally downed two bottles of soju all by yourself, rockstar. And now you’re telling me you still have energy?”

Jay shrugged, grabbing a clean kitchen towel and leaning his hip lazily against the counter. He waited for you to pass him a wet plate, his lips curving into that signature smirk of his.

“What can I say? My girlfriend keeps on seducing me. Kinda hard to feel tired when you’re around.”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you rinsed off the plate and handed it over to him. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

He took the plate, slowly drying it, eyes never leaving you. “No, seriously,” he said, tone softer now, teasing edge fading.

“You’ve been running around my head all night, (Y/N). I swear I don’t know how you expect me to think about anything else.”

Your brows shot up in amused surprise, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “Smooth, Park Jongseong. Real smooth.”

Jay grinned and leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. “Not smooth. Honest.”

“Honest, huh?” You finished scrubbing the next dish, trying to focus on the bubbles and not the way his cologne lingered in the air between you.

“Well, Mr. Honest, if you want kisses, you’re gonna have to finish drying all these plates first.”

“Oh, is that my reward?” he asked, voice dropping to a playful murmur as his fingers brushed against yours while taking the next plate. “I think I can work with that.”

You hummed softly, lips twitching with amusement, but didn’t reply as you handed him the last plate.

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds filling the kitchen being the gentle clink of dishes and the faint hum of the air conditioner.

When the sink was finally empty and the counters wiped clean, you dried your hands and glanced over your shoulder at Jay. “Done. See? Wasn’t so bad.”

“Mm. Speak for yourself.” He smirked lazily, tossing the towel over his shoulder as he straightened up.

You rolled your eyes fondly and made your way toward his bedroom, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you.

Sure enough, Jay trailed behind you like a shadow, hands stuffed casually in his sweatpants pockets.

Once inside, you headed straight for his closet as he flopped down onto the edge of his bed, grabbing the AC remote from the nightstand.

A soft beep echoed in the room as cool air began to sweep through the space.

“Bottom drawer, pretty,” he said without missing a beat, his voice teasing but warm.

You raised a brow, glancing back at him. “The white ones?”

“Oh, those?” Jay’s eyes flicked toward the closet before returning to you. “They’re hanging in there next to my gray suit. You know, the one you love so much.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft laugh, stepping over to grab the pajamas. You could feel his eyes on you as you collected the delicate fabric and headed toward the bathroom.

Jay hummed low in his throat as he watched you go, leaning back slightly on his palms. “Don’t take too long. You know I hate sleeping without my pillow.”

“Your pillow?” you called back with a skeptical laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smirking lazily. “The one with a heartbeat and legs. My favorite kind.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.

Jay let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face as the faint sound of water running met his ears. If there was one thing that kept his mind off his… current frustrations, it was gaming.

So, he stood and began shrugging out of his pants and shirt, tossing them effortlessly into the laundry basket by the corner of the room.

Clad only in boxers now, he reached for a fitted black tank top and pulled it over his head, the fabric stretching snug across his shoulders and chest.

As his computer hummed to life, Jay slid into his chair, his long fingers already tapping across his keyboard as the LED lights glowed faintly around him. He cracked his knuckles, smirking faintly to himself.

“If I can’t have her just yet…” he muttered under his breath with a soft scoff, opening up his favorite FPS game, “…I’ll settle for killing some virtual assholes.”

The bathroom door creaked open, a soft wave of steam curling out into the cool air of Jay’s bedroom.

You stepped out in your white silk pajamas—slightly damp from the heat of your shower—skin still dewy, hair loose and tousled from the towel you’d used.

The sight before you made your lips twitch in amusement.

Jay was hunched slightly forward in his chair, his jaw set in focus as his fingers flew across his keyboard.

The flashing colors of his monitor lit up his sharp features, and you caught the faint sound of him mumbling instructions to his teammates through his mic.

You padded over quietly, hanging your towel on the back of an unused chair near his desk.

“Someone’s serious tonight,” you murmured with a teasing hum, but he didn’t catch it over the sound of gunfire in his headset.

He did, however, notice when your hand landed softly on his broad shoulder. His eyes flicked up at you for half a second, and a small grin tugged at his lips before he quickly refocused on his screen.

With a flick of his wrist, he muted his mic and murmured, “Hey, pretty.”

“Mm,” you hummed back softly, trailing your fingers down his arm before moving to perch yourself onto his lap.

You straddled him effortlessly, settling with your knees on either side of his thighs and your head resting against his chest.

Jay let out a low chuckle, his free hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “What do you need, pretty? Or are you just here to test my self-control?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled innocently, though the way you shifted slightly to reach for your phone on the desk said otherwise.

He groaned softly, the sound more amused than frustrated as his arms tightened instinctively around you to steady you. “Baby, seriously—stay still. You’re gonna get me killed.”

You nodded absentmindedly, scrolling through your phone as if you hadn’t just settled across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jay gritted his teeth as you moved again, adjusting your position slightly. The silk of your shorts brushed against his boxers in a way that had his muscles tensing.

“(Y/N)…” he warned in a low, strained voice, eyes still glued to the screen as his fingers moved deftly on the keyboard. “I’m not kidding—stop squirming, or this match is gonna be the least of my problems.”

You only hummed again, a small smirk playing on your lips as you tilted your head on his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just getting comfy.”

Jay let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried to focus. “Yeah? You’re real comfy, huh?”

His hand smoothed down your back before gripping your hip firmly, holding you still. “Stay. Still. Pretty.”

But you only gave a nonchalant shrug, scrolling idly on your phone like you weren’t straddling him, like his cock wasn’t already pressing insistently against the thin fabric of your lace panties under your silk shorts.

You shifted slightly, feigning innocence, but the way his jaw tightened didn’t escape your notice.

Jay’s lazy smirk stretched wider. “Okay,” he said softly, almost to himself, letting go of his mouse.

You froze slightly, feeling the change in his posture. “Jay—”

But before you could finish, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them to the side with a practiced ease.

You gasped, squirming instinctively, but his hand on your hip held you down firm.

“Shhh,” he hushed you, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he used his other hand to tug his own boxers down just enough to free himself.

Your eyes darted down, and you felt your thighs tense at the sight of him—angry red, tip leaking, and hard as steel.

“Jay…” you whimpered again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Keep scrolling, baby,” he said with a low chuckle, his tone cruelly sweet. “I’m still playing.”

You were about to protest when he muted his mic and pressed the swollen head of his cock against your folds, rubbing it slowly along your slick slit.

The contrast between the heat of him and the cool air made you shiver.

“Fuck, you’re wet already? All from just sitting here?” His voice dripped amusement, but his eyes flicked to your face with hunger.

“Jay—please—”

“Shhh.” He unmuted his mic with a little click and spoke casually, “Sorry, my girlfriend needed something.” His tone was maddeningly calm, as if he wasn’t seconds away from losing himself.

Then he muted again, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck as he leaned in, catching your lips in a filthy, desperate kiss. His tongue swept in, tasting you as your whimpers got swallowed whole.

But just as quickly, he pulled away, lips slick and swollen as his eyes went back to the screen. “Stop moving, (Y/N),” he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip as you panted softly.

“You’re gonna make me fuck up my KDA.”

You whimpered again, hips twitching despite his warning, and his hand shot down to squeeze your ass roughly. “Baby, don’t test me,” he growled, low enough only for you to hear.

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands when Jay rubbed his cockhead over your clit again—so slow, so deliberate—that a high-pitched whine escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“Jay…” you breathed out, trying to shift your hips for even a bit more friction. But before you could grind down, his teeth found your earlobe, biting down gently but enough to make you gasp.

“I said…” his voice was a husky murmur, low and commanding against your ear, “sit. still. Pretty.”

You whimpered, nails digging lightly into his shoulders as you forced yourself to stay still despite the burning ache between your legs.

The sound of his game in your periphery only added to the haze—clicks of his mouse, the occasional muffled laugh from his teammates over the headset.

Minutes passed. Torturously slow minutes where he did nothing more than glide his cock along your folds, the slick sounds between you making your thighs clench.

Every so often, he’d press just enough to breach your entrance before pulling away with a deep chuckle that vibrated through his chest.

And then—finally—flashes of green lit up the dimly glowing room as the word ‘VICTORY’ filled his screen. Jay’s lazy grin widened, and he dropped his headset onto the desk with a clatter.

“Now…” he drawled, tilting his head as his dark eyes devoured you. “How should I claim my reward?”

“Please—” you started, but your words were swallowed as you crashed your lips to his, desperate and breathless.

He hummed into the kiss, standing up easily with his hands gripping under your thighs.

You let out a surprised squeak as he carried you effortlessly across the room and laid you down on his bed. His hands were quick but deliberate, peeling your silky white pajama top off your shoulders.

The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver as he tugged his own black tank top over his head and tossed it aside.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your neck before pressing open-mouthed kisses down the delicate column of your throat.

You arched into him instinctively, whimpering as his lips traced lower, sucking a dark mark just above your breast before his tongue flicked over a hardened nipple.

“J-Jay—” you gasped, your back arching as his mouth closed around it, sucking gently while his fingers rolled and pinched the other.

“Mmhm,” he hummed around you, his voice sending vibrations through your chest. “You taste so sweet everywhere, pretty.”

Your hands tangled in his dark hair, tugging when the teasing became too much.

But he didn’t give you time to catch your breath—his lips and tongue kissed a blazing trail down your stomach, over the curve of your hips, until his fingers hooked into your shorts and panties.

“Off,” he said simply, his voice gravelly as he slid the last barrier down your legs.

You barely had time to exhale before his broad hands pushed your thighs apart, his dark gaze flicking up to yours for a split second.

“Jay—wait—” you tried, but the words melted into a moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your heat.

He didn’t bother with any teasing now—his tongue delved in greedily, licking and sucking your folds as though he’d been starved for this. One of his hands gripped your thigh to keep you spread open, while the other slid under to grab your ass, tugging you closer to his mouth.

“F-fuck, Jay—ahh—” you cried out, your hips lifting off the bed.

He groaned lowly against you, the sound sending delicious vibrations straight through your core as his tongue swirled around your clit before diving back down.

He pulled away suddenly, his lips slick and glistening, leaving you throbbing and whining in protest. “Jay—why’d you—”

But before you could finish, he leaned back against the pillows, his dark, hooded eyes locking with yours as he patted his chest.

“Ride my face,” he said simply, his voice low and commanding, yet laced with heat.

You froze, blinking at him, your thighs trembling slightly. “W-what?”

“Ride my face, pretty,” he repeated, his hands gripping your hips as if to guide you already. “I want you to use me. Don’t make me say it a third time.”

Your face flushed as your mouth opened and closed like you wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. “Jay—can you even… breathe if I—? I mean, I don’t want to hurt you—”

He clicked his tongue, a dark, amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Baby, if I die, I die happy. Now…” his grip tightened on your thighs as he tugged you forward, forcing you to shuffle up until you were hovering over his face.

“Be a good girl and sit down.”

“Jay—” you stammered, still hovering nervously as your knees dug into the mattress.

“Sit,” he ordered firmly, his voice dropping an octave. Then, without waiting for your compliance, he pulled your hips down, and his mouth met your pussy in one eager, wet drag of his tongue.

“Oh—fuck!” you cried out, your hands flying to grab at his hair while the other braced on the headboard behind him.

Jay groaned against you, the sound vibrating straight through your core as his nose nudged perfectly against your clit. “That’s it, pretty. Move for me. Take what you need.”

“J-Jay…” your voice broke into a moan as your hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against his mouth.

His tongue slipped between your folds with practiced ease, licking and sucking like he was starved for you.

One of his hands slid up your spine, urging you to relax, while the other kept your hips steady over his face.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured against you between licks. “Use me—make a mess all over me.”

You whimpered, your thighs trembling as you began to roll your hips cautiously, the pleasure quickly making you dizzy. “Oh my god—Jay—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled lowly, the sound muffled but hot against your skin. “You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking sweet—god, you taste like heaven.”

Your fingers tangled tighter in his dark hair as your movements became more frantic, the wet sounds of his tongue working between your legs filling the dimly lit room.

Jay’s satisfied hums and groans against you only pushed you closer to the edge.

“You’re—ahhh—gonna kill me,” you panted out, your thighs threatening to give out as he sucked harshly on your clit.

“And you’ll die coming on my tongue,” he teased with a dark chuckle, his words sending shivers down your spine. “Let go for me, pretty. I want all of it.”

His words still echoed in your head—filthy, addictive—as he finally pulled you down from his face and sat up, gripping your thighs to guide you into his lap.

You straddled him shakily, your legs weak from the high he’d just given you, and his hands found their way to your hips, steadying you like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice low and warm as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t greedy—just him savoring you, his tongue brushing yours languidly.

His fingers traced circles on your back as he shifted, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your neck, and down to your shoulder.

You let out a soft gasp when he sucked harshly at the junction of your neck, no doubt leaving hickeys that would bloom beautifully by morning.

Your hands curled in his hair as you arched into him, chasing every warm press of his mouth.

“Jay…” you breathed, the sound barely above a whisper as your nails lightly raked down his shoulders.

“Mm?” he hummed against your skin before pulling back slightly, his gaze dark and hooded.

He leaned forward, placing one last kiss on the column of your throat before gently laying you down on your back.

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to his searing body heat as he tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free—red and dripping, achingly hard.

Your breath hitched as he settled between your legs, his hand guiding himself to your soaked folds.

He rubbed the head of his cock over your entrance teasingly, gathering your slick before glancing up at you with a soft yet unreadable expression.

“Please…” you whimpered, hips shifting in desperate little rolls. “Jay, please.”

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was low, serious now as his thumb brushed comforting circles against your thigh. “You want this, pretty? You want me?”

Your hands shot up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down until your foreheads touched. “I’m sure. I’m so sure,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

His lips curled into a faint smile, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured against you.

“Because I’m sure about you too, pretty. Always have been.”

Then, with painstaking slowness, he began to push into you, the thick head stretching you open.

You inhaled sharply, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your walls fluttered helplessly around him.

“Jay…” you whimpered, voice breaking as you held on tighter to his shoulders.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he whispered, kissing away a tear as it slipped down your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking good.”

When he finally bottomed out, you gasped, your fingers digging into his biceps as you adjusted to his size.

“So big…” you whispered breathlessly, your walls clenching around him involuntarily.

He let out a strained groan, his head dropping to press kisses across your cheeks and down to your jaw. “Fuck—you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin. “Taking me so well, like you were made for me.”

He stayed still for a moment, giving you time to breathe as he whispered soft reassurances—“you’re okay, I’ve got you, so tight around me, my perfect girl”—until you finally nodded, eyes glassy but determined.

“You… you can move,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

His eyes softened as he leaned down, capturing your lips in another tender kiss. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured. “I’ll stop in a heartbeat, pretty.”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

His lips quirked into a dangerous little smirk at your plea, his breath warm against your lips as he murmured, “Don’t worry, pretty. I won’t.”

He started slow, each roll of his hips—deep, measured thrusts that had you gasping and clinging to his shoulders. The sound of your slick and the faint creak of the bed filled the air, mingling with your shaky breaths.

His forehead pressed to yours, his nose brushing yours as his lips ghosted over your mouth with every thrust.

But halfway through, your broken whimpers turned into a desperate little whine. “Jay… harder, please.”

His dark eyes snapped open, a flicker of heat and surprise flashing through them.

“Oh?” he hummed, tilting his head as his lips curled into a lazy grin. “Is my sweet little ballerina asking me to ruin her?”

“Please,” you whispered again, hips rolling up helplessly to meet his.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he muttered, his voice low and rough now.

Before you could respond, his hand shot up to grab both of your wrists, pinning them firmly above your head against the sheets. “Keep them there for me, pretty.”

His other hand gripped your thigh, pushing one leg up so your knee nearly touched your chest. The new angle had you crying out before he even moved, and when he finally did—snapping his hips forward with a sharp, powerful thrust—you saw stars.

“Jay—oh my god,” you gasped, arching into him as his pace grew relentless, each slam of his hips sending the headboard lightly knocking against the wall.

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes dark and locked on your face. “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me. Let me hear you.”

You bit your lip to stifle a scream, only for his hand to leave your thigh and grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “None of that, baby. Be good and let me hear how much you love this.”

“J-Jay—” You were trembling beneath him, his pace punishing now as his cock hit that sweet, devastating spot deep inside you over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. “Feels like you’re made for me. This pussy—fuck—it’s mine.”

“Yours—yours,” you cried out, your walls fluttering wildly around him as your high built faster than you could keep up with.

“That’s right,” he growled, his lips crashing to yours in a messy, desperate kiss as his hips continued to pound into you mercilessly. “Say my name when you come, pretty. I wanna hear it.”

“Jay—oh fuck—Jay!” you sobbed as the dam finally broke, your orgasm tearing through you so violently that your legs shook and your back arched off the bed.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own high. “So good for me. Taking me so well.”

His thrusts turned sloppy as he buried his face in your neck, groaning against your skin. “Gonna fill you up, pretty. Fuck—take it. Take all of it.”

And with a final, deep thrust, he spilled into you, his warmth filling you as his body shuddered violently against yours.

He barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before his lips found yours again—hungry, messy, swallowing your soft whimpers as his hands cupped your flushed face.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, his voice strained and low. “You feel too good to stop.”

You let out a weak whine as he pulled out slowly, your walls clenching around nothing. “J-Jay…”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his palms running down your trembling thighs as he gently flipped you over onto your stomach.

You gasped at the cool sheets against your heated skin, but before you could even protest at the loss, his lips were already pressing open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder blades and down your spine.

“Don’t whine,” he teased, his voice dripping with heat as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your back. “You can take it. You’re my pretty little masterpiece, remember?”

Your breath hitched as his hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling them up so your ass arched perfectly for him.

His cock, still thick and leaking, brushed against your slick folds, and you choked on a moan. “Jay—”

He chuckled darkly, leaning over until his chest pressed against your back, his mouth brushing your ear. “I’m not done with you yet, pretty. Gonna fill you again. And again.”

You whimpered at his words, your fingers clutching the sheets. “Please… Jay, please.”

“Please what?” he asked, his tone lazy but his hips already aligning.

His hand found yours on the mattress, fingers intertwining tightly. “Say it for me, baby.”

“Please fuck me,” you whispered shakily, your voice nearly breaking.

“Good girl.” His praise was low and guttural as he slowly pushed back in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out again, your walls clamping down around him desperately.

You cried out, arching your back instinctively as he stilled for a moment, his free hand smoothing over your waist before sliding up to your breasts, palming one roughly.

“God, you’re perfect,” he growled, starting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each snap of his hips. “Listen to you—so wet, so fucking tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“God, you’re perfect,” he growled, starting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each snap of his hips.

“Listen to you—so wet, so fucking tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Yes—fuck—yes,” you sobbed, your voice muffled against the pillow as your hand gripped his tighter.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he started thrusting harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the room.

“This pussy’s mine. Say it.”

“It’s—yours,” you cried out, tears welling up in your eyes again from the overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured darkly, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as his pace became punishing, each thrust hitting deep and perfectly as your moans turned into desperate, high-pitched whines.

“So fucking pretty when you cry for me.”

“Don’t hold back,” he ordered, his free hand sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit. “I wanna feel you fall apart again. Let go for me, pretty.”

You sobbed his name as your orgasm crashed over you violently, your entire body shaking as your walls clamped down on him, milking him mercilessly.

“Fuck—” Jay groaned through gritted teeth as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you again with a deep, guttural sound.

“Goddamn it, baby. You’re gonna kill me.”

He stayed there for a moment—both of you panting hard, skin slick with sweat, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

You felt his thumb stroke soothing circles on the back of your hand where your fingers were still intertwined.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered again, softer this time, almost like he was scolding himself as he kissed the side of your neck tenderly. “You’re too perfect for your own good.”

You let out a soft laugh, still dazed, your legs trembling beneath him. “You… talk too much.”

Jay chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Yeah? You didn’t seem to mind earlier when you were crying my name.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled weakly, burying your face into the pillow.

He grinned and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before slowly, carefully pulling out. You whimpered at the loss, your body flinching slightly from the sensitivity.

“Sorry, pretty,” he murmured, his voice full of guilt as he brushed his fingers down your spine.

“I know. I know you’re sore.” He grabbed a warm towel he’d left folded earlier and gently cleaned between your thighs, murmuring little apologies every time you hissed or squirmed from how tender you felt.

“Jay…” you whispered softly, almost embarrassed.

“I know, baby. But if I don’t clean you up, you’ll whine later about how uncomfortable you are,” he teased, though his tone stayed gentle, careful not to make you feel shy.

“Let me take care of you, hmm? You were so good for me.”

You sighed, letting him work as he discarded the towel and helped you sit up slowly.

He kissed your shoulder as he reached for his dresser, pulling out one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft pajama pants.

“Arms up,” he said sweetly, and you obeyed with a tired smile.

He slipped the shirt over your head and helped guide your legs into the pants before tugging them gently into place.

“There,” he said, kissing your forehead as he stood to pull on his own pajama pants and a plain black T-shirt.

“My pretty girl’s all dressed and comfy.”

You leaned into him as he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to the bed again. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I’d spoil you every damn day if you’d let me.” He grinned down at you, laying you gently against the cool sheets. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

You raised a brow at him. “Where are you going?”

“Secret,” he declared dramatically as he slipped out of the room.

A few minutes later, he returned with a tray balanced carefully in his hands—an open pack of banana milk, a box of chocolates, and a small plate stacked with biscuits.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “You raided the kitchen for me?”

“For us,” he corrected smoothly, setting the tray down on the nightstand. “We worked hard tonight. We deserve sugar.”

He slipped back into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly as his arm automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

You melted against him with a quiet sigh, your fingers playing lazily with the hem of his shirt as the soft hum of the city outside his windows filled the comfortable silence.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, your voice low, almost as if confessing a secret.

Jay tilted his head, eyes flicking down to you. “About what?”

“Everything,” you murmured. “That I met you, that we had to share the studio, that somebody posted that dating rumor…”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” he said gently. “I’m glad too. Because if it wasn’t for our practice room being under maintenance…” he trailed off, squeezing you a little tighter, “I wouldn’t have met you either.”

The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—it was full, warm, like the kind of silence you only shared with someone who felt like home.

Jay grabbed the remote, turning on the TV, letting random movie trailers play in the background.

His thumb rubbed absent circles on your hip over his shirt you were wearing.

Then he looked down at you again, his dark eyes soft and unguarded in a way that still made your heart flip no matter how many times you saw it.

“I love you.”

You blinked up at him, lips tugging into a soft smile as you reached up to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I love you too.”

He exhaled, almost like he’d been holding that breath the whole night, and his hand slid from your hip to cradle the back of your head, keeping you close.

“Good,” he murmured against your hair. “Then I guess I don’t have to find an excuse to keep you here every night.”

You laughed softly, tucking your face into his chest as the TV flickered quietly in the room. “Jay…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He hummed, satisfied, kissing your forehead one last time as the exhaustion finally caught up with you both.

“Good. Because you’re already my forever.”

The words hung in the air, soft and sacred, like a promise whispered into the quiet night.

The moonlight streamed lazily through the half-drawn curtains, casting a pale, silvery glow over the room.

It danced across the satin sheets tangled around your bodies, catching on the soft curve of Jay’s jaw as he held you close.

His thumb brushed faintly against your arm, tracing absentminded shapes on your skin as if memorizing the feel of you.

You moved slightly, burrowing deeper into his chest, your breathing steadying to match his.

Outside, the city buzzed faintly in the distance, but here—in the warmth of his bed—it felt like you and Jay existed in your own little universe.

“Sleep, pretty. I’ve got you.”

And with the moon’s glow spilling over your entwined bodies, fingers laced together beneath the sheets, and your heartbeats syncing—you let yourself believe him.

Because in that moment, wrapped up in Jay’s arms, it didn’t feel like forever was a promise.

It felt like it was already here.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified @ateez-atiny380 @chemiru ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries @dearestdreamies @chuuyaobsessed

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[liuhsng]

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 4

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 17.4k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — part four is finally here ! i’m so sorry for the wait but i swear it’s worth it, i promise. i hope you guys haven’t been waiting too long—thank you for being patient with me ! enjoy, my loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, fake dating trope, friends to lovers, established relationship, soft domestic undertones, protective!jay, possessive!jay, mutual pining even after getting together, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering (f receiving), desperate!jay, praise kink, manhandling (gentle but possessive), body worship, grinding, spanking, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — now that you and jay are official, the air between you feels heavier—charged. stolen touches linger too long, kisses deepen too fast, and every look he gives you feels like it’s daring you to close the space completely. with college week fast approaching, balancing everything gets harder, but the intimacy between you two only flames—late nights turn into tangled limbs and breathless laughter, both of you teetering on that thin, burning line between wanting and taking. because once you cross it, there’s no going back.

The café was alive with chatter and clinking cutlery, a refreshing contrast to the tense, quiet air of libraries and dorm rooms during finals week.

You sat at a corner table with Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki, laughing lightly as the three younger boys animatedly argued over who should pick the playlist for the car ride later.

“Alright, what do you guys want? I’ll go order,” you said, already standing, your fingers itching to pull out your phone to note down their orders.

But Jungwon immediately shook his head, his little dimples peeking out as he grinned. “We’ll wait in line with you.”

“Yeah, at least let us. We’re the ones who dragged you out for lunch,” Ni-ki added, already slipping out of his seat like it wasn’t up for discussion.

You let out an amused sigh. “You guys are unbelievable.”

“Come on,” Sunoo said with a teasing huff, gently nudging you forward. “At least let us do this much, (Y/N). Consider it penance for forcing you to leave your Netflix cave.”

You laughed softly, trailing behind them in line. “Okay, okay. I won’t fight you on it.”

The line moved slowly, the delicious smell of pastries wafting through the air, and you felt Sunoo’s curious gaze from beside you. He tilted his head slightly.

“So…” he started casually, though his tone betrayed his nosiness. “What’s up?”

You gave him a knowing glance. “You finally get to hang out with me, and that’s all you’re going to say?”

Sunoo pouted dramatically, tugging on your sleeve. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean! There’s something in that brain of yours. Spill.”

You sighed, biting back a small smile as Jungwon and Ni-ki edged closer up the line. “Fine. I met Jay’s parents last Saturday… and he met mine on Sunday.”

Sunoo froze mid-step like you just dropped the juiciest tea of the semester.

His eyes widened, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “What?” he whispered-shouted, smacking your arm lightly.

Your lips twitched. “You heard me.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened before his whole face lit up. “Really? No way!”

Jungwon, who’d been eyeing the dessert display at the front, glanced back at Sunoo’s outburst. “What’s ‘no way?’”

“She met Jay’s family,” Sunoo announced, practically bouncing on his heels.

Jungwon’s lips curled into a soft smile as he stepped closer in the moving line. “Good for the both of you. It’s getting serious, huh?”

You nodded sheepishly, feeling the warmth rise in your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the menu board above the counter, hummed thoughtfully. “One platter for fettuccine alfredo and ravioli… and garlic bread. How’s that sound?” He finally turned to glance at all of you.

You, Sunoo, and Jungwon nodded in unison, and Ni-ki simply said, “Perfect,” as the line shuffled forward.

Then Ni-ki chimed in casually, like he wasn’t about to drop a bomb. “It’s good that you met Mrs. Park. I miss her cooking.”

Sunoo immediately agreed, clutching his chest dramatically. “Seriously! We barely get to hang out at Jay’s anymore. It’s just not the same when the chefs cook instead of her. The love isn’t there!”

You laughed, remembering the warmth of Mrs. Park’s kitchen. “You can actually taste the difference. I love Mrs. Park’s cooking a lot.”

Jungwon raised his brows and glanced back at you again as the group stepped closer to the cashier. “Did she call you her daughter-in-law yet?”

You blinked in surprise, laughing. “Wait, how’d you know?”

He shrugged coolly, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Just a hunch. She called us Jay’s groomsmen once… you know, when the time comes.”

“She actually did,” Ni-ki confirmed nonchalantly, still scrolling on his phone now that he’d memorized the menu. “She said I’d look best in a black suit.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress the laugh that threatened to slip. “You guys are insane. She really said that?”

“Yup,” Jungwon said with a grin. “And she even said Sunoo would cry the most at the wedding.”

“Hey—” Sunoo whirled on Jungwon, face already flushed as he pouted.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, your shoulders shaking slightly. The three of you shuffled to the side to wait as Ni-ki stepped forward to place the order.

Your eyes flicked to the glass display, catching sight of the chocolate cake that sat perfectly in one corner.

You reached out to lightly poke Ni-ki’s arm. He tilted his head down at you, his blonde hair falling just slightly over his brows.

“Order one ravioli and one slice of chocolate cake for takeout too, yeah?” you murmured.

He blinked, then nodded casually, adding it to the order.

Just as Ni-ki reached for his wallet, you pulled out your card with practiced speed and handed it to the cashier before he could even react.

“Really?” he scoffed, eyes narrowing at you.

You only shrugged with a teasing smile. “Come on. Let me treat my little brothers.”

“I’m going to transfer you the money,” Ni-ki warned flatly.

You shook your head, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Nope. Jay never lets me pay for anything. This is my payback… for him and for you guys.”

Ni-ki sighed dramatically, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “Fine. But don’t think this is over.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased, taking back your card from the cashier as Sunoo laughed beside you.

You all made your way back to the booth. Sunoo slid in beside you again while Ni-ki took the spot across from you, staring out the glass window with his chin propped on his hand.

His hair caught the soft sunlight filtering through, making him look oddly serene—until his voice broke the quiet.

“I’m glad it’s not fake anymore.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “Ni-ki.”

Sunoo made a noise of agreement beside you, nodding slowly. “Me too.”

You felt your face heat instantly. “Sunoo—”

Jungwon, seated at the end of the booth, furrowed his brows in confusion, his sharp eyes darting between them. “Wait. Not fake anymore?”

Ni-ki froze, realizing his mistake too late. He turned to you, a guilty smile tugging at his lips. “Oops.”

“Oops?!” you whisper-yelled, clutching your glass of water like it was a lifeline.

Your wide-eyed glare shot between Sunoo and Ni-ki, heat rising in your cheeks as you tried to process how fast this conversation was spiraling out of your control.

Ni-ki had the audacity to look unbothered, leaning back in his seat as he swirled his water like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. Sunoo, on the other hand, bit back a laugh, pressing his lips together as his shoulders shook.

You turned sharply to Ni-ki, your voice a harsh whisper. “How did you even find out?”

Ni-ki gave a nonchalant shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Oh, Zuha told me.”

Your brows furrowed, suspicion growing. “Zuha told you?”

“Well… I might’ve forced it out of her.” He took a calm sip of his drink, completely unaffected by your scandalized expression.

“Forced?” you repeated, leaning forward in disbelief.

He shrugged again, unfazed. “It seemed like she was hiding something. So… I hid her laptop and told her I’d throw it in the pool if she didn’t spill.”

“Ni-ki!” you gasped, covering your mouth in horror.

Sunoo couldn’t help the laugh that escaped this time, shaking his head. “You really hate your cousin, don’t you?”

Ni-ki glanced at him, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “That’s how it runs in the family.”

Your jaw dropped slightly at the casual confession, but you didn’t even get the chance to scold him before Sunoo chimed in.

“And you?” you asked, spinning to face him like he was next in line for questioning. “How’d you figure it out?”

Sunoo gave you an almost offended look, as if the answer was obvious. “I had a hunch! You two were walking on eggshells around each other for weeks. It wasn’t hard to see something was… off.”

You groaned, pressing your hands to your face. “I can’t believe this. I thought we were being careful.”

Jungwon, who had been silently observing all this with a curious tilt of his head, finally spoke up, his voice calm but edged with intrigue. “So you two were faking it at first?”

You slowly lowered your hands, meeting his sharp gaze. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It was… to shut everyone up, I guess.” You trailed off, not wanting to admit out loud how exhausting the rumors had been before all this.

Jungwon hummed thoughtfully, his lips quirking slightly. “But it’s real now, right?”

Your eyes flickered between the three younger boys—your ‘little brothers’ who seemed far too invested in your love life—and you gave a small, almost shy nod. “Yeah… it’s real now.”

Jungwon let out a small sigh of relief, leaning back in his seat. “Good. I like Jay for you. He’s good.”

Sunoo grinned wide, practically bouncing in his seat. “Plus, Jungwon would’ve found out eventually anyway. Even if Ni-ki didn’t slip. He’s too smart for his own good.”

Jungwon’s lips curved into a small, pleased smile at Sunoo’s compliment, but the moment was short-lived.

Ni-ki, ever the menace, leaned back casually in his chair, sipping on his water before smirking. “Yeah, too smart. That’s why he fell on his ass trying to put on his socks earlier.”

Your laugh burst out before you could even stop it, nearly choking on your drink as Sunoo gasped.

“Ni-ki!” Sunoo scolded, reaching across the table and smacking the younger boy on the arm.

“Ow—hey!” Ni-ki winced, rubbing his arm with a frown. “What? It was funny!”

“You’re the worst,” Sunoo muttered, shaking his head as he tried to suppress his own laugh.

Jungwon, however, didn’t even look embarrassed. He just let out a soft laugh, his hand brushing his bangs out of his face.

Before you could add to the teasing, a waiter appeared at the table, carrying a tray stacked with platters of pasta, garlic bread, and desserts.

He carefully placed them down one by one, giving a polite nod as Sunoo flashed him his signature sunshine smile and said, “Thank you so much!”

You began passing out plates, handing one to Ni-ki, but your phone suddenly vibrated on the table. Glancing down, you saw Jay’s name pop up with a little camera icon. A video call.

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered, swiping to answer as you handed Ni-ki his plate.

The screen filled with Jay’s face, framed by the soft sunlight filtering into Decelis’s music building.

He was walking through a hallway, his guitar case slung across his back and his other hand adjusting the rings on his fingers. “Where are you?” he asked immediately, his voice warm with curiosity.

You shifted the camera slightly, pointing it at the three boys across from you. “Eating out with Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki.”

At the mention of their names, all three heads shot up. Sunoo and Jungwon grinned and waved enthusiastically while Ni-ki gave Jay a small salute with his fork.

Jay’s expression softened as he waved back. “Hi, guys.”

You laughed, turning the camera back to yourself. “He says hi.”

Jay nodded, his steps slowing as he glanced down at something offscreen. “I’m done buying guitar strings with Heeseung. We’re heading back now.”

“Okay,” you said, spearing a piece of ravioli with your fork. “We’ll be back before two. I bought you food, by the way.”

His lips curled into that familiar, heart-melting smile that made your stomach do somersaults. “Thanks, pretty. You’re the best.”

You grinned back. “No problem.”

“Alright, I’ll let you guys eat. Bye, I love you.”

Your heart gave the tiniest flip as you murmured back, “I love you too,” before the screen went black, signaling the end of the call.

The silence that followed was deafening. You didn’t even have to look up to know the three sets of eyes trained on you.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze—and sure enough, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki were staring at you with identical sly grins plastered on their faces.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck.

Sunoo wiggled his eyebrows. “I love you too,” he teased in a singsong voice.

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a small whine. “Why are you guys like this?”

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, the familiar scent of coffee, guitar polish, and faint lavender wafting out to greet you.

“Go on,” you said with a smile, gesturing for Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki to step in first.

The sight that met you made your heart swell.

The band was mid-practice—Heeseung hunched over his mic, lost in the melody; Sunghoon plucking at his bass with that concentrated frown he wore when he was in the zone; and Jay’s guitar resting against a stand as he leaned back on the stool with his phone in hand.

Your own circle of friends weren’t any quieter. Yunjin’s voice hissed sharply across the room, her brows knitted as she pointed at Chaewon. “I’m telling you, it’s two spins, not three!”

Chaewon, ever the firecracker, stuck her tongue out with zero remorse. “You’re not even part of the dance team, Yunjin! Stay in your lane.”

Yunjin scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. “Excuse you, I’ve watched you guys practice more than I sleep. I practically am honorary dance captain.”

Eunchae and Kazuha were sprawled on the floor nearby, sharing a single pair of AirPods as they watched a movie on Sakura’s laptop.

Kazuha’s head lolled slightly, clearly dozing off, while Sakura sat cross-legged beside them, scrolling through fabric swatches on her tablet.

You smiled warmly, stepping inside as you called out, “We’re back!”

Jay’s head snapped up immediately, and before you could even blink, his guitar was abandoned on the stand. He strode over in long, eager steps, his grin boyish as he scooped you into his arms.

You let out a surprised laugh, hugging him back. “I was only gone for an hour!”

“That’s too long,” he murmured into your hair, holding you just a little tighter before pulling back to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

Rolling your eyes fondly, you held up the bag of takeout. “Here. You’ve been rehearsing all day, you need to eat.”

“Thanks, pretty.” His fingers brushed against yours as he took the bag, his smile softening as he gazed at you like you’d hung the stars.

Across the room, Sunghoon made an exaggerated gagging sound. “Ugh. Couples.”

Jay shot him a smirk over his shoulder, one hand still resting on your waist. “Shut up. You’re just jealous.”

Before you could even retort, Yunjin appeared like a whirlwind, tugging at your arm.

“(Y/N), thank God. Save me from arguing with her.” She shoved you gently toward Chaewon, who looked more than ready to restart round two of their debate.

“Tell Chaewon that the first part only has two turns. Two. Not three. She’s making it harder for herself.”

You sighed with a small laugh, placing a reassuring hand on Chaewon’s shoulder. “Yeah, Chae. It’s only two.”

Chaewon huffed, crossing her arms before reluctantly spinning in place as she muttered, “Fine. But if I trip, it’s on you two.”

You chuckled and turned back to Yunjin. “Are the costumes ready?”

“Yup!” she said brightly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “They’re arriving tomorrow afternoon. The tailor sent photos and they look amazing.”

“That’s a relief.” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder to see Jay watching you fondly, already unpacking his food.

You padded over to where Jay sat cross-legged on the floor, his guitar momentarily abandoned beside him. He looked up as you settled beside him, his features softening as you leaned gently into his shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured, tilting his head toward you. “What’s up?”

You let out a long sigh, your gaze trailing to the ceiling as you mumbled, “Nothing. Just… everything’s happening so fast.”

He studied your profile for a moment, his hand paused mid-reach for the fork in his takeout container.

“Us… or the day?” he asked carefully, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity.

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “The day, babe. Definitely the day.”

Jay smirked faintly, finally bringing a spoonful of pasta to his lips.

He chewed thoughtfully, swallowing before speaking again. “I barely have the time to take you out on a date anymore. Everything’s so busy.”

“I know, right?” you said with a small laugh, fingers absentmindedly brushing against the frayed edge of your jeans. “I’m getting pulled into dance practice every single day. It’s exhausting.”

He hummed low in agreement, his free hand turning palm-up for you to see. “My hands are getting more calloused by every practice too,” he noted, flexing his fingers and running a thumb across his calluses.

You took his hand gently, running your thumb across the rough patches with a little smile.

“It shows your hard work,” you said earnestly. “Don’t worry, Jay. You still look good.”

His lips curved into a tender grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, pretty.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, letting out another soft sigh. “I really hate College Week.”

He chuckled at your bluntness. “Can’t say I share the same sentiment.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Because I finally get to watch you perform,” he admitted with a quiet sincerity that made your chest flutter.

You laughed shyly, looking away as your cheeks warmed. “Minus that part.”

Jay shook his head, still smiling. “Nope. Even with that, I really love College Week.”

You groaned dramatically, your head falling back against his shoulder. “I wish I loved it too.”

He reached out to grab another bite of pasta, speaking around a small laugh. “You don’t enjoy the booth decorating at least?”

You shook your head with a sigh. “I’m always in charge of tying the ribbons. It’s so tiring.”

Jay barked out a laugh at that, setting his food down for a moment as he turned more toward you. “That’s because they know you’re obsessed with ribbons. You probably tie them better than anyone else.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Are you mocking me right now?”

“Never.” His grin widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as you laughed and shook your head at him.

But before you could fire back a teasing remark, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You frowned slightly, pulling it out to check the notification. Your eyes scanned the message quickly, and you let out a soft sigh as you straightened up.

Jay immediately noticed the shift, his expression softening as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Nothing bad. We just need to practice out on the field stage.”

He nodded knowingly and stood with you, grabbing your bag from where it rested on the floor. “Got it.”

You walked toward Heeseung, who was tuning his guitar again. “Hey, Hee, can I borrow your mic real quick?”

Heeseung raised a brow, lips quirking. “What for? Gonna serenade us?”

You cradled the mic with both hands like it was a precious relic. “Maybe later. Right now, I have to wake the dead.”

He chuckled, handing it over with a smirk. “Go crazy, then.”

You turned on your heel, facing Kazuha and Eunchae who were dozing off in the corner, headphones still loosely hanging from their ears. You held the mic up to your lips dramatically.

“Wake up!” you shouted, your voice echoing across the studio like a siren.

Kazuha and Eunchae flinched so hard they nearly toppled over, both glaring at you with wide, sleep-deprived eyes. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Eunchae yelled, clutching her chest.

You laughed, clutching your stomach as you doubled over. “Sorry, but we have practice out in the field stage! Come on, coach’s orders!”

Sakura groaned from her seat, rubbing her temples. “Even the volunteers too?”

You nodded as you handed the mic back to Heeseung, who was trying not to laugh. “Yep. We need help with the set design. Apparently, the banners keep falling.”

“Great,” Kazuha muttered, dragging her legs off the couch.

“You’re welcome,” Heeseung teased as he put the mic back on its stand.

Jay came over, holding your bag out for you. His eyes searched your face with that quiet warmth you loved so much. “Have fun, okay? And be careful.”

You smiled, taking your bag from his hands. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”

Before you turned, you rose on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just long enough to make his ears turn faintly red. “See you later, Jay.”

“See you, pretty.” He watched you go, his hands shoved into his pockets, the corners of his lips twitching up when you threw him one last smile over your shoulder.

As soon as you and your group disappeared down the hall, Jake elbowed Jay lightly. “Come on, lover boy. We still need to run through the surprise song.”

Jay tore his eyes away from the door where you’d disappeared, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone teasing but soft.

“Remember the lyrics this time,” Sunghoon called out from across the room, tuning his bass.

Jay rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he slung his guitar back over his shoulder. “I remember the lyrics. Come on, let’s go.”

Jake chuckled under his breath. “Bet you don’t. She’s got you so distracted it’s embarrassing.”

Jay didn’t deny it. He just strummed his guitar lightly, mumbling under his breath as his fingers slid over the strings.

“Yeah… she does.”

The Tuesday sun was merciless, its rays beating down on your back as you let out another dramatic huff, wiping at the sweat trickling down your temple with the back of your hand.

You were standing precariously on a wobbling stool, arms raised as you adjusted and smoothed out another long pastel ribbon onto the ballet class booth’s wooden frame.

“Why is it so hot today?” you muttered under your breath, grumbling as you reached for another strip of double-sided tape from your apron pocket.

“Kazuha!” you called, squinting down at her where she was crouched on the ground surrounded by colorful cardstock and markers. “Do you have a pair of scissors?”

She didn’t even look up, simply holding a pair up in the air like she expected you to come get them yourself. “Here. Don’t cut your finger off. We need those hands for the showcase.”

You let out a breathy laugh, hopping down from the stool and grabbing the scissors.

“Thanks.” You perched back up, cutting the little ends of each ribbon into neat V-shapes, utterly focused on making them look perfect.

Kazuha finally glanced up at you, amusement flickering in her eyes as she shook her head with a fond smile. “You are the most ballet student I’ve ever met. Like, textbook ballet student energy.”

You let out a laugh as you handed her back the scissors and dramatically stuck your tongue out. “Come on, Zuha. This booth represents me. Us. It has to be the cutest one here!”

You gestured with both arms toward the long row of colorful booths lined up along the edge of the field, their banners fluttering in the breeze.

The smell of wood glue, paint, and freshly cut flowers mixed in the air as students bustled about decorating their own spaces.

Kazuha chuckled, going back to cutting out photobooth props in the shape of pointe shoes and roses. “You’re impossible. It already is the cutest booth.”

You hummed in agreement, stepping off the stool and brushing off your skirt. Your eyes briefly flicked to the large stage set up in the middle of the field, a curious frown tugging at your lips.

“What’s up with the stage setup today anyway? I thought everyone was supposed to be working on booths?”

Kazuha didn’t even bother looking up. “Who knows. I heard there’s a bunch of people in their department who can cover for them. Some special practice or something.”

You were about to ask her more when—

A sudden burst of loud music ripped through the air. The opening instrumental of ‘Karma’ blared from the speakers, and you instinctively grinned, spinning on your heel.

The sight on the stage made your chest warm. There they were—all dressed casually in dark colors that still somehow managed to make them look intimidatingly cool.

Jay stood to the left, tuning his guitar as the students lining the field broke out into excited cheers.

Heeseung leaned into his mic, testing it with a smooth, “One, two—Enhypen soundcheck.”

The cheer that erupted nearly blew the roofs off the booths.

Jungwon let out a breathy laugh as he twirled his drumsticks in his hands, leaning slightly forward into his mic. “Please don’t expect anything impressive, okay? We’re just practicing!”

The students responded with playful boos, some shouting things like:

“We don’t believe you!”

“Just perform now!”

Heeseung laughed, a rich sound that carried across the field. “Come on, guys. We’ll perform for real in a few days! Don’t drain your energy yet.”

Jay glanced toward the booths, and despite the distance and the crowd of students, his eyes found you almost immediately. He recognized you right away—how could he not?

Your usual colorful wear of pastel skirts and crisp white tops made you stand out like a soft beacon amidst the bustling field.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as your hand shot up in the air, waving high.

He smirked, his fingers strumming a teasing riff on his guitar. “Pretty girl in the ballet booth—you’re distracting me.”

The students screamed at the comment, some laughing while others gasped at the boldness.

Kazuha nudged your arm, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Oh my god, (Y/N). He so called you out.”

You covered your face with your hands for a moment, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m going to die of secondhand embarrassment.”

You waved one more time toward the stage, and Jay mirrored the gesture with a quick grin before turning his attention back to his guitar.

Heeseung’s voice came through the speakers, counting down with an easy confidence. “Alright—three, two, one—let’s go!”

The opening chords of ‘Karma’ rang out, met with loud cheers and clapping from some of the students gathered around the field.

You turned to Kazuha with a small huff, brushing off the faint heat on your cheeks. “Come on. We’ve watched them sing that a hundred times already. Let’s finish this booth before Coach sees us slacking.”

Kazuha laughed, twirling the pair of scissors in her hand. “You’re the only one who calls setting up a booth ‘slacking,’ you know that?”

Ignoring her tease, you cupped your hands and called out to two juniors who were helping out nearby. “Hey! Can you two come over here for a sec?”

The girls jogged over, stopping in front of you with bright, eager faces. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

You handed them the now-empty supply boxes stacked at your feet. “Can you guys please run to the props and materials department and ask them for more ribbons and glitter? We’re running low.”

“Sure! We’ll be quick,” one of them chirped, as they grabbed the boxes and headed off toward the university building.

You let out a soft sigh, placing your hands on your hips as you glanced at the booth’s nearly finished sign.

The sound of drums and guitar riffs still filled the air, but you forced yourself to tune it out, humming softly to yourself to keep your focus.

Sakura strolled over, her laptop bag slung carelessly over one shoulder as she eyed the work in progress. “Kazuha, do you have a minute? I wanted to talk about the fabrics for the headpieces for Friday’s performance.”

Kazuha perked up, setting down the scissors. “Oh, right. I was meaning to ask if we’re going with the chiffon or if Coach decided on satin instead.”

You glanced at both of them, smiling faintly as they fell into a hushed discussion. “If you ask me, chiffon’s easier to tie, but satin has that elegant finish,” you murmured absentmindedly, reaching for the next ribbon to cut.

Sakura nodded thoughtfully. “Exactly. But satin’s harder to keep in place during spins…”

Kazuha sighed. “I’ll take whatever doesn’t make our heads itch halfway through.”

You chuckled softly under your breath, settling back into your rhythm as the band’s music thumped faintly in the background, your hands moving almost automatically as you tied yet another ribbon to the booth’s banner.

“Could someone grab me more tape?” you called over your shoulder as you smoothed the ribbon into place.

Two juniors hurried off to fetch it while another pair approached you with hesitant smiles.

“(Y/N), sorry to bother you—do you know where we can ask about the concert ticketing? Some students have been asking, and they thought maybe you’d know since you’re staff for the event.”

You exhaled a laugh, rubbing your temple lightly. “Ah, right… yeah. Tell them to check with the central booth near the field entrance—they’ve got the updated lists and prices.”

“Got it! Thanks,” they chirped before scurrying off.

Being both a performer and part of the staff felt like juggling a thousand tiny tasks at once.

You were so focused on getting the stubborn tablecloth to stay put on the booth’s table—kneeling slightly to smooth the edges and trying to tape them down—that you didn’t notice how the loud chatter and music around you had started to die down.

A hush fell over the people nearby, fading into muffled whispers.

It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, a familiar scent of cedarwood and citrus filling your nose, that you startled with a tiny squeak. “What—”

You twisted your head slightly, only to see Jay standing there, his face alight with a warm, amused smile. His navy jacket framed his shoulders perfectly, the contrast sharp against his black shirt and pants.

“Hi,” he murmured softly, his chin nearly resting on your shoulder.

Your initial surprise melted instantly into a smile of your own. “Hi,” you said back, your voice softer than you intended.

He released you gently, taking a step back, and only then did you notice the eyes around you—classmates, juniors, even random students—watching with sly smiles and poorly concealed curiosity.

Some were whispering to each other, a few even giggling.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, used to it by now. Instead, you turned your full attention to Jay, playfully clicking your tongue as you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Aren’t you hot in this?” you teased, tugging the fabric lightly.

Jay tilted his head, his grin widening. “What? I’m not allowed to look good for my girlfriend while she runs around making everything look cute?”

You gave him a mock glare, but the heat creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Jay,” you said his name like a warning, but it only made him laugh.

“You’re seriously incredible, you know that?” he said, eyes softening as he glanced at the perfectly decorated booth behind you. “Pretty and hardworking.”

“Flattery won’t get you a ribbon on your guitar,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

“Oh, c’mon,” he chuckled, reaching out to fix a stray hair near your cheek. “It should get me at least a kiss, though.”

You let out a soft laugh, sighing dramatically as if defeated by his puppy-dog eyes. “Fine,” you muttered, standing on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The grin that spread across Jay’s face was pure victory—smug yet boyishly charming.

“Knew it,” he murmured, his fingers grazing yours teasingly before he straightened up, still trailing after you as you gathered loose scraps of paper from the booth’s corner.

“Do you need help with anything?” he asked, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket as he fell into step beside you.

You raised a brow at him, tilting your head slightly. “Don’t you have your own booth to handle?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure the others can manage without me for an hour. Jungwon’s got it under control. I’m free labor now—strictly for you.”

Shaking your head with a reluctant smile, you muttered, “I don’t know how Jungwon deals with you every day.”

“Oh, come on, pretty,” Jay said with a playful grin, leaning closer. “You deal with me all the time.”

You pouted, fighting back a laugh. “Unfortunately.”

Jay placed a hand over his chest in mock offense, gasping. “Wow. Cold.”

You rolled your eyes and thought for a second before sighing. “Well, actually… I do need help grabbing the banner papers from the storage room near the back building. They’re too heavy for me to carry alone.”

At that, Kazuha and Sakura both perked up from where they were cutting out more booth decor, their gazes snapping toward you.

Just as Chaewon walked up, brushing dust off her hands, she tilted her head curiously. “Wait, the back building? What do you need there?”

“(Y/N)’s getting the banners,” Kazuha answered before you could, her lips twitching as she shot you a mischievous look.

Chaewon blinked, frowning slightly. “Isn’t it… kind of creepy there? No one goes there anymore. Plus, aren’t most of the cameras broken?”

Sakura added with a little shiver, “And it’s so quiet… I heard people say they feel like they’re being watched.”

You gave them both a sharp glare, crossing your arms. “Please. That’s exactly why I’m taking this musclehead with me.”

Jay’s brows shot up, a hand touching his chest. “Oh, I’m the muscle now?” he said, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.

“Stop acting like you don’t sleep in the gym, Jay,” you shot back, already walking off toward the pathway leading to the back building.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks as Jay let out a laugh, quickly jogging to catch up with you.

“Go get your girlfriend, lover boy!” Kazuha called after him with a grin.

“Yeah, good luck, Jay!” Sakura added, her voice teasing.

Chaewon smirked, hands on her hips. “Try not to get scared first, musclehead.”

Jay glanced over his shoulder at them, shaking his head with a soft laugh as he caught up to your side. “Don’t listen to them, pretty. If anything’s scary, it’s me leaving you alone for even a second.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands dramatically. “God, how am I supposed to survive you and your mouth?”

“You don’t,” Jay said smoothly, smirking as he matched your pace. “You just let me carry the heavy boxes and keep looking cute while doing it.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, though the corner of your lips twitched as his warm hands slipped around your waist, gently steering you further down the path.

“Stupid coach… and her stupid banners,” you muttered under your breath, glaring half-heartedly at the pavement as you walked.

Jay chuckled lowly behind you, his breath tickling the side of your ear. “Come on, pretty. It can’t be that bad spending extra time with me.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed dramatically, tilting your head to glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I just… I should be resting right now. I’m running on coffee and two hours of sleep, Jay.”

He hummed, reaching up with one hand to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear with surprising tenderness.

“Think of it this way, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet coaxing. “After this… I’ll treat you to a late lunch. Anywhere you want. Deal?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you couldn’t help the small hum that escaped your lips as you considered it.

“That… actually sounds good,” you admitted, your steps slowing just a little as you leaned into his hold.

“Of course it does,” he said, lips twitching into that boyish grin you’d grown so used to. “I’m full of good ideas, pretty.”

“Debatable,” you muttered with a soft laugh, and he squeezed your side playfully.

Soon, the familiar buzz of chatter and music from the booths faded into silence as you reached the edge of the back building. The air was noticeably cooler here, the shadows of the tall trees casting long streaks across the cracked pavement.

Jay glanced around and whistled lowly. “Kinda creepy, isn’t it? No wonder your friends were so dramatic.”

You sighed, slipping your fingers into his and tugging his hand away from your waist. “Come on, Park. Let’s just get this over with.”

He smirked, letting you drag him along, his longer strides easily keeping pace with yours. “Lead the way, boss. I’m just the muscle, remember?”

“You said it, not me,” you shot back with a grin, your fingers squeezing his hand just a little tighter as you approached the storage room doors at the far end of the hall.

Jay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low teasing tone. “You sure you’re not holding my hand because you’re scared, pretty?”

You turned your head just enough to glare at him playfully. “Shut up, Jay.”

His laugh echoed softly against the walls, warm and unbothered as his thumb brushed against your knuckles. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

His laugh faded into a soft hum as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Your joined hands swung lightly between you as your footsteps echoed down the well-lit hallway.

It wasn’t suffocating like you expected—the quiet felt almost soothing with Jay beside you.

You turned the corner and gestured toward a plain door with a faded sign that read ‘Storage Room 3.’ “Well… here it is,” you murmured, reaching for the handle.

Jay followed you in as you pushed the door open. The faint scent of cardboard and paper hit you immediately, and you flipped on the light, revealing rows of neatly stacked boxes on industrial shelves.

“We need to at least carry three full boxes of paper,” you said, stepping inside and glancing around for any sign of them.

Jay only shrugged, already tugging his jacket sleeves up his forearms. “Easy. Come on, what do they look like?”

You hesitated, a small flush creeping up your neck. “…They’re in pink boxes.”

That earned you a laugh, his deep voice echoing against the bare walls of the storage room. He let go of your hand to clap once, grinning. “Pink? Seriously? Alright, let’s find your magical ballet pink boxes then.”

You scowled playfully, crossing your arms. “Don’t make fun of them. It’s cute.”

“Sure it is, pretty,” he teased, stepping toward the left side of the room. “You take the right, I’ll take this side. Whoever finds them first wins bragging rights.”

“Bragging rights? What are we, five?” you muttered under your breath, earning another quiet laugh from him as you carefully began reading the labels on the boxes.

Despite how stocked up the storage room was, it was surprisingly clean—no cobwebs or dust layering the boxes. Your fingers trailed lightly over one labeled Event Streamers, then Props, but no pink in sight.

Jay, meanwhile, crouched down to inspect the lower shelves, his brows furrowed in focus as he read each label aloud. “Towels… extension cords… plastic utensils—wow, they really throw everything in here.”

You grinned faintly, peeking at him from the corner of your eye as you scanned another row. “Sounds like you’re losing, Jay.”

Jay’s laugh rumbled warmly across the small room, his head shaking as he crouched down by another row. “Don’t get too cocky, pretty. I’m just warming up.”

You smirked to yourself, fingers skimming over more boxes before your eyes lit up. “Found them!” you exclaimed, pointing upward at a shelf just above your head.

Jay straightened immediately, his brows raising as he strolled over with that trademark grin tugging at his lips. “Have you now?” he teased, coming to stand beside you.

You nodded confidently, turning to him with a triumphant smile and sticking your tongue out at him in mock victory. “Told you I’d win, Park.”

He hummed lowly, amusement flashing in his eyes as he glanced up at the neatly stacked pink boxes on the shelf. His smirk widened, lazy and dangerous, as he leaned a shoulder against the metal rack and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well then…” His voice dipped, rich and teasing. “Get them, baby.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you turned to him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

One of his brows arched as he pushed off the shelf, stepping closer—his movements slow. Your breath hitched as you instinctively took a step back, only to feel the cool metal of the shelving press against your spine.

Jay tilted his head, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he nodded toward the boxes. “Go on, pretty. Get them.”

Your cheeks flared with heat, fingers curling nervously at your sides. “I… I can’t,” you admitted softly, your gaze dropping to the floor to avoid the weight of his stare.

“Can’t you?” he murmured, the corner of his lips quirking as if your flustered reaction was his favorite show.

You shook your head, staring intently at a scuff mark on the floor.

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue, his boots echoing slightly as he took another step closer.

“Too bad.” His voice was low, mocking in its sweetness. “Guess I won then.”

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly.

“That’s not fair,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction with how close he was now—his scent wrapping around you, the warmth of his body practically searing into your skin.

“Isn’t it?” Jay hummed, tilting his head. His dark eyes bore into yours, sharp and playful all at once. He leaned down, close enough for his breath to brush against the shell of your ear.

Your back pressed harder against the cold shelves as your lungs forgot how to function.

“What?” His voice was barely above a whisper, smooth as silk.

“You found them…” His lips curled into a smirk you could feel even without looking. “…but I’m the one taking them.”

“That’s not fair,” you repeated, weaker this time as your fingers clutched the edge of the shelf behind you.

Jay chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Life’s not fair, pretty girl.” His hand came up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear—knuckles ghosting over your heated cheek.

You felt your knees threaten to buckle as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk as wicked as ever.

“Now… are you gonna stand there all flushed,” he teased, gaze flicking down to your parted lips for a split second, “or are you gonna let me claim my prize?”

Your throat felt dry, heart pounding in your chest so loud you were sure he could hear it. The heat of his stare alone made your knees wobble.

He tilted his head slightly, a low hum vibrating in his chest as his hand came to rest on the shelf beside your head, effectively caging you in.

His presence felt overwhelming—like the air had thickened with every inch he closed between you.

“Hmm?” he prodded, voice dropping a pitch lower, rougher.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, cheeks flushed, lips quivering like you wanted to speak but couldn’t form words.

His smirk deepened at your silence. “I need words, pretty girl.” His breath fanned across your lips as he leaned even closer, his nose nearly brushing yours. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Y-yes…” you finally managed to mumble, barely above a whisper.

But that was all he needed. That one shaky word snapped something in him.

“Good girl.”

In the next second, his lips were on yours—hot, hungry, demanding. His hand slid to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper as he pulled you closer.

The other hand cupped the back of your head gently, keeping you from bumping against the unforgiving metal shelves.

Your hands fisted into his shirt desperately, knuckles white from the way you clung to him as though he might disappear.

He groaned low against your mouth, the sound vibrating through your chest. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, coaxing a soft gasp from you.

And when you did, he took full advantage—his tongue pushing past your parted lips, tangling with yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and want.

Your back arched against the cold shelving as his body pressed flush to yours, his warmth consuming every inch of you. His knee came up, sliding between your legs to part them ever so slightly, stopping you from closing them again.

“Mmph—Jay,” you whimpered into his mouth, trying to press your thighs together out of instinct, only for his leg to hold you open firmly.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured against your lips, his free hand ghosting down your side before gripping your hip tightly. “Keep them open for me, sweetheart.”

Your head felt light, the scent of him and the taste of his mouth making it impossible to think. He kissed you harder, rougher, his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth like he owned it.

Your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

“Jay—” you breathed out between kisses, your voice breaking from the intensity.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, his forehead pressing to yours as his thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered, voice husky, eyes locked on the way your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.

You barely noticed his hand sliding lower until you felt his fingertips toy with the hem of your skirt, brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your breath hitched as he trailed upward, fingers slipping beneath the fabric.

“Jay—” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat

His lips curved into a knowing smirk as his cold fingers made contact with your warm skin, making you flinch and bite down a gasp.

“Shh… you’re fine,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw, then another to the delicate skin of your neck.

His hand roamed higher under your skirt, his palm hot now as it smoothed up the curve of your thigh. You tried to press your legs together, but his knee was still lodged firmly between them, holding you open for him.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he growled softly against your ear. His free hand slid around your waist, fingers brushing teasingly against the waistband of your shorts.

He tugged lightly, his knuckles grazing lower before pulling back just enough to tilt his head at you.

“You still with me, pretty?” he asked, voice low and sinful, his thumb tracing slow circles over your hipbone.

You nodded shakily, breath stuttering out of your lungs. “Y-yeah…”

“Good girl,” he praised, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

Then he lowered himself slightly, lips trailing down to your collarbone, peppering kisses over the thin fabric of your shirt before he nipped at your waist. You felt your hands tangle helplessly in his hair, fingers curling tightly as his breath ghosted over your stomach.

“Jay…” His name slipped out in a whisper, so soft you weren’t sure he heard it.

But he did.

His hand dipped lower, fingers slipping past the waistband of your shorts and brushing over the lacy fabric of your underwear. He froze there for a moment, thumb grazing the delicate edge.

“Lace, huh?” he teased, voice dripping with amusement. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sharp inhale when his fingers pressed lightly against the damp spot just above your folds.

“Oh? Fuck.” His smirk widened as he rubbed slow, teasing circles over the wet patch. “You’re wet already?”

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the whimper that escaped.

“Don’t hide from me,” Jay chided softly, his voice thick with heat as he pushed the fabric aside just enough for his fingers to graze your bare skin. “I wanna hear you.”

You shook your head, your other hand clutching at his shirt as though it was your lifeline.

“You’re adorable when you try to be quiet,” he murmured against your stomach, his lips brushing so low you felt them against the top of your shorts. “But let’s see how long that lasts…”

Before you could protest, his fingers hooked under the delicate fabric, pulling it aside with a quiet, deliberate motion. The cold air of the room hit your slick folds, making your entire body shudder.

“Goddamn…” Jay’s breath hitched slightly, his composure cracking for just a second as his fingers slid along your folds—slow, teasing strokes that left your knees weak. “You’re so wet I can feel it dripping.”

“J-Jay—” you gasped, your hand falling from your mouth as your head tipped back against the shelf.

“There’s your pretty voice,” he murmured approvingly, leaning in to press a heated kiss to your jaw before his lips traveled lower, nipping gently at the soft skin of your neck.

Then his fingers slipped lower—finally, finally parting your folds—and one long, skilled finger slid between them, brushing against your entrance.

You let out a strangled whimper, your hips bucking slightly.

“Oh, fuck… you’re so fucking soft.” His voice came out strained, huskier now as he pushed in slowly, his finger stretching you deliciously as your walls fluttered around him. “You’re gripping me so tight already, baby.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, clutching at his shirt as though it would help you. “Jay—oh my god—”

“Shh…” He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips, his finger curling ever so slightly inside you before dragging out halfway, only to slide back in again. “Don’t get loud yet. What if someone walks in?”

Your breath hitched, but the thought barely registered as he added a second finger, the stretch making you gasp loudly this time.

“Ah—fuck—Jay—”

“There she is,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear as his fingers began a slow rhythm. “So needy. So fucking wet.”

His thumb brushed up to circle your clit, making your hips jerk. “And all this for me?”

You nodded frantically, words failing you as he curled his fingers just right, grazing that spot deep inside that made your legs tremble.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, pretty girl,” Jay growled lowly, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck as his thumb pressed harder. “So fucking tight. So wet I can hear it.”

And sure enough, there it was—the obscene sound of your arousal each time his fingers thrust in and out, filling the tiny storage room with wet, lewd noises.

“Listen to that, baby.” He chuckled darkly, his pace quickening just enough to make you whimper. “Hear how messy you are for me? Fuck.”

Your head fell forward against his shoulder as his fingers worked you open faster, harder. One of your hands slid into his hair, tugging helplessly as the heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

“Jay—please—”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, his smirk evident even as his voice came out rougher now. His fingers didn’t let up, the pads curling against your sweet spot over and over.

“I—don’t stop—please—” you gasped out, barely able to form a sentence.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jay’s teeth grazed your earlobe as his thumb circled your clit faster.

“I wanna feel you come all over my fingers, pretty girl. Think you can do that for me?”

Your answer was a strangled whimper, your walls fluttering wildly around his fingers as the coil in your stomach snapped.

“J-Jay—oh—fuck—” you gasped, your hips stuttering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

“That’s it… there you go, baby,” he murmured lowly, watching your flushed face contort in pleasure as you came undone on his hand.

The slick, wet sounds grew louder as his fingers continued to pump you through your high, slowing only when your thighs trembled violently.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, your legs gave out beneath you, but Jay was quick—his free hand shooting up to catch you around the waist.

“Woah, easy,” he murmured with a small chuckle, his arm steadying you as your shaky legs threatened to collapse completely.

He hoisted you upright, pressing you firmly against his chest. You panted against him, clinging to his shirt as your body trembled from the aftershocks.

Jay looked down at you with a grin that was equal parts smug and soft before lifting his slick-coated fingers to his mouth. He slid them between his lips, sucking them clean with a low hum.

“Fuck, you’re sweet,” he muttered, his eyes locked on yours as heat rushed to your cheeks. “Could get addicted to this.”

“Jay—” you breathed out, burying your face into his chest as your blush burned hotter.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Breathe for me, baby,” he whispered, his tone turning gentle as his thumb brushed over your jaw. “You did so fucking well.”

He carefully tucked a stray strand of hair sticking to your damp forehead behind your ear, his dark eyes softening as he studied you. “So pretty like this… all wrecked because of me.”

You let out a weak sigh, trying to regain feeling in your legs as he kept a steady arm around your waist.

“God…” you mumbled, voice still breathless. “You’re still carrying the boxes.”

That earned you a low laugh from him, his chest rumbling against your cheek as he tilted your chin up with his thumb.

“Really?” he smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I just made you cum so hard you can’t stand, and that’s all you can say to me?”

You pouted faintly, but your lips twitched into a small grin as you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Jay laughed again, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers trailed soothingly down your spine.

“You’re welcome, pretty girl,” Jay murmured against your lips, giving you one last tender kiss before pulling back with a soft smile.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your face still warm as he helped you steady yourself.

His large hand wrapped around yours, guiding you up with ease. “You okay now?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed in concern as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

You nodded, your lips tugging into a shy smile. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

“Good.” He gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze before letting go and stepping toward the shelf.

Without hesitation, he bent down and grabbed the stack of three pink boxes like they weighed nothing at all, hoisting them into his arms with a casual grin.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you blinked at him in disbelief. “Jay—three boxes? At once?”

He only chuckled at your shock, his eyes glinting mischievously. “What? You thought I was all talk?”

You crossed your arms, still staring as he adjusted the boxes in his hold effortlessly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously strong,” he corrected smoothly, shooting you a wink. “Now, care to open the door for your musclehead boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh but walked ahead anyway, tugging the door open as he followed close behind.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased, holding it open just long enough for him to step out.

Jay smirked, walking past with ease and tossing you a smug glance over his shoulder. “This is the only time I’ll let you open the door by yourself, you know. Don’t get used to it, pretty.”

You scoffed playfully, falling into step beside him as the two of you made your way back to the booths. The quiet of the back building gave way to the familiar bustle of the field as laughter and chatter reached your ears again.

Jay set the stack of pink boxes down on the booth’s table with a soft thud, rolling his shoulders slightly from the weight but still wearing that satisfied grin.

Kazuha, who had been snipping at stray threads on one of the fabric pieces, paused mid-cut. Her brow arched high as her eyes flickered from Jay to you, and then back again.

You frowned, adjusting your skirt asKazuha’s grin grew even wider, mischief dancing in her eyes as she nudged Sakura, who had been kneeling nearby sorting through an array of headpiece fabrics.

Startled, Sakura looked up from her pile, her gaze immediately locking on you and Jay standing side by side. you stepped forward. “What?”

She didn’t even try to hide the knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“What’s wrong?” you asked cautiously, eyes darting between the two girls as your stomach twisted in suspicion.

Kazuha rested her chin on her palm, her expression impossibly smug. “Well,” she drawled, exchanging a look with Sakura. “Looks like you two had fun back there.”

Your brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly in confusion. “Huh? What are you—”

But then you caught it. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jay’s lips—more specifically, the faint shimmer of your glittery pink lip gloss smudged at the corner of his mouth.

Your breath hitched, heat rushing up to your cheeks as mortification settled in.

“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath, feeling your entire face go hot.

Without thinking, you rushed over to him, grabbing his arm as he blinked down at you in surprise. “Hold still.”

You reached up, using the edge of your sleeve to gently wipe at the gloss on his skin, your movements quick and flustered.

Jay, of course, only laughed—deep and amused as his lips tugged into that teasing grin you both hated and loved.

“Sorry,” he said with a chuckle, not looking the least bit sorry as he let you fuss over him. “Didn’t realize I was wearing your makeup as a badge of honor.”

“Jay,” you hissed under your breath, still dabbing at his mouth as your ears burned hotter.

He tilted his head slightly toward your hand, smirk still firmly in place. “What? I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm gently against his chest, pushing him back just enough to glare at him—though your flustered expression ruined any chance of it being effective.

Behind you, Kazuha’s laughter rang out while Sakura tried (and failed) to hide her giggles behind a piece of fabric.

“You two are so embarrassing,” Kazuha teased, reaching for her scissors again. “Seriously, get a room next time.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands as Jay’s chuckle vibrated low in his chest.

You sat cross-legged on the studio floor, fingers deftly tying the little satin ribbons on the fabric pouches while Eunchae sat across from you, her brows furrowed in concentration as she carefully tucked the final satin headpiece inside one.

It was Wednesday late afternoon, the golden light from the high windows spilling across the polished floors. The soft scent of fabric glue still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the faint hum of a ballad playing from someone’s forgotten speaker.

“I still can’t believe you joined the costume department last minute,” you teased, reaching over to flick her forehead gently.

“Weren’t you so adamant about staying out of this?”

Eunchae pouted, hugging a finished pouch to her chest dramatically. “I didn’t want to be left out! You guys are always so busy with ballet and costumes and meetings… I felt like I was third-wheeling the entire friend group.”

You laughed, your hand reaching up to pat her head affectionately. “Our little baby,” you cooed, making her groan and shove lightly at your arm.

“Don’t say it like that. You’re acting like I’m ten,” she grumbled, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

You shook your head, setting the last pouch into the basket beside you. “Okay, little baby, we’re done.”

You pushed yourself off the floor and offered her a hand. “Come on, we should be heading home.”

Eunchae accepted your hand with a dramatic sigh, standing and brushing off her pants. “You mean I have to go home and help Yunjin with her meeting with the juniors.”

She shot you a knowing look as she grabbed the basket. “You, on the other hand, have a date.”

You laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you got up from the floor. “Come on, it’s not really a date. We’re just ordering takeout and watching whatever’s on Netflix.”

“Mmhm.” Eunchae’s grin widened as she followed you out of the studio, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floors.

The hallway outside buzzed with life, students pouring out of their classrooms with laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. It was loud, but comforting in a way—like the kind of background noise you’d grown so used to that it felt like home.

As the two of you made your way down the hall toward the lockers, Eunchae nudged your side with her elbow. “I’m too young to be an aunt, you know.”

You nearly dropped your phone at her words, whipping your head toward her with wide eyes as your hand smacked her arm lightly.

“Come on—you know I’d have to love someone enough for it to even get that far.”

“Oh, uh-huh.” She sang the words out teasingly, leaning closer with a mischievous little smirk. “That’s why your boyfriend’s all over you every chance he gets.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically as you turned the corner to your locker. “Eunchae—”

“Look behind you,” she interrupted with a whisper-shout.

You frowned but turned anyway—only for your breath to catch slightly at the sight of Jay casually walking toward you.

His bag was slung over one shoulder, his guitar case in the other hand, hair a little messy from practice and a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he spotted you. He raised a hand, waving.

You instinctively waved back, cheeks warming as Eunchae bit back a squeal beside you. “I’ll get going,” she said quickly, balancing the basket of headpieces on her hip.

“I gotta get this to Sakura anyway. Have fun on your not-date.” She winked, slipping past you before you could retort.

“Hong Eunchae—”

Too late. She was already halfway down the hall, and you were left stuffing loose papers from your bag into your locker with a sigh.

“Hi, pretty.”

You startled slightly at the voice so close before realizing someone was leaning lazily against the locker beside you.

Turning your head, you found Jay watching you with that boyish grin, his sharp features softened by the warm light spilling in from the windows.

“Hi,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself as you closed your locker with a metallic clink. “You’re early.”

He shrugged, shifting his weight and tilting his head at you. “You say that like you’re not my favorite part of the day.”

Your cheeks burned instantly as you looked away, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Smooth.”

“Always,” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You ready to go?”

You nodded, lips twitching into a small smile as you slid your hand into his outstretched one. His fingers curled around yours instantly, thumb brushing absentmindedly across your knuckles as if it was second nature to him now.

You were sprawled out on Jay’s bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. The faint sound of oil sizzling and the aroma of garlic and spices wafted down the short hall, making your stomach growl.

With a soft sigh, you set your phone aside and stretched your arms over your head, the thin straps of your silk tank top slipping slightly as the fabric clung to your skin.

You didn’t think much of it as you padded barefoot across his room, the hem of your matching lace-trimmed shorts brushing the tops of your thighs.

Trudging out into the living space, you were greeted with the warm glow of the kitchen light and Jay’s tall figure moving around with quiet efficiency.

His back was turned to you, the muscles in his shoulders flexing under his plain white shirt as he stirred something in a pan. His black shorts hung low on his hips, the scene so domestic it made your chest ache a little.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you moved past the couch and perched yourself on the counter next to the sink, your legs swinging lazily.

“You know…” you said casually, your voice cutting through the gentle clatter of pans.

Jay stiffened slightly before glancing over his shoulder, eyes finding yours—and the sight nearly knocked the air out of him.

You—sitting there with a lazy, knowing grin in that silky tank top that clung to every curve, and those lace-trimmed shorts riding high on your thighs—looked like every sinful thought he’d ever had come to life.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes dragging up and down your body before he quickly turned back to the stove, gripping the spatula tighter than necessary.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

You giggled softly, leaning back on your hands, head tilted in mock innocence. “What? I’m just sitting here.”

Jay shook his head, his jaw tight as he focused on the sizzling vegetables. “Yeah, sitting there like that.”

You smirked, eyes glinting mischievously as you pointed to the neat arrangement of vegetables and sauces on the far counter. “When I said I was craving Chinese…”

He glanced back again, only to find you swinging your legs lazily, the movement making the hem of your shorts ride up just a little more. He swore under his breath.

“…I thought you’d buy or order. Not this,” you teased, gesturing at the cutting board stacked with colorful peppers and neatly lined condiments.

Jay huffed a short laugh, trying to mask how his chest was tightening just looking at you. “What can I say? I like making things from scratch.”

You gave him a playful pout, legs still swinging. “Mm, so I can’t even be mad… it smells really good.”

“Good.” His voice was lower now, a little rougher. “Because I’m putting my whole heart into it.”

He flipped something in the pan and muttered under his breath, “Trying to distract me too…”

You grinned. “Distract you? Me? I’m innocent, Jay.”

He turned then, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, spatula still in hand. His eyes locked on you, sharp and unblinking.

“Innocent?” His brow arched. “Sitting on my counter looking like that? You call that innocent?”

Your smile widened. “What? I’m comfy. It’s your apartment, your rules, right?”

“Mm.” He pushed off the counter, taking slow steps toward you, and you felt your heart stutter. “My apartment. My rules.”

He stopped in front of you, his hands braced on the counter on either side of your thighs, caging you in.

“You really have no idea what you’re doing to me right now, do you?” Jay murmured, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence even as your lips twitched. “I’m just waiting for dinner…”

His gaze darkened as it flicked to your parted lips, lingering for a heartbeat too long before trailing lower—over the way the silk of your tank top clung to your chest, catching in the faint light of the kitchen.

You swore you saw his jaw flex for a moment before he exhaled sharply through his nose.

But his expression softened. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips as his dark eyes flicked back up to yours.

He leaned in slightly, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Get the plates, pretty,” he murmured, voice low but warm. “Dessert can wait.”

You raised a brow at him, trying—and failing—to hold back the grin tugging at your lips.

“You’re sure about that?” you asked lightly, your tone laced with just enough teasing to make his smirk widen.

“Mm. For now,” Jay replied smoothly, stepping back so you could slide down from the counter. “But don’t test me.”

You laughed softly under your breath, hopping down and padding over to the dishwasher.

As you pulled out two plates, you glanced over your shoulder at him, catching the way he was watching you out of the corner of his eye while stirring the sizzling noodles.

“Kitchen or living room?” you asked, stacking the plates carefully in your hands.

“Living room,” Jay answered without hesitation, a little grin forming on his lips. “I know we’re gonna end up watching something anyway.”

You smiled at that, the domesticity of it making your chest ache in a good way.

“You’re not wrong,” you murmured, carrying the plates over to the coffee table in the living room. You set them down neatly, grabbing glasses from the cabinet and a bottle of juice from the fridge on your way back.

Jay had arranged all the dishes neatly on the counter: a steaming bowl of stir-fried noodles, two smaller plates of dumplings and spring rolls, and a perfectly plated dish of sweet and sour chicken.

“Jay… did you make enough food to feed an entire building?” you teased, your lips curving up as you admired the spread.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I just… made everything,” he said casually, his shoulders lifting in a little shrug as he carried over the large bowl of noodles.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you arranged the glasses and juice on the table. “Overachiever.”

“Guilty.”

Jay sat down next to you on the couch, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the aroma of the food. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks, twirling them in his fingers for a moment before scooping up a small bite of noodles.

“Alright. Moment of truth,” he said, blowing lightly on the steaming food before holding it up toward your lips.

You blinked, startled for a second, then let out a small laugh as you leaned forward obediently.

“You’re feeding me now?” you teased, your lips parting.

“Damn right I am,” Jay replied with a grin. “Open up, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but did as he said, taking the bite as he watched you expectantly. The moment the flavor hit your tongue, your eyes widened.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand as you chewed. “Jay, this is so good. Like—restaurant-level good.”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes softening as he watched you. “Yeah? You’re not just saying that to make me feel good?”

You shook your head eagerly. “No! I’m serious. This is amazing.”

“Good,” he said, his grin turning into a satisfied smirk as he grabbed another bite for himself. “Means I’m keeping my girlfriend well-fed.”

You gave him a playful side-eye but didn’t argue, too focused on savoring the rich flavors still lingering on your tongue.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you continued eating.

Here and there, you’d exchange small conversations—about the day, about how you kept catching your neighbor’s cat peeking through your window, and Jay teasing you about how many shows you’d started but never finished.

But eventually, the plates were forgotten. You found yourself half-lying across his lap, your head resting against the armrest of the couch while his warm hand idly traced shapes on your arm.

The other hand absentmindedly combed through your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers as ‘Bridgerton’ played on the TV.

“This is… interesting,” you mumbled, your voice soft and a little drowsy.

Jay hummed wordlessly in agreement, his eyes fixed on the screen.

He’d been surprisingly quiet for most of the episode—likely too distracted by you sprawled across him in that silk tank top and shorts, looking like the embodiment of temptation.

And then it happened.

The moans. The subtle rustling of clothes. The unmistakable sounds of a sex scene filling the room.

Jay moved slightly beneath you, clearing his throat as his gaze darted away from the screen. His fingers paused in your hair for a beat before resuming their slow motions, though you could feel the slight tension in them now.

You grinned, biting your bottom lip at the rare sight of your usually level-headed boyfriend so visibly affected.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” you teased lightly, purposefully moving on his lap so your body pressed against him in a way that had his breath hitching.

“(Y/N)…” he warned softly, his tone low but lacking bite.

You ignored it, your hand resting innocently on his thigh through his black shorts. But your fingers weren’t so innocent as they splayed slightly, caressing the firm muscle beneath.

Jay’s jaw clenched, a low groan escaping his throat. Still, he said nothing.

So you tried again. This time your fingers traced slow, teasing patterns higher up his thigh.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, almost strained as his dark eyes flicked down to meet yours.

You only hummed in response, a little smile playing on your lips. “Who said I wouldn’t finish?”

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, the muscles in his arm tightening slightly where his hand rested on your shoulder.

Then you moved again, rolling so you were lying fully on your side, facing him as your fingers toyed with the waistband of his shorts.

“Can I have my dessert now, please?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head with wide, pleading eyes that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Jay swore under his breath, his free hand moving to grip the back of your head, gathering your hair into a loose makeshift ponytail as he exhaled a low chuckle.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that?” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Go ahead, baby. It’s all yours.”

Your grin widened as you tugged down his shorts, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Your palm pressed against the bulge straining through the thin fabric, feeling the heat and weight of him.

Jay’s head fell back slightly against the couch, a deep groan rumbling from his chest.

“No teasing,” he growled, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as his dark eyes bore into yours.

You only looked up at him with a smile that was far too sweet for the sinful things running through your mind.

“Hmm, no promises.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down slowly until he sprang free—thick, long, and flushed a deep shade of red at the tip.

Your breath caught for a moment as you bit your lip, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Jay was watching you closely, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling a little quicker now.

“Pretty…” his voice was low and strained, his thumb stroking the side of your face as he murmured, “Don’t make me lose my fucking mind.”

You only gave him an innocent look—one he didn’t believe for a second—before letting your tongue dart out to give the flushed tip of him a tentative kitten lick.

“Fuck—” Jay’s hand tightened slightly in your hair as his head tipped back against the couch. His thighs tensed under your palm, and you felt the muscle jump as you flicked your tongue against him again.

“Goddamn, (Y/N)…” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly as you trailed your tongue slowly around the sensitive head, tasting the bead of precum that had gathered there.

Your lips curved into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip before flattening your tongue and giving one long, deliberate lick from the base to the tip.

Jay let out a low groan, his hand guiding your head forward instinctively.

“You’re such a tease,” he growled, his voice wrecked as you wrapped your lips around him finally, taking him in inch by inch. “So fucking pretty with your mouth on me.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath.

“Shit—don’t do that or I’m gonna—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when your hand wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach, stroking him in time with the slow bob of your head.

You pulled off just enough to lick a stripe along the underside of his length before taking him back in, cheeks hollowing as you sucked a little harder this time.

Your other hand moved to rest on his thigh, feeling it tense and twitch under your touch.

“Fuck, baby… just like that,” Jay groaned, his thumb rubbing slow, messy circles against the side of your neck as his other hand stayed tangled in your hair.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, and you pushed just a little further until your gag reflex kicked in.

A choked sound escaped you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you pulled back slightly, saliva dripping messily down your chin.

“Fuck—” Jay’s eyes darkened further at the sight of you so wrecked already, lips red and swollen, eyes watery as you looked up at him.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

You spat softly into your palm, wrapping your slick hand around him again as your mouth returned to the flushed head. Your tongue swirled around it before sucking hard, making him groan deep in his chest.

“Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Jay muttered, his hand guiding your movements now as his hips shifted slightly in the couch cushions.

Your lips and hand worked together, twisting your wrist slightly as you stroked him while your mouth focused on his sensitive tip. Every now and then you’d take him as deep as you could, your throat tightening around him as he cursed lowly.

“F-fuck… just like that, baby. So good for me,” he groaned, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek from the stretch. “Taking me so well. Fucking hell.”

You pulled back with a wet pop, your lips glossy with spit as you panted softly.

“You taste so good,” you murmured, your voice hoarse, before licking a long stripe up his length again.

“Fuck—” Jay groaned low, his hand tightening slightly in your hair as his head tipped back. The hand that had been resting lazily on your arm shifted, dragging down slowly until his fingers hooked at the waistband of your silk shorts.

You felt the tug and froze for just a second, your breath catching around him as he muttered darkly, “These need to come off.”

The sound of fabric sliding down your thighs sent a shiver through you. Half your body was still draped across his lap, your legs bent awkwardly on the couch, but Jay didn’t seem to care.

His dark eyes flicked down, and he let out a low growl when he caught sight of your panties—already soaked through.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured, his thumb pressing a tentative circle over your clothed core.

The sensation made you whimper, muffled around his length as your hips gave the tiniest jerk. The sound pulled a dangerous smirk from Jay as he arched a brow.

“Oh? That made you whine, pretty girl?” he teased, his voice strained but still laced with amusement. “You like having my cock in your mouth and my hands here?”

You let out a broken moan around him in response, your lips tightening instinctively as you sucked harder.

“Shit—” Jay cursed, his fingers moving now with more purpose as he rubbed slow, firm circles over the damp lace.

Then, without warning, he hooked the fabric to the side, fingers sliding against your slick folds.

“Goddamn…” he muttered under his breath, his thumb brushing your clit as two fingers plunged into you in one smooth motion.

Your body jolted at the sudden intrusion, a loud moan vibrating around his cock as your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Fuck, that sound,” Jay groaned, his free hand tugging your hair back slightly so he could watch your wrecked expression as you tried to keep taking him. “You’re dripping, baby. Making a fucking mess for me.”

His fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spot with practiced precision. Your hips bucked against his hand, and he chuckled lowly.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough now. “Mouth full of me, pussy so tight and wet for my fingers. You’re such a fucking sight.”

You whimpered again, your thighs trembling as his pace quickened. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you mixed with the slick, messy noises from your mouth working on his cock.

“Don’t stop,” Jay gritted out, his hand guiding your movements on him as his thumb pressed harder on your clit.

“Wanna feel you fall apart while you’re sucking me off. Think you can do that, pretty?”

You let out a choked whimper around his cock, your hips jerking as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit. The vibration of your moan made Jay’s head tip back with a guttural groan.

“Fuck—always so fucking sensitive for me,” he muttered, his pace in your core quickening.

The slick, wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you filled the room, mixing with the obscene slurp of your mouth working over his length.

Your thighs trembled as you tried to focus on keeping him in your mouth, but the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. Jay noticed, his hand gripping your hair tighter as his dark eyes bore down on you.

“Don’t you dare pull away,” he growled, curling his fingers perfectly. “Wanna feel you fall apart right here, baby. Wanna feel your mouth go tight around me when you cum.”

A strangled moan vibrated around his cock as your walls fluttered wildly around his fingers, your body arching against the couch cushions.

You tried to stifle the sound, but it came out broken and needy, muffled by the weight of him on your tongue.

“Good girl,” Jay groaned, his thumb brushing soothingly over your clit even as your thighs shook from the aftershocks.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this. Falling apart for me while keeping me in your mouth. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You whined faintly around him, your lips still wrapped tight as your cheeks hollowed, determined to keep going.

Jay’s jaw clenched, his free hand leaving your hair as he pulled his fingers from your core, bringing them to his lips.

“Fuck—” he hissed as his tongue darted out, licking them clean with a low growl. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

Then, without warning, his now free hand came down in a sharp smack against your ass, making you yelp around his cock. The sudden sting had your hips jerking forward, and Jay groaned deep in his chest.

“Shit—don’t do that unless you’re ready to make me lose it,” he muttered, his breath coming faster now as his hand smoothed over where he spanked you, only to give another sharp slap that had you moaning again.

“I’m close, baby. So close,” he panted, his hand tightening in your hair again. “Just a little more… fuck—”

A deep groan tore from his throat as his hips gave a slight thrust. You felt the first hot spurts hit the back of your throat as he cursed lowly, his chest rising and falling fast.

“Shit, (Y/N)… so fucking good,” he growled as you swallowed around him, not pulling away until he twitched one last time against your tongue.

You let him go with a soft pop, pulling back slightly to look up at him, your lips swollen and glossy with spit. You stuck your tongue out with a little grin, showing him you’d swallowed every drop.

Jay’s dark eyes softened instantly, his chest still heaving as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. Then he leaned down, cupping your jaw as he pressed a tender kiss to your mouth.

Gone was the feral hunger—this kiss was slow, warm, his lips moving lazily against yours as if he couldn’t bear to break the connection.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured between kisses, his other hand smoothing over your hair.

“So good for me. You’ve got me completely fucking ruined, you know that?”

You giggled softly against his lips, still breathless, and he smiled as he pressed another kiss to your flushed cheek, then your nose, then your temple.

“The dishes can wait,” Jay said suddenly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “You’re all I’m thinking about right now.”

Before you could respond, he was already slipping his hands under your thighs, lifting you easily into his arms. You squeaked in surprise, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you bridal style toward his bedroom.

“Jay—” you began, but he silenced you with a soft peck to your lips.

“No arguments,” he murmured with a small smirk. “You’ve completely worn me out. Now I’m gonna hold you all night.”

It was already Wednesday evening before you realized how late it had gotten. The golden sun cast a warm glow over the grassy field, streaks of pink and orange bleeding into the sky as the sound of music still lingered faintly in the air.

Your practice skirt swished against your thighs as you caught your breath, sweat sticking your hair slightly to your temple.

You’d been in your element all afternoon—perfecting every twist, every sharp turn and graceful extension until it felt like muscle memory.

As the song faded out, Sion released your hand, his breathing a little heavier too, and gave you a bright grin.

“Good job, partner,” he said, offering you a casual fist bump.

You laughed softly, bumping your fist against his. “You too. No more near-disasters with that lift. We’re getting there.”

His grin widened, and he shook his head. “Hey, that one wasn’t my fault.”

Before you could tease him further, your coach’s voice echoed across the field as she stepped onto the small stage set up nearby. She grabbed the mic, drawing the attention of every dancer and techie still scattered around.

The grassy field was littered with colorful balloons and bits of confetti from the earlier events—a chaotic but oddly charming mess.

“Alright, everyone!” she called, her voice warm but commanding. “You all worked incredibly hard today. I’m so proud of every single one of you.”

You smiled as you bent to adjust the strap of your heel, standing straighter when your coach’s eyes briefly landed on you.

“And I want to take a moment to outwardly commend Jeong (Y/N), our White Swan,” she continued, her grin widening.

“You’ve been moving like you were born for the stage. Elegant, powerful—exactly what this choreography needs.”

There was a small round of applause and some whistles from the sidelines, including Sakura and Eunchae from the costume team waving their hands dramatically in your direction.

“Our star dancer!” Yunjin cheered loudly, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“That’s our (Y/N)!” Sakura called, earning laughs from the nearby technical department as they clapped and hollered too.

You shook your head, embarrassed but grinning as you raised your hand in mock salute.

“Thank you,” you called back with a laugh, cheeks warm as your teammates joined in the clapping.

“Alright, alright, let’s bring it down,” your coach chuckled. “Cool down and get some rest. Big day tomorrow—official performance. Costumes and tech, you’ve done enough for now. Go relax too.”

Sakura, Yunjin, and Eunchae let out exaggerated sighs of relief, fanning themselves with their clipboards as they made their way off the field.

You glanced at Chaewon, who was stretching her shoulders nearby, and gestured subtly for her to step up and lead the cooldown.

Her brows furrowed in mock annoyance, and she placed a hand on her hip. “Me? Again? You’re the coach’s favorite today, (Y/N). You do it.”

You raised your brows, biting back a grin. “Hey, I just nailed a whole routine. My legs are already jelly.”

Chaewon scoffed but took her place at the front anyway, clapping her hands to gather everyone. “Fine, fine. But you owe me, Jeong.”

You exhaled, the weight of hours of practice finally settling into your bones as the cooldown stretches began. Your muscles ached, but it was the good kind of ache—the one that told you you’d given everything today.

As the group dispersed, Kazuha and Chaewon approached with your belongings in their arms.

“Here,” Kazuha said with a warm smile, handing you your bag.

“Don’t forget your water,” Chaewon added, tossing you your bottle with a knowing look.

“Thanks, guys,” you murmured, slinging your bag over your shoulder as the three of you stepped off the stage and down onto the grassy field.

By the time you reached the sidewalk, all three of you were laughing about how Chaewon’s cooldown playlist somehow always snuck in random ballads no one asked for.

But the sound of laughter wasn’t just yours.

You froze slightly at the sight that greeted you. The band was there—all of them.

Jake and Sunghoon were tossing a football back and forth like overgrown kids, their movements occasionally too dramatic, causing the ball to fly dangerously close to other people.

Sunoo and Jungwon were in a full-on sprint, shrieking as Ni-ki chased them like some horror movie villain, his long legs easily closing the distance.

Heeseung was lying completely motionless on the grass, his arm draped over his eyes, probably dead to the world.

But your eyes were pulled magnetically to one figure—Jay.

He was leaning lazily against a lamppost, one ankle crossed over the other, hands in his pockets. But his posture was deceptive because his dark eyes—soft yet sharp—never once left your figure as you approached.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.

You tilted your head, brows furrowing in confusion. Before you could say anything, Chaewon placed her hands firmly on your back and shoved you forward.

“Hey—!” You stumbled slightly, whipping around to glare at her, but she just grinned and shrugged.

“Kazuha and I need to help the tech team out,” Chaewon said sweetly, already pulling Kazuha away.

“Wait, what—?” you began, but she clicked her tongue like a mother scolding her child.

“You’ve already done enough, babes. You’re the main dancer for a reason. Now shoo—have fun with your man.”

You rolled your eyes, clutching your bag tighter as you turned back toward Jay.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, but now there was the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You tired?” he asked when you reached him, his voice low and warm in the cool evening air.

You shook your head, trying to calm the rapid thudding in your chest.

“Good,” he murmured, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced with yours naturally, and you followed him wordlessly as he led you away from the field, past the noise of the others, toward the empty bathrooms near the edge of the grassy area.

“Why are we here?” you asked suspiciously, brows raised as you glanced at him.

He didn’t answer—just gave you that maddeningly calm look as he pushed open the door and guided you inside.

“Jay—”

The next thing you knew, you were pressed against the cool metal of the locked stall door, your bag sliding off your shoulder as he set it neatly on the floor.

Your breath hitched. “Jay… what—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers already tugging at the waistband of your tights.

“Jay!” you squeaked.

He clicked his tongue, looking up at you with dark, dangerous eyes. “Relax, pretty. I already got you new ones. And another pair for tomorrow’s performance.”

Your jaw fell slack. “You… what?”

“I had to ask Sakura what color to get,” he admitted with a smirk, fingers curling into the fabric of your tights. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Before you could even react, the sharp sound of fabric tearing filled the air. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance.

“Jay, you’re insane—”

“Mm,” he hummed in amusement, his thumbs hooking the ruined waistband of your tights to drag them down just enough. “You keep saying that like it’s news.”

And then he was pushing your underwear aside, the cool air against your slick heat making you shiver.

“Already wet?” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “Were you thinking about me the whole practice, pretty?”

“Jay—wait—”

But he didn’t wait. He dove in, his tongue flattening against your folds before dragging upward in a slow, sinful lick.

Your knees nearly buckled. A sharp squeak escaped you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as a helpless moan tried to break free.

Jay’s hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding you steady as his tongue circled your clit with maddening precision.

“You taste even sweeter after practice,” he muttered against you, his warm breath making you shudder. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

You let out a muffled whimper, your fingers tangling desperately in his hair as he continued devouring you like a man starved.

His strong hands gripped the undersides of your thighs, holding you up effortlessly against the cool metal door as his mouth worked you open.

His arms weren’t just for show—corded muscles flexed beneath his skin as he kept you steady, your legs threatening to give out from how relentlessly his tongue moved.

“Jay—ah, f-fuck—” you gasped against your palm, trying in vain to stay quiet.

He hummed low in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight through your core as his tongue flicked teasingly at your clit before dragging back down to lap at your folds again.

Sometimes he’d go maddeningly slow, flattening his tongue to savor you, only to suddenly swirl it fast around your sensitive nub, pulling a broken moan from your lips.

He pulled back just slightly, his lips slick and glistening as he looked up at you with dark, hooded eyes. “So fucking sweet, (Y/N). You gonna give it to me?”

You couldn’t even answer, your hips twitching against his mouth as he dipped back in. His tongue thrust past your folds with a groan that vibrated against you, and you fell apart.

Your hands fisted in his hair as a strangled sound escaped you, your back arching against the door. He didn’t stop—not until your body sagged weakly in his hold, trembling with the aftershocks.

“Good girl,” Jay murmured, licking his lips with a satisfied hum as he cleaned every trace of you from his mouth. “Fucking perfect.”

He stood smoothly, his hands steadying you as your legs threatened to buckle. You clung to his shirt, panting as your forehead pressed to his chest.

“Easy,” he said softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he cupped your jaw and kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your knees weak all over again.

When he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your flushed cheek as his eyes softened slightly.

“I was jealous,” he said suddenly, voice low.

You blinked up at him, still trying to catch your breath. “Jealous?”

His jaw tensed a little as he nodded stiffly. “Of your partner.”

“…Sion?” you asked carefully.

“Yeah.” The way the name sounded on his tongue—clipped, almost sour—made you press your lips together to keep from smiling.

“You watched the performance?”

Jay gave a little shrug, eyes flicking to the side. “Only the end.”

You tilted your head at him, amusement flashing in your gaze despite the post-orgasm haze. “Just the end?”

His lips quirked in the faintest smirk, but his arms didn’t loosen around you. “Didn’t need to see the rest. I already know you’re the best one out there.”

Your heart fluttered at his words even as your eyes rolled. “Smooth, Park Jongseong.”

He only hummed in response, his lips curling into a faint smirk as he leaned in again, capturing your mouth in a slower, deeper kiss.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him like he couldn’t stand even a centimeter of space between you.

But with a small laugh, you placed your palms on his chest and pushed him back slightly.

Jay’s brows furrowed immediately, his lips parting in surprise like a kicked kitten. “What—why are you stopping me?”

“No sex until tomorrow,” you said firmly, though the twitch of amusement at the corner of your mouth betrayed how hard you were trying not to laugh at his expression. “Not even head.”

His frown deepened, his pretty brows drawing together as his hands fell to his sides dramatically. “What? Why?”

You gave him a pointed look, still slightly breathless from earlier. “Jay, I need my legs to work tomorrow. Do you want me limping through the entire performance?”

He blinked at you, processing your words for a second before he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“My girlfriend is a god of the stage. I respect that,” he muttered begrudgingly, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“But depriving me of my favorite pastime?” His dark eyes flicked back to yours, narrowed slightly in mock betrayal. “That’s insane.”

You burst out laughing, clutching his arm as your body shook. “Jay, you’re so dramatic.”

He clicked his tongue and bent down, his hands gentle as he helped you step out of your ripped tights and skirt, the remnants of fabric still clinging around your thighs.

His touch lingered longer than necessary, fingers brushing teasingly up the back of your knee, but he didn’t push.

“Guess I’ll suffer in silence then,” he grumbled, straightening back up and plucking your bag from where it lay carelessly on the floor.

He unzipped it and pulled out a pair of your loose pants, holding them out to you like some tragic prince. “Here, pretty. Can’t have my star performer catching a cold.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and took them from him, slipping them on as he watched silently, still looking mildly offended.

Once you were dressed, he stepped closer, brushing his thumb over your flushed cheek. “Tomorrow night, though…”

His voice dipped low, dangerous. “You’re not escaping me.”

You swallowed hard, fighting back the shiver that ran down your spine. “We’ll see.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you swore Sakura could feel it as her fingers carefully swept iridescent glitter across your eyelids.

Each brush sent tiny specks of shimmer catching the harsh backstage lights, making your reflection look ethereal in the mirror propped in front of you.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). Breathe,” Sakura murmured softly, almost like she was trying to steady herself too amidst the chaos that was the backstage.

You tried to smile at her reassurance, but it came out small, weak—like your lungs couldn’t fill fully.

Before you could say anything, Eunchae hurried up behind you, her small hands adjusting the satin headpiece that lined your hair, soft white feathers fanning delicately from it. She clipped a few more pins to secure it in place, her brows furrowed in focus.

“Hold still,” she whispered. “One wrong move and this thing will fly into the audience like a frisbee.”

Despite your nerves, you let out a quiet laugh, and Eunchae smiled in victory. “There. Perfect. You’re going to blow them away.”

Your lips twitched upward, grateful for her efforts, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers—loud, raucous, unrelenting—seeped in through the stage curtains. Your stomach twisted painfully.

Sakura noticed your frown immediately as she touched up the powder along your jawline, her warm brown eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said gently, her thumb brushing a stray fleck of glitter off your cheekbone. “Don’t think. Just dance.”

You gave a tiny nod, inhaling slowly through your nose.

As Kazuha settled in, her eyes flicked toward you, catching the way your fingers twisted nervously in your lap. She smiled, soft and reassuring.

“You’ll do great,” she said simply, her voice carrying that calm strength she was known for. “You always do.”

You turned your head slightly toward her, eyes narrowing playfully despite the thundering in your chest. “My Duchess,” you teased, referring to her role in the performance.

Kazuha rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips quirking upward as the makeup artist began dusting shimmer across her collarbones. “Keep that up and I will bite you.”

That drew a real laugh out of you this time, enough to loosen the tension knotting your shoulders.

“Violent Duchess,” you murmured fondly.

“Terrified Swan,” she countered with a wink, her words laced with affection.

You let out a shaky breath, finally pushing yourself up from the chair as Sakura patted your shoulder.

“You’re good to go,” she said, tucking the last stray hair into place and stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now go out there and make them cry.”

You managed a small smile, smoothing your hands down the flowing white fabric of your costume. The feathers on your headpiece caught the warm glow of the vanity lights, dancing like embers with each nervous breath you took.

As you turned toward the side of the stage, your eyes caught movement near the instruments.

Enhypen was there, scattered in various states of pre-show focus—Sunghoon and Jake adjusting their earpieces, Jungwon testing a mic stand, and Ni-ki thumbing through some of the microphones like he was choosing weapons.

But your gaze inevitably locked onto Jay.

He was standing near the amps, his guitar leaning casually against the wall as he tugged slightly at the thick silver chain resting on his collarbones. He muttered something to Heeseung, probably asking for another guitar pick, and adjusted his in-ear monitors.

And for a moment, the noisy chaos around you faded into a hush.

His eyes swept over you in one long, slow drag—like he was drinking in the sight of you dressed in white satin and feathers, glowing under the dim backstage lights.

The corner of his lips parted slightly, his hands pausing mid-motion as though he’d completely forgotten what he was doing.

You didn’t even have time to react before he was moving toward you. His steps were purposeful, his gaze locked on yours until he finally reached you.

Without hesitation, his hands slid onto your waist, thumbs brushing feather-light against the delicate fabric.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice low and reverent. “You look so beautiful.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense gaze. “Thank you,” you murmured softly.

His shirt—a crisp white button-up lined with bold black and red patterns—caught your attention. You reached up without thinking, unfastening one more button at the collar and smoothing the fabric down with your fingers.

“There,” you said with a satisfied nod. “Now you look handsome too.”

A grin tugged at his lips, boyish and soft as he tilted his head slightly. “Only handsome?”

You smirked faintly. “Devastatingly handsome, Park Jongseong.”

“Better.”

Before you could say more, he leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his lips ghosted dangerously close. But just as his mouth met yours—click.

You both startled slightly and turned your heads to see Eunchae standing there, holding up a camera with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry!” she said, laughing. “But you two were too cute. Can I send this to the team? They’re begging for a backstage update for the school page.”

Sakura stood a few feet away, arms crossed as she gave Jay a pointed look. “Don’t ruin my artwork, Park. I spent twenty minutes getting that glitter perfect.”

You broke into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand as Jay pressed his lips together, his ears faintly red. He looked at Sakura, then back at you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You’re scary when you’re protective of her, Sakura,” he murmured.

“Damn right,” she replied coolly.

Eunchae giggled again. “So… can I post it?”

Jay’s hand slid from your waist to lace with yours gently, and he squeezed. Then, leaning down slightly, he whispered in your ear, his breath warm and low:

“After your performance.”

You turned your head to meet his dark, soft gaze and nodded, the corner of your lips curving upward.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, pressing the lightest kiss to your temple before stepping back reluctantly. “Now go break their hearts, my swan.”

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

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