── It’s not part of the leader's job description that you had to accompany the youngest member to lose her virginity in her boyfriend’s dormitory. Clearly, you didn’t sign up for this, but you’re not going to let the youngest walk into a boy’s dorm alone either. So for the upcoming rumors this night might spark; you just hope that her boyfriend’s dick game would be good.
Unfortunately, you’re not the only one who’s babysitting their hornball youngest, and fortunately, it seems like your co-member wasn’t the only one who’s going to get dicked tonight.
Idol! Heeseung x Idol! Reader
word count: 9.6k
listen to: secrets by the weeknd, if walls could talk by 5sos, heaven and back by chase atlantic, acquainted by the weeknd.
tags: smut, porn with little plot, attempt humor, a bit of fluff, one night stand, kinda strangers to something, unnamed characters, kinda manhater! Reader, inexperienced but not a virgin! Reader, Heeseung’s still in enhypen (ouch), Riki being a menace, Heeseung is on babysitting duty too, fictional group and name. Usage of korean words for formality.
cw: smut, porn with little plot, p in v sex, softdom! Heeseung x sub! Reader, service dom! Heeseung, protected sex (yay!) oral (f receiving), fingering multiple orgasms, hair pulling, make-out, dry humping, praise, petnames, subspace, squirting, #evanmonstercock. I might have forgotten other tags though.
Asul’s note: this has been in my gdocs drafts since february, abandoned it, and then…. March 10 happened LMAOOOO i was thinking whether to abandoned this completely or change heeseung’s character but fuck it, this is fiction so let me live. Also I revised this with a hangover, so inaccuracies, grammars and shits are really off. Not proofread, shitty smut ahead, but oh well, enjoy.
But you were their choice. You were the oldest. The trainee with the longest training period. The ace, all-rounder — you name it. You’re that mysterious trainee who had garnered quite a popularity during your pre-debut days. Appearing in your senior’s music video and modelling for brands gave you exposure. It made everyone anticipate your debut and you actually have been preparing for a debut — they just needed the right members for you.
As soon as you debuted in a six-member group, you immediately carried the weight of being the leader and center of the group. It was a responsibility that was given to you without a second thought.
There was pressure, of course. You have to guide your members in music shows, interviews, and variety shows, give them advice and such, and be that someone who they can lean on. The good thing was, the adjustment felt natural, given that you’ve been taking care of them during your trainee days.
Your members looked up to you. You’re the eldest member. Their loving and caring sister who listened to their worries. The one who gives them advice whether it be improving their skills or just something small or irrational, you’re there to listen to them. You assure them that you’ll be there for them, no matter what happens.
Well, except for one thing.
You have boundaries too. You didn’t mind going out late-night for some snack run or listening to their worries despite the lack of sleep — but becoming one’s babysitter when it comes to unnecessary side quests that could ruin the group’s image? That’s where you draw the line.
But here you are, parking your manager’s car (which you borrowed and hopefully don’t get recognized by your fans) in the underground parking of a dormitory building. You could feel your hands cold and sweaty, nervous about what you’re about to do — actually, what your member is about to do.
The youngest, whose smile was wide, giggled as she removed the seatbelt of her seat. She looked at you like you hung the stars in the skies and you’re internally cursing yourself why her cuteness is your weakness.
“Thank you so much, unnie! I’ll be back before twelve I promise —”
“What do you mean? I am coming with you,” you cut off, which made her excited expression turn into something horrified.
“But you didn’t need to!” she exclaimed, ears red in embarrassment, but you rolled your eyes.
“I agreed on one condition, and that is I am coming with you inside their dorm, there’s no way I am letting you walk into a boy group’s dorm alone,” you explained.
“But they’re nice! You’ve met them!” she defended and yes, you did meet them, numerous times, at music show hallways and show festivals but those were just a few seconds greeting and bowing to each other.
In that scale, you barely know them at all.
“They’re still boys,” you pointed out before removing your seatbelt and glancing at her once again. “What? Are you going to sit there or do you want to go up?”
“This is embarrassing,” she mumbled under her breath as she opened the door of the car and left.
“Just be thankful that I had agreed to this,” you snarled at her and although your tone was filled with irritation, you’re not mad at her, of course, you could never be mad at your members. The situation was just annoying and too surreal for you.
Your group’s youngest is finally now an adult and the next thing you knew, she wanted to experience sex — with a boy group member of all the people out there, of course, why are you even surprised? It’s a common event in the industry. The hidden romance, one-night stands, and hookups within idols.
It shouldn’t surprise you at all. After all, you had that same experience too, during your rookie days with a senior who’s two years older than you. Let’s just say that the experience was disappointing enough that you never did it again and at the same time, you had to warn your members about boy group members.
Despite that, you’re not in total control of them and their bodily desires. Mistakes happen and experiences differ, giving them a heads-up and advice should suffice. If ever their first time would be a failure, that’s not your problem at all, at least you told them so.
The other members had gone through the same thing too, results differed from each of them but now, it’s the youngest member’s turn to do so. You couldn’t fathom the thought but she’s already twenty! Things like this are pretty normal and yet, your leader instincts convinced you to be more protective of her compared to the rest.
Maybe, you just couldn’t accept the fact that the youngest is not your baby anymore. It seems like yesterday you’re helping her with her homework during trainee days but now she’s going to have sex with a male idol. It’s like putting a gun on your head.
Oh well. You convinced yourself that this is bound to happen either way. The only thing you should worry about is for her to not be caught, hence why you insist on accompanying her…all the way to the dorm. It was a reach but you’re not going to let her enter a boy group’s dormitory alone too. A boy group’s dormitory feels like a den of lions in reality.
You watched as she pressed the ringbell of the door, shaking on her feet like a child filled with sugar rush. She was giddy and excited, her smile was wide and bright that it reminded you of the first time you went to your ex-boyfriend’s dormitory.
You just wished that she doesn’t end up like you.
The door opened a minute later. Revealing to you a tall man wearing a casual loose shirt and sweatpants. His eyes landed on your co-member and you saw how his smile brightened as he greeted her.
“Come in,” he said, opening the door wider, letting the two of you in, wherein he greeted you for formality and you reciprocated it immediately.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought her with me,” your youngest shared, her voice high-pitched and sweet, obviously, sweetening her way to her boyfriend.
“Oh, it’s okay — please, make yourself at home,” Riki said to you before he guided you towards the couch. You sat there, the leather creaking against your weight.
You watched as Riki went to the kitchen area, and returned with a bottle of water, some sweet pastries and a fruit cup. He told you that he had bought it for you, which you find sweet. Thanking halfway, Riki told you that you’re free to watch movies or maybe play games on their tv — just feel at home. He repeated.
“We'll be in Riki's room now,” your fellow member said, excited and jumpy as she held her boyfriend’s hand, and just like her, Riki seemed giddy about what they’re going to do.
God, looking at them, you feel like a parent whose daughter is going out on her first date, except she’s going to do something worse. The image probably’s going to scar you for life.
“Okay, be safe,” was the only thing you said, before you watched them go to the first door in the left hallway which you assumed was Riki’s room.
Silence immediately follows through. You were accompanied by the stillness that devoured you in just a minute. The only thing you could do was grab the fruit cup and eat it. Hoping it’ll ease your tense body that’s nervous for your youngest. She said they’d be done around twelve — which means you have four hours to kill time.
Your peaceful moment was cut-off when you heard the door open. You freezed when footsteps became louder and louder until from the other hallway, a man stepped out, confused and surprised to see you.
The first thing you did was stand up, bow and greet him, since he was your senior. He seemed surprised by you but immediately greeted you and gave you a bow too.
“Heeseung, from Enhypen,” he introduced, exiting out of the hallway and going within your proximity.
“I know, I’m y/n from Krave,” you introduced back, and his eyes widened.
“Oh! You sang ‘more’ right? That song’s been in my playlist since then,” Heeseung shared with a smile.
You smiled at the thought. “Thank you for listening to our songs sunbae.”
“Please, drop the sunbae, we’re in our dorm — also you can talk to me casually, we’re same-aged right?” the man replied casually.
You nodded, “right. Okay.”
“You wanted something to eat? I’m going to make ramen, do you want some?” he offered and you shook your head.
“It’s okay, I already had a fruit cup, and I’m on a diet too,” you told him.
He eyed the food on the table for a second before he remembered. “So I supposed the girl Riki’s with, is your member?”
You chuckled before nodding, “Yeah, I couldn’t let her go here alone, it kinda scares me.”
“I understand your sentiments, but Riki’s a good kid,” he pointed out.
“I know, I was just being careful, she’s our maknae, that’s why I’m too protective towards her,” you explained.
“Of course you are.” he smiled before going towards the kitchen. That made you sit on the couch and focus on your cup but minutes later Heeseung showed up once again.
“I felt lazy cooking tonight, so might as well accompany you,” he sat casually next to you like you two were friends. You were startled, but Heeseung didn’t seem to notice your flustered self as he opened the pack of gummy bears that he grabbed instead, then offered you some which you declined.
You took the water bottle and took a few sips on it. The living room was quiet and serene, a deep contrast to whatever the hell was happening inside Riki’s room. You couldn’t help but to look at your watch, it’s barely an hour passed — why is time slow here suddenly?
“You alright?” Heeseung asked, and you only smiled bitterly.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you lied before taking another few sips and then placing it back on the table. You focused on the fruit cup while Heeseung’s halfway with his candy. The two of you fell into an awkward silence once again.
“Can I ask why you are here?” you asked out of nowhere, curiosity lingering in your mind. “Are you and Riki, dormmates?”
“Well, I’m on babysitting duty too,” Heeseung said with a chuckle. “Everyone else is in the other dorm but Riki insisted that I stay in case of…emergencies, I don’t know what he meant but maybe he felt more at ease if I’m around.”
“That’s kinda sweet, he looks up to you,” you pointed out but Heeseung laughed at your words.
“It feels surreal that he’s going to do the deed. It seems like yesterday, he’s this small duckling who sleeps on my bed because he couldn’t sleep in his bed alone.” Heeseung shared, and you nodded, sharing the same sentiments that he does.
“I feel the same way,” you agreed. “They’re growing up aren’t they? It’s kinda scary. Growing in this industry isn’t helpful either.”
“I get you, that’s why it’s better to guide them and be always there right?”
“Right,” you nodded, ending the talk with you shoving another slice of apple into your mouth. Heeseung shoved a few jellies in his mouth, letting both of you settle with the dead air that came suddenly.
“So…do you do this with your other members?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere, and you shook your head as an answer.
“Only to her, you could see how protective I am, right? How about you? I’m sure your other members have brought girls in your dorm,” you asked him back and just like you, he shook his head in response.
“Numerous times, but this is the first time I did babysitting duty, which is weird since I thought Riki would like some privacy like the others, so I’m surprised that he asked me to stay,” he explained.
“His first time right?” Heeseung nodded at your question and you were a bit relieved since that means they’ll be each other’s first. The thought was kinda cute for you.
“Well, it’s her first time too, I guess they’re still scared…but determined,” you stated, earning a short laugh from Heeseung.
“I like how you described it that way,” he pointed out, making you chuckle.
But your conversation halted when a bunch of lewd, sinful noises came out of Riki’s room. Your eyes widened as the filthy sound slid inside your ears.
“Oh my god,” that was the only thing you could say, while Heeseung laughed at your reaction.
“Here, this should help us cover up the noise,” Heeseung opened the television and clicked whatever channel’s available. He turned on the volume louder, hoping that it’ll muffle the noise.
But it was still too loud. Their dirty talks, the incoherent sounds, and how the bed banged against the wall. It made you extremely uncomfortable that you were frozen in your place.
“Why are they so loud!?” you huffed in annoyance. “Oh my god! I couldn’t bear to hear it.”
“I guess Riki got some game,” Heeseung chuckled and you scoffed.
“That is such a boy respond of you.” you told him and he looked at you, offended.
“Woah hey, that hurts you know?”
“You seemed not offended by it.”
“A little, but I do admit it’s kinda gross hearing them do ‘it’” Heeseung answered.
You didn’t say anything but instead, turn on the volume louder but still, the sounds wouldn’t leave your ears, making you groan in annoyance again.
“I wanted to tell them to lower it down but that’s too much,” you complained once again before rubbing your face in hopes to remove all of the sinful sounds your ears had heard.
Heeseung’s eyes never left you. He noticed how inaudibly uncomfortable you were. He couldn’t help but to look for a solution to it.
That is if you’re willing to agree to it.
“I know this might sound like a sketchy suggestion, but do you want to come to my room?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere.
You turned your head towards him, surprised. “What?”
“My room? It’s on the opposite side, so the sound would be muffled but we can just turn on some music so that it’ll bury the noise further.” Heeseung pointed to the other hallway that contained a few doors. It was far from Riki’s room but you hesitated to answer.
It’s a fucking trap. You insist. Heeseung may look all-innocent with his soft voice and bambi-like eyes but you have to constantly remind yourself that he is still a guy at the end of the day. God knows what he’d do to you in his room.
But for desperate measures? Maybe it’s not that bad at all, he did say that it’s a sketchy suggestion, Heeseung knows that his offer sounded weird to you. But would you rather listen to your co-member get dicked for the following hours? No fucking way.
“Fine,” you answered and you noticed how Heeseung’s eyes widened.
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, but just so you know, I know hapkido,” you told him that it made him stop, stared at you, and nodded slowly.
“Thank you for the heads up.”
You stood up first before he did. You followed him towards the opposite hallway, away from Riki’s room, and fortunately, his room is at the end of the hallway.
“It’s not that cool, just giving you a heads up,” Heeseung shared before opening the door and letting you inside.
It was huge yet minimalist. The typical room setup — a bed, closet, drawer cabinet, and of course, a pc setup complete with a computer chair. There weren’t any decorations, the only odd thing about his room was the stack of gaming keyboards on his floor.
“Nice…room,” you commented. It smelled like his perfume along with some fabric conditioner which you didn’t mind at all. You stood at the corner awkwardly before Heeseung closed the door then proceeded towards his pc.
“I’ll play some music, see? You could barely hear them,” Heeseung said as he opened a music browser and looked for some songs. That’s when you noticed the noise was barely audible — it was almost mute which made you relax for a moment.
“Any suggestions?” he asked as he scrolled through Spotify.
“...Maybe some pop music?” you answered.
“I’ll just play some The Weeknd,” he clicked one of his playlist, and a familiar song from the said artist filled the whole room, completely burying the obscenity that’s happening a few rooms away.
“You listen to him?” you asked.
Heeseung nodded with a smile. “Huge fan — oh, you could sit on my bed, I don’t mind,”
“Only if you don’t sit beside me,” you said as you made your way towards his bed. It was soft and clean, Heeseung looked like he didn’t mind that you were in your outside clothes too.
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll just relax here,” he insisted, sitting on the gaming chair. He made himself relaxed, with his legs criss-cross on the seat while he leaned against the backrest.
Silence devoured you two. The only noise you could hear was the song playing from his speaker. You two stared at each other, not moving nor talking, which you found relaxing and yet, you couldn’t help but to notice how Heeseung stared at you way too long than he should.
“You seem guarded,” he observed and that made you let out a nervous chuckle.
“Why should I not? I am in a boy group member’s room,” you shared.
“First time?”
“No, of course not, just reminds me of my first time though,” you answered honestly.
“Care to share?”
You pondered for a moment. “You won’t laugh?”
“I promise, scouts’ honor,” Heeseung said, even crossing his heart which made you laugh.
“Are you even one?”
Heeseung faintly shrugged, “Well, we did an en-o’clock episode about it, does that count?”
“Whatever but long story short, I dated a senior of ours, been going out for months and then decided to just let him be my first…but it was so fucking bad then he dumped me three days later.” you shared.
“What the fuck?” it was the only thing that came out of Heeseung’s lips. Disbelief written on his face.
You nodded at his reaction, “after that I cursed every boy group member and their ability to charm girls but underperformed when it comes to sex.”
“...You didn’t get to cum, I assume,” you nodded at his words.
“Aside from that, it didn’t feel intimate to me, it’s like, he’s just using me to get off,” you added.
“Wow, and he had the audacity to dump you?”
“Yeah, it was so bad that it didn’t even last an hour, no foreplays, just a short makeout — he was just eager to get his dick wet!”
Heeseung laughed at your story but you didn’t feel embarrassed nor offended by his laugh, he seemed amused by how you detailed your experience. That’s when he finally understood why you’re so protective over your co-member, you just didn’t want them to experience the same thing that happened to you.
“You didn’t meet anyone after that?” Heeseung asked.
You shook your head as answer. “Well, obviously, he broke my heart. So I rejected any idols who asked for my number, plus with the continuous tours and comebacks, I didn’t have any time at all, my focus was on my group.”
“So, that was the last time you had sex, I’m assuming,” Heeseung pointed out.
“Yup.”
“Never thought about it again?” he asked.
“You heard my story, if I’d do it, I’d do it with…I guess someone who’s not an idol?” you said with uncertainty.
“His dick game was really that bad?”
That’s when you agreed. “So fucking bad, I’d like to think that all male idols are that bad.”
“Not me though.” Heeseung casually replied.
His words made you scoff in disbelief. “Of course you’d say that,”
“Well, you wouldn’t know unless you actually tried it,” he pointed out.
You halted for a minute. Eyebrows furrowed at him. “What?”
Heeseung looked at the clock, “we have a lot of time to spare before midnight, I was suggesting that you might want to, relax for a bit,”
You stared at him appalled while Heeseung seemed so casual about what he just said.
“Are you asking me to have sex with you?”
“You could say no if you want to, but the offer’s open,” Heeseung answered and you rolled your eyes before another scoff escaped your lips.
“You’re just like any other male idol,” you stated.
“Have you slept with other boy group members?” Heeseung asked tauntingly that it made you quiet for a moment. He smirked, infuriatingly and yet, you remained seated.
“Right, so why would you stick with that one experience? Come on, not attached to this one, unless you’re the type to have emotional attachment when it comes to sex, I’ll let you off the hook,” Heeseung convinced.
Has the room always felt warm? You don’t know why there’s chills on your nape and your hands clamming with sweat. Why is there a sudden shift in the air and your heart’s racing rapidly, that in a blink, you felt convinced.
“What’s in for me?” you muttered.
“Like I told you, maybe you should relax for a moment, you’re tense and guarded,” Heeseung pointed out.
“I should be tense, my youngest’s having sex with her boyfriend, I’m in Enhypen’s dormitory — specifically inside your room, who knows your sasaengs are lurking around your place and caught us sneaking,” you explained.
“You’re safe here, don't worry, and right now, just think of yourself, just for four hours, think of yourself not the eldest and leader of Krave, just you,” he insisted and something about the way he talked almost made you fold for him.
“I’m starting to wonder how many girls have you persuaded and slept with by just how you convince me,” you said.
The smirk on his lips widened, teasing. “Oh, so you’re convinced? Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the second girl I’ve ever slept with.,"
You stared at him for a moment. Heeseung tilted his head sideways, observing you and yet his stare didn’t have any weight on it. He looked at you like you’re the brightest moon tonight — not just a girl he seemed to eager to fuck.
That thought made you spin. He looked so alluring that you’re lost for words. Then he gestured to you to come to him. You don’t know why but you stood up, went to him and your hands intertwined with his.
“I’m not gonna push you if you don’t want it, you could take a rest on my bed and I’ll wake you up after they’re done, but you know, I could make you release stress in some other ways too,” he explained, tone filled with genuinity that your heart betrayed you that moment because sleeping with him is just an option.
You can say no to him. He’s giving you a choice to say no, but he’s also offering you to relax, let yourself melt and remove all the tense feeling in your shoulders. Just you. Heeseung said. Not the eldest member of your group, not the leader who’s on babysitting duty tonight.
“Are you sure about that?”
“A hundred percent, I won’t ask you if I am not sure,” he smiled. “And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”
“You better give me a good reason to trust you Lee Heeseung.” you whispered to him.
“And if I told you that once you got a taste of me, there’s no turning back now?”
You hummed and he pulled you close, losing your balance and hoisting you up to straddle on his lap. You gasp at his boldness and yet, you didn’t move nor struggle.
Because a part of you was dying to feel what good sex feels like. Hearing your fellow member’s sex life and stable, healthy relationships with their significant others, you wonder when you will experience that same kind of bliss again.
If Heeseung, one of the popular k-idols in the industry, is offering you good sex especially with that body and face, who are you to say no?
“You’re with me?” he asked, brushing the stray hairs away from your face. You nodded, staring at him made you bite your lip and he seemed amused by how you’re still maintaining your composure.
“I need words sweetheart, do you want this?” he repeated.
“I…do, please,” you muttered, almost mute, and yet, you felt determined.
With your words, Heeseung’s smile turned into a smirk, hands brushing your cheek as his stare lingered for too long. “Good, let’s take it slow baby.”
Heeseung closed the gap first. Your breath halted the moment his lips landed on yours. It was soft, thick, tasting sweet and citrus like the gummy bears he was eating earlier. His arms wrapped around yours tighter as he pushed himself deeper against you, earning a choked sound from you.
He broke out of the kiss, worried as he looked at you to find any discomfort. “Too fast?”
“No, just surprised,” you answered, giving him a smile, in which he sighed and chuckled.
“Good, that’s good, just follow my lead, alright?” With that, he kissed you once again, same as the pace earlier, giving you time to adjust and sink everything that you’re here, on Heeseung’s lap, making out with him.
That’s when you moved, hands finding security on his shoulder as you moved your lips to respond to his. You could feel him smirking against you, but you pay no attention to it but instead, let your lips move along the rhythm he made.
Suddenly, the room felt hot and you became more hyperaware of Heeseung. It wasn’t just his mouth that’s moving around, you could feel his arms that used to be around your waist, slowly caressing every skin it could trail, making you flinch when his cold hands went underneath your shirt, just around your back then returning to the soft plush of your waist.
Your heart was racing at what would come next, especially when you could feel something rigid and hard underneath. The sudden awareness made you shift your position, earning a groan from Heeseung.
“Sorry —” he shuts you off with a kiss before darting his attention towards your jawline, wet, loud kisses planted over your neck where you were most sensitive. You whine at his action, hands gripping his shoulder hard and still, you didn’t push him but instead, you let yourself fall under his touch.
“No marks please,” you whispered to him as you felt him sucking the skin near your collarbones. You felt him laughing against it before he lifted up his head towards you.
“Don’t worry baby, I won’t cause you any trouble,” he winked at you after his words and you could swear you felt your cheeks flush.
“It’s getting hotter here isn’t it?” Heeseung teased as he played with the hem of your shirt. “Would it be nice for us to loosen up, right?”
“Right,” you croaked before slowly, your shaky hands found the end of your shirt and without any thought, you stripped it off, leaving you in your bra.
You noticed how Heeseung’s eyes stayed on your chest for a good minute, clearing your throat, he shifted his look towards you before a chuckle left his lips.
Heeseung did the same, throwing his shirt somewhere, baring to you his lean, naked torso and defined muscles that seem well-cared by him. You’re not new to male idols and their tendency to expose their body, but seeing Heeseung’s naked body this close made you flustered all of the sudden.
“Can I?” he asked as his hands played with the strap of your bra. You didn’t answer him but instead unclasped the clothing all by yourself. Your heart was loudly pounding and tightening as you shrugged off your bra before letting it fall on the ground.
Heeseung captured your lips once again, and this time he was more impatient — there was a sudden strike of hunger in the way he kissed you. Torrid, reckless but still, it ignited the heat pooling inside you, hence, you battled against his lips. It felt more dangerously addictive that you couldn’t help but to lean downwards on him, hands cupping his cheeks to get a better taste.
Heeseung seemed pleased with your hunger, letting you dominate him as he busied himself with your breasts. Playing with the right side, he felt how you mewl on his lips, giving him a more plea to play with it. Heeseung flickered the hardened buds with his thumb, making you gasp as you felt the shock traveling towards your body.
The sensation slowly turned you into a needy collection of nerves. Everything’s burning and painful, especially on your core, that you couldn’t help but to buck your hips against Heeseung’s thighs. The sudden thrust halted Heeseung — and so did you.
“Shit,” you cursed, embarrassment washed all over you because of the act. “Did I — sorry, I couldn’t —”
“Hey, it’s okay, just surprise,” he assured, biting his lips because your eagerness actually felt wondrous for him. He could feel his sweats tightening, and there’s that urge for him to free his cock from its strain, but with you, he wanted to take things slow and messy.
“Do that again for me, pretty, can you?” he asked, hands on your waist as if he was guiding you to move your hips once again.
You rolled your hips slowly this time. A loud gasp left your lips as your core grinded directly on his hard cock. Your clit was getting rubbed against your wet panty that you couldn’t help but to move once again, finding friction despite the clothed barrier between you two.
“Fuck — more, harder baby, feel how hard cock against you right?” Heeseung moaned, making you move harder and deeper, too lost in the sensation that you never felt before.
“It’ll be better if we take off our clothes baby, is that okay?” Heeseung suggested, making you stop.
“Oh…if that’s okay with you,” you told him.
“Whatever you want, baby, I’d like that too,” he answered and you found yourself getting off his lap.
You unbutton your shorts and push it down in an awkward manner, kicking it off along with your socks while Heeseung stood up from his seat and untied the drawstrings of his sweats. He left himself in his playboy boxer and your eyes wouldn’t leave the sight.
The print indicated that he was big. His cock was already standing tall, hard and straining against the cloth but it seemed like Heeseung didn’t care about it, not when he pulled you towards his bed and made you sit on his lap again. Now, in a more thinner barrier of both undergarments, you could feel him further — the length, its hardness, and how warm it is against your clothed cunt.
“Have you ever tried this one?” he asked, making you burst out in a fit of laughter.
“Did you say that on purpose?” you raised an eyebrow, hands brushing his messy blonde hair.
“You looked nervous, hope it’ll lessen the tension,” Heeseung observed and your lips thinned into a small smile.
“Well maybe I am slowly starting to be convinced,” you whispered to him, you felt him shift underneath, hands tightening on your waist while your hands caressed his face.
He smirked, “Convinced what?”
“That your dick game is good,” you teased before closing the gap. Heeseung reciprocated it immediately, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow as you started to move your hips in a slow, precise motion where your cunt grinds through his thick shaft.
“Can I?” he asked in between your kisses, his hands trailing around the curve of your ass, and you nodded eagerly, letting him squeeze the soft flesh as he guided you to hump further on him.
The anticipation heated in your body further. There’s that weird churn that slowly rises from your stomach that you could no longer ignore. Moving on your own, you humped on Heeseung’s lap like a rabbit in heat, while simultaneously capturing his lips in a more torrid and passionate manner.
You could feel it, your body getting sticky with sweat, Heeseung’s deep groans every time your cunt brushed on his shaft. He felt you on the edge that his hands found its way towards your waist and helped you move more precisely on his lap.
“Want to see you get off just from humping on my cock,” Heeseung stated in between your kisses. He stopped and looked up to you, and you observed how starstruck he was. The thought made you whine as your hips never stop, chasing after that broiling heat on your core.
“Shit! — H-heeseung,” you whimper, already a mess as your eyes turned glassy while your body’s becoming too sensitive. You shifted yourself higher, nudging his head with your clit, making both of you moan in unison.
“Right there baby — fuck! Look at your panties, all wet and ruined for me.” Heeseung taunted as he kissed the shell of your ear, the act felt sweet and fluttering against the obscene act you two were doing.
“O-oh! oh my god — I —”
“Go on baby, come for me,” his words felt like a command because in just a second, something snapped inside your stomach and a never-felt sensation took over your body. You freezed at the sudden feeling, holding tightly on Heeseung’s shoulder while he watched you fall apart on top of him.
“Great?” he asked while you were sinking in what just happened.
“I — wait…wow,” you muttered, catching your breath while your body tense around him. Slurring mindlessly as you still haven't processed your orgasm while Heeseung watched you patiently.
“You alright? Do you want to rest for a bit?”
“What about you?” you asked, seeing that he’s still hard and aching.
“Oh me? Don’t worry, I’m just giving you time to rest and process everything,” from there, his gaze sharpened, something on him shifted. “We were just getting started after all.”
“I should get you off too,” you convinced but he shook his head.
“Y/n, this is all about you alright? Don’t worry about me,” he insisted.
“That sounds unfair.”
“We have hours for me to get off sweetheart, but for now, let’s just help you relax,” he didn’t let you rebut more. The next thing you knew, your back thud against his bed’s mattress before he hovered over you.
Your heart stopped for a moment, gazing at him who’s naked, sweaty, yet insanely, godlike as he stared at you as if you’re his meal tonight.
“Just lay there and be pretty for me,” he smirked and your heart was beating at the thought of what he was about to do.
You watched as he gazed upon you for a second before rolling out his tongue, and started flickering your nipples while his other hand rolled the other side — all while maintaining eye contact with you.
“Hee —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when he latched his mouth on the right mould of your breast. Sucking the nipples hard and needy before releasing it with a loud pop.
Heeseung abandoned your breast that moment. Leaving a lighthearted kiss in the middle before he started kissing your underboobs, then darting towards your stomach, until his mouth reached your navel — and then he stopped, eyeing on your panty before looking at you as if he was asking for permission.
Oh.
“You’re gonna go down on me?” you asked, flustered.
“Do you not want me to?” he asked you back.
“No, just — fine, I trust you,” you answered, nervous and yet, curious at the feeling of someone going down on you.
“If it’s too overwhelming just tug my hair twice or thrice,” Heeseung instructed and that made you let out a chuckle.
“Why does it sound like you want your hair getting pulled?”
But Heeseung quickly hushed you, “that’s between you and me sweetheart.”
Without a word, his hands trailed on the waistline of your panty, tugging it down in one swift movement, leaving you completely naked. Instantly, you closed your legs but Heeseung casually grabbed your thighs, pushing it open for him.
He stared at your puffy, still sensitive pussy, twitching at nothing before glance at you, looking naive and innocent as you lay gorgeously in his bed. Heeseung swore he almost cum at the sight. He could feel his hard cock aching to be released, twitching harder due to its sensitivity, but he chose to ignore it as he lay down flat on his stomach.
You weren’t able to do anything when he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to him. His fingers found their way to your entrance, sliding on its lips up to its clit where he felt your legs shudder at the sudden contact.
Heeseung didn’t say anything — the next thing you felt was his tongue swiping upright on your cunt. The sudden action made you moan so loud that it echoed inside the room. You slapped your mouth hard in embarrassment while Heeseung chuckled faintly before giving your core another fat stripe.
“Don’t cover those sounds pretty, let me hear it,” Heeseung ordered, looking up to you with his eyes sharper than earlier. Your heart started to pound as you quickly nodded to his words. Heeseung seemed satisfied, lowering his head once again to devour your cunt with much devotion — leaving you breathless and spewing a series of breathy moans.
The sensation felt new to you, more intimidating yet hot to the core. It didn’t help that you could hear how lewd and loud Heeseung fucks your cunt using his tongue. The wet, slurping sound should’ve disgusted you but the feeling was undeniably heavenly that it made your toes curled.
“Holy shit, Heeseung!” you screamed, too loud and whiny as you grabbed a fistful of his hair before tugging it once. The action made the man groan against your pussy, sending shockwaves on his cock — feeling it more needy and aching against the flat surface of his bed, Heeseung could help but to grind his cock against it. It was begging for release that his hips started to move on its own.
The two of you are too lost in chasing one’s pleasure. Heeseung’s tongue never left your pussy not once, burying his face further as he focused on flickering that little bundle of nerves, and at the same time, his hips continued rocking back and forth chasing his own high. It didn’t help that you’re pulling his hair harder than before, the sensation only made his cock throb harder as everything’s becoming too much on his side.
You came first, in a soft high-pitched whine as Heeseung removed his tongue and instead, sucked your clit hard. His tongue rolled around the bud as his lips drank every juice your cunt released. He didn’t stop, not even when you’re tugging his hair too tight that his scalp’s burning, it just edges him off, grunting against your cunt as his hips continue rocking against his bed.
Just in a snap, his orgasm came unexpectedly and he visibly shook, cum staining his boxers as he released nonstop after all that painful edging. His grunts were held back as Heeseung held on to your thighs tight enough that it’ll leave a bruise. You didn’t even notice that he had come, so immersed in your own pleasure that the next thing that only occurred in your almost sane mind was how Heeseung sat up on his bed, messy yet satisfied.
“Can you take more, pretty?” he asked, smirking as he moved to take off his soiled boxers, not even giving you a warning about his next move.
Your eyes went wide that it might pop out of its socket.
To say that he’s big is an understatement. Heeseung’s huge — hung, fucking hung that you froze at its sheer size. You barely remember your ex-boyfriend’s cock but suddenly, he doesn’t matter anymore, not when this one night stand had given you more than one orgasm compared to him.
“You look scared,” he teased and you didn’t react immediately.
“Will that fit?” you said, stuttering.
“We’ll make it fit,” he said as he sat next to you and before you could complain, Heeseung placed you in between his legs, his hard cock poking your back that you’re very hyperaware of.
“Think you could give me more pretty? Let’s relax that silly head of yours, alright?” he whispered to yours as his hands trailed on your breasts, cupping it lightly while the other one stretched its way towards your pussy.
Heeseung didn’t ask for any permission at all, using his hind legs, he pushed your legs open for him, trapping your still shaking legs along with your sensitive pussy.
The first touch was light, featherlike, ticklish that a contented moan escaped your lips. Heeseung’s hands traveled on your clit, rubbing circles around it — not too rough nor too fast, just the right amount of tease that you resisted against it.
“Don’t struggle baby, just relax, are you still sensitive?” he asked softly, cooing as he rested his cheeks on your temples.
You nodded, and yet, your pussy’s still throbbing. It still hurts, gaping for something big enough that it’ll fill you completely.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I want it inside,” you answered.
“My fingers?” he asked, his delicate digits gathering slick around your pussy, protruding your entrance, almost teasing that you sighed in annoyance.
“Your cock…Heeseung, please,” you told him.
“Oh baby, as much as I want to, we got to prep you pretty girl,” he gives you a kiss on the temples before plunging one finger inside — completely contrasting the action earlier.
“We have to make sure it’ll fit your tight pussy, don’t we?” he teased, chuckling dark and low, as his finger thrusts in and out of your cunt, before sliding another one, catching you off-guard as his slender digits did scissoring actions to open your walls more.
With your cunt still sensitive from the previous orgasms, every move and curl gave nothing but continuous spasms on your body. You were squirming like a worm around Heeseung, breathing heavily as your hold on his arms tightened.
“Heeseung please,” you cried, not knowing what your plea was until he poked a specific area that made you arch your back naturally — that’s when he knew, chuckling like a tease he was before he hushed you by kissing the tears rolling down on your eyes.
“Is it too good pretty?” Heeseung asked and you don’t know what to say other than to cry louder. Whining like a kicked-out puppy as your nails dig on his skin deeper.
“You’re still tense baby, I could feel you clamping on my fingers,” he said with a gentle tone and yet his fingers were curling that area nonstop, faster and hastily that it’s bringing another intense feeling inside your cunt.
“I don’t think I could do it anymore,” you whispered to him before another moan knocked out of your lips.
“You can,” he said with confidence. “You’d do it for me, right?”
“Heeseung —”
“You’ll do it for me,” he ordered and his words did nothing but to push something out of you.
That’s when Heeseung felt it. The warm gush of liquid that your cunt released, completely messing his fingers.
“Fuck,” he said in disbelief as the smile on his face became wider.
“Oh my god, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know — god —” you weren’t able to finish your words when Heeseung kissed you hungrily, teeth clashing and tongue tasting every skin his lips could feel, making you whine at his intensity.
And as he broke out, he could see how red and swollen your lips were, making him satisfied as he leaned down for more, that’s when you held onto his shoulders, reciprocating his hunger while his fingers continued thrusting inside your cunt.
“Make a mess for me pretty, keep fucking doing that,” he commanded, curling that spot that made you squirt nonstop. He continued abusing that spot until his bed’s completely wet and your thighs were nothing but a mess, mixed with every slick and juice your pussy had released.
Without any words, you’ve reached your orgasm. A high-pitched scream echoed inside his room as your legs shook at the intensity. Heeseung didn’t stop even when your eyes were turning white, in fact, he was humming teasingly as he saw you all worn-out and melting under his touch.
“Don’t sleep on me pretty,” Heeseung said as he pulled out his fingers out of your sensitive pussy, making you cry at the sudden loss. He gently lays you down as he lets you rest for a moment, giving you ample time to breathe and relax before the real deal.
Heeseung reached out on his side table, opening the second drawer, he pulled out a strip of condoms and with much precision, snapped one and ripped the wrapper open.
He rolled the condom around his length, moaning in satisfaction as he began stroking his hard shaft, preparing himself as he crawled back to you who seemed to be still in the high of your previous orgasm.
Heeseung relaxed you for a moment, leaving soft, short kisses on your jawline and downwards your neck, giving off a ticklish sensation that made you moan quietly.
“Ready pretty?” he whispered while continuing to leave kisses on your sensitive skin.
“Hmm,” you hummed unknowingly but Heeseung didn’t stop at all.
“Words pretty, come on,” he gestured and the only thing you did was hold onto his shoulders as another whine left your lips.
“Ruin me Heeseung,” you said to him and something about what you said shifted something in Heeseung’s mind.
“Baby, you don’t know what you’re asking,” he said with a smirk. “You’re already ruined, look at you.”
He didn’t let you say another word. Heeseung pulled you into his grasp, his hard length, standing tall and proud, poking your inner thighs that you were suddenly jolted into reality.
“You don’t know that I’m just holding back from ruining you further,” Heeseung taunted, stroking his cock on your entrance. The fat tip slides teasingly on your entrance. It was warm and fuck — does it feel wondrous yet dangerously teasing. It didn’t help that Heeseung’s rubbing it at your clit at any chance he could have, making you whimper at his actions.
“Put it inside please, please Heeseung,” you whimpered, almost a cry as your hands tightly held onto his bed’s sheets.
“Relax for me first,” he ordered, spreading your legs further before gently nudging the blunt head of his dick on your entrance. He almost cursed. He could feel how his tip’s barely inside and yet, your cunt’s already hugging it tight.
Heeseung pushed it in, slow and careful, stretching your cunt open for his cock. He slides slowly, letting you adjust to its girth while your hands had crumpled the sheets hard, absolutely clueless that his fat cock’s going to rip your walls apart.
He went all the way, completely filling your pussy all the way to the end. The thought of it gave nothing but severe chills on you, and yet, you never felt this level of bliss before.
“You with me?” he asked and you nodded feverishly.
“You’re big,” you babbled, and Heeseung only stared before letting out a soft laugh.
“I’ll start moving, alright?” he said.
“Hmm, please move,” you told him.
Heeseung slowly moved his hips. You could feel him thrusting inside you slow and gentle, careful not to hurt you as slowly, the pain inside your core was being replaced with the pleasure of how his cock penetrated your walls all the way in.
“More please,” you blurted out.
“More?” Heeseung teased as he grabbed your legs, placed the right one on his shoulder and the other one wrapped around his waist. The new position gave him more leverage to pound inside your tight pussy, and this time, Heeseung’s not holding back anymore.
The room’s hotter than before, and everything smelled like perfume, and body fluids. Everything’s becoming too much for you as your moans and the lustful sounds coming from Heeseung’s mouth mixed along with the way his thighs slapped on your cunt hard — additional to that, The Weeknd’s still playing in the background.
You don’t know that you’d be able to reach this level of high. Suddenly, you couldn’t think of anything other than how Heeseung pounded on you senselessly like an animal in heat, and yet, it feels so damn heavenly. You could feel your body melting on the bed, grip on his sheet loosened and your eyes were getting drowsy, drowned in the ecstasy of the act, while Heeseung didn’t say a word as he kept on ramming his cock inside your tight cunt.
Christ. Your head’s spinning and you’re slowly levitating with the way Heeseung’s cock slides in and out of your tight pussy. Heeseung noticed it quickly, how light you feel now, only soft moans and whines escaping your lips. You were getting numbed and that only made his cock twitch in satisfaction as he pounded inside you harder than before.
“Feels good angel? Look at you drunk on my cock, you’re barely even moving,” Heeseung taunted. Seeing you unmoving, eyes turning white as your body shakes, his mind is slowly getting into him. He thrusted harder, more precise at a certain spot that had you moaning unknowingly.
Heeseung’s fucking you into oblivion. You don’t have total control of yourself anymore. You just placed every single amount of yourself into him while he continued to plunge his cock all the way. Both of you were already messy. Sweat mixing, and obscenity could be heard with how his cock squelched as he pounded on your dripping pussy.
If that wasn’t enough, Heeseung reached for your clit, stroking it lightly that you jolted at the pleasure. You screamed hard and loud, shouting his name as the churn in your stomach became too hard to deny at all.
“Going to come now angel?” Heeseung asked, hovering at you, almost folding the leg on his shoulder. His thrust never stopped, pounding inside you at that sharp yet precise movement that it’s the only thing you could sense despite being overstimulated.
A whimper was your answer and that was his only cue, he focused on ramming your cunt. Bruising your cervix at every brush it makes. Your walls became more tighter and warmer, clamping around his cock that Heeseung could feel his orgasm brewing too.
“Fuck pretty —” a mixture of groan and whimper escaped his lips as he bites his lips hard, wounding it as his cock twitch sensitively.
“Heeseung —”
“Gonna come too baby, you with me?”
You nodded, eager and greedy to chase your high. Heeseung’s hands grabbed your waist and without any thought, lifted your torso as he pounded inside you nonstop as if you were just a fleshlight to him.
The coil snapped and in just a second, both your orgasms came. Echoes of moans and cries filled the room, as your body shook feverishly at the intensity. Your legs had lost its strength, falling on the side while Heeseung gripped on your waist tight, releasing his cum inside the condom before pulling out without any thought.
He stroked his cock messily, rubbing his slit to release more of his cum, completely staining his hands and your stomach while you catch your breath. You didn’t complain further as you felt his warm cum mark you completely.
Seconds turned, minutes passed and Heeseung laid on his back next to you. Both of you were totally ruined. Hair disheveled, bed wet with the mixture of fluids, as the high remained in your body and mind.
“You with me?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere.
You hummed as an answer. “I don’t want to move.”
That’s when Heeseung sat up from his place, glancing at you whose eyes were drowsy.
“Go take a rest, I’ll just get you some water,” Heeseung said, brushing your hair so lightly that you couldn’t help but to lean onto it.
Slowly, your eyes closed and as Heeseung watched you fall in your deep slumber, he gave you a short kiss on the cheeks before standing up to clean himself.
-
You don’t know what time you woke up.
All you know is that you’re clothed now, the sheets were already cleaned and replaced, and there’s even a blanket thrown over you.
You tried to sinked-in where you are right now, recalling everything that happened earlier as you glance at the person who’s sitting on his computer chair, mixing some tunes on his pc — that’s when it hit you.
“Oh my god,” you mumbled, and yet, that’s enough for Heeseung to turn around and look at you.
“You’re awake,” he said, relieved.
“What time is it?” you asked, looking around his room for a clock.
“It’s two-thirty,” Heeseung casually replied and yet, your eyes widened.
“What!?”
“Well, you were knocked-out dead after we…and Riki also let his girlfriend rest, so we didn’t want to bother waking you up.” Heeseung nonchalantly explained.
“Shit, my manager’s going to kill me,” you said before standing up but almost stumbled because your legs were numb and your pussy’s sore. If it wasn’t for Heeseung who caught you immediately, you were probably on the floor now.
His arms were on your waist, helping you stand carefully while you muttered curses under your breath.
“Huh, I guess the sex didn’t help you relax at all,” Heeseung observed, seeing how agitated you were.
You stopped, remembering why you ended up oversleeping. The two of you stared at each other for a second, and that’s when you felt your heart beating fast again as the rush of blood flushed on your cheeks.
Then you remembered how he was earlier. The sex, his dick — and how he took care of you after the act. You couldn’t believe that Heeseung’s real, and you just had sex with him earlier. He really didn’t lie when he said his dick game was good.
“Sorry, I overreacted again, where is she?” you asked, guilt washing on you.
His hand loosened on your waist. He hummed, “She’s still asleep, Riki said if you woke up, we could wake her up now, would you like that?”
“Of course, thank you.”
“No problem, let’s wait outside, alright?” he suggested and you nodded. Immediately, you two went outside, returning to the living room where it’s audibly quiet now.
“Heeseung,” you called out, almost stuttering. Heeseung turned around and looked at you.
“Thank you, the sex did help me, I slept like a baby afterwards, thank you,” you said softly, almost embarrassed and yet, Heeseung smiled sweetly.
“Dick game that good?” he teased and you only chuckled.
“Yeah, fortunately,” you admitted and Heeseung laughed at your answer.
Not a few minutes later, Heeseung returned to the living room with your co-member and Riki. your worries fade out when she looks happy and satisfied that you didn’t pry further. She bid goodbye to her boyfriend, hugging him as if it’ll be the last time they’ll see each other.
Young love. You thought, watching them, that you didn’t notice Heeseung standing beside you.
“Hey,” he said, making you glance at him.
“Hi,” you smiled.
“Here,” he handed you a folded paper and you looked at it confused.
“What’s this for?” you asked, opening it and seeing a number and Heeseung’s name on it.
“Just in case you have babysitting duty again,” he winked. “Or not, you know where you’ll contact me.”
You stared at him and he gave you a smile, you returned it immediately as you placed the paper in your short’s pocket, because who knows, maybe you’ll do another babysitting duty again, so might as well inform him beforehand, right?
synopsis : living next door to lee heeseung has always been a nightmare loud, cocky, and impossible to ignore until one reckless night at a party leaves you waking up in his bed and running before it can mean anything you try to forget it ever happened, until two lines change everything, and suddenly the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.
pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader
trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity
word count : 19.6k
warnings : heeseung is a an absolute asshole, accidental pregnancy, alot panic and guilt, abortion / termination discussion, fear of the future, alcohol use, one night stand, dirty talking, cursing, foreplay, dry humping, oral, drunk sex ( consent is present ) , unprotected sex, mild degradation, hair pulling, creampie
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : omggg finallyy juno part one is out, hope you have an absolute amazing time when reading. navi did the proofreading for me ilysmm <3333
The bass from the apartment next door was so loud it made your pencil roll off the desk for the third time tonight thump thump thump. Each beat vibrated through the thin wall like it was personally trying to ruin your life.
You stared at the half finished notes in front of you, frustration bubbling hot in your chest. Midterms were in two weeks. Two weeks and Lee Heeseung, the campus golden boy, basketball captain, and your personal nightmare of a neighbor was throwing another one of his legendary parties like tomorrow didn’t exist.
This was the nth time. The nth damn time since you’d moved in six months ago. With a sharp exhale, you shoved your chair back and stormed out of your apartment, not even bothering to change out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. The hallway reeked of spilled beer and expensive cologne.
You could already hear the chaos before you even reached his door. Laughter, glasses clinking, some girl’s high pitched giggle cutting through the music.
You banged on the door harder than necessary. It took a few seconds before someone inside yelled over the noise, “Yoo Heeseung! Someone’s banging at your front door!”The door finally swung open.
Heeseung stood there in all his infuriating glory tall, broad shouldered, black hair slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His button up was half undone, revealing a silver chain that rested on his collarbones and a glimpse of toned chest. Behind him, the party pulsed with red solo cups, dim lights, and at least half the basketball team.
A pretty girl with long hair and a tight dress was pressed close to his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. He’d clearly been in the middle of charming her into his bed by the end of the night.
The second his dark eyes landed on you, that signature cocky smirk curved his lips.“Hi, miss morals,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, like he’d been waiting for this exact interruption.
You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Can you turn it down? The music is too loud.”
Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. The girl behind him shifted, clearly annoyed at the sudden attention shift, but Heeseung didn’t spare her a glance now.
“Miss morals strikes again,” he laughed, the sound rich and mocking. It sent an unwelcome spark of irritation down your spine. “What’s the problem this time, neighbor? Come to bless us with your righteous presence?”
“I’m serious, Heeseung,” you said, voice sharp as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. “Not everyone has the pleasure of partying all night. Others have to actually study to pass their exams whereas others can just have daddy pay for everything when they fuck up.”The words hung in the air between you.
Heeseung’s smirk faltered instantly. His jaw tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. For a split second, something raw annoyance, maybe even hurt flashed across his face before he quickly shoved it back into that indifferent mask. His eyes darkened, the playful glint gone.
“Whatever,” he muttered, voice suddenly flat and cold. “I’ll lower the volume.”He said, “Thank you,” you replied curtly, refusing to let the small victory show on your face even though your heart was hammering.
Heeseung didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped back and shut the door right in your face with a firm click that echoed down the empty hallway.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door, fists clenched at your sides. The music inside dropped almost immediately, not completely off, but low enough that you could finally breathe. Muffled laughter and voices still filtered through, but at least your walls wouldn’t shake anymore.
“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, turning on your heel and heading back to your apartment.As you closed your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, eyes closed. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? Why did one look from him always manage to crawl under your skin like this?
You shook your head, forcing the thoughts away. Back to studying. Back to pretending Lee Heeseung didn’t exist. But deep down, you already knew tonight’s silence between you two had just gotten a little louder.
You were halfway through rewriting your notes when your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a new message.
yunjin : you know sunghoon righttt? he’s throwing a massive party after midterms and he personally invited me. pleeease come with me?? i don’t wanna go alone 🥺
You stared at the text, already feeling the familiar dread settle in your stomach. Another party of course. You typed back quickly
you : No thanks im good have fun tho
The two dots appeared immediately.
yunjin : babe come onnnn
yunjin : it’s after midterms!! you deserve to relax
yunjin : sunghoon’s parties are actually fun i swear
yunjin : there’ll be good music, free drinks, and i heard the basketball team is coming too 👀
You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near the basketball team especially not after tonight’s lovely encounter with their captain.
you : exactly why I’m not going pass
yunjin : please please please i really like sunghoon and this could be my chance
yunjin : i’ll owe you big time i’ll even help you study for the next round of exams i’ll buy you that expensive matcha you like for a month!!
You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Yunjin was relentless when she wanted something. And honestly she had been there for you through every late night breakdown this semester. Saying no felt a little cruel the pleading texts kept coming
yunjin : i won’t leave your side the whole night ( she is lying )
yunjin : we can leave early if you hate it , pretty please with cherries on top?? 🥺🍒
You sighed deeply, already knowing you were about to lose this battle.
you : fine, ONE HOUR that’s it if it sucks, we’re out.
yunjin : YESSSSS!!! you’re the best i love you so much
yunjin : we can dress up together at my place okay , see you tomorrow <33
You tossed your phone onto the desk and dropped your head into your hands. Great, just what you needed. Another night surrounded by loud music, drunk athletes, and the very real possibility of running into the Lee Heeseung again.
You glanced at the wall that separated your apartment from his. The music was still playing faintly, but at least it was bearable now. Just one party, you could survive one party right?
The next morning, the art history lecture hall was already filling up with the usual mix of sleepy students and last minute crammers when you slipped into your regular seat in the middle row.
The faint scent of fresh coffee and old books lingered in the air. Yunjin dropped dramatically into the chair on your right, her long hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, eyes bright with far too much excitement for a 9 am class.
On your left, Soobin settled in quietly, tall frame folding gracefully into the seat. He placed his neatly organized notebook on the desk and pulled out a perfectly sharpened pencil, offering you a soft, reassuring smile.
Soobin was always like this calm, steady, the kind of friend who showed up without making a fuss. He was the complete opposite of the loud, chaotic energy that seemed to follow Heeseung everywhere.
Yunjin, however, was already completely distracted. She was leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, openly staring toward the front rows where Sunghoon sat chatting with a couple of friends. Her gaze was soft and dreamy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips every time he laughed at something.
You nudged her arm with your elbow, voice low and teasing. “You’re oogling him again it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”Yunjin didn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’m not oogling, im appreciating art,” she whispered back, still not tearing her eyes away. “Look at him he’s literally perfect.”
Soobin let out a quiet chuckle beside you, shaking his head as he flipped open his notebook. “Sure ‘appreciating’ that’s why half your notes from last week were just little hearts around his name.” He teased her, to which she replied,
“Traitor,” Yunjin hissed playfully, finally glancing at both of you as her cheeks flushed pink. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”The light banter continued until Soobin turned to you, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, I heard there was a party at Heeseung’s last night, did you survive the noise?”
You let out a long, dramatic groan and slumped back in your seat, the memory of last night’s confrontation still fresh and irritating. “Barely. That idiot had the music blasting so loud my textbooks were literally vibrating on the desk. I had to march over there in my hoodie and sweatpants like some angry neighbor from a sitcom again.”
Soobin listened attentively, his expression patient and sympathetic. He never interrupted your rants or told you to just ignore it. He just nodded along, dark eyes focused on you, making you feel genuinely heard.
It was one of the many reasons you treasured his friendship he was thoughtful, kind, and never loud or arrogant for the sake of it. The polar opposite of Heeseung.
“And of course he answered the door half dressed with some girl hanging off his arm like a trophy,” you continued, voice dripping with annoyance. “Called me ‘miss morals’ like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
Then when I pointed out that not everyone has a rich daddy to bail them out when they party instead of studying, he got all pissy, sucked in this dramatic breath, and slammed the door right in my face. He’s such an entitled asshole.”
Soobin hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow. “That sounds exhausting, you should’ve texted me you know, i could’ve come over with snacks and we could’ve studied together instead of dealing with his nonsense alone.”
You smiled faintly at the offer, warmth cutting through the irritation. “Next time, maybe at least someone in this building has basic human decency.”
Yunjin finally tore her gaze away from Sunghoon long enough to grin at you. “Heeseung’s just bored and likes getting a rise out of you if you stopped reacting, he’d probably get bored and stop.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to live next door to the human equivalent of a walking migraine.”The professor walked in moments later, cutting off any further complaints.
The next hour passed in a blur of projected slides on Renaissance techniques, quiet note taking, and the occasional whispered comment from Yunjin whenever Sunghoon shifted in his seat.
When class finally ended, the three of you packed up your things and joined the stream of students flowing out into the crowded hallway. The air was filled with chatter about upcoming midterms, weekend plans, and the usual campus gossip.
As you walked side by side, Yunjin suddenly looped her arm through yours, her excitement bubbling over again. “So, about Sunghoon’s party after midterms you’re definitely coming, right? And Soobin you should come too! It’ll be so much more fun with all three of us there.”
Soobin blinked, surprised, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Wait you’re actually going?” He looked at you, genuinely shocked. “I thought you hated parties, especially ones thrown by the popular crowd.”
You shrugged, already regretting your decision a little. “Yunjin begged a lot and guilt tripped me with matcha promises. One hour max, if it sucks, I’m dragging her out.”
Yunjin squealed happily and squeezed your arm. “See? She’s coming! So you have to come too, Soobinn please?”Before Soobin could respond, a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise from behind you.
“Can’t imagine miss morals at a party but I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Your stomach dropped, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against a set of lockers a few feet away, arms crossed over his varsity jacket, that signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. He must have overheard the entire conversation.
His dark eyes locked onto yours with clear amusement, like he lived for these moments of catching you off guard.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Heat crept up your neck partly from annoyance, partly from the embarrassment of him hearing your plans.
Yunjin stifled a laugh beside you while Soobin just shook his head quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth.
Heeseung’s low chuckle followed you as the three of you kept walking, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. God, you really, really hated that guy.Midterms week stretched into a brutal two week marathon, and as an art curator major, you felt every single hour of it in your bones.
Your apartment had become a war zone of curated chaos towering stacks of books on museum exhibition design, printed slides from Art Conservation and Curatorial Practices, mood boards pinned to the wall for your upcoming gallery proposal project, and color coded flashcards scattered across every surface.
Late nights blurred into early mornings as you hunched over your laptop, drafting proposals for hypothetical exhibits while trying to memorize the intricate history of 19th century European collections. Sleep was a distant dream. Caffeine was your only reliable companion.
And then there was Heeseung.
He didn’t blast music or bring girls over every single night that would have been almost predictable. No, he was crueler than that. He chose random days, like he knew exactly how to keep you off balance, turning your already exhausting study schedule into a minefield of unwanted interruptions.
The first time hit on the second night of midterms. You were deep into analyzing a case study on museum ethics when the wall behind your desk started to vibrate faintly. At first it was just low music.
Then came the giggles two distinct female voices, breathy and flirtatious. Heeseung’s deep laugh cut through it all, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies moving against furniture.
“Fuck, Heeseung you’re so good at this,” one of the girls moaned loudly, the words carrying crystal clear through the thin shared wall. The headboard started thumping a slow, steady rhythm against your wall rhythmic, insistent, growing faster.
You could hear the wet slap of skin, her exaggerated gasps turning into full throated cries every time he thrust.You yanked your noise canceling headphones on so hard the band dug into your temples, cranking the volume until classical music drowned most of it out.
But you could still feel it, the steady bang bang bang vibrating through your desk, through your chair, through your skull. Your cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment and pure rage.
'Of course he’s fucking some random girl while I’m trying to memorize the difference between Baroque and Rococo curation techniques.' You thought bitterly, stabbing your highlighter across the page. Must be nice to have zero responsibilities except basketball and dick appointments.
It stopped around 2 a.m., but the damage was done. You only managed three hours of sleep before your 8 a.m. lecture.
The next morning, you were running on pure spite and too much coffee when you caught Heeseung in the hallway just as he was stepping out of his apartment. He looked annoyingly fresh — hair still damp from a shower, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, that perpetual cocky smirk already in place.
You stopped right in front of him, arms crossed tightly. “Keep it down next time,” you said flatly, voice low but sharp. “Some of us are actually trying to pass our midterms instead of auditioning for porn.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aw, miss morals heard everything? Didn’t know you were such a light sleeper.” You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Just tone it down, the headboard banging is ridiculous.”
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending another spike of irritation through you. “Noted.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Though from the sounds of it last night, she seemed to enjoy the banging.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away without another word, his soft laugh following you down the hall.The next disruption came four days later. A random Thursday when you had a massive group project due on modern curatorial strategies.
You’d just settled in with your laptop open to a half finished exhibition proposal when his door slammed open down the hall. One girl this time, but she was even louder.
The moment they got inside, the sounds started again her high pitched whimpers, Heeseung’s low, cocky murmurs “Yeah? You like that? Tell me how much you want it” followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of them going at it on what sounded like his couch first, then migrating to the bed.
The headboard slammed against the wall so hard your framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night rattled. Her moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, each one punctuated by Heeseung’s grunts and the filthy slap of bodies. “Harder fuck, right there, Heeseung don’t stop—”
You ended up studying in your bed instead, laptop balanced on your knees, pillows stacked around you like a fortress. Headphones on full blast. Still, every thrust made the wall tremble.
Every moan crawled under your skin and made focusing on your notes feel impossible. By the time they finally finished (or at least quieted down) around midnight, your eyes were burning and your proposal was only half done.
You hated how your body reacted sometimes not with attraction, but with pure, simmering resentment that made your stomach twist.That same night, after the noises finally stopped, you grabbed your phone in a fit of exhausted anger and texted him.
you : keep the noise down, some people are trying to study for actual grades, not coast on basketball talent and daddy’s money
His reply came faster than you expected. A picture popped up first. A close up selfie of Heeseung lying in bed, shirtless, messy hair, lazy smirk on his face, with the caption
heeseung : sorry, miss morals hard to stay quiet when they scream my name like that
heeseung : next time i’ll try to fuck quieter or maybe you can just join and tell me how to do it right?
You stared at the message, face flaming with a mix of rage and disbelief. You immediately blocked the image from your mind ( and definitely did not linger on the way his abs looked in the dim lighting ) before typing back a single furious reply
you : delete my number, asshole
The worst random night came during the final stretch, just three days before your last exams.
You were pulling an all nighter on your capstone project a full digital mock up of a contemporary art exhibit you’d spent weeks perfecting when the noises started again around 11 p.m. This time it was two girls.
Their laughter spilled into the hallway first, then straight through your wall. Heeseung’s voice was low and teasing, the kind of filthy charm that probably worked on every girl on campus.
Soon the bed was creaking loudly, headboard banging in a frantic rhythm while both girls moaned in tandem one breathy and high, the other deeper and more desperate.
“Heeseung oh god, yes fuck me like that—” mixed with wet, obscene sounds that left zero doubt about exactly what was happening next door. The wall vibrated so intensely your coffee mug slid an inch across the desk.
You sat there in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, staring at your glowing screen, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every moan, every dirty encouragement from Heeseung, every rhythmic thud felt like a personal attack on the one thing you actually cared about your future.
Your grades, your dream of curating real exhibitions someday. While I’m over here trying not to fail out of the only thing I’m good at, you thought, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard, he’s over there living his best life with a rotating cast of girls screaming his name.
You wore the headphones until your ears rang. You even tried white noise apps, earplugs underneath nothing fully blocked it. The sex noises went on for nearly two hours that night, loud and shameless, until they finally quieted around 1:30 a.m.
By the end of the two weeks, you were running on fumes dark circles under your eyes, caffeine shakes in your hands, and a permanent knot of irritation lodged in your chest whenever you passed his door.
The random nights had been spaced out just enough to feel like psychological warfare instead of constant chaos.Heeseung never once toned it down. Never once seemed to care that someone on the other side of the wall was actually trying to build a future that didn’t involve daddy’s money or NBA scouts.
When Friday morning finally arrived and your last exam was over, you dragged yourself back to the apartment building, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The hallway was quiet for once. Heeseung’s door looked innocently closed.
You unlocked your own door, stepped inside, and immediately collapsed face first onto your bed, still in your clothes midterms were done.But the resentment toward the boy next door had only grown sharper and Sunghoon’s party was tonight. You groaned into your pillow one hour in and out. Just don’t kill Heeseung on sight.
You took the quickest shower of your life, and changed into the first comfortable outfit you could find—a simple black crop top that showed just a sliver of your midriff and your favorite pair of dark jeans—comfortable, practical, safe.
You texted Yunjin that you were ready to head over to her place to “get ready together,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of your clothes—big mistake. Yunjin’s apartment was only two blocks away, and the second you stepped inside, she took one look at you and gasped like you had personally offended her.
“No no absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips, eyes scanning you up and down with pure horror. “You cannot go to Sunghoon’s party looking like that.”
You glanced down at yourself, confused. “What’s wrong with this? It’s cute it’s comfortable.”“Cute? Comfortable?” Yunjin repeated, already dragging you toward her bedroom like a woman on a mission.
“Babe, we’re going to a party, not the library. You just survived two weeks of hell tonight you’re supposed to look hot, not like you’re about to give a museum tour.”
Before you could protest, she flung open her closet and started pulling out clothes with frightening speed. She held up a black mini skirt dangerously short, made of soft leather like material and a sheer black button up shirt that was practically see through.
“Try these,” she ordered, shoving the hanger into your hands. You stared at the outfit like it might bite you. “Yunjin, no way, that skirt is barely legal and the shirt is see through i’m not wearing that.”
“Yes way, you are,” she sang, already pushing you toward the bathroom. “You agreed to come to the party that means you’re under my styling jurisdiction for tonight go change now”
You argued the entire time you were changing. “This is ridiculous! im going to freeze, people are going to stare i look like I’m trying way too hard—”
But Yunjin was relentless. The second you stepped out in the mini skirt and sheer shirt ( with a black bralette underneath so you weren’t completely exposed ), she clapped her hands and squealed.
“Oh my god, yes! Look at you!” She spun you around in front of her full length mirror. The skirt hugged your hips and ended high on your thighs, making your legs look longer.
The sheer shirt draped softly over your shoulders, the black bralette visible underneath in a way that was teasing but not outright scandalous. “You look insane like, dangerously hot.”
You tugged at the hem of the skirt, cheeks burning. “I feel naked. Can't I at least wear the jeans over this or something?”“No,” she said firmly, already sitting you down in front of her vanity. “We’re doing makeup now sit still.”
For the next twenty minutes, Yunjin worked her magic. Winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, soft smoky eyes, a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones, and a bold red lip that made your mouth look fuller. She even styled your hair into loose, effortless waves that framed your face perfectly.
When she finally stepped back, she let out a satisfied sigh.“Anyone would worship the ground you walk on looking like this,” she said, grinning proudly. “Trust me tonight, you’re not the stressed out art curator girl who yells at her neighbor. You’re the girl who turns heads even Heeseung won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
You rolled your eyes, but a small flutter of nerves mixed with reluctant confidence settled in your stomach as you looked at your reflection. The outfit was way bolder than anything you’d normally wear, but you had to admit it looked good.
“Fine,” you muttered, smoothing down the skirt one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re leaving early and if Heeseung says one word about ‘miss morals’ in this outfit, I’m pouring a drink on him.”Yunjin laughed and linked her arm with yours. “Deal now let’s go make Sunghoon’s party unforgettable.”
You and Yunjin barely made it out of her apartment before your phone buzzed with a text from Soobin saying he was already waiting downstairs. The three of you had agreed he would drive so none of you had to worry about getting home later.
The elevator ride down felt too short. Your heart was already beating a little faster than usual partly from the unfamiliar outfit, partly from the knowledge that you were actually going to a party after surviving two brutal weeks of midterms.
The black mini skirt kept riding up slightly with every step, and you kept tugging nervously at the hem while Yunjin wouldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked.
When you stepped out of the building into the cool evening air, Soobin’s car was parked right in front, engine idling. He was leaning casually against the driver’s side, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up and saw the two of you approaching, his eyes widened noticeably.
Especially when they landed on you. Soobin froze for a second, his usual calm expression cracking into pure, genuine shock. His gaze traveled slowly from your loose waves and sharp winged eyeliner, down to the sheer black shirt that subtly revealed the black bralette underneath, then to the dangerously short leather like mini skirt that made your legs look endless.
He blinked once, twice, before quickly clearing his throat and straightening up, ears turning a light shade of pink.“Wow” he said, voice a little higher than his normal soft tone. “You both look really nice like, really nice.”
Yunjin grinned triumphantly, looping her arm through yours and squeezing. “See? Told you! Even Soobin is shook, she looks hot, right?”
You felt heat creep up your neck and quickly crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how different you looked from your usual oversized hoodie and jeans self.
“It’s all Yunjin’s doing. She basically held me hostage in her room until I changed. I tried to wear my normal clothes and she acted like I committed a crime.”
Soobin gave a small, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the back door for both of you like the gentleman he was. “No, it really suits you, you look great tonight.” His compliment was sincere and gentle, making the awkwardness feel a little softer. “Ready to go? Sunghoon’s place isn’t too far from here.”
The car ride was filled with easy, light chatter that helped calm your nerves. Yunjin sat in the front passenger seat, already buzzing with excitement about seeing Sunghoon, while you sat in the back, occasionally tugging at your skirt and staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Soobin kept the conversation flowing comfortably, light complaints about how brutal midterms had been, predictions about how wild the party might get, and Yunjin’s endless teasing about how
Sunghoon had “personally invited” her. Every now and then Soobin would glance at you through the rearview mirror, still looking a little flustered whenever your eyes met.
Before you knew it, Soobin was pulling up to a large off campus house that was already pulsing with loud music and flashing colored lights. Cars lined both sides of the street, and groups of people were laughing and chatting on the front lawn, red cups in hand.
The three of you climbed out of the car, and the heavy bass from inside immediately hit you like a wave. The night air smelled like a mix of cheap beer, sweet perfume, and fresh cut grass. Yunjin practically bounced on her heels with excitement as the three of you walked up the pathway toward the front door.
Sunghoon was standing right at the entrance, playing the perfect host in a simple black shirt and jeans. His sharp, handsome features broke into a warm, genuine smile the moment he spotted your group approaching.
“Hey! You guys actually made it,” he greeted cheerfully, voice carrying easily over the noise from inside. His eyes lingered on Yunjin for an extra beat, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yunjin, glad you came and you brought friends, nice.”
He gave Soobin a friendly nod and then turned his attention to you, eyebrows raising slightly in pleasant surprise as he took in your bold outfit. “Hey! you clean up really well. Welcome to the party, hope you guys have fun tonight.”
You managed a small, polite smile, still feeling slightly out of your element. “Thanks for inviting us.”Sunghoon handed each of you a red solo cup filled with something fruity and strong smelling a sweet cocktail that had a sharp kick of alcohol when you took your first cautious sip.
“Drinks are flowing inside help yourselves to whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, beer pong in the living room, and dancing. Pretty much everywhere enjoy!”
Yunjin thanked him brightly, her cheeks already a little flushed with excitement, and steered you and Soobin further into the crowded house. The interior was packed wall to wall with people.
Students were laughing loudly, dancing in the middle of the living room, playing intense games of beer pong, and making out in dimly lit corners. The music was loud but not yet overwhelming, colorful lights flashing across the walls and bodies.
For the first few minutes, the three of you stuck close together, weaving through the crowd while sipping your drinks. Soobin stayed protectively near your side, occasionally leaning down to say something quiet and reassuring whenever he noticed you looking a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.
Then you felt it. That familiar, annoying prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You turned your head slightly, and there he was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He was surrounded by a small group of his closest friends—Beomgyu laughing at something on his phone, Jake with his usual bright smile, and Jay nursing his own drink while scanning the room.
Heeseung looked effortlessly good tonight in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips. His hair was styled in that signature messy but perfect way.
The moment his dark eyes found you across the crowded room, his conversation with the guys stopped mid sentence.
His gaze dragged slowly and shamelessly down your body, taking in the short black mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs, the sheer shirt that teased the black bralette underneath, the way the outfit accentuated your curves before snapping back up to your face.
For once, his usual cocky smirk didn’t appear instantly. Instead, there was a flash of genuine surprise, followed by something darker, more heated, and appreciative.
He pushed off the wall and started walking straight toward your group, completely ignoring whatever Beomgyu was saying behind him.
“Well, well, well,” Heeseung drawled when he was close enough, his voice cutting smoothly through the music. His eyes were still shamelessly roaming over you. “Look who decided to show up. Miss morals in a mini skirt i almost didn’t recognize you damn.”
You felt your stomach twist with that familiar mix of irritation and unwanted warmth. Before you could even open your mouth to snap back, Yunjin jumped in defensively, stepping slightly in front of you with a bright but sharp smile.
“Excuse me, Heeseung? She looks amazing, and she doesn’t need your backhanded compliments,” Yunjin said, tilting her head with fake sweetness.
“Unlike some people who only know how to throw loud parties and bring random girls over during midterms, maybe focus on your own game instead of commenting on her outfit.”
Heeseung chuckled lowly, clearly amused by Yunjin’s quick defense, but his eyes never left you. Jake, Beomgyu, and Jay were now watching the exchange from a few feet away, Beomgyu smirking like he was enjoying the show and Jake looking mildly entertained.
“Relax, Yunjin,” Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m just saying that she cleaned up dangerous tonight, didn’t think our neighbor owned anything shorter than ankle length. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay back me up here. She looks good, right?”
Beomgyu grinned and raised his cup in a lazy toast. “Yeah, she do be looking fire tonight.”Jake nodded with a bright laugh. “For real, new look suits you.”Jay just shook his head with a small smile, staying quiet but clearly entertained.
You rolled your eyes, lifting your red solo cup to your lips to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t start with me tonight, Heeseung i’m only here for one hour, and I’d rather not spend it dealing with your nonsense.”
Heeseung tilted his head, that signature cocky smirk fully back in place now as he took another slow step closer. The way he was looking at you made the noisy room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
“Gonna dance tonight, or are you just here to supervise everyone else’s fun like usual, miss morals?”
You didn’t even give Heeseung the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, you flipped him off with a sharp middle finger, turned on your heel, and grabbed Yunjin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
Yunjin laughed loudly, clearly proud of your reaction, and let you drag her deeper into the crowded house while Heeseung’s low chuckle followed behind you. Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay were already teasing him in the background, but you refused to look back.
For the first half hour, the party actually felt manageable. You stuck close to Yunjin and Soobin, sipping from your red solo cup and people watching from a quieter corner of the living room.
The music was loud, the lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, and the alcohol slowly started to loosen the tight knot of stress that midterms had left in your chest. Then Sunghoon appeared again.
He approached your group with that easy, charming smile, eyes mostly locked on Yunjin. “Hey want to dance?”Yunjin’s face lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. She turned to you quickly, squeezing your hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit, right? I’ll be right back!”
Before you could even answer, she was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor with Sunghoon’s hand on her waist, now it was just you and Soobin.
You tried to keep the conversation light, but the longer you stood there, the more the party energy started to pull at you. The drink in your cup was strong and sweet, and after two weeks of pure academic hell, the idea of letting loose felt dangerously tempting.
“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath. You downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn sliding warmly down your throat. Then you grabbed another cup from a passing tray and started sipping again. Why not? Midterms were over. You deserved this.
Soobin noticed and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t judge. He stayed beside you, chatting quietly, making sure you weren’t completely alone. But after a while, you started feeling guilty. He was sweet, always listening, always there and here he was babysitting you instead of enjoying the party.
“Go talk to your friends,” you told him, giving him a gentle push toward a group of guys waving at him from across the room. “Seriously, Soobin i’ll be fine, i don’t want you wasting your night stuck with me. Go have fun i’ll text you if I need anything.”
He hesitated, looking concerned, but you begged him with your best pleading eyes until he finally nodded. “Okay but stay safe, text me if anything feels off.”
Once Soobin walked away to join his friends, you let yourself drift toward the dance floor. The alcohol was hitting nicely now a warm, fuzzy buzz that made the music feel better and your body lighter.
You moved to the edge of the crowd first, swaying gently, then slowly worked your way deeper into the pulsing bodies.
You didn’t notice him at first. But Heeseung had been watching you the entire time. From the moment Yunjin disappeared with Sunghoon, his eyes had followed you. He watched you down your drinks. He watched you convince Soobin to leave.
And now he watched as you finally stepped fully onto the dance floor, hips moving to the heavy beat, the short black mini skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, the sheer shirt catching the flashing lights.
Heeseung set his cup down and started moving through the crowd toward you, slow and deliberate. When he was close enough, he didn’t just grab you like most guys would. Instead, he leaned in slightly, voice low and surprisingly respectful against the loud music.
“Hey can I dance with you?”
You turned your head, alcohol making you bold. Your eyes met his, and for once, you didn’t immediately snap at him. The buzz in your veins, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t look away…it made something reckless spark inside you.
You nodded “Yeah okay.” Only then did Heeseung step closer. The moment he did, the space between you disappeared. His body pressed lightly against yours at first, hands hovering respectfully before you started moving together.
The music was sensual, slow and heavy, and your bodies naturally fell into rhythm. It didn’t stay innocent for long. Heeseung’s hands gradually grew bolder one sliding to your waist, the other brushing up your side, fingers grazing the sheer fabric of your shirt.
You moved closer, hips rolling against his, the short skirt brushing against his thighs. His touch grew hotter, palms sliding down to grip your hips, then slowly roaming over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him.
The air between you thickened. Your breathing grew heavier. Every brush of his body sent sparks through your skin. Heeseung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low. “fuck, not being able to kiss you right now is actual torture.”
The words hit you like a shot of pure heat. The alcohol, the weeks of built up tension, the way his hands felt all over your body everything crashed together in one reckless moment.
You didn’t think, you just acted. turning your head as you grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed your lips against his.
The kiss was messy, desperate, and instantly wild. Heeseung groaned into your mouth the second your lips met, one hand flying up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightened possessively on your waist, pulling you even harder against him.
You kissed like you were angry at each other—teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and deep, lips moving with raw hunger.
Heeseung kissed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His mouth was demanding, devouring, tilting your head to kiss you deeper. You moaned softly against him, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, which only made him kiss you harder.
The dance floor disappeared around you. The music faded into background noise. There was only the heat of his body, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and the way his hands roamed greedily over your curves sliding up your back under the sheer shirt, gripping your hips, pressing you so close you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.
The makeout was crazy sloppy, passionate, breathless. You bit his lower lip, and he responded with a low growl, sucking on your tongue before kissing you even harder.
Your bodies moved together to the beat, grinding slowly while your mouths stayed locked in a heated battle.
When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting, lips swollen and shiny. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.
“Shit” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”The kiss finally broke, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening under the flashing party lights.
Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown with want, and the way he looked at you sent another rush of heat straight through your body.
You didn’t think. The alcohol, the weeks of hating him, the way his hands had felt all over you everything made you reckless. You leaned in closer, voice low and breathless against his ear. “Wanna go back to your apartment?”
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a dangerous smirk tugging at his swollen lips. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly melted into pure hunger.
“Fuck yes”
He didn’t waste another second. His hand slid down to grab yours firmly, fingers lacing tight as he started pulling you through the crowded dance floor. People moved out of the way as Heeseung cut a path toward the front door, his grip on you possessive and urgent.
You barely had time to register anything else Yunjin and Soobin were somewhere in the house, but right now, none of that mattered.The cool night air hit your flushed skin the moment you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in your veins.
Heeseung’s car was parked a little down the street. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and the second you reached the passenger side, he opened the door for you with surprising speed before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
The moment the doors closed, the tension exploded again. Heeseung started the engine, but you were already growing impatient. The short drive back to your apartment building felt too long. Every red light, every stop sign made the ache between your legs worse.
You kept stealing glances at him his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his shirt was slightly undone from your earlier tugging. At the third red light, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Fuck this,” you muttered.
Before Heeseung could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled his lap in one swift motion. The mini skirt rode up high on your thighs as you settled on top of him, your hands immediately cupping his face as you crashed your lips back onto his.
Heeseung groaned loudly into the kiss, his hands flying to your waist to steady you. The kiss was even wilder than on the dance floor desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth. You rocked your hips against him, grinding down slowly at first, then harder, feeling him harden beneath you through his jeans.
His hands roamed greedily, one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast over the bralette, the other gripping your ass and pulling you tighter against his growing bulge.
“Shit you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your mouth between kisses, voice rough and wrecked.
You moaned softly, grinding down harder, the friction sending sparks through your entire body. The car windows started to fog up as you moved together, lips never leaving each other for long.
Heeseung’s tongue slid against yours, deep and filthy, while his hips bucked up to meet your movements, the steering wheel pressing into your back.
You were completely lost in him hands in his hair, tugging, lips sucking on his bottom lip, hips rolling in desperate circles when the sharp sound of honking suddenly pierced through the haze.
Once, twice, then a chorus of angry car horns blaring behind you reality crashed back in.
You pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen, breathing ragged. The light had turned green, and the cars lined up behind you were laying on their horns, some drivers shouting out their windows.
Heeseung let out a breathless laugh, his hands still gripping your thighs tightly. His eyes were dark, hair messy from your fingers, lips red and kiss bitten.“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna cause an accident if you keep this up.”
You quickly scrambled back into the passenger seat, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal.
Your skirt was hiked up dangerously high, and you tugged it down with shaky hands while Heeseung adjusted himself in his seat, clearly struggling to focus on the road.
He shot you a heated sideways glance, smirk returning as he pressed the gas pedal.“Almost home,” he said, voice low and promising. “Try not to jump me again until we’re inside or don’t. I'm not complaining.”
The rest of the short drive was torturous. The air in the car was thick with tension, both of you stealing glances, the memory of your grinding still fresh and electric.
When Heeseung finally pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment building, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes blazing.
The second you were both out of the car, he grabbed your hand again and practically dragged you toward the entrance, the promise of what was about to happen hanging heavy between you.
The second the door to Heeseung’s apartment slammed shut behind you, all restraint vanished.He had you pinned against the wood before you could even catch your breath, mouth crashing back onto yours in a filthy, open mouthed kiss.
His hands were everywhere one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast roughly, the other gripping your ass and yanking your hips flush against the hard line of his cock already straining in his jeans.
“Been thinking about this since you walked in wearing that tiny fucking skirt,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. “Look at you acting like such a good girl all semester and now you’re begging to get fucked in my bed.”
You didn’t deny it you couldn’t. The alcohol and weeks of pent up hatred had turned into pure, desperate need. You tugged at his shirt buttons, popping a few open in your haste, and Heeseung chuckled darkly before ripping the rest off himself.
The shirt hit the floor. Yours followed a second later, then your bralette, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of his apartment.
Heeseung’s mouth was on your neck instantly, sucking a mark right below your jaw while his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were hard and aching. “So fucking pretty when you’re needy like this,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh?”
You whimpered when he shoved the mini skirt up around your waist and cupped you over your panties. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
“Shit you are dripping already.” He smirked against your throat. “Such a dirty little secret you’ve been hiding, miss morals.”
You didn’t have time to snap back. Heeseung dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, hooked your panties to the side, and buried his face between your thighs without warning. His tongue dragged a long, nasty stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you.
“Oh my god—” Your head thunked back against the door as he licked and sucked like a man starved, two fingers sliding inside you easily because you were so wet.
He curled them perfectly, pumping fast while his tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit. The sounds were obscene wet, sloppy, loud and he didn’t care. He ate you like he wanted to ruin you.
You came hard on his tongue within minutes, thighs shaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you cried out his name. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were trembling and pushing at his head, then he stood up, lips shiny with your arousal, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself.
“Bedroom now,” he ordered.
He didn’t wait for you to walk. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the short hallway while your legs wrapped around his waist.
Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, panties shoved to the side. You could feel his cock pressing against your soaked core with every step.
The second he kicked his bedroom door open, he dropped you onto the bed. You barely had time to bounce before he was stripping the rest of his clothes off. His jeans and boxers hit the floor and his cock sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.
Your mouth watered at the sight. Heeseung climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. “You want this?” he asked, voice dark, one hand stroking his cock slowly as he looked down at you. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. “Fuck me, Heeseung.”That was all it took.
He shoved your legs apart wider, lined himself up, and pushed in with one long, brutal thrust. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “Taking me so well already.”Then he started moving hard fast and filthy.
The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, the same wall that separated your apartments. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Heeseung fucked you like he’d been imagining this exact moment for months.Deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch.
He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.
“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. “Taking every inch like a good little slut, who would’ve thought the girl next door gets this fucking nasty?”
The degradation was light, just enough to make your pussy clench harder around him. You moaned louder, hips trying to meet his thrusts.
Heeseung’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you.
“Come on, baby. Come on my cock again, wanna feel you squeezing me.” You shattered for the second time, back arching, walls fluttering around his thick length as your orgasm crashed through you. Heeseung fucked you through it, hips never slowing, chasing his own release.
“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, voice strained. “Where do you want it?” He asked, “Inside,” you gasped, still riding the high. “Come inside me.”
Heeseung cursed loudly, thrusting a few more brutal times before he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he groaned your name against your neck, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a moment the only sounds were both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.
Heeseung stayed inside you for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, before he finally pulled out slowly. A trickle of his cum leaked out of you onto the sheets, and he watched it with dark, satisfied eyes then collapsed beside you.
Instead of pulling away, Heeseung immediately reached for you. He wrapped one strong arm around your waist and tugged you against his chest, your back flush to his front in a tight, warm hug. His other hand gently pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning your naked bodies in soft warmth.
You were still sticky with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, but the way he held you possessive yet surprisingly gentle made something soft flutter in your chest despite everything.
Heeseung pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.“Stay,” he murmured, voice already thick with sleep as he tightened his arm around you. “Just stay.”
Exhausted, fucked out, and strangely comforted by his warmth, you let your eyes drift shut. His steady heartbeat against your back and the heavy duvet wrapped around you lulled you quickly into sleep, safe in Heeseung’s arms for the night.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. next morning !
The first thing you registered was the pounding in your head. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through unfamiliar curtains making everything feel hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red 4:28 a.m.
Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your temples the unmistakable aftermath of too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep. You shifted slightly under the heavy duvet, and that’s when you felt it.
A warm, solid body pressed against your back. An arm draped heavily over your waist, holding you close skin against skin. The faint scent of cologne, sweat, and something distinctly masculine filled your senses.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Memories from last night crashed over you like ice water.
The party, the red solo cup dancing. Heeseung’s hands all over your body on the dance floor. The reckless invitation. The car ride where you’d climbed into his lap like you had no shame.
The way he’d pinned you against his door, dropped to his knees in the entryway, fucked you hard on his bed until you were crying out his name. The filthy sounds. The way he’d filled you up. The way he’d pulled you against his chest afterward, hugging you tight under the duvet as you both drifted off.
You had fucked Lee Heeseung
You had fucked your loud, cocky, insufferable neighbor the basketball captain you’d spent months complaining about, the one who called you “Miss Morals” like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Mortification burned hot through your entire body. Your stomach twisted violently. What the hell had you been thinking? The alcohol had stripped away every ounce of common sense, and now you were lying naked in his bed, his cum still faintly sticky between your thighs, his arm wrapped around you like you belonged there.
Heeseung was still sound asleep behind you, breathing deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His face was relaxed in sleep no smirk, no cocky grin but you knew the second he woke up, everything would change.
He would never let you live this down. The teasing would be relentless. “Miss morals” would turn into something far worse. He’d smirk every time he saw you in the hallway, make dirty little comments about how loud you’d been, how desperate you’d sounded begging for him.
The walls between your apartments were thin he’d probably bring it up every time you complained about his noise again. Your life next door would become a living hell.You couldn’t stay here.
Panic clawed up your throat. You had to leave before he woke up. Before this became real. Before he opened his eyes and looked at you with that knowing, satisfied smirk.
Carefully, so carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent under his breath. Your heart hammered as you slowly slid out from under the duvet, the cool air hitting your naked skin and raising goosebumps.
You moved like a ghost around his room, gathering your scattered clothes as quietly as possible. Your sheer black shirt, the black bralette, the dangerously short mini skirt, your panties all crumpled on the floor where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment.
You dressed as fast as you could, fingers trembling as you buttoned the sheer shirt and tugged the mini skirt down your thighs. Your hair was a mess, makeup probably smudged, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out.
Barefoot, shoes in hand, you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. You glanced back once at Heeseung still asleep, one arm now stretched across the empty space where you’d been, dark hair messy against the pillow.
A strange, unwelcome pang twisted in your chest, but you shoved it down hard. This never happened.
You slipped out of his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The living room was dark and silent. You navigated through the unfamiliar space, heart racing, until you reached the front door. The lock clicked softly as you turned it.
The hallway was empty and dimly lit when you stepped outside. The cool air felt like freedom. You didn’t even bother putting your shoes on yet you just hurried the few steps to your own apartment door next door, fumbling with your keys until they finally slid into the lock.
The moment you were inside, you locked the door behind you, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.
Your body still ached in the best and worst ways. Thighs sore, a faint bruise forming on your hip from his grip, the ghost of his touch lingering everywhere. You could still feel him inside you, still taste the heat of his mouth.
You buried your face in your hands, mortified beyond words. What had you done?You had slept with the one person you couldn’t stand and now you had to live right next door to him, pretending it never happened.
Because if Heeseung ever found out you’d run away like this, the teasing would only get worse much, much worse. You spent the rest of that early morning in a haze of denial.
Your phone vibrated then again. You reached for it with a heavy sigh, squinting at the bright screen.
yunjin ( 3 new messages )
yunjin : babe where did u go?? one second u were dancing and then u disappeared 😭
yunjin : sunghoon said he saw u leave with someone?? pls tell me ur okay
yunjin : im worried call me when u wake up!!
soobin ( 4 new messages )
soobin : hey, you okay? you left pretty suddenly last night without telling both of us yunjin’s freaking out a bit
soobin : let me know if you got home safe
soobin : if you need anything or want to talk, i’m here no pressure
soobin : hope you’re resting well ❤️
You stared at the messages, throat tightening. The kindness in Soobin’s texts and Yunjin’s worried energy made fresh tears prick at your eyes. They had no idea what you had done. No idea you had spent the night in Heeseung’s bed, letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you like you’d lost all common sense.
You typed back with trembling fingers, keeping it short and vague
you : got home safe, just drank too much and needed to leave early sorry for worrying you guys i’m okay, just tired talk later ❤️
You sent it and immediately turned your phone on silent, burying your face in your hands the memories wouldn’t stop replaying. Heeseung’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. The way he had groaned your name when he came inside you.
How safe and warm his arms had felt when he pulled you under the duvet afterward. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it all away this never happened.
After sliding down your front door and sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours, you finally dragged yourself to the shower.
You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash away every trace of Heeseung his scent, his touch, the sticky evidence of what you’d done between your thighs. The hot water did nothing to erase the soreness or the vivid flashbacks that kept playing on loop in your head.
By the time the sun came up, you had made a decision this never happened. You would bury it so deep that even you would start to believe it. No one needed to know. Not Yunjin, not Soobin, not even yourself on most days.
You would go back to normal go to classes, focus on your art curator projects, complain about the noise next door like always. And most importantly, you would avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. flashback !
Heeseung stepped out of his apartment with a half empty water bottle in hand, planning to grab the last box from his car before the evening practice. The hallway was quiet until it wasn’t.
A girl came rushing around the corner, arms overloaded with a massive cardboard box that completely blocked her line of sight. She collided straight into his chest with a startled gasp.
The box flew out of her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling books, notebooks, and what looked like art supplies everywhere across the hallway carpet. Heeseung instinctively reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward.
She looked up at him, flushed and clearly annoyed, strands of hair falling across her face from the chaotic move. She was pretty, sharp eyes, determined expression the kind of girl who didn’t seem impressed by campus status.
A smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it.“Easy there, neighbor,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “You always run into people like you’re trying to tackle them, or am I just lucky?”
She blinked, then quickly crouched down to gather her scattered belongings, avoiding his gaze.“Sorry,” she muttered, tone tight and clipped. “Didn’t see you.”
Heeseung crouched down as well, picking up a thick book on museum curation that had slid toward his foot. He turned it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.“Art stuff, huh?” he asked casually. “You moving in next door?”
“Yeah just today,” she replied shortly, snatching the book back from him with a little more force than necessary.
He stood up first and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her struggle to reorganize everything into the box. Most girls would have smiled, maybe even recognized him as the basketball captain.
This one? She looked like she already wanted nothing to do with him.“I’m Heeseung,” he said, flashing his most charming grin. “Lee Heeseung, your new neighbor. Need help carrying that? Looks heavy.” He offered,
“I’m good thanks,” she answered without even looking up, standing quickly and slinging the tote over her shoulder.
Heeseung didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity. There was something refreshing about her indifference that it made him want to push a little harder.
“Just so you know,” he added, voice dropping into a teasing tone, “The walls here are pretty thin, try not to be too loud when you’re studying or doing whatever it is, serious art curator girls do at night.”Her eyes finally snapped up to his, narrowing with clear irritation.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said flatly. “And maybe you can try keeping your parties down some people actually have to study to pass their classes.”
Heeseung let out a low, genuine laugh that echoed down the empty hallway. She had bite and he liked that.
“Welcome to the building, miss morals,” he called after her as she turned toward her door, the nickname slipping out naturally. She didn’t respond. She fumbled with her keys, unlocked her apartment, and slipped inside without another word, the door shutting with a firm click.
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, still grinning to himself. The girl next door already hated him, and he hadn’t even thrown his first party yet. This was going to be interesting.
The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Afternoon practice was in full swing, but during a water break, Heeseung leaned against the bleachers, towel draped over his shoulders, a cocky grin already plastered on his face.
Jay tossed him a bottle of water. “You look way too happy for someone who just ran suicides.”Heeseung laughed, taking a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t help it ran into the new neighbor again this morning.”
Beomgyu perked up immediately, spinning the ball on his finger. “The girl next door? The one who already hates your guts?”
“miss morals herself,” Heeseung confirmed, his smirk widening. “I was just leaving for practice when she came out, i told her the walls are thin and she should try not to be too loud at night. You should’ve seen her face, she looked like she wanted to throw her coffee at me.”
Jake, who was stretching nearby, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you’re obsessed! that’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned her.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Heeseung shot back, but his grin betrayed him. “It’s just too easy. She gets so worked up over the smallest things. Last week I had a couple of people over, nothing crazy and she banged on my door at midnight like the apartment was on fire, called me an entitled asshole who only passes because ‘daddy pays for everything.’”
The group burst into laughter. Sunghoon shook his head, amused. “She’s got balls, most girls on campus would be throwing themselves at you the second they find out you’re the captain.”
“Exactly,” Heeseung said, tossing the towel aside. “That’s what makes it fun, she doesn’t give a single fuck who I am. No flirty smiles, no asking for tickets to games, nothing. She just glares at me like I personally ruined her life by existing next door it’s hilarious.”
Beomgyu grinned mischievously. “So what’s your plan? Keep annoying her until she moves out?”
“Nah,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the ball once. “I’m just getting started, next time the music’s on, I might turn it up a little louder to see how long it takes before she comes marching over again. Bet she’ll have that cute little angry face on.”
Jake, who had been quietly listening while stretching his hamstrings, suddenly straightened up with a knowing look.“Don’t you think you’re in love with her or something?” he asked casually, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.
The gym went quiet for half a second before the guys exploded with laughter and teasing whistles. Heeseung nearly choked on his water. “What the fuck, Jake?”
Jake shrugged, completely unfazed. “Think about it, she’s literally the only girl who doesn’t give a shit about you no ego stroking, no chasing after the basketball star. She treats you like any other annoying neighbor and instead of leaving her alone, you keep poking at her like a kid with a new toy. That sounds like a crush to me.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, but his ears turned slightly red. He dribbled the ball harder than necessary, trying to play it cool. “I’m not in love with her, she’s just entertaining. It's fun watching her get all riled up, that’s it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure ‘Entertaining.’ that’s why you bring her up every single practice.”
“Exactly,” Jake added with a grin. “If she suddenly started being nice to you, you’d probably be bored in a week but because she ignores you and calls you out, you can’t stop thinking about her.”
Heeseung pointed the ball at Jake threateningly, though his smirk was fighting to stay hidden. “Keep talking and I’ll make you run extra laps, Sim.”
The team laughed again, but Jake just held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “I’m just saying, man. One day you’re gonna realize you’re not annoying her because it’s funny, you’re doing it because you like the way she fights back.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes and turned away, dribbling the ball toward the court to end the conversation. But as practice resumed and he sank a clean three pointer, Jake’s words lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit.
Maybe there was a tiny bit of truth to it. Or maybe he just really, really enjoyed getting on your nerves.
The laughter from the team slowly died down as practice resumed. Heeseung shook off Jake’s teasing comment, channeling the slight irritation into sharper shots. He sank another clean three pointer, the ball swishing through the net with satisfying precision.
For a few minutes, the court felt like the only place where everything made sense no annoying neighbors, no complicated feelings, just the game. Then the gym doors swung open with a loud bang.
Everyone turned as a tall, sharply dressed man in a tailored coat strode in, his presence immediately sucking the casual energy out of the room. Coach paused mid instruction, nodding respectfully.
Heeseung’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the figure his father. Mr. Lee didn’t smile. He never did when he showed up unannounced like this. His eyes scanned the court with cold calculation, lingering on Heeseung with clear disapproval.
“Take five, boys,” Coach called out, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over, jaw already tight. “Dad what are you doing here?”Mr. Lee stopped a few feet away, arms folded behind his back. His voice was low but carried easily across the quiet gym.
“I came to see if my son is actually putting in the work that’s supposed to get him into the NBA,” he said flatly. “From what I’ve been hearing, it doesn’t look like it.”Heeseung’s friends lingered nearby, pretending to drink water but clearly listening.
“I’ve been at every practice,” Heeseung replied, keeping his tone even. “Coach said my shooting percentage is up this week—”
“Don’t make excuses,” his father cut him off sharply. “Your brother Heedo was never this distracted at your age, he was laser focused top scorer captainfull ride to the best program in the country. And you? You’re out here laughing with your little friends during water breaks, probably thinking about parties and girls instead of the game.”
Heeseung’s grip tightened on the basketball until his knuckles turned white.“I’m not distracted,” he said through gritted teeth. Mr.Lee stepped closer, voice dropping into that familiar, cutting tone that always found its mark.
“You’re good for nothing if you can’t even focus on what matters. All that talent wasted because you’d rather play around and act like some campus king. You think the scouts care about your popularity? they don’t, you will never be enough if you keep this up and you will certainly never be better than your brother.”
The words landed like punches. Heedo — the golden child. The one who had already made it pro overseas. The one their father never stopped comparing him to.Heeseung’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but years of this had taught him it was useless. His father never listened.
Mr. Lee straightened his coat, expression unchanging. “Fix it or don’t bother coming home for the holidays, i didn’t raise a failure.”Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the gym, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Heeseung stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, chest tight with anger and something heavier he refused to name. The team slowly went back to practice, but the energy had shifted. Jake shot him a concerned look, but Heeseung ignored it, dribbling the ball harder than necessary as he moved back onto the court.
Inside, the familiar bitterness churned.His father’s words echoed louder than any cheering crowd ever could. You will never be enough. You will never be better than your brother. Heeseung sank another shot, but this time it didn’t feel satisfying.
All he could think about was how easy it was to annoy the girl next door because at least when she glared at him and called him an entitled asshole, he felt something other than this hollow, crushing weight.
The heavy gym doors swung shut behind Mr. Lee, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. The team tried to resume practice, but the atmosphere had soured.
Heeseung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where his father had been. The familiar sting of those words good for nothing, never enough, never better than your brother settled heavy in his chest like lead.
Jake jogged over, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man don’t let him get to you, your dad’s always been like that you’re killing it out here.”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu added, spinning the ball on his finger. “Ignore him, you’re the one who’s gonna make it to the NBA, not Heedo.” Jay nodded. “Come on, let’s run some more plays we’ll crush the next game.”Heeseung forced a half smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah sure.”
He went through the motions for the rest of practice dribbling, shooting, defending but he was quiet. No cocky jokes no teasing his teammates no loud laughter. Every time someone tried to pull him into conversation or hype him up after a good play, he gave short, one word replies and kept his head down. The usual spark was gone.
Even Coach noticed, shooting him concerned glances but saying nothing.The moment practice officially ended, Heeseung grabbed his bag and left first, ignoring the calls from his friends asking if he wanted to grab food. He needed air. He needed to get away from the echoes of his father’s voice.
He walked aimlessly for a while, the cool evening air doing little to clear his head. Eventually, his feet carried him toward the small café just off campus the one with decent coffee and quiet corners where he sometimes went to think.He pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly, and scanned the room out of habit and then he saw you.
You were sitting alone at a corner table near the window, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and your laptop. Your hair was tied up messily, a pen between your teeth as you frowned at something on the screen. You looked focused serious and annoyingly cute in that concentrated way of yours.
A small, familiar spark ignited in his chest the one that always appeared whenever he spotted you. Before he could think better of it, Heeseung walked straight over and slid into the seat across from you without asking.You looked up, startled at first, then your expression quickly shifted into pure annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharp but low enough not to disturb the other customers. You closed your laptop slightly, glaring at him. “This is my table, go sit somewhere else.”
Heeseung leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, that signature smirk slowly returning despite the heavy weight still sitting in his stomach. Seeing your irritated face felt lighter somehow. Easier than dealing with everything else.
“Relax, miss morals,” he said, voice teasing. “I’m not here to ruin your precious study time. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi to my favorite neighbor.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Favorite? We barely tolerate each other and I’m trying to work unlike some people who can afford to slack off because ‘daddy can pay for everything.’”
The jab should’ve stung more, especially after his father’s visit, but instead it made Heeseung’s smirk widen. There, it was that fire. That complete lack of care for who he was or what people usually said to him. You didn’t tiptoe around him. You didn’t try to impress him. You just called him out.
It felt strangely nice. Not in a romantic way, just refreshing ( liar liar liar he is totally in love with her ) He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ouch straight for the throat today. What are you working on that’s got you so grumpy? Another museum thing? Planning to curate an exhibit called ‘Why Heeseung Should Shut Up’?”
You gave him a flat look, clearly not amused. “It’s for my capstone project and yes, if it helps keep loud neighbors quiet, I might include a whole section on it.”
Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound genuine even if it was quiet. For the first time since his dad had shown up, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. He realized something in that moment. Your company wasn’t bad.
In fact, sitting here watching you get all annoyed and snappy at him felt better than sitting alone with his father’s words ringing in his head. It was simple predictable in the best way. You gave him a reaction real, unfiltered and for a few minutes, it made everything else fade into the background.
He loved annoying you. Not because he wanted to hurt you but because when you pushed back, it reminded him he was still here. Still capable of feeling something other than pressure and disappointment.
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he made no move to leave. “I’ll behave for now but only if you tell me what that exhibit is actually about.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, clearly debating whether to kick him out or just ignore him. Heeseung waited, smirk still in place, secretly hoping you’d keep arguing with him a little longer.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. heeseung’s pov !
Heeseung woke up to a heavy, unfamiliar silence.
His eyes opened slowly, the soft gray morning light filtering through the curtains. His body felt sore in places that reminded him immediately of last night a dull ache in his shoulders, the faint stickiness between the sheets, the faint scent of sex still hanging in the air.
He turned his head to the side the bed was empty. The spot where you had been lying was cold, the pillow slightly dented but untouched now. No clothes scattered on the floor no shoes by the door nothing.
Heeseung sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. The memories came back in quiet, unflinching flashes the party you in that short black skirt.The heated dancing that turned into something reckless.The desperate makeout in his car while horns blared behind you.
How he’d carried you inside, how urgently you both had moved against each other against the door, then on this bed.The way you had moaned his name.The way he had finished inside you.
And how, afterward, he had pulled you close under the duvet, your back against his chest, both of you falling asleep in silence.
Now you were gone. He glanced at the clock. 7:23 a.m. You must have woken up in a panic sometime in the early hours and slipped out while he was still asleep. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone heavy, uncomfortable, and strangely final.
Heeseung let out a long, tired breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. This was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake.
You had always made it clear how much you couldn’t stand him. The constant complaints about his noise, the glares in the hallway, the way you called him entitled behind his back.
Last night had been nothing more than too much alcohol and bad judgment on both sides. You waking up and running away only confirmed it.He didn’t blame you. If anything, he felt a quiet wave of regret wash over him. He should have known better.
He should have stopped things before they went that far. Now things between you two were already tense, this was going to be even more awkward.
Heeseung stood up and walked to the bathroom. While the shower heated up, he looked at himself in the mirror. There were faint scratch marks on his shoulders and a small bruise near his collarbone. Physical proof that last night had really happened.
He stepped under the hot water, letting it run over his face and shoulders. It never happened, he told himself. That was the only way forward.He would forget about it. Pretend the entire night was a blur he couldn’t quite remember.
No teasing no comments in the hallway no bringing it up ever again. You clearly wanted to erase it, and honestly so did he. The last thing he needed right now was more complications in his life especially with someone who lived right next door.
After the shower, he got dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He made coffee in the kitchen, moving on autopilot. The apartment felt too quiet now.
Heeseung leaned against the counter, sipping the bitter drink, and stared at the wall that separated his place from yours.From now on, things would go back to normal. You would keep avoiding him like you always did.
He would keep his music at a reasonable volume when he remembered. And neither of you would ever speak about what happened last night. It was better this way, cleaner and simpler.
He finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and set it in the sink. Last night was a mistake and as far as Heeseung was concerned, it was already forgotten.
For the next two weeks, you turned your life into a carefully orchestrated mission of avoidance while your body slowly started betraying you in ways you couldn’t ignore. The mantra remained the same this never happened.
Every morning began the same way. Your alarm went off at 6:15 a.m., pulling you from restless sleep. The moment you sat up, a familiar wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, not violent, but persistent and queasy, making the room feel slightly off balance.
You’d sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, breathing slowly through your nose, waiting for it to pass. Some mornings it did. Others, you’d rush to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink, nothing coming up except bitter bile and a metallic taste that lingered on your tongue.
Once the worst of it subsided, you’d quickly get ready, choosing simple, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Then came the listening part. You’d press your ear to the front door, heart beating a little too fast, straining to hear any sound from Heeseung’s apartment next door.
If you caught even the faintest click of his lock or the low murmur of his voice on a phone call, you’d wait sometimes ten minutes, sometimes twenty pretending to reorganize your bag or check your notes until the hallway was silent again.
Leaving became a tactical exercise. You slipped out as quietly as possible, taking the side staircase instead of the main hallway whenever you spotted his car in the parking lot. The fatigue hit hardest during these moments.
Your legs felt heavier than usual, and by the time you reached campus, you were already drained, needing to sit down in the library for a few minutes just to catch your breath. Coming home was even more stressful.
You started timing your returns obsessively. If practice usually ended around 6 p.m., you’d stay late at the library or in an empty classroom, working on your capstone exhibition proposal until you were sure Heeseung was either out with friends or already inside. One evening, the dizziness caught you off guard.
You had just turned the corner into your hallway when the world tilted slightly. You had to lean against the wall, breathing shallowly, while a strong wave of nausea made your stomach churn.
The faint scent of someone’s dinner cooking nearby sent you rushing the last few steps to your door. The moment you got inside, you barely made it to the toilet before vomiting actual, forceful vomiting that left you trembling on the cold tile floor.
You told yourself it was stress. The constant hyper vigilance. The lack of proper sleep. The emotional weight of pretending that night had never occurred. But the symptoms kept creeping in, growing harder to dismiss.
Smells became your enemy. The aroma of coffee from the café near campus, which you used to love, now made your stomach revolt. You switched to plain crackers and ginger tea, keeping a secret stash in your bag.
Even the scent of your own shampoo sometimes triggered a gag reflex. Food tasted strange too salty, too sweet, or completely off. You lost interest in meals altogether, surviving on small portions that you could keep down.
The fatigue settled deep in your bones. You’d come home from classes, collapse on the couch, and wake up hours later feeling like you hadn’t rested at all.
Your breasts felt tender and slightly swollen, brushing against your shirt making you wince. Mood swings hit at random. One minute you were focused on your work, the next you felt inexplicably teary or irritable. All of this made the avoidance even more draining.
One Thursday night, your timing failed you had stayed late at the library, hoping Heeseung would already be inside. When you finally dragged your tired body back to the building, the hallway lights felt blindingly bright.
Just as you reached your door, fumbling with your keys, you heard the unmistakable click of his lock opening.Panic surged through you. Your hands shook so badly that the keys nearly dropped. You managed to slip inside just as his door opened, pressing your back against the wood, heart hammering wildly.
You held your breath, listening to his footsteps pass by. The moment they faded, the nausea hit like a wave. You barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, knees weak, tears stinging your eyes from the force of it.
Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your forehead resting on your knees, breathing shakily. This was getting worse.You were exhausted from the constant calculation when to leave, when to return, which route to take, how long to wait in the stairwell. The thin wall between your apartments felt like a constant threat.
You’d hear him moving around sometimes. The low sound of his music ( mercifully quieter these days ), the murmur of his voice when he was on the phone, the occasional laugh. Every sound made your stomach twist with anxiety and unwelcome memories.
You became hyper aware of everything. You avoided cooking anything with strong smells. You did laundry at 2 a.m. when you were sure he was asleep. You even changed the time you took showers, worried the sound of running water might coincide with him coming home.
Yunjin and Soobin noticed the changes. “You’ve been canceling plans a lot,” Yunjin said during one quick lunch. “And you look really tired, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile while fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of her food. “Just stressed about the capstone deadline it’s taking everything out of me.”
Soobin watched you quietly, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Inside your apartment, the symptoms continued to build.
Mornings were brutal. You’d wake up with tender breasts and that persistent queasy feeling. Some days the vomiting was so bad you had to keep a small bucket discreetly by your bed.
The fatigue made it hard to focus during lectures. You'd find yourself zoning out, head heavy, fighting the urge to lay your head on the desk. Yet you refused to connect the dots .It’s just stress, you told yourself repeatedly. The avoidance the guilt the lack of sleep.
You pushed through, continuing your careful dance of avoidance. You timed every exit and entry with military precision. You became an expert at predicting Heeseung’s schedule ( she should become a dispatch employee )
You kept your headphones on to drown out any sound from next door. You buried yourself in your art curator work, sketching exhibition layouts late into the night until your eyes burned.Two full weeks passed in this strange limbo.
You were pale, exhausted, and constantly on edge. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The fatigue made simple tasks feel monumental. And the fear of accidentally seeing Heeseung in the hallway kept you trapped in this self imposed isolation.
Deep down, a small, terrified voice in the back of your mind whispered that something was very wrong. But you silenced it the same way you silenced every memory of that night this never happened.
You would keep avoiding him. You would keep pretending everything was normal.Even as your body screamed louder and louder that nothing was normal anymore.
One ordinary afternoon, everything shifted. You were sitting in the small campus café with Yunjin and Soobin, the three of you squeezed around a corner table. Yunjin was dramatically slumped in her chair, one hand pressed to her lower stomach, complaining loudly.
“Ugh, my period is literally killing me today,” she groaned, stirring her iced latte with a pout. “Cramps are so bad, I can barely sit straight why does it always hit the worst during the worst season? I swear my uterus hates me.”
Soobin chuckled softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers from the convenience store?” You tried to smile and nod along, but the words barely registered.
Her period is killing her…..
The sentence echoed in your head like a siren your own period. You mentally counted the days. It should have come a full week ago. Seven days late. Maybe more.
You had been so caught up in avoiding Heeseung, dealing with the constant nausea, fatigue, and vomiting that you hadn’t even noticed the date slipping by. Your heart started beating faster.
You pulled out your phone under the table and quietly opened your cycle tracking app. The screen glowed with the familiar calendar. A bright red notification stared back at you
period : 7 days late
You stared at the words until they blurred. No no, no, no. You tried to push the thought away immediately. It had to be stress. The irregular sleep, the constant anxiety of avoiding Heeseung, the vomiting all of it could easily throw your cycle off. That was normal right?
But then the symptoms started flashing through your mind like warning lights. The persistent nausea every morning. The vomiting that left you weak on the bathroom floor. The crushing fatigue that made it hard to stay awake in lectures.
The dizziness, sensitivity to smells, tender, swollen breasts. Your stomach dropped, could you be pregnant?
The word felt foreign and terrifying in your head. No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t get pregnant from one night. One reckless, stupid night. People had unprotected sex all the time and nothing happened.
You were on the pill…wait, were you? You had been so stressed with midterms that you couldn’t even remember if you had taken it properly that week. The thought made bile rise in your throat again.
Across the table, Yunjin and Soobin were still talking something about upcoming assignments and a group project. Their voices sounded far away, like you were underwater.You couldn’t focus on a single word they were saying. Your mind was spinning, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it.
Yunjin waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to you! you’ve been spacing out the entire time are you okay?”You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Your mouth felt dry.
“I—yeah, sorry just tired,” you mumbled. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head home early today my head’s killing me.”Soobin frowned, concern clear in his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you back?”“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, already standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’ll text you later promise.”
You left the café before they could protest, walking fast, then almost jogging once you were out of sight. The nausea was back, stronger now, mixing with pure terror. Your hands were shaking as you headed straight for the small convenience store two blocks away.
Inside the store, you felt like every camera was watching you. You moved quickly through the aisles, heart hammering, until you found the family planning section. There were several pregnancy test kits.
You grabbed the most reliable looking one with trembling fingers, not even reading the brand properly. The cashier gave you a neutral look as you paid, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.
Bag clutched tightly to your chest, you practically ran the entire way back to your apartment building. You took the side stairs again, praying Heeseung wasn’t around. The moment you were inside your own apartment, you locked the door twice and leaned against it, breathing hard.
You pulled the kit out of the bag with shaking hands. The box felt heavy dangerous. You read the instructions carefully, twice. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = pregnant simple but terrifying.
You went to the bathroom, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. You followed every step exactly, hands trembling so badly you almost dropped the test. When you were done, you placed the stick on the counter and set a timer on your phone three minutes.
You paced the small bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second felt like an hour. The nausea was back, but this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was pure fear.
What if it was positive?
What if you were actually pregnant with Heeseung’s baby?
The thought made your knees weak. You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold tile floor, staring at the test on the counter like it was a bomb about to go off.The timer was still counting down.
Two minutes left. You hugged your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the small plastic stick that now, held your entire future in two little lines. You were so scared.
The timer on your phone hit zero with a soft chime that felt deafening in the small bathroom. You stayed frozen on the cold tile floor for several long seconds, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the pregnancy test lying face up on the counter like it was a live grenade.
Slowly, you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stepped closer. One line was already dark and clear the control line. The second line was faint at first, but unmistakable. A pale pink line slowly darkening right beside the first one.
two lines = positive
You blinked hard, once, twice, as if the result would magically change if you stared long enough.“No…” you whispered, voice cracking. “No, that can’t be right.”Denial crashed over you like a wave. You snatched the test off the counter and held it closer to the light, turning it at different angles. Maybe it was a faulty test.
Maybe the line was an evaporation line. Maybe you had read the instructions wrong. You grabbed the box again and reread the instructions three more times, your hands trembling so badly the paper shook.
But no matter how many times you checked, the two lines stared back at you, clear and undeniable. It was positive. You were pregnant. The reality slammed into you all at once.
Your knees buckled. You sank back down to the bathroom floor, the test still clutched tightly in your hand. A sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as the full weight of what this meant crashed over you.
You were pregnant with Heeseung’s baby. The boy you couldn’t stand. The neighbor you had spent months avoiding. The one person you had sworn to pretend never touched you.
A broken sound escaped you half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief. Your free hand moved instinctively to your stomach, pressing lightly against the still flat surface. There was a life growing inside you right now. A tiny, real consequence of one reckless, drunken night.
The crying came harder. You curled in on yourself, forehead resting on your knees as sobs wracked your body. All the symptoms you had tried to blame on stress the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the dizziness suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.
You were going to have a baby. And the father was the last person on earth you wanted to be tied to. After several long minutes, the tears slowed, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, staring blankly at the two pink lines.
You made a decision right there on the bathroom floor. You were not telling Heeseung anything, not a single word.He didn’t need to know. He would never know. Telling him would only make everything worse the teasing, the drama, the forced proximity, the endless complications with someone you already couldn’t stand.
You could barely handle living next door to him as it was. Bringing a child into that mess was unthinkable. This was your problem. Your body, your choice. You would handle it quietly. You would get rid of it.The thought made fresh tears sting your eyes, but you forced them back. There was no other option.
You were still in school, chasing your dream of becoming an art curator. Your life was barely stable right now. A baby, especially one with Heeseung as the father would ruin everything.
You stayed on the floor for a long time, clutching the test, letting the weight of the decision settle over you.
Eventually, you stood up on unsteady legs. You wrapped the test in toilet paper and hid it deep in the trash can under some tissues. You washed your face with cold water until the redness in your eyes faded a little.
You looked at your reflection pale, exhausted, terrified and whispered to yourself “This never happened.” You would schedule an. appointment. You would end this quietly.You would move on with your life and never speak of that night again.
But as you turned off the bathroom light and stepped into your silent apartment, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever. You were pregnant. And for the first time since that night, the wall between you and Heeseung felt like it was closing in.
The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone. You weren’t going to tell Heeseung. You were going to end this quietly and move on with your life. The very next morning, you tried to make the appointment.
You sat on your bed with your laptop open, hands shaking as you searched for clinics near campus that offered termination services. Your stomach was already churning with nausea again, but you forced yourself to focus.
You found a few options a women’s health clinic downtown and a Planned Parenthood branch about twenty minutes away. You clicked on the booking page for the first one. The form asked for your name, date of birth, contact number, and reason for visit.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. You couldn’t do it. Every time you tried to type your real information, panic surged through you. What if someone recognized your name? What if the clinic called or sent confirmation texts while you were near Heeseung?
What if the appointment somehow got back to campus gossip? The thought of walking into a clinic alone, explaining your situation to a stranger, and going through with it made your throat close up.
You closed the laptop without saving anything. You told yourself you’d try again tomorrow when you felt calmer. But tomorrow came and went. Then the next day. And the next. Meanwhile, the symptoms grew worse.
The nausea was no longer just morning sickness it hit you at random times throughout the day. The smell of food in the cafeteria made you gag. Even walking past the coffee shop near campus triggered violent waves that left you rushing to the nearest bathroom.
You started carrying saltine crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale everywhere, but they barely helped anymore.
Vomiting became more frequent. One afternoon during a lecture, you had to excuse yourself midway through and barely made it to the restroom before throwing up.
You returned to class pale and sweaty, mumbling something about food poisoning when Yunjin looked at you worriedly.
Fatigue wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You fell asleep in the library twice that week, waking up with your cheek stuck to your notebook. Simple tasks like climbing the stairs to your apartment left you breathless and dizzy.
Your breasts were constantly tender, and your mood swung wildly one moment you were numb, the next you felt like crying over nothing. Yunjin and Soobin started noticing. During lunch on Thursday, Yunjin set her chopsticks down and stared at you.
“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” she said, voice firm but concerned. “You’ve been looking like a ghost for days, you barely eat anything, you keep disappearing to the bathroom, and you look exhausted even when you say you slept are you sick? Is it stress? Talk to us.”
Soobin nodded, his gentle eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been canceling plans and spacing out a lot. If something’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone. We’re here.”You forced a weak smile, pushing your untouched food around your plate. The smell of it was making you nauseous again.
“I’m okay, really,” you lied, voice quieter than usual. “Just… really behind on my capstone. The deadline is stressing me out more than I thought. I’ll be fine once I catch up.”
They didn’t look convinced, but they let it drop for the moment. Still, you could feel their eyes on you for the rest of the meal. Even Heeseung started noticing something was off.
You had managed to avoid direct contact with him for weeks, but it was impossible to hide everything when you lived next door.
One evening, you were coming home later than usual after another failed attempt to book the appointment online. You felt dizzy and nauseous, moving slowly up the hallway with your keys already in hand. As you reached your door, Heeseung’s door opened.
He stepped out, wearing a simple black hoodie, hair slightly messy like he’d just come back from practice. His eyes landed on you immediately.
You froze for half a second, then quickly turned your face away and fumbled with your lock, trying to get inside before he could say anything. But Heeseung didn’t tease you this time.
Instead, he paused in his doorway, brow slightly furrowed as he watched you. You looked pale. Thinner. There were dark circles under your eyes, and the way you moved seemed off fragile.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the usual cocky remark didn’t come.“You good?” he asked quietly, voice lacking its normal edge.
You didn’t answer. You finally got the door open and slipped inside without looking at him, shutting it quickly behind you
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, staring at your closed door with a strange, unsettled feeling in his chest. Something wasn’t right with you. He could see it.But after everything after that night you both had silently agreed to forget he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.
Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing hard. Fresh tears stung your eyes as another wave of nausea hit you. You slid down to the floor, hugging your knees. You still hadn’t been able to book the appointment.
The symptoms were getting worse every day, your friends were worried and now even Heeseung had noticed something was wrong. You pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering to yourself again and again
“This never happened… this never happened…” But the lie was starting to feel impossible to keep. Heeseung had noticed. For the past two weeks, it had become painfully obvious that you were avoiding him like the plague.
At first, he thought it was the usual the cold shoulder after that night you both had silently agreed to forget. But it quickly went beyond that. You timed your movements with military precision.
He would hear your door open and close at odd hours, always when he was either inside or already gone. You took the side stairs. You left earlier than usual in the mornings and came back much later at night.
Even at university, catching a glimpse of you had become nearly impossible. You seemed to disappear into the library or empty classrooms the moment practice ended.It was clear you were doing everything in your power to never cross paths with him.
Heeseung told himself it didn’t bother him. He had decided to forget that night too. No teasing. No bringing it up. Just normal or as normal as things could be when you lived right next door
But something was wrong. You looked terrible lately. He first noticed it in passing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders seemed to slump with exhaustion. Then it got worse you moved slower.
Your face was paler than usual. You barely left your apartment except for classes, and even then you looked like you were running on empty.
One evening, after a long basketball practice, Heeseung was walking back to the apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sun had already set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the path. That’s when he saw you.
You were a few meters ahead, heading toward the entrance. Your steps were unsteady, one hand pressed lightly against the wall for support.
Even from behind, he could tell something was very wrong. Your posture was slumped, your breathing looked shallow, and you looked like you were barely holding yourself upright.
Heeseung’s stomach tightened. He quickened his pace without thinking and caught up to you just as you reached the building door.“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, no trace of his usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?”
You turned your head slightly, eyes glassy and tired. The moment you recognized him, your expression hardened.“I don’t have time for your teasing right now, Heeseung,” you muttered weakly, trying to push past him toward the elevator.
Heeseung felt a flash of annoyance, not because you were dismissing him, but because he was genuinely worried and you clearly didn’t believe it.“I’m not teasing,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
You didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the elevator. Heeseung followed, stepping in right after you. The doors closed, trapping the two of you in the small space. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. He could hear your breathing too fast, too shallow.
When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out first. But the moment your feet hit the hallway, your legs buckled. You swayed dangerously, one hand reaching out blindly for the wall as the world spun around you. Heeseung moved fast.
He dropped his gym bag and caught you before you could hit the floor, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other supporting your back. Your body went limp against him for a few terrifying seconds.
“Shit—” he muttered, heart pounding. “Hey, stay with me.” You were half conscious, mumbling something incoherent about being fine. Heeseung didn’t waste time arguing. He adjusted his grip and lifted you carefully into his arms in bridal style, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Your apartment was right next to his. He fumbled for a moment with your keys ( which had fallen from your hand ) until he managed to unlock the door. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and headed straight for your bedroom.
The room was neat but clearly lived in textbooks stacked on the desk, a half finished sketch on the table, a small trash can near the bed. Heeseung gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your face was pale, forehead slightly damp with sweat.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. You looked so small and fragile like this. Nothing like the fiery girl who used to bang on his door and call him an entitled asshole.
Heeseung grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it on your nightstand. Then he pulled up the chair from your desk and sat down beside the bed, watching you carefully.
Your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your face relaxed as you slipped into a deeper sleep. Heeseung stayed there, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what was going on with you.
He didn’t know why you looked so sick. He didn’t even know if you’d want him here when you woke up. But right now, leaving you alone didn’t feel like an option. So he stayed quietly waiting.
Until your breathing became steady and deep, and he was sure you were fully asleep. Heeseung stayed. He told himself he’d only wait until you fell into a proper sleep, but the longer he sat there watching your pale face and shallow breathing, the harder it became to leave.
You looked exhausted, truly exhausted in a way that went beyond simple tiredness. Dark circles under your eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin lacking its usual color. Something was clearly wrong, and the protective instinct he didn’t know he had kept him rooted to the chair.
After almost an hour, when your breathing had deepened into steady, even inhales, Heeseung stood up quietly. He couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. He moved silently through your apartment, careful not to make noise.
Your kitchen was small and neat, but the fridge was nearly empty a few bottles of water, some crackers, and not much else. Heeseung frowned. No wonder you looked so drained. He opened the cupboards and found rice, a couple of eggs, and some ginger.
Simple gentle on the stomach. He decided to make congee something light that his mom used to make for him when he was sick.
He worked quietly, chopping what little he could find, boiling water, and stirring the pot on low heat. The smell of ginger and warm rice slowly filled the small apartment. He hoped it would help when you woke up. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.
He kept glancing toward the bedroom every few minutes, making sure you were still resting. Almost two hours later, you started stirring.
Heeseung was just turning off the stove when he heard movement from the bedroom. He poured some congee into a bowl, added a bit of water to make it lighter, and was about to bring it to you when
You bolted upright in bed, eyes wide with sudden panic. The smell of the food hit you like a wave. Your face went even paler, hand flying to your mouth as nausea surged violently. Heeseung’s eyes widened. “Hey—”
You didn’t wait. You scrambled off the bed on shaky legs and ran straight to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Heeseung followed right behind you, worry spiking through his chest. He reached the bathroom door just as you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up violently.
“Shit—” He moved quickly, kneeling beside you without hesitation. One hand gently gathered your hair, holding it back from your face. His other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay I’ve got you, just breathe.”
You retched again, body trembling with the force of it. Heeseung stayed right there, murmuring quiet reassurances, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.
When the worst of it seemed to pass, he reached over and flushed the toilet, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dampened it with cool water.“Here,” he said softly, handing you the towel. “Wipe your face.”
You took it with trembling hands, still breathing hard. Heeseung stood up briefly to get a glass of water from the sink and brought it back to you.“Small sips,” he instructed, crouching down again. “Don’t drink too fast.”
While you rinsed your mouth and took careful sips, Heeseung’s eyes wandered around the small bathroom, looking for anything that might help. His gaze landed on the trash can beside the sink. Something white and plastic was poking out from under some tissues.
Curious, he reached down and pulled it out, it was a pregnancy test. Two distinct red lines stared back at him clear, unmistakable, and positive. Heeseung froze.
His brain short circuited for a second. The test felt heavy in his hand as the reality sank in. Positive you were pregnant. He slowly turned his head toward you. You were already looking at him.
Your eyes were wide with pure terror, face drained of all color, lips parted in shock. You looked caught completely and utterly caught like the worst secret in the world had just been ripped open. The glass of water trembled in your hand.
Heeseung’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His gaze flicked between the test in his hand and your terrified expression.
The pieces clicked together horribly fast the avoidance, the exhaustion, the vomiting, the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together for the past two weeks.
This wasn’t just stress this was because of that night because of him. Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice coming out quieter than he expected.
“…Is this yours?” The bathroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. You were still staring at him, tears already gathering in your eyes again, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He only knew that everything had just changed. Heeseung stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test for what felt like an eternity.
The bathroom was deathly quiet except for your shaky breathing. When he finally looked up at you, your face was pale, eyes wide with pure terror, tears already spilling down your cheeks. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.
“…Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low and rough. You didn’t speak at first. Your lips trembled as fresh tears rolled down your face. Then you gave a small, barely noticeable nod.
Heeseung felt something twist sharply in his chest. He looked back down at the test, then at you again. His next question came out quieter, almost hesitant.
“Is the baby mine?” The moment the words left his mouth, your face crumpled completely. You broke into heavy, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as you tried to cover your mouth with one hand.
“I’m sorry…” you choked out between cries. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen, i never meant for any of this, it was just one stupid night and I— I’m planning on getting rid of it. I won’t bother you with any of this, i won’t get in your way. You don’t have to worry about anything, i’ll handle it quietly.”
Heeseung’s expression shifted the instant you said those words. Hurt flashed across his face raw, unguarded hurt. His brows drew together, jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying.
The idea that you were planning to terminate the pregnancy without even telling him felt like a punch to the gut. His hand holding the test lowered slowly to his side. You kept crying, words tumbling out faster now, desperate and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this either, i’ll take care of everything. You can just forget about it…i promise I won’t drag you into anything.”
Heeseung stayed silent for a long moment, staring at you as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking small and devastated.
The hurt in his chest mixed with something heavier confusion, disbelief, and a strange ache he couldn’t quite name. Finally, his voice came out low and strained.
summary. You spend your 20s exactly how you planned it to be—fun, fearless, and unattached. Until your mom introduces you to her old high school friend’s son, who looks exactly like the man you spent one reckless night in another city convincing yourself you’d never see again.
pairing. heeseung x fem!reader
content / warnings. slightly suggestive (flashback, vague), producer!hee, unemployed!reader, the moms are in this, one mention of jungwon, maeumi, lmk if i miss anything!!
w.c. 12k
JUNE 2025
“My head’s throbbing.”
You mutter as you drive to your parents house. Your mom mentioned about inviting her old friend over, who lived across the country, in another city saying something about her staying over for a few days.
You sigh at the thought, blaming the pounding in your skull on last night’s cocktails with your girl friends and the tiny hairs still sticking to your damp shirt from a morning shower. You’re not ready for polite family small talk, questions about your job or relationship—or the endless commentary about how “you should really be settling down.”
You pull over your parents’ street, already noticing a whole luggage outside the house.
“Seems like she’s here.” You mutter to yourself, as you got out the car, quickly looking at the mirror to make yourself presentable, and totally not hangover.
Grabbing your bag, you try to summon your most convincing “I’m totally together” expression. If your mom’s friend was anything like she described, this was going to be a lot of chatter, a lot of smiles, and probably a few pointed questions about your love life that you weren’t ready to answer.
You knock on the door. “I’m home!” you annouce, and almost immediately, you hear your mom’s footsteps scampering over to open it. You chuckle at her cuteness—always so excited to see you, even when you barely had your life together.
“Finally!” she exclaimes, practically dragging you inside. “You’re just in time—she’s already here!”
You groan inwardly, bracing yourself for endless small talk and awkward introductions, but couldn’t help smiling at your mom’s enthusiasm.
When you came inside the house, in the living room, a middle-aged lady—seemingly the same age as your mom—sits on the couch, her posture polite but relaxed. She looks around with a warm smile that could make anyone feel immediately welcome, though your hungover brain mostly registered her as an interruption to your carefully curated morning recovery.
“She must be Mrs. Lee,” you say, glancing at your mom, who was practically glowing with excitement. You couldn’t help but grin despite yourself—your mom always had a way of lighting up a room, and apparently, it was contagious.
“Oh, my, she had grown up to be such a fine young lady!” Mrs. Lee greets with a smile, hugging you warmly.
You return the hug with a polite squeeze, your head still pounding from last night and your brain screaming too early for this kind of energy. “Thank you,” you mutter, secretly hoping your slightly messy hair and damp shirt weren’t too obvious.
“I’ve been telling her so much about you!” your mom chimes in, practically beaming. “All good things, of course.”
You smile faintly, wondering exactly how much she had told her friend about your chaotic, fun-filled nights out with friends—and mentally prepare yourself for a gentle roasting session disguised as small talk.
But Mrs. Lee just look at you softly, a motherly smile plastered on her face, as if she could see right through all the bravado you were trying to put on. It was the kind of smile that made you feel both warm and a little… exposed.
“What about your boy, Lee?” Your mom asks and Mrs. Lee claps her hands as if remembering a completely important detail.
“Right, right!” She laughs. “I told him to buy us some fruits at the supermarket! We can’t stay here and come empty-handed.” She smiles, in which your mom joking hits her arm. “What a hassle! But, thank you anyway,”
Mrs. Lee looks over to you. “I feel like you and my son could be such good friends too!” She grins, in which you awkwardly smile.
Great.
Another one of your mom’s friends trying to set you up with their good-for-nothing sons.
“Honey, help her get her luggage inside!” Your mom says, walking to the kitchen, already arms in arms with Mrs. Lee. You nod before walking towards the entrance.
That’s when you heard a car pull up outside.
The sound of tires against the pavement cut through the room, followed by the soft thud of a door closing. Your mom glanced toward the window almost instinctively, her face lighting up even more than before.
“Oh, perfect timing,” you can hear Mrs. Lee’s voice from inside. “That must be Heeseung!”
You decide to pay no mind to it, as you walked over to carry her luggage.
“Shit, what does she pack in here?”
“Clothes enough for two weeks.” A voice answers your little mutter to yourself.
A familiar one—deep, oh so soft, and far too recognizable—making your breath hitch as you stand straight.
“Do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?”
“Let go for me, baby.”
Your mind suddenly betrayed you, replaying the words spoken in that same voice two months ago—back when you’d been careless, impulsive, and not so smart.
Heat rushed to your face as the memory collided with this current moment. You turn to look and there he was, still wearing the soft eyes you had been so enchanted by that night.
Evan. Evan Lee. At least that’s what he introduced himself as.
The same eyes that had studied you under dim hotel lights now widened, just barely, before masking it with something polite and unreadable.
Mrs. Lee came out before you could even say anything, her voice bright and proud as she introduced you. You barely registered the words, too focused on the way he straightened beside her.
He nodded, polite and distant, the kind of courtesy reserved for strangers. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly, without a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Then he smiled—easy, effortless—before turning to follow his mom into the house. He picked up her luggage, handling it with practiced care as he walked past you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne.
He didn’t even glance back.
So he didn’t remember.
You had both been drunk that night, after all.
…
Dinner is already laid out by the time everyone gathers around the dining table a few hours later. The familiar smell of your mom’s cooking fills the room—warm, comforting, painfully normal for a moment that feels anything but.
You take a seat near the edge of the table, choosing distance over comfort. Across from you, Heeseung pulls out his chair and sits down smoothly, posture relaxed, expression polite. To anyone else, he’s just a guest—your mom’s friend’s son, well-mannered and quiet.
To you, he’s the man whose voice still lingers in the back of your mind—whose hands had memorized you in the dark, whose lips had left impressions you were foolish enough to think time would erase.
Conversation flows easily between your mom and Mrs. Lee, laughter spilling over shared memories from high school, old teachers, stories you’ve heard a hundred times before. You nod at the right moments, pushing food around your plate, forcing yourself to eat despite the tight knot in your stomach.
“So, Heeseung,” your mom says brightly, turning to him, “Are you okay with the spare room? Her brother hasn’t been home since his marriage, and she doesn’t want to give her childhood room for guests,” Your mom turns to you and snickers.
“That’s because I visit you and dad all the time, I still need a room here.” You groan softly, while Mrs. Lee laughs.
“Yes, ma’am. The room is just nice. Very well-kept.” Heeseung smiles at her.
“Well, that’s good,” she continues. “By the way, you two are around the same age. You should show him around a bit, don’t you think? This isn’t a city he always comes by.”
Your grip tightens around your utensils.
Before you can answer, Heeseung looks up—briefly, carefully—meeting your eyes for the first time since earlier. There’s no recognition on his face. No spark. Just polite interest.
“If she’s free,” he says simply.
If you’re free.
You force a smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The lie settles between you, heavy and unspoken.
Under the table, his foot shifts slightly—close enough to make your breath hitch, close enough to make you wonder if it’s accidental. He still doesn’t look at you. Still doesn’t acknowledge the past.
But your body remembers a different name.
And for the first time since he walked past you without a second glance, you realize something unsettling.
Heeseung might not remember you.
But Evan would have.
After dinner, the house settles into silence faster than you expect.
Laughter fades. Doors close softly. The hallway light dims until only a thin strip glows beneath bedroom doors. You lie awake longer than you should, staring at the ceiling you’ve known your whole life, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of another presence in the house.
You tell yourself it’s nothing.
Just an old insignificant memory overstaying its welcome.
Eventually, thirst wins.
You slip out of bed, careful not to let the floorboards creak, padding your way toward the kitchen. The house smells faintly of detergent and leftover dinner, comforting in a way that almost makes you forget why your chest feels tight.
Almost.
The kitchen light is already on.
You freeze in the doorway.
Heeseung stands by the counter, sleeves rolled up, a glass of water in his hand. His hair is slightly tousled now, stripped of the careful neatness he wore earlier. He looks… different. More real. More like the man you left sleeping behind hotel curtains two months ago.
He looks up when he hears you.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake anyone.”
“You didn’t,” you reply, voice steadier than you feel. “I just—couldn’t sleep.”
He nods, accepting that without question. No tension. No recognition. Or maybe too much control to show either.
You grab a glass from the cupboard, deliberately choosing the one farthest from him. The tap runs. Too loud in the silence. You focus on the sound, on anything but the awareness of him standing only a few feet away.
“Your mom’s cooking was really good,” he says after a moment. “She didn’t exaggerate.”
You let out a small breath of a laugh. “Her cooking is the best.”
A pause.
Then, softer, almost absent-minded: “You mentioned earlier you don’t live here?”
“Not anymore,” you answer. “I moved to my own apartment a year ago.”
“Oh,” he says.
The word hangs between you.
You take a sip of water, finally glancing at him. He isn’t looking at you—his attention fixed on the counter, jaw relaxed, expression unreadable. If he remembers, he gives nothing away. If he doesn’t, then this ease is genuine.
You hate that you can’t tell which one hurts more.
“Well,” you murmur, setting the glass down. “Good night.”
He looks up then, meeting your eyes fully for the first time since dinner.
“Good night,” he says.
Still nothing. No crack in his voice. No hesitation. Just calm, polite distance.
You walk past him toward the hallway, careful not to brush his arm, careful not to slow your steps. Behind you, you hear him turn off the light.
In the darkness of your room, you lie awake again—heart louder now, thoughts sharper.
You were the one who left that morning.
You were the one who chose silence.
And yet somehow, standing in your parent’s kitchen, it feels like he’s the one holding all the control.
…
Morning comes too soon.
Sunlight filters through the curtains, thin and pale, landing across your face like an accusation. For a moment, you forget where you are—until the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen reminds you that you’re back in your parents’ house. And that you aren’t alone.
You sit up slowly, rubbing at your temples. The night had offered no answers. Just silence, politeness, and the unbearable calm of not knowing.
By the time you make it to the kitchen, your mom is already bustling around, apron tied, hair pulled back. Mrs. Lee sits at the table, sipping tea, looking far too refreshed for someone who traveled across the country.
“Morning,” your mom chirps when she sees you. “Perfect timing.”
You hum in response, reaching for a glass of water.
“Could you help Mrs. Yang walk her dog later?” she continues casually. “You remember—next door. You used to do it all the time when you lived here. Besides, little Jungwon is in Uni now, so no one is there to help her.”
You pause.
“Maeum? Yeah,” you say. “I can do that.”
Mrs. Lee’s face lights up. “Walking outside right now would be so refreshing,” she says warmly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns toward the hallway. “Heeseung!”
Your stomach tightens at the sound of his name.
He appears a moment later, sleeves rolled up again, hair still slightly damp like he’s just washed his face. He looks… awake. Calm. Completely unaffected. “Hm?”
“You should go with her,” Mrs. Lee says easily. “It’ll be good for you to get some fresh air after traveling.”
Heeseung blinks once, then nods. “Sure.”
Sure.
Your mom smiles, clearly pleased. “Perfect! Two birds with one stone.” You force a smile of your own, even as your pulse starts to pick up. “Yeah. No problem.”
Heeseung glances at you—not searching, not curious. Just attentive.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says.
As you step outside together a few minutes later, the morning air feels too crisp, too quiet. The street looks the same as it always has. Familiar. Safe.
And yet, walking side by side with him, you’re painfully aware of the space between you—and how little it would take to close it.
You’re the one who left. It’s a one-night stand.
You remind yourself of that as you head toward the neighbor’s gate.
So why does it feel like this walk might be the first step toward something you can’t walk away from again.
Heeseung kneels slightly as Maeum charges toward him, tail wagging like it could knock him over.
“He’s… lively,” he says, keeping his voice casual as Maeum circles him, sniffing, then jumping up in excitement. A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel your chest tighten unexpectedly.
“Yeah, Maeum’s a handful,” you reply, gripping the leash before he decides to chase a squirrel or something worse. “But he’s harmless… mostly.”
Heeseung brushes a hand along Maeum’s back. “Mostly is good.”
Maeum barks happily, spinning between the two of you. There’s a brief moment where the dog seems to notice the tension radiating off both of you, but of course, he can’t name it.
“Shall we get going?” you ask, starting toward the sidewalk.
Heeseung falls into step beside you, careful not to crowd, careful not to overstep. Close enough to notice the little things: the way you tense when Maeum yanks, the faint crease in your brow, the subtle sway of your hair in the morning sun.
The street is quiet. Early birds call from the trees. Leaves rustle under your shoes. Maeum dashes ahead, then back, sniffing everything in sight.
“So…” you begin, trying to sound casual, “long drive yesterday?”
He shrugs. “Enough to make me remember why I prefer flights.”
You laugh softly. “Fair enough. It is kind of chaos on the road here sometimes.”
Silence falls for a few steps, filled only with Maeum’s padding and your own heartbeat.
Then Maeum stops abruptly, sniffing at a patch of grass right between you and Heeseung. The leash jerks. You stumble forward slightly, and his hand reaches out before you can think, steadying you.
Fingertips brush.
A fleeting touch—but it’s enough. Enough to spark memory, enough to make your stomach twist.
Heeseung doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t say a word. He takes Maeum’s leash and keeps walking.
And that’s the worst part.
Because whether he remembers—or is pretending—you have no idea.
And it leaves the quiet hanging between you like a question that refuses to be answered.
Maeum slows near the corner, distracted by something only he seems to find interesting. You stop with him, shifting your weight as you wait.
Your fingers curl in on themselves without you noticing.
A slow fist.
Tight enough that your nails press into your palm.
Heeseung’s gaze drops.
Not immediately. Not obviously.
But it lingers just long enough.
“You do that often,” he says.
You look up. “Do what?”
He nods toward your hand. “That.”
You follow his eyes, startled, and force your fingers open. Faint crescent marks bloom red against your skin.
“Oh,” you say lightly. “I guess I clench my hand when I’m waiting.”
“Or when you’re holding back,” he replies, tone even. Too even.
The street feels quieter suddenly.
You laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re very observant.” He doesn’t smile. Not quite.
“Hard not to notice,” he says.
And just like that—
Your mind betrays you.
Dim light. Your back against unfamiliar sheets.
His voice low, close, asking something you can’t quite remember the words to—only the way your hand had curled then too, nails biting into your palm as you nodded instead of answering.
You remember looking down afterward.
The half-moon marks.
The way he’d gently pried your fingers open, thumb brushing over the indents like he was committing them to memory.
The leash tugs.
You blink, pulled back into the morning air, the quiet street, Maeum wagging his tail impatiently.
Heeseung is already looking ahead again, expression unreadable.
“You good?” he asks, as if nothing had happened.
You nod, heart racing, and start walking again.
But your palm still tingles.
Both of you continue walking with Maeum tugging on his leash once in a while, before stopping infront of a convenient store near the park.
“I’ll buy us drinks, anything you like?” He asks. You look at him as you shake your head. “Anything’s fine.”
He nods, entering the store while you wait outside while Maeum settles at your feet. Through the glass, you watch him move with easy familiarity— scanning the shelves without hesitation.
He came out a few minutes later with two drinks in his hand. Americano for him, and another for you.
Green Grape Ade.
“Green Grape Ade?” His voice rings in the loud bar music, looking at you with precise judgement, while you mockingly glare at him.
“What’s wrong with it?” You ask, voice slightly loud trying to drown out the music at the bar. He smiles.
“You’re original.” He clinks his glass againts yours, the ice chiming softly over the music.
“I just prefer sour drinks. Especially from the convenient store.” You drink as your gaze turn to him. He’s already staring at you.
He hums. “That’s why your face so sour?” He teases in which you gasp, mock-offense.
He laughs, before shaking his head. “That was a lie. You might just be the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”
The memory fades as quickly as it came.
You’re back outside the convenience store, the morning air cool against your skin. The bottle in your hand is cold, condensation slick against your fingers.
Heeseung is already walking ahead with Maeum, Americano in hand, posture relaxed like he hasn’t just reached into something you never gave him permission to keep.
You take a sip. It tastes exactly how you like it. How you were imagining it when you were admant on telling Heeseung or Evan it was your favourite at the bar.
And for the first time since you woke up that morning, you wonder if leaving first had really meant leaving anything behind at all.
You catch up to them, glancing at Heeseung. He has a questionable smug look on his face.
“What?” You ask. He shrugs before looking at you.
“I have a lot of things I remember about you.”
…
A few hours pass.
The afternoon drifts by slowly, measured in the ticking of the clock and the occasional sound of movement elsewhere in the house. You spend most of it in your room, half-lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone without really reading anything.
Every so often, you hear his voice. Muted through the walls. Calm. Easy. Laughing lightly at something your mom says.
It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.
When hunger finally wins over avoidance, the sun is already dipping lower in the sky. The house smells faintly of reheated food, warm and familiar. You take a breath before leaving your room, practicing a neutral expression in the mirror.
The kitchen is quieter now. You’re just about to turn the corner toward the kitchen when you hear your mom speak.
“…She’s been a little off today,” she says, voice gentle. “Probably tired. Or avoiding something.”
You pause without meaning to. Heeseung answers after a beat. “She does that.”
Your chest tightens instantly.
Your mom chuckles softly. “Does what?”
“Pulls back,” he says, careful. “When she doesn’t know how to react yet.”
Silence. Then the faint clink of a spoon against a bowl. “You sound like you know her pretty well,” your mom says lightly.
Another pause. Short. Measured.
“I had an impression,” Heeseung replies. “A while ago.”
An impression.
Your fingers curl at your side.
“Huh,” your mom hums. “That’s funny. She actually does leaves impressions on people,”
There’s a smile in Heeseung’s voice when he answers. “Yeah. She does.”
Your mom moves on easily, talking about dinner, about how long Mrs. Lee plans to stay. The conversation drifts, harmless again.
But you don’t move because impressions aren’t made in passing. They’re made when someone sees you up close. When you let them.
You step back quietly, retreating before either of them can notice you there. Back in your room, you sit down slowly, heart still racing.
He didn’t say you’d met.
He didn’t say when.
But he didn’t say you were strangers either. And somehow, that middle ground feels far more dangerous.
A soft knock echoes through your room a few minutes later.
“Hey… you awake?” Heeseung’s voice—calm, controlled, but just close enough to make your heart stutter.
You freeze. Your chest tightens, your pulse spiking. Act normal. Just act like you weren’t eavesdropping.
You smooth your hair with a trembling hand, blink rapidly, and open the door. “Yeah… just woke up,” you say, voice a little too bright, trying to sound casual.
Heeseung steps into the doorway, just enough to glance around your room. His eyes flick over you—not accusatory, not teasing—just aware. The way he looks at you makes the air between you feel suddenly heavy, like it’s charged with electricity you both can’t ignore.
“Your mom’s calling,” he says softly. “Everything’s ready.”
You nod quickly, gripping the doorframe as if it can anchor you. “I’m… not that hungry,” you murmur.
Heeseung tilts his head, that faint, knowing curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Uh-huh,” he replies, voice smooth, steady, and sharp enough to cut through your attempts at calm.
You step aside, but your foot catches on the edge of the rug. You curse under your breath, forcing a laugh. Too loud. Too sharp.
He doesn’t comment. He doesn’t need to. The silence itself feels deliberate, heavy. The space between you is so tight that you feel him even when he doesn’t touch you.
“I’ll be eating downstairs,” he finally says, straightening, eyes lingering just long enough to make your stomach clench.
“Okay… see you there,” you say, breath uneven, heart hammering.
He nods once, easily, and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.
The click echoes like a verdict.
You press your back against the door, sliding down slowly, hands trembling.
He knows I was listening.
He remembers… more than he should.
And he didn’t say a word.
The thought alone makes your stomach twist.
You straighten abruptly, forcing yourself to move. Down the stairs. To the dining room. To the table.
Every step is a battle between calm and the chaos churning under your skin.
Because you know tonight, nothing is going to feel casual. Not with him. Not after this.
The whole time during dinner, you caught him staring at you. Shamelessly at that, gave you a sheepish smile when you eye him suspiciously. He’d move his leg closer to yours, it’ll bump a few times, but he doesn’t pull away.
After dinner, you volunteer on doing the dishes. Your mom and Mrs. Lee’s voices fade into the living room, laughter and chatter blending together.
You take a steadying breath and move to the sink, rolling up your sleeves. Warm water runs over your hands, steam curling around your wrists. For a second, it almost feels normal. Almost.
Then you sense him before you hear him.
Heeseung steps beside you, quiet as a shadow. You tense instantly, shoulders stiff, fingers tightening around a plate.
“Need some help?” he asks softly, tilting his head. Not teasing, not accusing. Just calm, measured.
“I’ve got it,” you reply quickly, eyes trained on the suds, forcing the tone casual.
He doesn’t insist. He simply picks up a stray plate, moving closer than necessary, letting his hands brush yours ever so slightly as he rinses it. You flinch, heart hammering, but he doesn’t comment, doesn’t linger. Just present.
The silence stretches, heavy, almost oppressive. Every splash of water, every clink of a dish, echoes too loudly.
You scrub a pan a little harder than needed, trying to focus on anything else—the warmth of the water, the smell of garlic, the mundane rhythm of washing—but his quiet presence keeps threading through every thought.
He moves another plate, sets it down. Your hands brush again.
You feel your pulse spike, your chest tightening. Every subtle movement, every glance he doesn’t make—it’s all charged, all deliberate.
The kitchen is small. Empty. Safe. Except it isn’t. Not with him here.
You swallow hard, scrubbing away your nerves as the quiet stretches on, aware that he notices everything, even the things you think he can’t.
And somehow, that makes it impossible to breathe normally.
The sponge squeaks softly as you scrub, the rhythm steady but your thoughts anything but. You’re just about to reach for another plate when he speaks again.
“You know,” Heeseung says, evenly, like he’s commenting on the weather, “you’re not very good at pretending.”
Your hand stills.
“…Pretending what?” you ask, eyes fixed on the sink.
“That you weren’t listening earlier.” He sets a plate onto the rack, movements unhurried. “In the hallway.”
Your chest tightens. You swallow. “I wasn’t—”
He cuts you off gently. “You were.” Not accusing. Just factual. “You always stop breathing when you do that, though your eyes give it away, that you’re pretending everything’s fine.”
That makes your fingers curl instinctively around the sponge.
You let out a short laugh, more defensive than amused. “You don’t know what I ‘always’ do.”
He glances at your hand, then back to the dish he’s drying. “I know because I’ve seen it before.”
You twist the dish towel in your hands, knuckles whitening. The quiet stretches too long, presses too hard against your ribs.
“Are we really doing this?” You snap, turning to look at him directly.
He raises his eyebrows, “Do what?”
You gesture vaguely between the two of you, before sighing. “Implying things happened, without really saying it?”
He watches you for a second, expression unreadable—not defensive, not amused. Just… attentive.
“I’m not implying,” he says evenly. “You are.”
That only makes your chest tighten.
You scoff, turning back to the sink and reaching for another plate you definitely don’t need to wash. “Right. Of course. Because I’m the one who keeps bringing up impressions and ‘remembering’ and—whatever this is.”
He lets out a quiet breath, more tired than annoyed. “I brought it up once.”
“And you’ve been hovering ever since,” you shoot back, voice sharp but not loud. “So tell me—are we pretending we don’t know each other, or are we circling around it until I crack?” The words hang between you.
He sets the towel down, slow, deliberate. “I’m not trying to crack you.”
“Then what do you want?” you ask, finally facing him again.
He meets your gaze, steady. No smile. No games. “I wanted to know if you leaving meant what I thought it did,” he says simply.
Your throat tightens. “And what did you think it meant, Evan?”
His breath hitches at the usage of his other name, “That you didn’t want to stay,” he replies. “Not just that morning. In general.”
You laugh softly, but it’s brittle. “It’s a one-night stand.”
He nods once. “It is, but I clearly told you before we fell asleep, that I’d prefer you staying.”
Silence settles again, thicker now. The kitchen light hums overhead. Somewhere in the living room, your mom and Mrs. Lee laugh at something on TV.
“I didn’t leave because of you,” you say finally, quieter. “I left because staying would’ve made it… complicated.”
His jaw tightens just a fraction. “And now?”
You hesitate. “Now it already is.”
He holds your gaze for a long moment, then exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”
Neither of you move back to the dishes, he wipes the last plate before walking out of the kitchen.
APRIL 2025
The room is dim, lit only by the city glow slipping through the curtains. Everything feels slower, warmer—like the night hasn’t quite caught up with you yet.
You’re tangled in the sheets, limbs heavy, head resting against the pillow. Your skin is still buzzing, your thoughts pleasantly loose around the edges. Somewhere nearby, Heeseung shifts, the mattress dipping slightly as he turns onto his side.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
You hum, half-laughing into the pillow. “I think so. Might need a minute to remember my name.”
He chuckles softly. “Fair.”
The pause lingers, easy and unforced. The city light paints soft lines across the ceiling, and for a moment, neither of you moves.
You’re the one who breaks it first.
“Evan,” you say, voice lazy, still warm with alcohol and comfort. “What do you actually do when you’re not… here?”
He exhales a quiet laugh, turning his head slightly toward you. “That’s a loaded question.”
You smile into the pillow. “I’m serious. You feel like someone with a very normal answer and a very complicated explanation.”
He considers that. “I work in the music industry. Producing. It sounds fancier than it is.”
“Everything sounds fancier at night,” you mumble. “Especially after drinks.”
“True,” he agrees. Then, after a beat, “What about you?”
You shrug, the sheets rustling. “Still figuring it out. I bounce around a lot, job-hunting.”
He smiles and run his hand on your hair, as if wanting to see your face clearly. “You’re tense, like there’s a lot going on here.” He softly taps on your temple.
You huff a quiet laugh, eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch. “Is that your professional opinion?” you murmur. “Because I didn’t realize producers did mind-reading too.”
He chuckles, thumb brushing lightly through your hair, unhurried. “Not mind-reading. Just… paying attention.”
You turn your face toward him then, cheek sinking deeper into the pillow. “There’s always a lot going on,” you admit. “I just don’t like sitting still long enough to sort it out.”
“Why not?” he asks, not pushing—just curious.
You think about it for a moment, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Because if I do, I might realize I’m not as put-together as I pretend to be.”
He hums softly, fingers still tracing slow, absent patterns. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
“Easy for you to say,” you mumble. “You seem like you’ve got things… handled.”
He smiles faintly. “I’m good at looking like I do.”
You glance back at him. “Really?”
“Really,” he says. “I just learned how to keep the chaos quiet.”
That earns a small smile from you. “Guess we’re not that different then.”
“Guess not,” he replies.
The room settles again, the air warm and slow. His hand stays in your hair, grounding, gentle—like he’s in no rush to let the moment slip away.
Neither of you says it, but the thought hangs there between you, soft and dangerous all at once:
This feels easy.
Too easy.
He pulls you closer, lips pressing on your temple as he sighs.
“I’d love it if you stay.”
And you felt your heart breaks a little when you doze off.
…
Three days.
Three days until he leaves.
And for the past two, he hasn’t said a word to you.
You can feel it in every glance across the kitchen, every step in the hall, every time the front door opens and closes. He’s there, moving around the house, calm and composed as ever, but the silence between you? It’s deafening.
You try to keep yourself busy—laundry, dishes, scrolling mindlessly through your phone—but the tension follows you everywhere. Even sitting in your room, pretending to read, you can hear him talking to your mom in the living room, laugh light and easy, and it makes your chest tighten.
Your mom insists on taking Mrs. Lee and Heeseung to the city’s famous park for a “little sightseeing and fresh air,” and somehow, you’re drafted along.
“Come on,” your mom says, practically bouncing. “You’ll enjoy it! The weather’s perfect, and it’s not a usual thing that we all went out together!”
So here you are, in Heeseung’s car with your moms at the back chatting mindlessly, pointing out shops, telling stories, laughing easily, while you sit in the passenger’s seat and him driving beside you.
He doesn’t say much, just drives with that calm, effortless composure that makes your stomach twist in ways you’re not ready to name. Your mom and Mrs. Lee chatter nonstop behind you, oblivious to the tight coil of nerves in the seat beside him.
You glance at him occasionally, catching his profile in the sunlight, the way his hands rest lightly on the wheel, the faint line of concentration in his jaw. He doesn’t meet your eyes, but you can feel the awareness there, quiet, unspoken, like a weight pressing just enough to make you swallow hard.
“I hope you like walking,” your mom says suddenly from the back, as if reading your tension, “the park’s beautiful this time of year. Lots of trees, fountains—perfect for photos!”
“Yeah,” you murmur, keeping your voice neutral, though your chest is still tight.
Heeseung hums softly, not answering but shifting slightly in his seat, just enough that you notice.
The car slows, pulling into the park lot. Sunlight streams through the windshield, glinting off the pavement and the scattered autumn leaves. Your mom practically leaps out first, Mrs. Lee following close behind, both chattering excitedly.
You take a deep breath, adjusting your bag, and slide out of the car. Heeseung steps out after you, calm and measured, slipping into the rhythm of the park like he belongs there—yet you feel every step he takes, each one a quiet reminder that the past two days of silence haven’t lessened the tension between you.
As the group moves along the tree-lined path, your mom and Mrs. Lee wander ahead, comparing flowers and pointing out fountains. Heeseung falls in step beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, walking slightly behind but close enough that you can feel the space between you shrinking.
“Nice day,” he says finally, casual.
“Yeah,” you reply, voice careful. “Not too crowded either.”
He hums softly, and you feel that subtle glance he throws your way—quick, unobtrusive, but enough to make your stomach twist again.
The silence between words is heavy, but not hostile. It’s loaded. Sharp. And as you continue along the winding paths of the park, you realize these three days—and these stolen moments in the quiet—might be harder than anything you expected.
You barely get a chance to say more to him before your mom is already digging through her bag.
“Phone—where’s my phone?” she mutters, then brightens. “Oh! There it is.”
Mrs. Lee laughs beside her. “You’re just as excited as ever.”
“Of course I am,” your mom says. “When do we ever get everyone together like this?”
Everyone.
You glance at Heeseung without meaning to. He’s still looking around, taking the place in quietly, like he’s memorizing it. First time here. First time seeing your city like this.
“Alright,” your mom says, raising her phone. “Group photo first.”
You shuffle closer, standing beside Mrs. Lee. Heeseung ends up at the edge, half a step apart from you, hands in his pockets.
“Wait, no,” your mom frowns. “Heeseung, come closer. You’re getting cut out.”
He obeys, stepping in just enough that his shoulder brushes yours—brief, accidental, but it sends a jolt through you anyway.
Click.
“Again,” Mrs. Lee says. “That one was blurry.”
You barely have time to reset before your mom adds, “Okay, now just you two.”
“What?” you and Heeseung say at the same time.
“It’s nice to have one of the younger generation,” your mom insists. “For memories.”
You exchange a quick glance with him—too quick to mean anything, too loaded to be nothing.
“Just stand there and act normal!” your mom says.
Easier said than done.
You stand side by side this time, not touching, but close enough that you’re aware of his presence—his warmth, the way he’s careful not to move too suddenly.
“Smile,” your mom sings.
You do. Heeseung offers something polite, restrained.
Click.
“That’s nice,” Mrs. Lee says warmly. “You both look good.”
You almost laugh at that.
As your mom reviews the photos, muttering happily to herself, you step back without thinking. Heeseung does the same.
You don’t make it five steps more into the park before your mom stops again.
“Wait—stand there,” she says, already lifting her phone. “The trees look really nice from this angle.”
Mrs. Lee nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, the lighting is beautiful.”
You exchange a look with Heeseung. Not a look—just a flicker. A silent here we go.
Click.
You start walking again. Ten steps this time.
“Oh!” your mom gasps. “The fountain—Heeseung, you’ll love this. You two, go stand near it.”
“We just took one,” you say weakly. “That was over there,” she replies, like it explains everything.
So you move again, standing side by side while people pass behind you. Heeseung keeps his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression neutral. You keep your arms crossed, suddenly very aware of where you’re standing.
Click. Click.
Mrs. Lee laughs. “You look very natural together.”
You almost choke on air.
The walk continues. The photos do too.
By the flower beds.
Near the bridge.
In front of the pond.
Each time, your mom adjusts angles, steps back, waves you closer, tells you to smile more, tilt your head, stand straighter.
“You don’t have to look so tense,” she tells you at one point.
You laugh, tight. “I’m fine.”
Heeseung glances at you then, quick and unreadable.
At some point, he murmurs quietly, just for you, “If we keep this up, we’ll have enough photos for a family album.”
You blink, surprised.
“…I’m sorry,” you mutter. “She gets like this.”
He hums. “I noticed.”
There’s no edge in his voice. No teasing. Just observation.
Another photo.
Your shoulder brushes his this time, accidental. Neither of you move away immediately.
Click.
“Perfect!” your mom says.
You step away first.
The walk goes on, but your nerves don’t settle. If anything, they tighten with every forced smile, every staged moment, every second you’re made to look like something you’re very much not.
And the worst part?
Heeseung never once complains.
He just keeps walking beside you—calm, composed—letting the photos pile up like quiet evidence of something neither of you is ready to name.
You make it halfway up the stone path before it happens.
“Wait—wait, here,” your mom says suddenly, already lifting her phone again. “This spot is perfect. The water, the rocks—very scenic.”
You glance down at where she’s pointing and feel a flicker of hesitation. The stones near the edge of the stream are uneven, damp from the spray of the fountain nearby. The drop isn’t dramatic, but it’s enough to make you cautious.
“I don’t think that’s—” you start.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Mrs. Lee says cheerfully. “Just be careful.”
Famous last words.
You step forward anyway, because of course you do. Because this is not the hill you’re dying on today.
Heeseung follows a step behind you, quiet as always.
“Stand just there,” your mom says, framing the shot. “Yes, yes—perfect.”
You shift your weight slightly to adjust your footing.
And then your shoe slips.
It happens fast—too fast for you to catch yourself. One second you’re steady, the next the ground tilts and your stomach drops, breath punching out of you as you instinctively reach for anything.
Strong hands grab your arm.
Another slides to your waist, firm and immediate, pulling you back before you can even gasp.
You stumble—not forward, not down—but straight into him.
Your back hits his chest, solid and warm, his grip tightening just enough to keep you upright. For half a second, you’re frozen there, heart racing, fingers clutching at his sleeve.
He’s close. Too close.
You can feel his breath near your ear, feel the tension in his hold, the way his body adjusts automatically to steady yours.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice low—meant only for you.
You nod, a little too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I—thanks.”
He doesn’t let go immediately.
Just long enough to make sure you’re steady.
Just long enough for the moment to stretch thin and dangerous.
“Careful,” he murmurs, almost instinctively.
Then—click.
“Oh my goodness!” your mom exclaims. “That was scary! But—oh, wait. Hold on.”
You stiffen.
“That one looked nice,” Mrs. Lee says, peering at the phone. “Very… natural.”
You finally step away, cheeks burning, suddenly very aware of how his hands had been on you, how easily he’d caught you, how familiar it felt in a way that made your chest ache.
Heeseung straightens too, composure snapping back into place like nothing happened. Hands back in his pockets. Expression calm.
But when you dare glance at him, his eyes linger on you just a second longer than necessary.
Your mom laughs. “See? Good thing he was there. You’d have fallen otherwise.”
“Yeah,” you say, forcing a laugh. “Good thing.”
The walk continues, the photos continue, but something has shifted.
Your heart doesn’t slow down.
And every time Heeseung walks just a little closer after that, you can’t tell if it’s accidental—
—or if he’s making sure you won’t fall again.
…
After dinner, you decide to hog the living room all by yourself, continue binge watching another C-drama you have postponed watching for the longest time.
It’s almost midnight, the moms had already wished you goodnight. You smile to yourself at the very well-earned time to yourself.
Or not?
Heeseung appears at the bottom, slightly disheveled, hair tousled like he’s just run a hand through it one too many times. He’s in simple grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, the kind that clings just enough to show he didn’t bother thinking about how he looked.
His eyes are still half-lidded with sleep as they settle on the TV screen, expression calm.
He looks at you, before taking a seat.
“I watched this one.” He says softly. Voice hoarse with sleep.
“No spoilers, please.” You says, turning away to look at the TV. He laughs.
“Nothing too extreme, it’s a rom-com. Nothing can be a spoiler.” You clutch your heart, dramatically looking at him.
He shrugs. “What? It’s true. You know in the end they end up together.”
You sigh, leaning back. “Well, true that.” He lean back too, making your shoulders touch.
“Why did you wake up?” I look at him. “It’s barely midnight.”
“Can’t sleep. I mean, I kept waking up.” He replies, fingers tapping on his thigh. You nod, continue watching the romantic scenes on the TV.
“You enjoy stuffs like these?” He asks, not looking at you.
“Anything feel-good is enjoyable.”
“So the concept of romance, you like it?” He asks, carefully.
“Where are you going with this?” You look at him, eyes narrowing. He meets your gaze, his expression looking more earnest.
“Just wondering, if you’d like it in real life too.”
You scoff. “You and your nonstop bull—“
“Is it bullshit, really?” He asks, seriously this time. You felt your heart beating fast, you look away, just anywhere. Not sure where to look when he’s all up in your space like this.
“Evan.” You started,
“No, let me tell you this.” He straighten up, body now fully facing you, as he look directlt into your eyes.
“I’m sorry if I ever come up as pushy, talking about you with your mom, hinting at our past to her, making you feel things you don’t like, that wasn’t my intention.” He winces.
“I just…I just wanted to get to know you, really look at you. No dim lights of the bar, no dark night sky as we walk back to some hotel, and certainly no dark hotel room where I spent the whole night feeling good with the woman I knew nothing about.” He sighs.
“It’s just a one night stand, I get it.” He scoffs, “but what if I told you that I wanted more? That I regret waking up without your presence the next morning, how every sound you let out that night made me fantasize the sounds you’d make if it wasn’t casual?”
At this point, you were looking at him speechless. You’re not trusting your voice right now.
“Evan—“
“Heeseung.” He corrects. “Evan saw you first, but Heeseung fell for you.”
You fall silent again. Just staring at him like he didn’t just pour his heart out while you’re watching some corny C-drama.
“Say something. Anything.”
The TV continues playing, characters confessing under scripted rain.
But this?
This isn’t scripted.
And you’re not sure which feels scarier.
Your throat feels tight.
The drama’s background music swells dramatically, the male lead on screen confessing under artificial rain, but it feels distant—like white noise compared to the very real, very raw man sitting inches away from you.
You swallow.
“Heeseung…” you finally manage.
He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t interrupt. Just waits.
“You’re leaving in three days.”
It’s not the response he expected—but it’s the only one that makes sense in your head.
His jaw tightens slightly. “I know.”
“So what is this?” you ask, your voice quieter now. “You confess, we… what? Start something? And then you’re on the road back home in another city?”
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his already messy hair. “You think I haven’t thought about that?”
“I think you’re being impulsive,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it—just fear. “You’re here. It feels intense. Nostalgic. But when you go back—”
“It’s not nostalgia,” he says firmly.
The way he says it makes you pause.
“It wasn’t just that night,” he continues. “I’ve tried to brush it off. I’ve tried to tell myself it was just chemistry. But then I see you here. The way you argue. The way you laugh with your mom. The way you pretend you’re tougher than you are.”
You glare at him slightly. “I am tough.”
His lips twitch faintly. “I know.”
That softness again. It’s worse than teasing.
“I don’t expect you to promise me anything,” he says. “I just needed you to know that I’m not playing around.”
Your fingers tighten around the blanket.
“You don’t get to say all that and then expect me to just… be calm,” you whisper.
“I don’t want you calm,” he admits. “I want you honest.”
The word lands heavily.
Honest.
You look at him then—really look at him. There’s no arrogance. No flirtation. Just a quiet steadiness that makes your chest ache.
“You think this is easy for me?” you ask softly. “Seeing you in my house. At dinner. At the park. Acting like we didn’t—”
Your voice falters.
“Like we didn’t matter,” he finishes.
You nod.
Silence settles again, but it’s no longer suffocating. It’s fragile. Balanced on something sharp.
“I didn’t plan to fall for you,” he says quietly. “It just happened.”
Your heart pounds harder at that word.
Fall.
“You don’t even know me that well,” you argue weakly.
“Then let me,” he replies immediately.
That catches you off guard.
“Let me know you properly,” he says. “Not just the version from one night. Not just the version that pushes me away when things feel too real.”
Your breath hitches.
“You’re scared,” he says gently.
“Of course I am,” you admit, almost frustrated. “You’re leaving. I don’t do long distance. I don’t do uncertainty, I…certainly don’t just date from one good sex.”
“And I don’t do pretending I don’t care,” he counters.
The drama on the TV ends its confession scene with applause-worthy music. You grab the remote and mute it.
The silence now is entirely yours.
“What are you asking from me?” you whisper.
He leans a little closer—not touching, just closing the space enough that you feel his presence fully.
“A chance,” he says. “Not a guarantee. Just… don’t shut the door before we even try.”
Your pulse is loud in your ears.
Three days before he leaves.
Three days to either build something—or protect yourself from it.
You look at him, eyes searching, trying to find a reason to dismiss this as temporary emotion.
You don’t find one.
And that’s what terrifies you.
“Say something,” he murmurs again, softer now.
This time, you don’t look away. You stare at him for one long, overwhelming second.
Your heart is racing too fast. Your thoughts are colliding into each other. Three days. Confessions. “A chance.” It’s too much. Too sudden. Too real.
You stand up abruptly.
“I—I need time to think,” you say, words tumbling out before you can filter them.
Heeseung rises halfway from the couch instinctively. “Hey—”
But you’re already stepping back.
“I just… I can’t answer you right now,” you add quickly. “It’s a lot.”
His expression tightens, but he nods once. “Okay.”
You don’t wait for anything else.
You bolt down the hallway, heart pounding, shutting your bedroom door a little harder than necessary. You lean against it, breath uneven.
Why now?
Why three days before he leaves?
Why does it feel like if you answer wrong, you’ll lose something you didn’t even realize you were holding?
You slide down against the door and press your palms to your eyes. You needed time. You just didn’t expect it to feel like this.
The next morning smells like butter and coffee.
You frown, your mom does not wake up early on weekends.
You shuffle out of your room, still half-asleep, hair messy, expecting silence. Instead, you hear the sound of a pan sizzling. You blink.
Heeseung is in the kitchen.
Sleeves slightly rolled, apron tied awkwardly around his waist (clearly borrowed), hair still soft and unruly from sleep—but this time he looks very awake.
Focused.
Your mom and Mrs. Lee are seated at the table, watching him like he’s some kind of five-star chef.
“He insisted,” your mom says the moment she sees you. “Said we should let him cook.”
He glances up at you.
Not smug, not teasing. Just steady.
“Morning,” he says.
You clear your throat. “Morning.”
He turns back to the stove. “Scrambled eggs or sunny side up?”
You blink. “What?”
“For you,” he clarifies. “How do you like your eggs?”
Your mom gasps softly. “He even asked me what you usually eat.”
You shoot her a look.
He continues like this is completely normal. “I made toast too. And there’s fruit.”
You step closer to the counter, still confused. “Since when do you cook?”
“Since always,” he replies casually. “You just didn’t stay long enough to see.”
Your ears burn, looking over to your moms if they notice it, they don’t.
He plates the food carefully—neatly, intentionally—and sets it in front of you first before sitting down.
That alone makes your stomach flip.
He doesn’t bring up last night.
Doesn’t push.
Doesn’t corner you.
Instead, he talks to your mom about the park photos. Asks his about souvenirs to bring home. Clears plates without being asked.
Too proactive.
Suspiciously proactive.
When your mom mentions needing to run errands later, he immediately says, “I can drive.”
When Mrs. Lee talks about wanting to visit a bakery nearby, he says, “Let’s go after breakfast.”
You watch him the entire time.
He’s not performing.
He’s consistent.
Intentional.
When your mom leaves the table to grab something from her room, and Mrs. Lee follows, you’re briefly alone in the kitchen.
He stands by the sink, rinsing dishes.
“You don’t have to… do all this,” you say quietly. He doesn’t turn around immediately.
“I know,” he replies then glances at you over his shoulder.
“But I want to.” There’s no pressure in his voice, just effort.
You swallow.
“You said you needed time,” he continues calmly. “I’m giving it to you.” The water runs softly between you.
“But I’m not going to act like I didn’t say what I said.” Your pulse stutters.
“I meant it,” he adds. “So I’ll act like I meant it.”
You stare at him and he turns the tap off and dries his hands slowly.
“I’m leaving in three days,” he says. “I don’t want to waste them pretending.”
And somehow, that hits harder than the confession itself.
…
From the moment breakfast ends, he doesn’t leave your side. Not in a suffocating way. Not hovering. Just… present.
When your mom asks you to help bring laundry out to dry, he’s already reaching for the basket before you can. When you struggle with the stubborn sliding door, he steps in quietly, fixing it without making a show of it.
“You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” you mutter at one point, adjusting the clothespins.
“I’m not following you,” he replies lightly. “I’m staying here temporarily too, remember?”
You glance at him. He looks almost amused—but there’s intention behind it.
Later, when you head to the small grocery store nearby because your mom forgot coriander, he walks beside you without even asking if he should come.
The afternoon sun is warm. The air smells like pavement and fried snacks from a stall down the street.
“So,” he says casually, hands in his pockets. “What did you want to be when you were younger?”
You blink. “What?”
“When you were eight. Ten. What was the dream?” You huff softly. “That’s random.”
“It’s not,” he says. “It tells me things.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You analyzing me now?”
“Maybe.”
You roll your eyes—but you answer anyway.
“I wanted to be a novelist,” you admit. “I used to write stories. Cringey ones.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “You still write?”
You hesitate. “…Rarely now, in my notebooks in my apartment, or my notes app.”
“Why’d you stop wanting to be it?”
The question is gentle. Not invasive. Just curious. You shrug. “Reality. Expectations. It didn’t feel practical.”
He nods slowly, absorbing that like it matters.
“It still matters,” he says after a moment.
You glance at him. “What does?”
“The fact that you wanted to create something.”
Your chest tightens slightly.
He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t brush it off. Just lets it sit there like it’s important.
Back home, when your mom asks you to help reorganize some old boxes in the storage room, he follows again.
It’s dusty. Warm. Dim.
You crouch down to open a box of old photo albums. He kneels beside you, shoulder nearly brushing yours.
“That’s you?” he asks, picking up a picture of you at maybe twelve years old, hair shorter, smile wider.
You snatch it lightly. “Don’t judge.”
“I’m not,” he says. And he isn’t. He studies the photo like he’s memorizing it.
“You looked happy.”
“I was a kid.”
“And now?”
You look at him sharply. “What’s with the interrogation?”
“I told you,” he reminds you quietly. “I want to know you.”
There’s no rush in his tone. No desperation.
Just steadiness.
The day continues like that.
When you wash dishes, he dries them.
He asks about your university. Your friends. What stresses you out. What makes you laugh. What kind of music you secretly listen to when you’re alone.
At one point, he says, “You hum when you’re focused.”
You freeze. “I do not.”
“You do,” he insists softly. “You were doing it while cutting fruit earlier.”
You didn’t even realize.
“The thing you do with your hand? That too.” He points out, while taking your hand, opening it and see the crescent marks on your palm.
“You notice too much,” you murmur.
He doesn’t deny it.
“Someone has to,” he replies.
The living room is dim, only the lamp by the window casting a warm glow across the space. The TV is on but forgotten, some late-night rerun playing to fill the silence.
You’re curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under you. Heeseung sits beside you—not too close, not too far—close enough that you’re aware of him without feeling crowded.
He’s been quieter tonight. Observing.
“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.
You glance at him warily. “You’ve been doing that all day.”
A faint smile. “Humor me.”
You sigh. “Fine.” Only because you can’t resist his charming smile.
“That night,” he says carefully, “why were you really there?”
You stiffen slightly. “At the bar?”
“In another city. On a random weekend.”
“It wasn’t random,” you reply automatically.
He waits.
You stare at the muted TV screen for a long moment before answering.
“I party a lot with my friends,” you say finally.
He doesn’t react. Just listens. “More than people expect,” you add.
“Why?” he asks softly.
You let out a small breath through your nose. “Because it’s loud.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Because when the music’s blasting and the lights are flashing and everyone’s moving,” you continue, “I can’t hear my own thoughts.”
The honesty surprises even you.
He doesn’t interrupt.
“You know how exhausting job hunting is?” you ask quietly. “Applications. Tailoring your resume for every company. Writing cover letters that feel fake. Preparing for interviews. Smiling. Selling yourself.”
His expression shifts—more focused now.
“And then the emails,” you continue, voice flattening. “‘We regret to inform you.’ ‘After careful consideration.’ ‘We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.’”
You laugh softly, but there’s no humor in it.
“Sometimes they don’t even reply.”
Silence stretches.
“It gets to you,” you admit. “You start wondering what’s wrong with you. If you’re not good enough. If everyone else is moving ahead while you’re just… stuck.”
He doesn’t look away.
“So yeah,” you shrug lightly, though your chest feels tight. “I party.”
“To forget?” he asks.
“To breathe,” you correct.
You shift slightly, hugging your knees closer.
“When I’m out with my friends, I’m not the girl refreshing her email at 2 a.m. I’m not the candidate who didn’t make it to the final round. I’m just… me.”
He studies you carefully.
“And that’s why you were in another city.”
You nod.
“We’d just gotten two rejections that week,” you admit. “Back-to-back. I felt so stupid for getting my hopes up.”
Your voice lowers.
“So we booked a cheap place, took a train, and told ourselves we deserved one reckless weekend.”
“You call it reckless,” he says quietly. “But you sound calculated.”
You frown slightly. “What?”
“You didn’t go there to ruin yourself,” he says. “You went there to survive.”
That makes you blink.
“I like dancing,” you add quickly, deflecting. “I like dressing up. I like feeling wanted without having to prove I’m competent or impressive.”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly at that word.
“Wanted.”
“It’s simple,” you say. “No resumes. No interviews. No expectations beyond having fun.”
“And me?” he asks gently.
You swallow.
“You weren’t part of the plan,” you admit.
His eyes don’t leave yours.
“I wasn’t looking for something serious,” you continue. “It was easier that way. Temporary city. Temporary connection. No future to mess up.”
“You think you mess things up?” he asks.
You give him a look. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m not,” he says evenly. “I’m trying to understand.”
You hesitate.
“When you don’t get chosen enough,” you say slowly, “you stop expecting to be.”
The words hang in the air.
He goes very still.
“That night,” you continue, quieter now, “I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. I just wanted to feel good. To not think about rejection emails. To not feel like I was behind in life.”
“And I was… what?” he asks softly.
“A distraction,” you answer honestly.
The word lands heavy.
But before he can retreat into it, you add—
“A good one.”
His gaze sharpens slightly.
“You were easy,” you explain. “Not in a bad way. You didn’t interrogate me. You didn’t act like you were doing me a favor. You just… were there.”
He exhales slowly.
“And when I woke up alone,” he says quietly, “it didn’t feel temporary.”
You look at him.
“I didn’t want to be just a distraction,” he continues. “I wanted to be something that stayed.”
Your heart stutters.
You look away first. “I don’t know how to let things stay,” you admit.
“Because you’re used to them leaving?” he asks.
The vulnerability in the room shifts everything.
He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t crowd you. He just sits there, steady.
“You party to break free,” he says after a moment. You nod.
“I’m not here to take that away from you.”
You glance at him cautiously.
“But I don’t want to be another escape,” he continues. “I want to be something you choose even when the music stops.”
Your chest tightens again.
Outside, the night is quiet. No music. No flashing lights. No crowd to drown out your thoughts.
Just him.
And the terrifying possibility that this time, you won’t be the one walking away before you can be rejected.
The room feels smaller after that.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The lamp beside the couch casts a soft golden glow across his face, catching in his eyes. The TV is still muted, forgotten entirely now. Outside, the world is quiet—no music, no city noise, no chaos to hide behind.
Just you.
And him.
“I don’t know how to let things stay,” you admit again, softer this time. “Nor how to stay.”
He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just watches you like your words matter.
“Then don’t decide forever,” he says gently. “Just decide now.”
Your heart pounds.
“That’s how it starts,” you whisper. “Now turns into later. Later turns into expectations.”
“And expectations scare you,” he says.
“They fail,” you correct.
He studies you for a long moment. Then he shifts closer—not abruptly, not cornering—just enough that the space between your knees and his disappears.
“I’m not an interview,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to impress me.”
Your throat tightens.
“I already like you,” he continues. “On your stressed days. On your stubborn days. On the days you party too hard to feel free.”
You huff softly. “I don’t party too hard, I still control myself.”
He almost smiles. “You know what I mean.”
The tenderness in his voice makes your chest ache.
“You don’t have to earn staying,” he says.
The words hit somewhere deep.
You look at him, really look at him. His hair is still slightly messy from earlier. He’s not styled, not composed like the first night you met. He’s just… him.
And he’s looking at you like you’re not temporary.
Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving.”
“In two days,” he says.
“And then?”
“Then we figure it out,” he replies. “Or we try. Or we fail. But at least we won’t be wondering.”
Your breathing feels uneven.
He lifts his hand slowly, like he’s giving you time to pull away.
When you don’t, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek.
The touch is soft. Careful.
Nothing like that first night.
That night was heat and impulse and dim lights and stolen glances.
This is quiet.
Intentional.
His thumb traces gently along your jawline, barely there. You feel your pulse everywhere at once.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You swallow.
He doesn’t laugh at you.
Doesn’t tease.
His hand shifts slightly, cupping your cheek fully now. Warm. Steady.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.
You don’t.
Instead, you lean in first.
It’s small. Barely an inch, but it closes the distance.
His breath brushes your lips before they meet. Slow. Careful. Testing.
When he kisses you, it isn’t rushed.
It isn’t hungry.
It’s soft.
Like he’s asking a question.
Your fingers clutch lightly at the fabric of his T-shirt without thinking. The kiss deepens just slightly—not intense, not overwhelming—just enough to make your heart feel like it might burst.
He pulls back a fraction, forehead resting against yours.
His voice is low. Almost unsteady.
“This isn’t an escape,” he says.
You nod faintly, breath mingling with his.
“I know.”
He kisses you again.
This time with more certainty.
Not claiming. Not demanding.
Choosing.
Your hand slides up to the back of his neck, fingers threading lightly into his hair. He exhales softly against your lips, one hand moving to your waist—secure, but not pulling you in without permission.
The world outside the living room feels nonexistent.
No rejection emails.
No interviews.
No expectations.
Just this moment.
When you finally pull back, your lips feel warm, your thoughts scattered.
“Now,” he murmurs softly, echoing his earlier words.
You let out a shaky breath.
“Now,” you repeat.
And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like something you’re running from.
It feels like something you’re choosing.
The living room feels impossibly small after that kiss. Your pulse is racing, every nerve on fire, yet your mind is dizzy in a way that makes thinking impossible.
Heeseung pulls back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, and you can feel the warmth of him everywhere. For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the air thick with unsaid words.
“I—” you start, but your voice falters.
“I’ve got you,” he says suddenly, firm but gentle. His hands slide under your arms, and before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly.
Your stomach flips. “Heeseung! Put me down!” you squeak, half-laughing, half-panicking, but you don’t resist.
“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the side of your temple as he carries you toward your room. His voice is low, intimate, and the closeness makes your chest tighten even more.
Your room feels impossibly far and yet too close. The walls, the soft glow of your lamp, the familiar smell of your space—all of it is suddenly charged.
He sets you down gently on your bed, but the tension doesn’t leave. His hands linger near your waist, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your shirt. You feel the deliberate weight of his gaze on you, assessing, quiet, patient.
“Are you… okay with this?” he asks, voice husky but careful, and you can’t tell if he’s asking about the kiss, being alone together, or everything.
You swallow hard, your pulse loud in your ears. “I—I think so,” you admit, your words trembling just enough to betray your certainty.
He shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on the mattress near yours. You’re inches apart, every movement amplified. The air feels electric, charged with anticipation and heat.
His eyes trace your face slowly, almost like he’s memorizing every line, every shadow. “You’re warm,” he murmurs, voice softer now, almost a whisper.
Your breath catches. The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. Your fingers twitch at the edge of the blanket, trying to ground yourself, but he leans in, closing the space further.
His hand moves to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, brushing against your jaw as he does. You feel your own hands rise, unconsciously resting on his forearm. The intimacy is subtle, teasing—every touch deliberate, careful, yet charged with something unspoken.
“You’ve been on my mind,” he admits quietly, gaze locking with yours. “All day. Since breakfast. Even when we were doing the dishes… I couldn’t stop thinking.”
Your chest tightens. The honesty in his tone, combined with the nearness, makes your head spin. “Maybe you also have been lingering in my head all along for the past two months.”
“I—” you start, but he leans in closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s slower, deliberate, exploratory—but there’s a hunger there too, restrained yet unmistakable.
Your hands find his chest, fingers brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the solid warmth underneath. The kiss deepens slightly, teasing, suggestive, daring—but still measured.
He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, reading your reaction, searching for consent in your gaze. Your pulse is racing, your thoughts scattered, but the answer is clear in the flutter of your heartbeat.
His lips hover over yours again, close enough that you can feel the warmth and breath, and for a moment, nothing else exists: no hesitation, no past regrets, just the two of you, the quiet room, and the thrilling, dangerous pull of something more.
And then he whispers, low and husky, “Do you trust me?”
Your answer is a shiver, a nod, a soft, “Yes,” barely audible—but it’s enough.
The air between you thickens, charged with a suggestion, a promise, a question that doesn’t need words—because the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s close enough to touch, it says it all.
…
Morning comes softly.
Not with alarms. Not with loud footsteps downstairs.
Just sunlight.
It slips through the thin gap in your curtains, warm and golden, stretching slowly across your walls, across your desk, across the edge of your bed.
You blink awake gradually, consciousness returning in pieces.
The warmth against your back registers first.
Then the weight around your waist.
Then the steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing.
Your heart stutters.
Heeseung.
His arm is draped securely around you, palm resting flat against your stomach like it belongs there. Your back is pressed lightly to his chest, his face buried somewhere near the back of your neck, breath warm against your skin.
For a second, you don’t move, you just lie there and lets the reality settle.
Last night wasn’t loud or reckless or fleeting. It wasn’t dim bar lights and alcohol-blurred edges.
It was slow.
Intentional.
You remember how careful he was. How he kept checking in. How he looked at you like this wasn’t just physical.
Your cheeks warm at the memory.
Behind you, he shifts slightly. His arm tightens instinctively when you move.
“Mmm,” he hums, voice thick with sleep. “Don’t go.” You freeze.
“I’m not,” you whisper, even though you hadn’t actually planned to.
He exhales softly against your shoulder, clearly not fully awake yet. His fingers flex slightly against your waist, like he’s grounding himself.
The sunlight climbs higher.
You slowly turn your head just enough to glance at him.
His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. No guarded composure. No teasing edge.
Just him.
Peaceful.
He blinks awake a moment later, eyes adjusting slowly.
There’s a brief second of confusion.
Then recognition.
Then something softer.
“Morning,” he murmurs. Your heart flips.
“Morning.”
Neither of you moves away.
Neither of you makes it awkward.
He studies your face like he’s making sure you’re real. Like he half-expected to wake up alone again. “You’re still here,” he says quietly.
You swallow. “So are you.” A small smile touches his lips.
He lifts a hand, brushing his thumb gently along your cheekbone. Not suggestive. Not urgent. Just… tender.
“Regrets?” he asks carefully.
You consider it. The sunlight. The warmth. The quiet. His arm still wrapped around you.
“No,” you answer honestly.
Relief flickers across his face so subtly you almost miss it.
“Good,” he murmurs.
Silence settles again, but it’s comfortable.
You’re suddenly aware of the house. Of your mom downstairs. Of Mrs. Lee probably already awake.
Reality creeping back in.
“We should probably get up,” you say softly. He groans lightly. “Five more minutes.”
You roll your eyes, but you don’t move. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your waist absentmindedly.
“Last night,” he begins quietly, “wasn’t just… heat.”
You turn slightly to face him more fully now, the blanket shifting around you.
“I know,” you reply. His eyes search yours.
“I meant what I said,” he continues. “About wanting more.”
The weight of it is still there. But this time, it doesn’t feel suffocating. It feels steady.
You reach out, brushing a piece of hair away from his forehead. “I’m still scared,” you admit.
“That’s okay,” he says immediately.
“But I don’t want to run,” you add.
Something shifts in his expression—something hopeful. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly. “One step at a time.”
He leaves tomorrow.
But right now, he’s here.
Warm. Real. Looking at you like you’re not temporary.
His hand slides into yours under the blanket, fingers intertwining slowly.
SEPTEMBER 2025
Three months later, your apartment feels both fuller and emptier at the same time.
Fuller — because his hoodie is draped over the back of your chair. Because there’s a mug he likes that you bought “accidentally.” Because your call logs are filled with his name. Because there’s a toothbrush tucked into the corner of your sink like it belongs there.
Emptier — because right now, he isn’t here.
Long distance wasn’t glamorous.
It was: falling asleep on video call, propping your phone against your pillow just to see his face, texting “reach home safe” every long rides he takes back home, syncing up dramas and pressing play at the same time,
It was him visiting every three weeks without fail. No excuses.
He comes by Friday night, spends the weekend before saying goodbye Sunday night. Sometimes with a small bouquet.
Sometimes with your favorite snacks.
Once with nothing but a tired smile and open arms.
And every time he left, the goodbye got quieter. Less dramatic. More heavy.
But you were trying. Both of you were.
Tonight, you’re expecting him again.
You’d cleaned the apartment earlier, even though he’s seen it messy before. There’s a faint scent of citrus from the candle you lit. Your heart always beats a little faster on visit days.
When the knock finally comes, you don’t pretend to be calm. You open the door.
Heeseung stands there with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
And that smile, the one that makes three weeks feel like three seconds.
You don’t even greet him properly—you just step forward and hug him. He laughs softly, arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you slightly off the ground for a brief second.
“I missed you too,” he murmurs into your hair. When you pull back, you notice something. He looks… different.
Not physically.
But there’s a weight behind his eyes.
“What?” you ask immediately. He exhales lightly. “Can I come in first?” You narrow your eyes but step aside.
He drops his bag near the couch, looks around your apartment like he always does—taking it in, grounding himself.
You close the door.
“Okay,” you say, crossing your arms. “What’s going on?”
He runs a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize.
“I have news,” he says. Your stomach drops slightly.
“Good news?” you ask cautiously.
He hesitates just enough to make your heart pound.
“I’m moving.” The word hangs in the air.
Your mind scrambles. “Moving?” you repeat. “Where?”
He steps closer. “Here.”
You blink. “…What?”
“I got a transfer,” he continues, the words coming faster now. “There was an opening in the branch here. I applied a month ago.”
“A month ago?” you echo.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to promise something that might not happen.”
Your heart is racing now. “I got it,” he says quietly. “It’s finalized.” Silence fills your apartment.
“You’re… moving here?” you whisper.
He nods. “I don’t want to do long distance anymore,” he says. “Not when I don’t have to.”
Your brain is still catching up.
“But your mom? Your place? Producing?”
“She supports it,” he replies. “And my job is still my job. Just different location.”
You stare at him.
“You did this… because of me?”He steps closer until there’s barely space between you.
“I did this because I want a life where I don’t count down weeks just to see you,” he says. “Because I don’t want to miss small things. Your bad interview days. Your random 2 a.m. thoughts. Your victories.”
Your throat tightens. “I don’t want to visit you,” he continues softly. “I want to be here.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes before you can stop them.
“You’re serious,” you whisper.
He cups your face gently, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.
“I’ve never been more serious.”
Your laugh comes out shaky. “You’re insane.”
“Probably,” he admits. “But I’m yours.”
more evan • support my work
note: freaking finally! i know i promised you guys this a month ago, and yes i’m alive. just wanted to wrap things up with my semester and have a small break after stressing out for finals, but alas! here we are! first work kinda nervous >< hope u guys love it!
Heeseung as a tired boyfriend is upsetting you more than you realise.
Heeseung x gf!reader — angstish with a lot of comfort because we need it
I got inspired from that one Spotify interview where they played desire or deny and when they were asked about ‘a stroll under the full moon’ Heeseung answered with deny, saying “girls… I gotta go to sleep.” He was so cheeky and cute 😆
Only his soft snores alongside the noise from the movie you had been watching together filled the room.
You slightly lifted your head from his chest, careful not to startle him. His hand which was previously buried in your hair and massaged your head had slipped off. “Baby?” You called out for him softly.
His snores continued, chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern under your hand. Leaning forward, you placed a soft kiss on his jaw. No response. You tried again by kissing the corner of his jaw, right next to his ear where you knew he was sensitive. He grunted and buried his face in his hoodie, still completely knocked out. You bit your lip to suppress a chuckle, kissing along his neck and jaw. “Baby~” you kissed his cheek, “wake up, my love. You can’t sleep here, baby.” Now you were trailing your kisses to his chin and nose, purposefully missing out on his soft, kissable lips.
His eyes fluttered, he looked at you with a dazed vision. “Hm?” Heavy eyes met yours.
"Baby, you can't sleep here, my love." You rubbed your nose against his. He didn't respond right away. His hand buried in your hair again and pulled you closer to him. You gasped softly, the strenght in your arms giving out. You fell right on his body, now completely sprawled over him. His cheek rubbed on your forehead as he pressed your face into the crook of his neck which was covered by his hoodie.
"You woke me up." He complained with a rough voice, softness seeping through when he wrapped his other arm tighter around your waist.
"I'm sorry, bambi." You kissed his hamster like cheek, the nickname you gave him melted his heart everytime. "I wish I could carry you to bed, but you're too heavy for me." Heeseung chuckled under his breath, eyelids fighting against sleep. "That would be weird...", he murmured, exhaustion never vanishing from his voice.
"I don't like to be woken up," he started lazily, "but if it's you waking me up with kisses like this..." he pulled you further into his embrace, "then it’s okey."
You looked up, cheeks flushed due to warmth of candles and the fireplace breathing through your apartment. His heart fluttered at the sight. Softness bloomed through his veins, his eyes, though still heavy with drowsiness, now shimmered with fondness and affection.
You kissed his chin, "I'm glad you're giving your girlfriend this privilige," you giggled. His eyes softened even more. "Always,” he whispered more to himself than to you.
"Let's go to-" you yelped when Heeseung pulled you back to him as you were about to lift yourself up from his body.
"Hee-" You were cut off by a kiss on your lips. You sighed softly, his hand tilting your head so he could aim your soft lips accurately. Your body melted into his all over again.
“You forgot to kiss me here.” He mumbled against your lips, eyes twinkling mischievously.
The warm glow across your cheeks deepened. “You’re so annoying,” you whispered back, ears getting hot and lips brushing his. “Let’s get ready for bed, silly.”
In bed, your head rested on Heeseung’s chest, now clothed in pyjamas and not his hoodie and sweatpants anymore. The comfortable and warm weight of your body on his soothed him steadily to sleep.
And when it suddenly disappeared, he groggily stirred awake. “Where you goin’?” His hand lazily reached out for you though you already had slipped away from his reach.
“I’m just getting a glass of water, baby,” you whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on the arch of his eyebrow. “Go back to sleep.”
He responded with a gibberish “hurry up” before his consciousness slowly slipped away. Even though he looked dead to the world, his subconscious was still alert to every sound from you. The footsteps tapping down the stairs, the light switch clicking, the cabinet door closing.
But then there was absolute silence.
A frown appeared on Heeseung’s face. He was still way too gone to actually wake up, but his instincts couldn’t ignore your ongoing absence. Unconsciously, he purred into his pillow in distress, his face burying in it as his arm stretched towards your side of the bed.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed through the house. You ripped the door open, but your boyfriend was now fast asleep.
“Oh my god! Heeseung! Wake up! You gotta see this!” You began as you crawled on the bed towards him. You shook him gently by his shoulders.
He grunted, face burying even further into his pillow.
“Baby, baby! Wake up!”
“Hm.”
“Baby, please~” You tried to lift him up, of course it was an unnecessary attempt — he didn’t budge one bit.
“Heeseung! You’re not gonna believe it! It’s snowing outside!”
“Hm?”
“It’s snowing!”
“M-hm.” He grunted in fake acknowledgment.
“Baby, please, you need to see it! It looks so beautiful!” You laid on top of him as you nestled your head next to his. “Please, please, please.”
“Mhmmm…” he grunted again, almost inaudible this time.
“Please~!” Your hands cupped his face. “Baby, please, wake up.” You pouted. Genuine hurt cracked through your voice. How could you enjoy the first snowfall of the year without your boyfriend? “You have to watch it with me…”
A quiet, frustrated whimper elicited from your throat. Defeated, you rested your head on his chest.
He was way too exhausted. He worked so much and so hard. There was no chance he would wake up after the back to back concerts he just had. For some reason, it brought tears to your eyes.
“Stupid boyfriend…” you pouted quietly, childishly, as you rubbed your face into his chest like a cat.
And somehow, his eyes fluttered open. “Hm?”
You were too lost in your tears, wetting his pyjama shirt and softly sniffling that you didn’t notice him stirring awake.
His hand flew up to your head in worry. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying, pretty?” His voice was deep and rough.
You gasped, head shooting up, “you woke up! Oh my god, Heeseung! You won’t believe this! It’s snowing outside!”
He blinked for a moment. Then a low chuckle escaped him, clearly taken by surprise, “yeah? That’s why you’re crying?” He gently pushed your hair behind your ear. His thumb swiped at the corner of your eye. You shook your head, but the stubborn tears managed to fill your eyes yet again.
“Then why is my big girl crying? Hm?”
“I- I don’t know.” You felt so silly. He’d definitely laugh at you if you told him.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just continued to stroke your cheekbone as he gazed at you with the softest eyes.
“You thought I died or something?”
You gasped a wet laugh. “What? No!” You slapped his chest.
A lazy smile spread across his face. Suddenly, he sat up and leaned against the headboard. He pulled you on his lap and cradled your head against his chest. His naked chest was peeking out of his unbuttoned shirt as he wrapped his arms around you trying to shield you from the cold world. Or anything that was making you cry. He pressed a kiss on your forehead and started rocking you slowly as if you were his baby.
“You said it’s snowing?” He asked after a while. He always talked to you very softly and cautiously, but whenever you were crying and vulnerable he became even more gentle. As if he was afraid you would break if he wasn’t careful enough.
You nodded frequently against his chest, doe and shimmery eyes glancing at him.
“Yeah?” He chuckled under his breath. He couldn’t help but find you so cute, so adorable at this moment. His heart squeezed in adoration. His hand cupped your soft cheek, stroking it gently.
For a while, he just gazed at you softly, taking his time to caress you and soak you in. He pressed a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered at his soft lips loving you, his kiss lingering on your skin even after he separated.
“You wanna watch the snowfall?” His voice was tender, as if he knew what and what not to say when you’re all vulnerable in his arms.
“Oh, yes!! Please, please, please!!” You nodded eagerly and quickly stood up. You took his hand to drag him towards the door and basically pulled him out of the sheets.
You were determined to share the most beautiful sight with the love of your life.
“Wait-“ he halted, tugging you back, his hair messy in the cutest and sleepiest way, “wait. Where are you going? Baby-“ he was so amused by your antics, “we have a window here, pretty.”
“Oh- No! We have to go downstairs, the view from the living room is a lot better!” You pulled him with you without any hesitation. His big and firmer hand wrapped around your smaller, soft one. His heart swelled up. He didn’t dare to protest, you were just the cutest being so he let you lead him to wherever your heart desired.
You gasped dramatically once you stood in front of the window. “Look at the view, Seungie!” You let go of his warm hand and pushed the curtains away to show him more of the view.
“Isn’t it so beautiful??” You awed with bright, sparkling eyes, hands on the cool glass as you watched the snowflakes dancing in the air.
Heeseung leaned against the big window, arms crossed as he hummed. His sleepy, sluggish demeanour was a huge contrast to your excited, giddy one. He sighed heavily, his head resting on the glass as the coolness seeped into his skin.
You whipped your head at him, “it’s so beautiful, isn’t it??” You tried again after he didn’t give an answer. He nodded lazily, barely managing to keep his eyes open. His eyes shifted to you, lingering on your bare arms and the way your body was trembling almost unnoticeably. But never unnoticed by him.
A disappointed, accusatory frown appeared on your face, “you’re not even looking, baby.”
A yawn escaped from his mouth as he lazily stretched his arms. He then pulled you into his embrace. His head rested comfortably on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around around your waist. Your hands automatically rested on his firm forearms. He pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder before rubbing his face against it, his movements were sluggish and lazy.
“ ‘m lookin” he mumbled against the crook of your neck. He looked up and kissed your cheek, arms tightening around you. One hand rubbed your chilled, naked arm, “ ‘s pretty”. He lingered a kiss on your neck. “So pretty,” he repeated before he rested his chin on your shoulder, his face half buried in your hair and neck.
You giggled excitedly, “I know!! The snow is soooo pretty.”
Heeseung chuckled under his breath and pressed himself further against your back, wrapping you even tighter in his arms.
“Really pretty,” he hummed.
He definitely wasn’t talking about the view. Matter of fact, when he had you in his arms like this, he couldn’t care less about some snow.
You let out an existed gasp, an idea striking you. You turned in his embrace. “Babe! Let’s go outside! The snow is still untouched, oh my god- this will be so fun!”
His eyebrows raised in surprised, “huh?”
“Please, please, please! A snowfall during the night is the best thing to experience!! You gotta trust me on this one!” Suddenly, you unwrapped yourself from his arms. You already made up your mind that you were going out with your boyfriend. At midnight. In the cold.
“Wait-“ his hand caught you before you were out of reach. “Baby-“ he chuckled softly, tired eyes flickering with amusement. “We can’t go outside- it’s midnight, baby.” His other hand wrapped around your waist.
“But that’s the point! You have to experience the first snowfall of the year outside. And during night it’s even more beautiful!”
“Baby-“ he pulled you closer to his chest, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb glided over your cheek as he shook his head subtly, “it’s very late-“
“But that’s the fun part-! Look it’s even full moon-!”
He shook his head yet again, “babygirl… I gotta go to sleep…”
Your shoulders sagged visibly, “oh-“
His tired eyes continued to look at you with the fondest expression. “We gotta sleep, hm? It’s late. I have work tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead, “we can do this another time. Let’s go to bed for now.”
Your heart tightened at that. Another time.
That’s what he always told you.
Always ‘another time’.
Always ‘I have no time’.
Always ‘I’m too tired’.
Your throat tightened painfully. You always have work. The words lingered on your tongue. But you held yourself back.
He is tired. Don’t be selfish. You reminded yourself.
You blinked your eyes repeatedly before he could notice. You merely nodded, feeling already hopeless and defeated.
When you were settled back in your bed, you somehow managed to lie furthest away from him. Usually, you would always have some kind of closeness when falling asleep — hands intertwined, bodies spooning, legs tangled together, his hand on your waist, or your feet nestled between his legs — whatever it was, your bodies were always touching.
At first, he didn’t think much of it — sleep already fogging his mind as soon as his head hit the pillow.
“Love you, pretty. G’night.” He murmured sleepily. Your back was facing him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him because of the painful lump forming in your throat. You couldn’t shift closer to your boyfriend. Not because you were mad at him, of course not — he never gave you a reason to be angry at him. But you couldn’t help but feel hurt. The pain in your heart was just hurting too much. And you knew that as soon as you get in his warm embrace you would start crying.
Suddenly, his strong arm wrapped around your waist and swiftly pulled you across the bed to his chest. He buried his face in your hair, “I said I Iove you, baby.” He repeated in a low tone.
Your lips began to tremble. A single teardrop slid down your temple. He pressed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, “why’re you not answerin’? My princess ‘s already sleepin’?” His hand splayed across your stomach, your back resting warmly against his chest. “Hm?” You shook your head.
“What’s the matter, baby? Are you mad at me?” Your heart ached at his soft tone. It hurt you even more to hear that he thought you were mad at him.
You shook your head again, mumbling a wet, “‘course not.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong. Why’s my pretty princess not answering me?”
And that’s all that it took. You turned around in his embrace and just started sobbing. His warmth and gentle way with you were enough for you to break.
His doe eyes widened, “why, why, why??” His arms tightened immediately in a protective manner as you buried your face in his chest, your shoulders shaking.
“What- baby, baby. What’s wrong?? Why are you crying??” That made you cry even more. Causing his heart to ache even more. “What’s wrong??”
“I- I hate your j-job.” You choked on your tears, he couldn’t even understand it.
“What?” The crease between his eyebrows intensified.
“I hate your job!” You repeated louder, though it was muffled by his chest.
“What-?” He laughed softly, his hand came up to caress your head as the other spread out on your back protectively. “You hate my job? Why?”
“Cause- cause-“ you hesitated, “you’re constantly tired and sleepy!”
His heart melted in real time. “Awww~ baby…” he laid his cheek on your head. “Is this why you were crying earlier too?”
You nodded against his chest, pouting. “I saw the snow and came to tell you because I wanted to watch the snowfall with you, but- but you weren’t waking up no matter how much I tried. And it- it makes me so sad to see you so exhausted, and- and work so hard that- that you’re too tired to do stuff like that with me. We-we already spent so little time together and whenever we’re together you’re just too tired and just sleeping. I- I hate that job of y-yours. I- I hate seeing you so- so tired and exhausted.” You hiccuped, your tears stained his shirt as you clutched onto it tightly.
He caressed your hair, trying to calm you down. He cooed, “I’m sorry, baby.” He kissed your forehead. You snuggled further into him in response. “I’m sorry for not waking up. I didn’t know you loved the snow this much.” You shook your head at that, “no, Heeseung. It’s not about the snow- it’s- it’s about-“ you couldn’t explain any further, not finding the words as you sobbed loudly.
His arms tightened around, wanting to ground your trembling body. “Baby…” he murmured worriedly.
“Shh…” he hushed in your ear, “it’s okey, it’s okey. Let it out, hm?” He patted your back soothingly. His heart ached so painfully seeing you so upset. He had never seen you this distraught, he knew that there must another reason — you were hiding something else from him.
“Baby…” he kissed your temple, mumbling against it, “it’s okey, I’m here. Hm? I’m here.” He didn’t understand why but somehow that made you cry even harder, your tears didn’t seem to have an end. He couldn’t bear to listen to it any longer, his heart was tearing at every sob.
He cupped your cheek to tilt your face to him. “Hey, hey, hey, baby. What’s wrong? Why are you crying so much…? You’re breaking my heart, babygirl.” He kissed your swollen eyelids, one by one. Then your reddish nose, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t cry… please.” You sniffled softly, slowly calming down due to his gentle kisses and soft tone. He always spoke so gently with you.
“What’s wrong, princess? Did something else happen?” He tried, his hand caressing your cheek as the other held you close to him. You hiccuped under your breath, trying to calm down. You shook your head in denial, but he saw right through you. He tilted his head softly, doe eyes waiting patiently for you. Your lower lip jutted out as the corners of your lips went down.
“Come on, princess. Tell me. You need to tell me what’s making you upset.” He pecked the corner of your sad lips.
You hesitated for a moment. “A few days ago…” you started, he nodded immediately, his bambi eyes encouraging you, “I mean- a few nights ago, I had a dream-“ your eyes filled with tears, “I dreamed that you- that you left- left me.” A sob left your mouth, the tears blurred your vision again. His eyebrows furrowed instantly.
“I dreamed that you left- left me. Out of nowhere. It was so sudden and unexpected. In my dream, I woke up to text messages from you where you said that you had other dreams and that being with me was getting in your way of achieving them.” You hiccuped, the pain resurfaced saying it out loud like that. Your voice became timid: “You told me that our relationship was holding you back from chasing your dreams.”
“Oh princess…” he buried your wet face in his neck. But you continued: “And then you told me that you’re too tired to balance a career and a relationship and that- that you love your career… more than me-“ you sobbed louder towards the end.
He patted your trembling body, “hey… it was just a dream. Hm? Just a dream, my princess. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes became glassy, he couldn’t bear the imagination of leaving you. Hearing you talk about it ripped his heart apart into million pieces.
He kissed the top of your head as you wetted his neck, sobbing and sobbing. “I’m not leaving you, princess. Never.” His hand smoothed over your trembling back, the other never leaving the back of your head, “it was just a dream...”
“But- but it felt so real.” You sobbed.
“I know. I know.” He murmured against your temple, lips lingering there to soothe you. “But I’m here. You’re in my arms. I’m never leaving you.” He pulled away a little to look at your tear streaked face. “I hate seeing you cry like this.” He spoke as he wiped the tears away. “That Heeseung in your dream? He is stupid, okey? He is not me,” he kissed your forehead, “never will be me. He is just a foolish idiot who doesn’t know how precious you are.” He kissed your flushed cheeks.
“You mean it?” Your small voice trembled. Doubt evident.
“Of course.” He answered firmly. “You’re my beautiful princess, alright? The most precious possession I own. I could never be so stupid and leave you behind, do you understand?” You nodded against his neck. “I love you so much, my angel.” He caressed your hair, “I will never leave you. I promise. You have no idea how much I depend on you. I can’t imagine a life without you. Never.”
His throat tightened, “I know it gets exhausting to date me. I know it’s not easy. I don’t have an ordinary life. But if I tell you you’re all I have, then I’m begging you to believe me. I promise it will get better. Our relationship will not stay like this forever. There are better days ahead. Days where I won’t be as busy anymore. And I’m truly, truly grateful that I have such a patient and understanding partner. I truly am.”
He grasped your hand and kissed your knuckles one after another. He then rested your intertwined hands on his chest, right above his heart.
“And I want you to know one thing: There are many things I want to achieve in life. Many dreams that have yet to be fulfilled. But there is not a single dream of mine that doesn’t have you in it. There’s no future for me without you. A future without you simply doesn’t exist.”
The lump in your throat appeared once again. Your eyes met his though your vision was blurry, yet again.
“Promise?” Your voice was rough from crying so much.
“I promise, angel.” He hook your pinky with his own and pressed a kiss on it. “Pinky promise,” he whispered.
You nodded, blinking your teary eyes as you settled on his chest again, seeking comfort.
“I love you so much, princess. More than you can ever imagine.”
You nodded against his chest, tightening your own arms around his torso, afraid he might disappear.
“I love you too, Heeseungie.” You rapsed, exhaustion now catching up to you.
Heeseung’s heartbeat underneath you lulled you steadily and quickly into sleep, your eyes fluttered shut.
His hand rested on your cheek, thumb drawing circles on it before he pressed a good night kiss on your forehead. After a while of caressing your cheek and patting your back, he spoke again:
“I promise, tomorrow, before I leave for work we will play in the snow, okey? We can build a snowman together.”
Silence answered him.
When he glanced down, he realized that you were already knocked out on his chest. He chuckled under his breath.
“Look at you, princess. Knocked out in under a minute. You were fighting your sleep, hm? My tired baby…”
He pulled the cover over your shoulders, making sure you were snuggled in so that no cold could reach you.
“Sweet dreams, princess.”
It didn’t take long for him to quickly follow you into the world of dreams.
Sooo… i started writing this in September last year after they finished the Walk the line tour. It somehow feels off to post this now because… yk… he’s not that busy anymore with touring/high demanding schedules so it feels kinda off and not suitable anymore. But I’m cleaning up my drafts so I had to force myself to finish this. Tbh I don’t like the ending, it feels forced and unrealistic — what do you guys think? I put some elements from our current situation… ts hurt like hell, but I had this urge to put it in the fic for some reason. I was about to make a sad ending bc I’m not feeling a happy ending with what’s going on irl but idk… I thought maybe this will comfort someone. Perhaps I don’t like this happy ending because irl we will be stuck in this nightmare forever and will never wake up from it and will never be told that this was all a dream, that he never left us, that he’s still in enhypen, and we are still engenes to him… we will never have this kinda happy ending, yeah maybe that’s the reason why I don’t like it 🫠 dang…
synopsis: the four times you failed trying to flirt with your boss, and the one time he actually reciprocated.
pairing: boss!lee heeseung xf!reader
genre: modern au, office au, co-workers to lovers/boss x employee
cw: fluff, crack, smut, piv (unprotected), face-fucking, semi-clothed sex, rough sex, dryhumping, shoe-licking (ew), spanking, degradation, brat tamer!heeseung, power dynamics, petnames (use of good girl), light bondage, y/n is lowkey embarrassing/has zero shame whatsoever and just wants the heedih
word count: like 12k
this was lowkey inspired by miniskirt by aoa hence the name hehe😮
part 2 is here
MDNI
'print these contracts, organise them in chronological order, and have them ready in my office before you leave.'
that's what heeseung had told you to do, sliding a thick folder across the desk to you. this is what you deserve for disrupting your boss in an attempt to flirt with him, you suppose.
you remember staring at the files, and then at heeseung - asking him if he was serious.
"why wouldn't i be?"
"because there’s like… a hundred pages here," you say slowly, flipping through the folder with disbelief. "and half of these dates aren’t even labelled properly."
heeseung doesn’t look remotely sympathetic.
"then figure it out."
you clutch the stack of half-printed documents dramatically to your chest. "but i'm just a helpless employee, sir."
"don’t call me sir like that."
"like what?" you try to stop the grin from spreading on your face.
heeseung leans back in his chair with a quiet sigh, his watch gleaming under the lights. that looked expensive. "you know exactly what you’re doing."
and maybe you do.
because for the past three months of working under department manager lee heeseung, you'd made it a personal mission to get him to crack.
and to crack him.
"close the door on your way out."
that didn't get you any sympathy points. and now you're leaning against the wall, waiting for the barely-working printer to finish it's job - which would take a millennium judging from how much it already printed in the last twenty minutes.
the printer wheezes like it’s on its last breath before spitting out another single page.
you stare at it.
"you are genuinely useless," you mumble to the machine. another painful whirring sound answers you.
great.
you slide down the wall slightly, arms crossed as you wait for the next page to crawl out. the office is mostly empty now, just the distant hum of keyboards from the few employees still staying back late.
you're contemplating breaking the machine completely at this point. maybe heeseung would consider actually buying a new machine. that would benefit everyone.
the printer suddenly stops again.
"you actually piss me off." you walk over to it, pressing a few buttons before the screen flashes low toner in mocking little letters. you close your eyes, sighing.
"have you really reached a new low that you're talking to printers now?" jay walks by, pausing his steps as he sips on whatever iced beverage he was drinking.
you turn your head slowly toward jay with the blank expression of someone seconds away from a mental breakdown. "please don't start with me."
jay glances at the printer screen before letting out an understanding hum. "ah. toner issue."
"it’s been printing for thirty minutes and i have maybe," you look down at the pathetic stack of papers in the tray, "twenty pages."
"why do you need to print all that, anyway?" jay says gesturing with his free hand. you let out a long sigh, shuffling the papers into a neater pile against your chest.
"heeseung dumped it onto me. apparently the board meeting tomorrow needs physical copies of every contract involved in the merger." you pause, blinking up at jay. "why, you wanna help?"
jay lets out a short laugh, taking another sip from his straw. "very funny joke." he smiles at you, before shaking his head. "absolutely not."
your face falls immediately at the false hope. "oh, you're so fake. i'm never staying overtime for you again."
"that's crazy, because i distinctly remember you ignoring my emails for three business days last month." jay says, tone flat as he acts unbothered.
you roll your eyes, adjusting the heavy stack of papers in your arms. "whatever. i hope heeseung dumps ten times more work on you tomorrow."
"he won't, i'm his favourite." jay boasts, grinning lazily, making you scoff in annoyance.
you exhale through your nose, "i don't think his favourite would be working overtime."
jay just walks past, patting your shoulder. "you should just ask heeseung to fix the printer, it'd help everyone out." he's already around the corner before you can even utter a word out. what an idiot.
the printer makes a weird nose, and you whip your head around to look. yeah, it was definitely cooked. the screen flashes something ominous, low toner, paper jam, and a blinking error icon. sighing softly, you turn it off through the switch at the wall to just stop the loud, unnecessary noises it was creating.
you crouch down, gathering the scattered pages from the tray. around thirty printed overall, twenty properly done, the rest fading out halfway through like the printer gave up mid-sentence.
you stack them neatly, tapping the edges against your palm to straighten them. your eyebrows furrow as you skim the half-finished text. yeah, heeseung was going to cook your shit.
you exhale through your nose, straightening the stack one more time like that’ll magically fix the situation. whatever. it’s not like you personally sabotaged the machine. the thing had been dying for weeks anyway, it was way out of your control.
you’d just tell him that. the printer was already on life support. management issue. structural failure. not your fault.
yeah.
solid plan.
you slip the printed pages into a neat folder, tucking the thicker stack of contracts under your arm as you make your way back to heeseung's office. he definitely wasn't going to expect you back so soon.
you reach the door, and it's pretty much silent inside. well, besides for the loud ass typing sounding from heeseung's keyboard, you presume.
you hesitate for half a second, then knock. the typing doesn’t stop, of course it doesn’t.
you push the door open anyway.
heeseung is right where you left him, seated at his desk, sleeves slightly rolled up now, eyes fixed on his monitor.
you clear your throat.
"sir, the printer's out of ink again." you say, gently placing a stack of papers on heeseung's desk - half printed.
heeseung barely looks up from his laptop. "mm," his fingers continue gliding across the keyboard smoothly.
those fingers were the same ones you fantasized touching you all over.
"did you try replacing the cartridge?" he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
you stare at him flatly, "no, i just thought i'd announce it for fun."
that finally earns you a glance. bingo.
it's a slow one too, heeseung's eyes lift from his monitor screen to your face, his features showing how he currently feels - which is clearly unimpressed. "you're acting very sarcastic for someone who's asking for my help."
despite the attitude, you're reminded once again why you don't mind that your boss to overwork you. even if he isn't smiling at you, the warm feeling in your gut that usually appears when you talk to him is definitely present.
you recover quickly, though, because you have practice.
"i'm not asking for help," you say, lifting the small stack slightly. "i already did it. technically."
heeseung's gaze drops to the papers again, then back to you. he pats the empty space on the table. "put them down." his tone is calm, matter-of-fact, like he already expects you to listen. which, annoyingly, you do. he was your boss, after all.
you walk over and place the papers where he indicated, careful not to let the half-printed pages slide out of order. heeseung immediately pulls the stack closer, flipping through them with quick, practiced movements.
you shift your weight slightly as he scans the faded text on one of the pages, flipping through the papers.
"..this one's unreadable." he says flatly, not even looking at you.
you chew your lip nervously, "in my defence, we all told you the printer was barely working."
you hate how much you get off from this.
seriously. nothing turns you on more than your annoyed boss, always looking unimpressed no matter what actually comes out of your mouth.
most people would probably be intimidated by him, but you enjoy poking fun at him. probably because every now and then, you manage to crack through that perfect composure for half a second.
it’s addictive, honestly. even if he never actually flirts back.
he mostly just stares at you like you’re a problem he hasn’t figured out how to solve yet.
any normal person would’ve probably gotten embarrassed by now, maybe they would’ve stopped after the first few failed attempts at flirting with their boss, but it's not like heeseung even acknowledges your attempts, anyway. there's almost nothing to be embarrassed about.
heeseung just shakes his head softly, setting the papers back down onto the desk before reaching up to loosen and readjust his tie slightly. "it's late," he says calmly, "go home."
that snaps you back to reality, and you have to hide the disappointment that you feel from his words. why must he always look at you like you're the least attractive person in the room?
this was lee heeseung, your boss. you don’t even know what you expected. for him to flirt back? after months of him pretending not to notice every teasing comment you throw his way?
you clear your throat quietly, composing yourself once again. "..what about the contracts?"
"…what about the contracts?"
"i’ll handle them." heeseung nods, looking down at his watch.
"alone?"
he glances back at the papers, "you already stayed late."
you stare at him for a second. no way the boss that constantly forced you to work over time was showing concern.
you try to recover with humour instead. "wow. are you worried about me, sir?"
there’s a pause before heeseung’s gaze lifts to yours again, completely unreadable. he looks upset - yes! this is exactly what you were hoping for. that heeseung would be angry enough to just bend you across his lap and-
"go home," he repeats.
ouch. okay.
"right. goodnight, sir." you say, nodding your head.
you bow politely out of habit, keeping your expression carefully neutral even as embarrassment starts creeping up your neck. he doesn't say anything back even as you walk out of his office.
the second time is all thanks to jake, to be honest.
"so, how was overtime last night?" jake asks, sitting across from you as the two of you eat lunch in the office lunch room. there was practically nobody else there. the two of you decided on a later lunch because you wanted to finish a project before the day got away from you.
you raise an eyebrow, pausing mid-bite. "why are you, asking me that?" you don't hide the way you emphasise the 'you', because everybody knew that jake was actually heeseung's favourite employee, and unfortunately for you, his close friend too.
jake blinks innocently, "what's that meant to mean?"
you lean back slightly in your chair, squinting at him. "you know exactly what that means." you clear your throat, trying not to make it obvious that you clearly care a lot about this. "..did heeseung say something?"
his expression shifts, mirroring you as he leans back in his chair slowly, stretching his legs out under the table. "why would heeseung say something?"
"oh, don't play dumb with me now, jake." you scoff, flicking your food with your fork.
you stare at him, and he stares back. you immediately hate how calm he looks.
"…because you’re asking me about overtime," you say flatly, deciding to say it outright because he's clearly beating around the bush.
"i ask people about overtime all the time."
"no you don't, jake."
"yes i do."
he sighs dramatically, like you were being the difficult one. "fine. i asked because jay mentioned you were still here after nine."
of course he did. you pinch the bridge of your nose. "this office is just one big surveillance system, apparently.'" you poke around at your food again, "it's always something with you two. oh, and i can't forget sunghoon as well." you say, internally rolling your eyes at the thought of them.
"that's not true." jake defends himself, taking offense to being labelled as someone who gossips, even though it was true.
you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. "are you trying to convince me, or yourself, jake?"
he pauses, leaning back in his chair like he’s deeply wounded by the accusation. “wow. you're being very intense today."
"what did heeseung say, jake?" you crumble, holding your face in your hands. thank god the room was empty aside for you two, because you looked like you were about to go insane.
there’s a long pause, and it's way too long for your liking especially.
when you peek through your fingers, jake is watching you with a look that's way too entertained about your misery.
"okay," you scoff. "fuck you then."
"..why are you acting like he confessed something dramatic?" he asks slowly, taking another bite of his food.
"because you're being especially ominous about it all." you deadpan. "be honest, did he shit talk me? is he gonna fire me-"
"what?" jake nearly chokes on his drink.
you immediately sit up straighter. "oh my god. he is, isn’t he."
he’s pausing. why is he pausing? people only pause when they’re calculating how bad the truth is. you knew you should've just taken the lift to the other department's floor and used their printer, but no - you were lazy and despite being in the presence of your insanely hot boss, you still wanted to go home earlier last night.
"no, no, what? he isn't firing you." jake reassures.
you narrow your eyes. "that pause was too long."
"i was chewing."
liar. people don’t chew like that when they’re innocent. that was a guilty chew.
"liar."
jake laughs under his breath, shaking his head like you’re exhausting but entertaining.
"answer the question." you say sternly, reminding him of the subject at hand.
if he says yes, you're quitting - no questions asked. you're not letting heeseung win. you will resign before you can feel formally embarrassed by your boss and a dumbass printer. fuck the printer, by the way.
he leans back, finally giving you something resembling seriousness. “he didn’t shit talk you.”
"..he didn't?"
"no. i'm serious."
you blink, slowly putting your fork down. "okay," you say carefully, "so, what did he say then?"
jake finishes swallowing any food in his mouth before he speaks again, watching you like he's deciding how much damage he wants to do. "he just asked if you were always like that."
"always like what?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused. always like what? in the way you were a shameless flirt? or was he asking because now he thought you were completely incapable of finishing a simple work task. well, it wasn't a simple task, to be fair.
jake shrugs, "his words, not mine."
"jake," you clutch your skirt with your now empty hand. "you're being extremely unhelpful right now."
"how can i help?" jake grins as he takes another bite of food, "i'm telling you everything i know."
"it's not enough," you whine slightly, straightening your posture. you hate how pathetic that sounded the second it left your mouth.
before he can respond, a loud crack of thunder suddenly echoes outside the building. both of you glance instinctively toward the large windows lining the break room. rain patters heavily against the glass a second later.
"okay well, shit." you sigh. the rain is heavy too, not even the drizzle type. it's heavy. your co-workers that had already left were so lucky that they wouldn't have to go home in this weather.
"i didn’t bring an umbrella," you mumble immediately, making jake look back at you with absolutely zero sympathy.
"unlucky." he shrugs, leaning back. "i have one though, we can go home together if you'd like."
"..are you going to the station afterward?" you ask, and he nods.
"why don't you just ask him?' jake suggests, bringing the focus back to your conversation. the way he acted made it seem like it was the most normal thing ever.
"ask him what, jake? ask my boss if he's talking about me?" you shake your head. "okay, whatever."
you don’t even know why you care this much. logically, this should not matter. your boss asking one vague question about you should not have your entire nervous system reacting like this.
"so, how's your day been?" you ask, shitfing the subject. jake looks at you.
jake looks at you, blankly. "..we've been together the whole day."
oh right. you two have been stuck doing that stupid project heeseung assigned you both. honestly, you’re surprised neither of you snapped first because that was treacherous. pages and pages of data entry, revisions, formatting issues, and enough spreadsheets to the point that if you saw another one, you'd actually go insane.
right on cue, the break room doors swing open.
both you and jake glance up automatically, though jake twists around in his chair more obviously than you do, considering his back was facing the door.
your posture straightens on instinct, a smile forming onto your face. you don't even realise that you're doing it till jake turns around, a stupid grin forming on his face at your expression.
you clear your throat quickly, forcing the smile down into something more normal. meanwhile, heeseung either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. both are bad, to be honest.
heeseung walks further into the break room calmly, phone still in one hand as his gaze flicks briefly between you and jake seated together.
"why are you two here so late? your day should be over." he asks casually.
jake glances at the clock on the wall before looking back at him. "we lost track of time doing the project you assigned us."
"sounds like poor time management," heeseung replies immediately, making jake laugh.
you straighten slightly in your chair. "we didn’t ‘lose track of time,’ we were literally fixing the spreadsheet you gave us because half the formulas were broken."
heeseung's gaze shifts to you, then he glances briefly to the windows, taking in the rain. then back at the two of you. he doesn't even acknowledge that you defended yourself.
"jake," he says, voice returning to business immediately, "i still need the revised figures before tomorrow morning."
"yeah," jake nods, giving heeseung a thumbs up. "i was gonna stay back another hour and finish it."
your head turns toward him immediately, "..you were?"
"yeah," he says simply. "it’ll take another hour max."
heeseung hums once in acknowledgment before his eyes shift back to you, 'which means," he starts, "you can go home."
your brain pauses for a second. just you? heeseung wanted you out so bad, you sort of felt honoured. "i can stay too," you blurt out, offering before thinking.
both men look at you. jake looks confused and heeseung looks unreadable. you internally slam your head into the table.
why did you say that so fast. oh my god.
"there’s no reason for both of you to stay," heeseung says calmly. "you already finished your part."
"she's going home with me," jake speaks up, also standing up to rinse his container in the sink. heeseung raises an eyebrow, and jake notices.
"what?" jake asks innocently, turning the tap off. "it’s raining. she doesn't have an umbrella."
heeseung pauses before he looks directly at you, "you didn’t bring one?"
you suddenly feel strangely defensive. "the forecast said it was only gonna be cloudy." jake snorts next to you, and you
heeseung stays quiet for a second longer. his expression is unreadable, before he exhales softly through his nose, like he’s already regretting whatever thought just crossed his mind. "..you don’t need to wait for jake."
you raise an eyebrow, turning your head to look at heeseung front-on, who looks mildly inconvenienced by his own words already. "i’m driving anyway," he says flatly. "i can take you home."
a spike hits your heart, and you feel oddly flattered. because realistically, who wouldn’t react a little when their super attractive boss offers to drive them home? especially when said boss happens to be wearing your favourite tie from his rotation today. which you are aware he didn't do on purpose.
your eyes landed on it this morning, maybe lingered a little. the deep colour looked unfairly good against his dress shirt, sleeves still rolled neatly at his forearms from working late. you could only imagine those same arms around your neck later-
wait, you still needed to reply to heeseung. you clear your throat quickly. "you don’t have to-"
"i know," heeseung cuts in smoothly, which hits at your spirits for a moment, but then your mood lifts again anyway, a stupid smile threatening to tug at your lips before you can stop it. because now it sounds less like obligation and more like choice, or, you could just keep telling yourself that.
jake nods, a little too excitedly. "okay, that's fine with me." he presses his lips together, visibly trying not to blurt out something obnoxious.
heeseung glances over to you, "go get your stuff. we're leaving." he says, using his chin to gesture toward the door.
'we're leaving'? not, 'meet me downstairs' or 'i'll wait downstairs., but he's saying we're leaving together.
"okay.." you answer, way quieter than intended.
jake offers you a knowing smile, "drive safe," he says, looking directly at you instead of heeseung.
you're going to strangle him. heeseung either ignores the weird tone completely or chooses not to acknowledge it. you stand quickly before jake can make this worse, grabbing your phone from the table and adjusting your bag over your shoulder.
"finish your work," you mutter at him while passing by.
jake grins shamelessly. "have fun."
you barely make it two steps out of the break room before you become hyper aware of the fact that heeseung is following behind you. probably to his office, it was right next to your cubicle after all.
act normal, why are you suddenly forgetting how to walk. you facepalm internally, you've literally been alone with him before. this is fine.
the hallway feels longer than it needs to. you finally reach the row of cubicles, the familiar maze of monitors and dividers coming into view. you can that your desk is just ahead.
you step inside, grabbing your bag, which is next to your computer. you can feel heeseung's presence behind you, standing outside the cubicle. you grab your things quickly, shoving them into your bag with slightly more force than necessary. guess he already got all of this things and was ready to leave.
you finally straighten, turning around. "okay! i'm ready." heeseung doesn't even blink at your enthusiasm, turning around and walking toward the elevator.
"let's go." he says simply.
you catch up slightly, trailing after him. the elevator is ahead, reflecting both of you in the metal, slightly distorted. he presses the button, and the doors open immediately. the two of you walk in.
you step in first, instinctively moving to one side, and he follows right after you. it's silent and uncomfortable.
you clear your throat slightly. "..long day?" you say, immediately regretting how weak that sounds.
heeseung’s reflection in the doors shifts slightly as he glances at you.
"it was." he agrees simply, not saying anything else. awkward. a small smile tugs at your lips when you see heeseung in the reflection.
the elevator hits the floor to the carpark, the doors slide open to reveal the dimly lit carpark.
"you’re always this quiet after work?" you ask lightly, stepping out of the elevator doors as you walk toward his car.
he glances at you briefly. "you’re always this talkative?"
you grin immediately. "only around people i like." the response slips out smoother than expected, and yet he doesn't say anything back, holy airball. you can hear both your footsteps echoing softly through the near-empty carpark.
heeseung’s lips slightly curl up in a smile, but it disappears basically the second it appears. he rounds what you assume to be his car, and honestly you couldn’t name the brand, but you admit it looked expensive.
you stop beside the passenger side for a second, eyeing it openly. "wow."
heeseung glances at you while unlocking the doors with a soft beep.
"what?"
"your car looks rich." you say, in awe. you reach for the passenger seats door handle, sliding in. the seats are soft, and the car is noticeably clean. the only thing you can smell is a light tinge of his cologne.
heeseung just reaches forward to adjust something near the dashboard, entirely calm. "seatbelt."
you obey, arm reaching over your upper body to grab your seatbelt. the movement pulls your blouse slightly at the shoulder as you tug it across yourself, the quiet click sounding through the car once it locks into place.
you glance over, and heeseung is watching - as if he was making sure you were actually putting it on.
you narrow your eyes at him immediately. "were you expecting me not to?"
heeseung rests one hand against the steering wheel, expression calm. "no."
you scoff, "liar."
he hums softly, finally pulling the car out of the parking space smoothly. "you asked."
"and yet you answered dishonestly." you poke the inside of your mouth with your tongue, glancing out the window.
"i answered you professionally."
narrowing your eyes, "that isn’t even the same thing."
he stifles a laugh, but you notice before he can conceal it, making your stomach flip on instinct.
you slump further in the seat, only now realising the proximity of the two of you. the car feels way smaller than what it did just minutes ago.
glancing back over to him, you see how one hand rests loosely against the steering wheel while the other adjusts the wheel slightly as he turns out onto the wet street. that was like, the hottest thing you’d seen all week.
it feels intimate despite the fact that he’s just driving you home.
wait.
you forgot to give him your address yet he’s still going the right way.
blinking, your posture straightens almost immediately, shuffling back upright in your seat. "..wait."
heeseung keeps his eyes on the road. "what?"
you look directly at him, "how do you know where i live?"
there’s a small pause, before heeseung clears his throat. "your employee file."
you narrow your eyes instantly. "that sounds creepy when you say it like that."
"it’s literally HR information."
"okay, but why do you know it?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
"i’m your boss."
"that does not answer my question at all."
a faint sigh leaves him through his nose, like you’re being difficult on purpose.
which, okay, maybe you are.
"you’ve worked under me for almost a year," he says calmly. "i know where most of my employees live."
you stare at him suspiciously.
"..do you have everyone’s addresses memorised?"
"no."
"just mine?"
that finally earns you momentary glance, but he looks back to the road a second after. "you’re asking a lot of questions."
"well, only because you aren’t answering the one i actually want answered." you say, shifting slightly in your seat.
rain continues tapping steadily against the windows, soft wipers cutting through the sound every few seconds. heeseung sighs once again, "fine, which one is that?"
you stare at him for a second, trying to hide your suspicion. "you know which one."
"humour me."
he’s doing this on purpose.
you can hear it in his voice now, he sounds so composed. heeseung makes another left turn, the way you remember taking to your house.
"why do you know where i live specifically?" you ask, quieter this time. not that you mind. if it were anyone else, maybe it'd be a little creepy - yeah, but heeseung was welcome over at anytime.
the red light flashes briefly onto his face as he slows down, you take in his pretty features.
"because," he says evenly, "you're usually the last person to leave the office." your stomach does cart wheels at his answer, even if it’s the simplest thing you’ve ever heard.
you try to hide the fattest grin that tries to force itself onto your face. "..you notice that?" you can’t stop yourself from asking.
"you make it difficult not to." if it were anyone else, you’d take that as flirting, but heeseung’s tone is so flat, that if you actually did take it as flirting then you’d need to be admitted to the nearest psych ward for delusion.
so you don’t, even if you want to. you stare out the window instead, watching rain streak across the glass, "are you saying i’m a difficult employee?"
"that isn’t what i said."
"but it’s what you meant, right?"
he exhales softly through his nose, barely a sound. you catch it anyway. the car moves smoothly through the wet streets, indicator ticking quietly as he changes lanes.
heeseung continues, "you stay late."
you glance at him again. "so do other people."
"not consistently."
"that’s because you don’t give anyone else the annoying projects." you argue back, before realising. "does that mean you’re keeping track of when i leave?" you sound a little too hopeful, it’s pathetic.
"it’s part of my job to know what’s happening in my department." he says flatly, shutting that idea down immediately.
you sigh softly, what a boring answer.
heeseung slows down the the familiar streets, and your apartment complex comes into view. heeseung eases the car toward the side of the road rather than pulling straight in.
he stops smoothly, gently turning the wheel as the engine quiets down. you grab your bag, unbuckling your seatbelt. "thank you, i really appreciate it." you’re about to grab onto the door handle, but heeseung halts your movements - grabbing your wrist.
it isn’t tight or forceful, just enough to make you pause. you blink at him, "..what?"
he doesn’t answer immediately. instead, his gaze flicks briefly toward the rain outside, then back to you. with his other hand, he reaches into the backseat pulling out…
an umbrella.
black. simple. clearly kept in the car for situations exactly like this.
he had one the whole time?
"take it." he pushes it toward you, before leaning over your body and opening the door for you. you unclasp the umbrella, turning back.
"good night." you smile, and heeseung nods.
"good night."
you thank him again before holding it over your head and walking into the entrance of your apartment building.
okay but, he had an umbrella the whole time and yet he insisted on taking you home. well, insisted is a stretch but he offered.
that had to mean something.
you had hoped, at least.
the third time you tried flirting with your boss, it was completely unintentional. in the way you weren't even trying to seek him out this time, at least. you were planning that for later.
yes, you had worn an extra nice outfit that day because you wanted to catch his attention. not that it worked, it never did. you don't even know what made you try again.
it starts like a normal morning. no heeseung ordering you around this time. which in hindsight, should've been a bad sign. no emails, no urgent requests, and no heeseung appearing behind your desk randomly - before giving you a stack of papers.
you clock in, sit down, open your laptop as minutes fly by in what feels like seconds. you're at your desk, half-awake as you scroll through your emails, when a voice pops up at your cubicle.
"hey." sunoo is leaning slightly against the divider, smiling at you in that friendly way he usually does.
you sit up, leaning back against your chair, "what's up?"
sunoo and you don't even try being formal with each other now, it's been a while since the two of you met. "before you ask," he starts, already dropping a stack of papers onto your desk, "yes, this is your problem now."
you glance at the pile, "seriously?"
sunoo laughs softly, resting his forearms on the divider. "it's just some missing formatting stuff from yesterday’s file. i fixed half of it but I got dragged into a meeting."
"wowow," you sigh, skimming over the papers. "you owe me."
"i owe you?" sunoo repeats, tilting his head softly.
"yes," you nod, looking up at him. "this is so much work, sunoo. i'm busy."
"busy doing what? you were scrolling emails and pretending to work," he corrects, making you glare up at him. "god forbid i actually give you to work to do."
"yeah, but it's your responsibility - not mine." you argue back.
sunoo shifts slightly, leaning more comfortably against the divider like he has nowhere else to be. like your desk is just part of his routine. "fine," he says. "we're still on for lunch, right? you're not ditching me for jake again?"
"that wasn't intentional. i had to finish my project, you know that." you don't hesitate defending yourself.
"yeah, yeah." sunoo smiles, his tone condescending like he doesn't actually believe in what you say.
you open your mouth to retaliate, because you refuse to allow yourself to be slandered this early in the morning, but sunoo interrupts. "why're you dressed so fancy today, hm? your blouse looks expensive."
you pause, glancing down at yourself. "in a good way, right?"
"yes, of course." sunoo states obviously, "how can you look expensive in a bad way?"
you ignore his question, "..really?"
sunoo nods immediately. "yes really. you look like you’re about to leave us for a better company."
you hum, pretending to think about it, smoothing your sleeve once like you’re just noticing it exists. "hmm."
"what is it this time?" sunoo sighs, making you scoff.
"bold of you to assume there's an issue, sunoo."
he narrows his eyes at you. "there is an issue. you’re doing that thing where you pretend you’re not doing something."
"what does that even mean?"
"you're overdressed." sunoo spits it out, taking in your outfit.
you tap the edge of the stack of papers on your desk, suddenly very interested in the alignment of the corners. "this is my normal everyday outfit, but okay."
sunoo’s gaze drags over you again, shaking his head. "that's not normal, you can't fool me."
you blink. "excuse you?"
"that blouse is not ‘normal.’ that’s ‘i have plans after work’ clothing."
"..i might have plans," you admit casually, lying out of your teeth. you had zero plans after work today. the most you were planning on doing was hopping on the game after dinner.
oh, but you wished you had plans. you wished your plans revolved around overtime, where you'd crawl underneath heeseung's desk and give them the most toe-curling blowjob any man has ever received.
sunoo’s eyes widen a fraction. "you do?"
you shrug. "hypothetically."
he leans in a little, lowering his voice. "with who?"
this little nosy rat. at least sunoo kept his mouth shut, though. had you told jake and the entire workplace would've heard about it by now.
you open your mouth, but then stop. familiar footsteps sound, and they're getting closer toward you.
heeseung walks into the view beside your cubicle, holding a folder in his hand. he looks at sunoo, who's still leaning casually against your divider, then at you, in which you offer a sheepish smile.
"good morning, heeseung." sunoo chirps, pulling his gaze away from you to greet heeseung. heeseung's eyes briefly flick from sunoo to you, then back to sunoo in almost under a second.
"good morning." he replies finally, but his tone is entirely flat.
sunoo, who is still undeterred, smiles wider. "busy day today?"
"yes," heeseung glances at the folder in his hand. "aren't you scheduled for a meeting that.." he pauses, looking at his watch before his eyes lift back up to sunoo, "started three minutes ago?"
sunoo blinks, offering heeseung a sheepish smile. then he straightens abruptly, like he just remembered that urgency is a concept. "oh, right. that's me."
you watch, barely holding in a reaction, as he takes one step, then another. "see you at lunch!" he calls back way too brightly, before turning his body entirely as he speeds down the hallway.
the silence is loud again, or it feels like it - despite your co-workers being occupied with chatting as well as the soft clatter of keyboards.
you blink once at the empty space sunoo was occupying a second ago, seeing heeseung just standing beside your cubicle with the folder in hand, expression unreadable as ever.
why must he look at you like you're some outdated fashion trend?
"was that necessary?" you ask lightly, nodding vaguely in the direction sunoo disappeared.
he doesn’t even look that way. "yes," he replies, "he was distracting you, and he was late to his own meeting." you shrug in response.
heeseung calls out your name, making you look up at him with a soft hum. "yeah?"
his eyes flick briefly to you, handing you another fuckass folder. it's heavy too, filled with enough paper to ruin your morning. you begrudgingly hold back the urge to roll your eyes. you swore on everyone's life that heeseung assigned you the most heinous roles known to man.
yes, your boss was hot, but was he hot enough for you to suffer at work everyday? yeah, probably, actually. you don't even know why you bothered questioning that.
you glance at him, still holding the folder between your fingers. "are you trying to torture me to death? because it's working."
"it's work," he says simply, "don't get distracted."
you squint at him, "it's killing me, heeseung."
that earns you a soft smile that lasts for literally 0.2 seconds. heeseung taps the folder once with two fingers, "organise it like the last one you did." he adds.
you sigh dramatically. "you know, most bosses say ‘good morning’ first."
“good morning.” heeseung mumbles, making you tilt your head.
"that was still late."
"those files you're going to organise are about to be late too if you keep talking."
you clutch the folder tighter. "they won't-
but he’s already turning slightly away like the conversation is over.
"bring it to my office when you're done." heeseung says like it's an afterthought, back turned to you.
you freeze slightly. "again?"
he pauses just long enough to glance back at you. "again." and with that, he's gone, walking down the aisle back into his office.
rude, but fine. you had worn your shortest skirt, hoping heeseung would at least spare a glance toward you. a glance that didn't involve him assigning even more work with the flick of his wrist.
now you had to spend another three hours filling out stupid spreadsheets, or whatever was actually in this folder. you sigh, flipping open the page.
the fourth time you flirted with your boss, it’s because he called you into his office just to wordlessly fix his tie before a meeting.
you patter your knuckles against the door of heeseung's office gently. "sir?" using your free hand, you adjust and smooth the lines out of your skirt.
when there isn't a response, you open the door gently. that's usually what that meant, anyway. it was a usual for the two of you.
you step inside, taking in his office once again. his office is neat in that way that feels slightly scary. everything's been placed with intention, nothing out of place. he’s standing by his desk, jacket on, tie slightly uneven.
it isn't that noticeable, you just tend to stare at him a lot. heeseung doesn’t look at you right away.
you clear your throat softly, catching your attention. "you called for me?"
he turns to you, features conveying a look of frustration. "fix this." he says only two words with zero explanation, but you understand almost immediately.
you blink, "..your tie?"
heeseung looks at you like you've asked him something obvious. "yes."
you hesitate, but realise he's the one who asked. you step forward, because apparently this is your job now.
you reach up carefully, fingers catching the knot of his tie. it’s already half done, like he rushed it or did it without caring.
you start by undoing it, re-aligning it entirely. heeseung's gaze drops, not to your face, but to your hands - watching your every move. you feel an immediate shift in the air.
"this feels like something you could do yourself." you murmur, trying hard not to mess his tie up as you keep the mood light.
"..i don't actually know how to tie a tie." heeseung admits, making your hands stop.
you glance up at him, "what?"
heeseung doesn’t even look embarrassed. if anything, he looks mildly inconvenienced at having admitted it out loud. "i never learned," he says simply.
"you're actually lying."
"i’m not."
"heeseung, you wear a tie almost every day." you say, genuinely flabbergasted.
"someone usually does it for me."
you squint your eyes, confused on 'who' this could possibly be. was he actually wifed up and this whole time you had been flirting with a married man? that made sense as to why he would never reciprocate. or maybe he just wasn't into you.
no but, if he was married you'd definitely know. there was no way jay or jake wouldn't have brought it up by now.
"..someone?" you mumble quietly, trying to keep this casual.
"stylists. assistants." he pauses. "sometimes jake."
oh thank god. he was the most single somebody could be, for sure. you smooth your expression immediately, pretending the question meant absolutely nothing, just professional curiosity.
you nearly laugh directly in his face, but you hold back for your own sake. you weren't trying to be assigned the workload of the entire team. "oh my god."
heeseung watches you carefully now, expression still composed, but there’s the faintest hint of annoyance underneath it. "what?"
"nothing," you say immediately, absolutely lying. "it’s just very hard to process that you don’t know how to tie a tie."
"you seem to be deeply affected by this."
"i am." you tighten the knot properly, smoothing the fabric down again. "this changes my entire perception of you."
"you're being dramatic," heeseung says making you scoff, but the sound comes out weaker than actually intended because you suddenly become aware of how close you are to him, catching the faint scent of cologne every time he exhales.
your fingers are still curled loosely around the fabric of his tie, brushing against the collar of his shirt as you straighten it carefully. your heel shifts slightly against the floor as you try not to think about the fact that if you tilted your head up even a little more, you'd be directly in his space.
which, technically, you already are, but like, you'd actually be able to kiss him. your eyes linger on his lips for way too long, and he definitely notices. heeseung's gaze shifts downwards, catching yours in the process. you smile, and he looks away, jaw tightening once as his eyes move toward the window beside his desk instead.
heeseung has never been the one to shy away like that. usually he'd just ignore all of your advances. your fingers tighten around the tie accidentally before you let go completely, stepping back casually.
you got a reaction from him this time.
"..done?" he asks, and you nod.
"mhm." you hum. heeseung finally looks back at you, one hand lifting to adjust the knot slightly where your fingers had just touched.
your gaze lifts again, and heeseung sighs quietly through his nose, like you’re the most exhausting part of his workday. "i have a meeting in five minutes."
"and?" you lean against his table lightly, smiling at him innocently.
"and you should go back to work."
"wow," you murmur dramatically. "using me for my tie-abilities and then discarding me?"
"you’re still on company time." he mumbles, but you don't miss the flush on his cheeks.
bingo! your boss really was into you. it isn't obvious, not in the way you were hoping for, not some dramatic giveaway, but it's definitely there if you're paying attention.
and you are absolutely paying attention.
you tilt your head slightly, practically screaming 'fuck me' eyes, watching him with a type of satisfaction you don't bother hiding. "you know," you say softly, "you’re really bad at hiding things."
heeseung's eyes flick up immediately, and you can practically see him having heart palpitations. who knew your stone-cold boss would fold over something as easy as that?
"go back to your desk," he dismisses you again, steadier this time. when he sees you inching closer, he does a complete one-eighty as he speed walks out of his own office.
your jaw drops. what the fuck?? heeseung, get back here!
you don't bother chasing though. now that you knew how heeseung truly felt, you had him wrapped around your finger.
he had it coming.
the next day you walk into the office, it's a friday.
which is usually a good day. lighter workloads, less tension, and maybe even the rare sight of your colleagues having fun before going home for the weekend.
and you of all people were going to have a good day. heeseung wasn't slipping from your hands again. not when you were going to actively pursue him in the actual shortest skirt you owned. not after the tie incident.
you're halfway through the lobby, eyes half focused on your phone as you scroll through unread notifications, when-
bang!
you nearly let out a blood curdling scream.
your entire body jolts violently as you whip around toward the source of the noise.
jungwon is standing near the reception desk, holding a stack of papers, looking mildly alarmed. the metal sign knocked straight onto the floor was the source of the noise.
when he notices you looking, he offers a smile and a wave. "good morning!"
you stare at him in complete disbelief, one hand pressed against your chest. "jungwon," you speak slowly, "you scared me, holy shit."
his eyebrows lift, "from a sign falling?"
"it's metal! it sounded like a gunshot." you walk over, bending down to pick it up.
jungwon crouches slightly too, reaching for the other side. "you're being dramatic."
before you can argue further, footsteps pass behind the two of you.
"cute skirt."
you whip your head around, glancing up instinctively. sunghoon is walking past with an iced coffee in one hand, slowing just enough to glance at you over his shoulder.
your brain malfunctions for a second, "..ah. thanks." you offer him a smile. at least someone thought you looked nice.
sunghoon gestures vaguely toward you with the coffee cup, "the colour suits you." then he walks off, heading into the direction of the cubicles.
you straighten slowly, still holding the metal sign. "wow."
jungwon looks between you and sunghoon’s disappearing figure, before landing back on you finally. "what happened to bagging the boss?"
you narrow your eyes at jungwon, patting down said cute skirt, "what are you talking about?"
jungwon smirks smugly. it would be adorable if it weren't in circumstances like this. "you should've known better than to tell jake and jay.
your stomach drops instantly. "..they told you?"
"they told everyone."
your jaw drops. what the hell?? you were going to kill park jongseong and sim jaeyun as soon as you found those two. "what are they even saying? and who have they told?"
jungwon laughs at your expression, putting down the stack of papers on the reception desk. "relax. i was kidding." he reassures, "only like, a few people know."
he lifts his hand, counting on his fingers with each name.
"jake, jay, sunghoon, sunoo-oh! and that junior, ni-ki."
"..even the junior knows?" you want to collapse directly onto the lobby floor.
jungwon tilts his head. "to be fair, he figured it out by himself."
"literally, HOW?" you exclaim, frustrated. were you seriously that obvious around heeseung?
"uh, cause you stare like you're in some office k-drama? duh." he sasses, which you do not appreciate.
you scoff, "i do not."
jungwon shrugs, "okay, secretary kim."
you roll your eyes, “secretary kim ended up pulling young-joon, though. so is this a sign?”
“you wish.”
“okay, bet you $50 i can pull heeseung.” you declare, making jungwon raise his eyebrows in shock.
“okay, fine. $50.” you reach out your hand, shaking on it.
then, he straightens his posture and widens his eyes slightly in the worst imitation of you imaginable.
"..heeseung," he mocks your voice, pretending to be you. "wow..your tie looks really nice today.." he places a hand over his chest, "did you get a haircut? you look so handsome and emotionally unavailable this morning."
eyes widening, you clasp a hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. "oh my god - i do not talk like that."
"good morning." your entire body goes stiff. you remove your hand from jungwon's face, turning your head.
heeseung is standing there, watching the two of you with a blank face. apparently when jungwon was busy humiliating you, heeseung must've arrived to work. his expression is calm as ever, one hand resting loosely in his pocket while the other still holds his phone. heeseung was so hard to read like this.
you push a smile on your face, "morning, sir." heeseung's gaze travels from jungwon to you.
"..why do you look so stressed already?" he asks, voice flat.
jungwon physically bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
you point at him immediately. "he’s harassing me."
heeseung glances over to jungwon with an expression that screams 'i don't believe her whatsoever', so you expect a scolding.
but no.
"jungwon."
jungwon straightens immediately, "yes?"
heeseung's tone stays flat, "you’re not on break."
jungwon blinks in surprise, "i'm literally just talking-"
"you’re supposed to be at reception processing those files," he cuts in, nodding once toward the stack still sitting on the desk. "not standing here causing problems before nine a.m."
hooray! heeseung actually took your side.
jungwon looks betrayed instantly. "i am processing them." his gaze flicks to you, and you stick your tongue out.
jungwon notices immediately, shaking his head like he's re-thinking his life choices. he tightens his grip on the stack of files. "unbelievable." with that, he turns away, walking off.
you're silently cheering in your head when heeseung turns to you next. "you aren't on break either," he nods his chin toward the elevator, "go work."
you pout, "but sir, i have nothing to do."
heeseung looks like he's about to scold you for the use of 'sir', but he doesn't. "you always have something to do," he says simply.
"nope." you shake your head, "jay and i finished the meeting pack preparation." you flash him a smile, way too enthusiastic for someone at work.
you look down for a second, remembering you're wearing the skirt. yoy glance back up, analysing his face. come on, heeseung. at least acknowledge it!
his eyes flick down for half a second, but it's not enough for you to read his expression. "..good." he coughs slightly, clearing his throat. "go help ni-ki, then."
your lips straighten in a frown. "seriously?"
"serious as i can be." you stare at him, and he stares back.
"go. he needs help with formatting." with a huff, you nod.
"fine, fine. see you, sir." you smile, walking past him. behind you, heeseung exhales a sigh of relief through his nose. this was going to be a long day.
when you reach the far end of the office, the atmosphere is completely different from the loud lobby. it's quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every keyboard click sound louder than it should. you can even hear your flats click against the floor with each step.
you scan the desks. ni-ki is lazily seated sideways in an office chair, one leg bouncing softly against the floor, eyes fixed on the monitor.
he doesn't even look at you. "if this is about the formatting issue again, i already fixed it three times." okay, sassy.
you pause beside his desk. "wow," you say. "thanks for the warm welcome."
ni-ki glances up, properly this time. his expression shifts immediately, a slight tinge of confusion before recognition. "oh, you're the help."
"you don't seem very happy to see me." wheeling a nearby chair over, you sit next to him.
he leans back slightly, squinting at you, "trust me. i'm glad it's you and not someone else."
you raise an eyebrow, "oh, spill?"
ni-ki leans down, then tilts his head toward the rest of the office, lowering his voice slightly like it’s classified information or something. "..he sent jake last time, and he 'fixed' it by making it worse."
honestly, that sounded in character. jake was lazy when it came to spreadsheets. "seems like him." you shrug, "so, if you're so good at this, why does heeseung think you need help?"
"he doesn’t think i need help," he says.
you hum. "sounds like he does."
"no," ni-ki corrects, dragging a hand through his hair. "he thinks i need supervision."
"that's probably worst, in all honesty." you snort softly. "that sounds like a polite way of saying you ruin files."
ni-ki points at you immediately. "exactly. see? you get it."
"are you always at the back here? i never see you around front anymore."
"it's better around here. the only person who comes back here is sunoo." your eyes widen. so that's where sunoo kept disappearing off to."
you tap your chin in thought as ni-ki continues clicking through the spreadsheet.
"say, ni-ki." you call, making him glance up at you.
"what?"
you lean forward a little in your chair, "jungwon said something about you earlier."
ni-ki raises an eyebrow, but for the most part he looks uncaring. "said what?"
"keep it a secret." you hold out your pinky.
in which he rolls his eyes as he exhales through his nose like he's already tired of you, but he still shifts his chair a little closer. "you're weird," he mutters, but intertwines his pinky with yours, reluctantly.
you brighten immediately. "okay. so jungwon said you know things about me and heeseung."
"it's hard to miss." he says simply, "i just notice patterns."
you lean forward slightly, still keeping your pinkies linked, "okay then. what patterns?"
"well for starters," he says, "you’re the only one that doesn’t get in trouble for slacking."
you scoff immediately. "you must be joking."
ni-ki finally glances at you, expression flat. "i’m not."
you lean back in your chair slightly. "i literally got sent down here as punishment."
"yeah, and that's a punishment for you? he made me clean the entire storage room when i submitted something late." ni-ki's words make you pause. sure, you already knew heeseung was attracted to you, but special treatment too? awe.
you let go of ni-ki's pinky. "done?" he asks, finally glancing at you.
you clear your throat quickly, snapping back into focus. "right, yeah."
ni-ki shrugs. "it was dusty."
"that’s your takeaway?"
"i don’t like dust."
"fair."
"when are you meant to leave?"
you blink, "leave?"
"from here," he clarifies. "this task."
you glance at the spreadsheet. then back at him. "when it’s done."
he hums like it's obvious.
"take your time."
hours pass, and you've felt like you've been able to bond with your junior very well, actually. he was entertaining, and was great at multi-tasking. ni-ki was able to keep full-fledged conversations with you while he did his work.
even sunoo came over at some point, pulling up a chair as he sits down with the two of you.
working here was way better than in the cubicles with those idiots. you glance around the quieter section of the office. there are much fewer interruptions, less noise, no one hovering over your shoulder every five minutes. cough cough, jake.
you're mid-conversation with sunoo, standing behind him as the two of you watch something on the monitor together. it feels comfortable as the two of you laugh at something.
"no, wait, pause it again," you say, breathless. "i swear that’s not what he meant to do."
which is exactly why you don't notice the foot steps behind you. ni-ki notices, but you and sunoo don't, still obliviously talking. there's a call of sunoo's name that makes the two of you snap your head back.
sunoo straightens so fast, "oh hi, heeseung."
you slowly let your hands drop from the back of sunoo’s chair like you just got caught committing a crime.
"go home. the day's over, anyway." sunoo nods immediately, standing up as he walks back to his cubicle immediately. ni-ki exhales softly like he’s relieved it’s not him.
damn, you were getting a lot of people in trouble today. oops.
you take a small step back too, ready to follow sunoo back to your own cubicle.
heeseung takes one look at you, "you." he says simply.
you flash him a smile, "..me?"
"go to my office." he says, voice flat. is he mad?
you hesitate, but nod. "right… okay."
he walks past you, checking whatever's on ni-ki's monitor. probably double checking to see if everything's correct. you can hear heeseung dismiss ni-ki home too, eavesdropping. when you realise their conversation is over you speed-walk toward heeseung's office.
you see sunoo, and he waves you goodbye, mouthing a 'good luck'. you nod, waving to him as well. you can see heeseung's office door now. reaching it, you pause for a second. it's the same as usual - neat.
you step inside, closing the door behind you. you’re unsure of whether you should sit or stand. you opt on sitting, taking a seat on his chair.
you wait a few minutes, clicking your heel against the carpet gently. the office genuinely sounded dead outside. was heeseung just wasting your time?
you sigh, standing up and walking toward the door. your fingers curl around the knob, about to open it but it’s pushed open - nearly knocking you onto the floor.
heeseung stands in the doorway, face expressionless. he stares at you, before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"sir," you call out, pitching your voice up the slightest. “are you upset-“
“do you always have to open your mouth?” heeseung pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated. you blink in surprise, shutting your mouth.
once he opens his mouth and realises you’ve actually obeyed, he doesn’t say anything. taking a seat on his chair, he leans back.
“come here.” you look at him, and he looks dead serious. you nod, walking over. you’re standing in front of him now, a confused expression on your face.
heeseung looks up at you with a sigh. “bend over.” your eyes widen.
“what?”
“i said, bend over.” he taps his thigh once, and you get the idea. okay, sure. you move almost a little too eagerly, tripping on heeseung’s foot - but that was clearly planted there on purpose.
your knees hit the floor, definitely bruising as you let out a soft hiss of pain. “why-“
heeseung’s fingers grab your jaw, fingers digging into the skin of your cheeks as you kneel. “stop talking.”
you shut up, nodding. he lets go of your face, leaning back. “clean my shoe.”
your eyebrows furrows in confusion. clean his what? his shoe? with what, a handkerchief? you reach in your pocket, trying to find the small pack of tissues you keep but he nudges your arm with his foot. “with your mouth.”
oh. so he was kinky like that. you look at him, “..are you serious?”
heeseung stares back at you, gaze more intense than you’ve ever seen before. “does it look like i’m joking?” good point.
you don’t answer. instead, you kneel further down, opening your mouth as you lick the base of his shoe. that first swipe of your tongue sent shivers down your spine.
you gag a little in disgust, but then you remembered who the shoe belongs to. the hottest guy you’ve probably ever seen in your life.
so, you persevere, licking another stripe of his shoe, nearing the lace now. you glance up, and heeseung’s just staring down at you, face expressionless. “..did i say you were done?”
you shake your head, “..no, sir.” you lean back down, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks as you unfortunately lick his shoe again, tongue cleaning the side this time. in the worst way possible, you could literally feel your pussy clenching around nothing right now and it was because of the most degrading act ever.
after a few more swipes of your tongue, heeseung lets up. “stop.” you obey, sitting back up, hands on your knees as if waiting for his next command.
heeseung looks down at you, and you feel pathetic - a little. his gaze is scrutinising. he taps his thighs again, making your gaze avert to there. “sit.”
you stand up immediately, straddling his hips. you lean in for a kiss, but he swerves it. embarrassing.
heeseung says your name condescendingly, “you haven’t earnt that privilege.” you feel the wetness in your panties pool at that.
“..how can i?” you murmur, glancing at him.
“you can kiss me if you can make yourself cum just like this.” heeseung says, leaning back in his chair. you scoff, that was easy. just looking into his eyes could probably make you cum.
heeseung raises an eyebrow at your scoff, but you don’t elaborate. “..okay.” and so with that, you move your hips, grinding your clothed cunt right against his thigh. despite the fabric separating the two of you, the heat emanating from your core is unimaginable.
heeseung doesn’t touch you for the most part. his hand travels down your back, fingers tingling your spine as he looks at you, eyes dark. despite knowing you should feel embarrassed, you can’t. this is what you’ve been waiting for, after all.
as you keep grinding, you can feel his dick harden through his dress pants - heeseung refuses to acknowledge it though. you continue grinding, hands on his shoulders as you practically hump his thigh, begging for release.
you bury your face into his shoulder, panting into his ear. heeseung pushes your hair back, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.
it’s when his hand travels further down your back and onto your ass. heeseung spanks your clothed butt once, and you orgasm just from that, letting out a soft moan. fingers tangle themselves in the back of your hair, pulling you away from his shoulder.
“there’s no way you came just from that.” heeseung mocks, almost holding back a laugh. you’re about to defend yourself, but heeseung speaks again. “but then again, we both know that this is what you wanted, right? to be bent over my desk like a cheap whore, desperate for me to fuck you?”
your cheeks heat up, hands pressing against his chest. “if i say yes, will you do exactly that?”
heeseung scoffs. “you seriously have no shame at all. get up.” you scramble to your feet, thighs shaky.
he stands up after you, bending you right over his desk. you whimper when your face hits his table a little roughly but it’s whatever. a hand trails down, going underneath your skirt. heeseung cups your pussy with his hand, shoving your panties to the side.
“you’re seriously this wet with this sort of treatment?” he sounds surprised, despite his tone still being flat. his hand delivers a sharp spank to your cunt, making you whimper softly.
leaning down, his mouth is next to your ear. “you seriously think i didn’t notice you wearing those tiny skirts all the time?” he roughly pushes your skirt up, slapping the fat of your ass hard. a pained moan leaves your lips.
“..you never said anything about it breaking dress-code, so i think you liked it.” you mumble out, grinning. he hits your rear again, wiping that smugness off your face instantly.
“so that means you dress like a whore for everyone to see?” heeseung mocks, tilting his head. “might as well show up to the entire office naked. i’m sure they’d all love to see that.” his palm strikes down again, making you choke. he hits hard, for sure.
“i was dressing like that for you-“ you stutter out, choking on a sob. “not anyone else.” heeseung yanks you back up with full force, holding your arms against your back. your back is pressed against his chest, making you dizzy at the proximity. this way you can feel his dick poking you through his pants.
“nobody asked you to do that though, did they?” he kisses your nape again.
you nod your head in agreement, “n-no, they didn’t.”
“good. are you finally learning your place?” heeseung’s hands travel down, going back underneath your skirt as he hooks his fingers on the waistband of your panties. he drags them down with ease, and you step out of them.
“i can.”
“you can?” heeseung mumbles behind you, fingers ghosting your slit. his index finger travels your entrance before finally pushing in - going knuckle deep immediately. you choke.
“i’m not giving you an option.” he sits back down on his chair, pulling you back onto his lap with him. he spreads your thighs with ease, before sliding another finger into your cunt.
“i think i’ve been way too lenient with you.” he whispers into your ear as he pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb circling your sensitive clit.
you let out a shaky breath, “h-how so?” a soft whimper leaves your lips when he hits the back of your walls. his fingers go a bit deeper, hitting your g-spot, and effectively making your toes curl. your walls are literally clenching onto his long digits, unable to let them go.
“well, for starters.” he shoves another finger in, making you squirm. “you act like you own the place, and how does that make me look as a boss?” with one more slide of his middle finger, you cream all over his wrist, your back arching into him.
“stupid slut.” he mumbles, “you’re seriously not good for anything apart from cumming, hm?” heeseung lets you rest on him as you catch your breath, kissing the side of your temple.
you pant, distracted. how has this man made you cum twice already? “y-yeah, not good for anything else..”
heeseung makes you stand, bending you back over his desk again. he lifts the back flap of your skirt, and you hear fabric rustling. he grabs your hands, pulling them against your back as he wraps something around them.
you turn your head and see him tying his tie around your wrists. you turn your head back, cheek flat against the wood of the table. there’s a sound of an unzip, and you feel the head of his cock press against your sopping cunt.
he’s sliding it against your slit, not penetrating it. “..what are you waiting for?” you turn around, frustrated. you try buck your hips back, in which heeseung spanks your ass, making you gasp in surprise.
“beg for it.” heeseung scoffs, making you whine.
“are you serious?” you groan. when there’s no respond from his end you know the answer. “please, please, fuck me.” heeseung doesn’t budge.
you try buck your hips back, but heeseung grabs both of your hips with his hands, crescents digging into the soft flesh making you whimper.
“sir, please fuck me. i’ll be a good girl, just please.” tears well up in your eyes from the frustration of the lack of freedom and movement.
the tip of heeseung’s dick slides smoothly across your slick folds, making you whine deliciously. one hand drops from your hip, and before you know it, you’re impaled onto his dick in one go, his pelvis flat against his ass. your cunt struggles with the intrusion, walls fluttering to accommodate his length. you don’t miss the whimper that leaves his lips when he buries himself to the hilt.
you choke, burying your face into the hard desk, which isn’t comforting at all. he pulls out halfway, before slamming back in - letting out a soft hiss at the sensation of your velvety walls around his shaft dragging him back in.
his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, kneading roughly as he holds you flush against him. “..you’ve been such a needy little thing all week, haven't you?”
a hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling you closer to him. “just begging for my attention. you’re pathetic.” his other hand moves to your hip, holding you in place as he starts thrusting again, each snap of his hips bruising the back of your thighs.
“c-cause you always ignore me,” you gasp out.
“ignore you? please. i’m giving you exactly what you deserve.” he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass. “tell me you’re going to start acting normally from now on.”
you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as his dick grinds into your sweet spot, hitting the x marker. “i..” you whimper, “i’ll start acting normally..”
“good girl.” heeseung grabs your jaw, angling you toward him as he kisses you, swallowing your moans and whimpers. pulling back, he looks at you with hooded eyes, his pupils blown wide.
his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nerve. “you’re gonna cum right?” heeseung leans closer to you, watching the way your cunt spasms around his cock.
you nod, “please.” you just automatically assume he’s going to take it away from you, “please, let me cum.”
“you can cum.” heeseung punctuates his words with shallow thrusts, the thick head of his cock kissing your cervix with each movement. his thumb doubles down, applying pressure. you can barely stand anymore, heeseung’s the only thing keeping you up right as your legs tremble.
with a flick of his fingers, you gush around his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. heeseung clamps a hand over your mouth before you can release any loud sounds, just in case someone was still lingering in the office.
heeseung pulls out before he cums himself, forcing you back onto your knees. before you can process what’s happening, he’s already pressing the head of his dick onto your lips.
pressing a soft kiss to his tip, you open your mouth obediently, wrapping your mouth around his shaft. heeseung’s hands tangle themselves in your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail as he controls the pace, moving your head back and forth.
he whimpers when he hits the back of your throat, feeling you gag around his length. “s-shit, right there.” you can’t breathe, nose firmly pressed against his pelvis but it’s okay. the expression on his face right now makes up for any sort of discomfort you could possibly be in.
heeseung starts jerking his hips slightly, hitting the back of your throat constantly. you gag again, tears welling up in your eyes, as well as drool escaping the corners of your mouth to dribble down your chin.
with one more thrust of his hips, he cums down your throat. it’s bitter, but you can barely taste it by the time it’s down your esophagus anyway. he’s panting softly, tucking his dick back into his pants. once he’s done, he starts combing your hair down gently with his fingers.
kneeling down, he wipes any liquid on your face with a tissue. “..was i too rough?”
you’re panting, and dazed, but you shake your head. “n-no. fuck me like that again.”
heeseung sighs, it kind of sounds like one of relief but you can’t tell. “come on, get dressed. i’ll take you home.”
“..i can’t stand up.”
on monday when you come in, the first thing you do is look for jungwon.
and you find him almost immediately, standing near the reception desk. he notices you, of course he does, his expression shifting into one of suspicion.
"oh, hey." jungwoon greets, smiling. you stop right in front of him.
"$50," you say.
jungwon tilts his head, "what?"
"you owe me $50."
his eyebrows lift immediately, "no i don’t."
"oh, you absolutely do."
jungwon turns to face you, "for what?"
"you said I couldn’t pull heeseung."
there's a pause as jungwon just stares at you. "..i said you couldn't-"
"you lost." you cut in immediately.
he exhales, sighing like he's rethinking every single financial decision he's ever made. "i hate this job," he mutters.
you brighten instantly, "..so $50?"
jungwon glares at you, "..i'll transfer it later."
you nod once, satisfied. "good."
this prompt has been sitting in my drafts for ages icl so i finally decided to finish it💔💔
i was lowkey going to skip on the smut again this time but i feel like this is a good learning curve LMAO
SUMMARY: after ferrari’s golden boy crashes in order to save his teammate, he is stuck at the hospital with burns all over his body. between long shifts and the hospital’s desolation, he brings a light in your life that is hard to forget once he’s free to go home.
WARNINGS: feat enhypen RIKI and JAKE. hospital settings, medical terms, mentions of car crashes, blood, burns, mentions of death (brief description, not detailed), mentions of abusive parent, medical conditions, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.
a/n: i believe this could’ve turned out better but i wanted to publish my babies (i’ve been writing them since this summer) so please lmk your thought and opinions!! 🩷🫶 RIKI’S SEQUEL IS OUT!!
The emergency room had seen chaos before, but tonight felt heavier.
It started with sirens, loud and insistent, even through the thick hospital walls, and a nurse rushing in with wide eyes and a shaking tablet.
“Two criticals inbound, Formula one accident. One with full-body burns and head trauma, the other with a compound leg fracture and suspected internal bleeding.”
You didn’t look up until the gurneys were rolled in. The automatic doors swung open with a hiss, letting in two stretchers, wheeled fast.
The first man on the left stretcher wasn’t moving, blood was matting the dark fringe of his hair, and his face was pale under the running crimson.
His racing suit, at least, what remained of it, was slit down the middle already, soaked through.
The other one was conscious, barely. He was moaning low, his gloved hand clutching at his stomach.
His helmet was off, but there were burn marks curling along the side of his jaw, climbing his neck like vines. His left eye was bloodshot, and blood was crusting near his temple.
Someone called names, the trauma doctor barking orders, nurses scattering.
"Male, in his twenties, suspected third-degree burns, signs of cranial impact, get a scan, now!”
You walked beside them, flipping through the patient file as quickly as it populated.
Blood type, height, weight, nothing else yet. No names. Just codenames and a tag: F1 INCIDENT – NIGHT PRACTICE RUN.
The burn patient was rushed straight into the burn unit. The younger one too, the boy, he looked like a boy, no older than nineteen, with a mess of internal damage. You heard the word “rupture.” Someone else said “splintered bone.”
The moment the doors shut behind the burning team, you exhaled and leaned against the wall.
“Oh my God.” One of the nurses beside you whispered. “That’s Lee Heeseung and Nishimura Riki… holy shit.”
You blinked. “Who?”
The girl stared at you like you had three heads. “Heeseung? He’s like… a living legend in F1. He won Monaco last year blind in one eye… you seriously don’t know?”
You shrugged. “Not really my thing.”
She shook her head. “Well, it’l be now.”
And in fact, two hours later, you were re-assigned.
“Y/N, you’ll be in the burning unit monitoring, in a private suite.” The charge nurse handed you a clipboard. “VIP patient.”
You glanced down at the name, written in capital letters: LEE HEESEUNG
The report was horrifying, with skin grafts that started on both arms and his left shoulder, smoke inhalation damage that would be treated by manually removing it with a tube in the lung.
Followed by a nasty concussion with swelling that had the neurosurgeon double-checking his pupils every ten minutes, and last but not least a multiple rib fractures from the crash impact.
He’d been put in a medically induced coma for the first few hours, and the sedation wouldn’t wear off until sometime tomorrow. You’d be there to monitor vitals, manage the IV, prep for re-evaluation.
His room was on the east wing, he kind of suite reserved for politicians or royalty.
You slipped inside quietly. Heeseung looked worse now that everything was cleaned up.
The bandages made it more real, he gauze that circled half his head, the IVs in both arms, the oxygen line.
You adjusted the chart at the foot of his bed, but there was a whisper of movement behind you that distracted you.
The man that stepped in wasn’t that tall, with tousled hair and hoodie slung half-off his shoulder. There was dried blood on his jeans.
“Are you the nurse assigned to Heeseung?”
You nodded. “Just got here, are you family? Visiting hours are over.”
“I’m the— uh, manager. My name’s Sim Jake.” He extended his hand, but it trembled, so he dropped it. “Sorry, I— fuck, I can’t think. Is he stable?”
You nodded slowly. “He made it through all the check ups without surgery. He’s sedated, but stable. We’ll have to monitor him for the next 24 hours very closely, especially with the head injury.”
Jake exhaled so hard his shoulders dropped. “And Riki?” he asked quietly.
“From what I heard, he’s still in surgery.”
He pressed his palms together, his eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d been crying or lacked sleeping “They said it was gonna be a regular night, y’know? pre-race laps. Heeseung didn’t even wanna go.”
You stayed quiet. You’d seen people talk to cope, and you learned how to let them.
Jake stared at the bed, at Heeseung’s unconscious body, and then sat down heavily in the corner chair.
“There was a malfunction,” he said slowly. “In Riki’s brakes, his car didn’t slow down on the fourth turn. It’s a corner he usually takes at normal speed, but he went full throttle tonight, he really wanted to impress everyone.” he swallowed, “he didn’t know. Couldn’t have, there was no control. He was headed straight for the barricade, and spectators were there… families with kids.”
You frowned slightly, brows pulling.
“Heeseung… he saw it. He was in front Riki but he saw what was about to happen, he heard it from the communications radio,” he sighed “so he— he pulled out of line, he s werved into his path.”
Jake’s voice cracked. “He used his own car to stop Riki’s, took the hit full-on, it exploded on fire on impact.”
Your throat felt tight. You glanced at Heeseung again, this time a little different.
“He sacrificed himself,” Jake said, hands fisting in his lap. “To stop Riki from plowing into the stands.”
You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how anyone could choose that kind of pain on purpose.
“He’s gonna live, right?” Jake asked, suddenly boyish. Less like a manager and more like a friend.
You nodded slowly, gaze still on the man lying in the bed. “We’ll do everything we can.”
🏁.
He slipped in and out of consciousness through the long stretch of the night, a haze of morphine clouding over his expression every time he stirred.
Most of it was just moaning, incoherent words under his breath, sometimes Riki’s name.
other times it was just soft whimpers, sharp exhales that caught against his bandaged ribs.
Once, around 3:40 AM, he jolted awake with a short cry and tried to move. His hands jerked upward instinctively, maybe to protect himself… maybe reaching for a steering wheel.
You had to catch his wrist gently and murmur softly until he settled again. “It’s okay,” you whispered, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re safe, you’re not in the car anymore.”
His eyes fluttered beneath bruised lids, and for a second, he stared right through you.
His lips parted, dry and cracked. You held a straw to them and helped him sip water, watched him wince even from that tiny effort, and then he was gone again.
Back into the warmth of sedation, head rolling softly to one side. Morphine dripped slow into his IV. You monitored the levels and checked the rate. You replaced the saline bag when it was almost empty and you didn’t leave the room even when your shift technically ended.
By morning, you were back at your post before the sun had even fully risen.
You weren’t due for another hour, but you couldn't stay home knowing he might wake again confused, aching and… alone.
But when you entered the room, he was already awake. Well, barely, but it was something.
The soft hum of the monitor greeted you first. His vitals were holding steady, but the real sign was the way his eyes, still a bit unfocused, and a little raw, tracked you as you stepped in.
You set your clipboard down quietly and met his gaze. “Hey,” you said softly.
He blinked slowly, then frowned. “Fuck,” he rasped, “I’m not dead?”
His voice was hoarse, painful to hear, but you managed a small smile. “Not yet, sorry.”
A weak huff pushed from his chest, maybe a laugh, or maybe a cough, you couldn’t tell. He shifted, then immediately grimaced, body locking stiff.
“It’ll hurt,” you warned, reaching out to adjust his pillow. “Your ribs are still healing.”
“No shit,” he groaned, swallowing hard. “Why… why can’t I feel my neck? and my chest and arms feel—“ another cough “numb.”
You hesitate, then walked to the bedside. His eyes were clearer now, but clouded with the edge of something worse than fear. The dread of what he didn’t know yet.
“You have third-degree burns on your neck and parts of your chest and arms. The reason you can’t feel them is… because the nerves are gone.” You tried to explain it as easily as possible.
His eyes flicked downward toward his shoulder, then to the heavy gauze wrapping his forearm. He didn’t move, just stared. “Am I—” His voice caught. “How bad does it look?”
You exhaled. “Bad,” you said honestly. “But they did a clean graft. You’ll get function back, most likely. The nerve endings yes… maybe not sensation in some areas. But it’s early, the burn team will know more after the swelling goes down.”
He closed his eyes for a second, jaw clenching.
Silence stretched. Then, his throat worked, voice more broken than before. “Riki?”
You nodded slowly, folding your arms. “He’s alive, though still unconscious. He had internal bleeding, and a compound fracture in his left leg. He’s in post-op recovery now, but he’s stable.”
His entire face tightened, like the weight of it had finally dropped onto his chest. His fingers clenched weakly around the edge of the sheet, and he looked away, toward the window where the morning light was just beginning to creep in through the blinds.
“Good,” he said quietly. “Good. He— he’s just a kid.”
You sat down in the chair beside him, scribbled a note on the chart, and glanced over.
“He’s lucky,” you said softly. “that you were there.”
He didn’t answer.
You knew Jake was still outside. He’d arrived early again, eyes red, pacing the hallway like a ghost. You’d seen him hovering through the glass window earlier, glancing in, debating whether or not to come in.
Now, as Heeseung winced and shifted slightly, you knew he wouldn’t want to deal with him yet.
“You’ve got someone outside,” you said after a pause. “Jake, right? Your manager.”
Heeseung closed his eyes.
“I don’t have the energy for him right now,” he muttered. “He’s just gonna yell.”
“Then he can wait.” you stood, heading toward the door. “You need rest, not a lecture.”
You stepped out quietly and met Jake’s eyes. He stood up instantly. “Is he awake? Can I—?”
“He’s not in the mood to talk,” you said, keeping your voice low but firm. “He’s in pain, and he’s processing. Maybe come back tomorrow?”
Jake’s face fell, but he nodded, rubbing his hand over his mouth, murmured something that resembled a ‘thank you’ before stepping away.
When you returned to the room, Heeseung was still awake, eyes half-closed, the tension in his shoulders loosened by a fraction. “You want me to turn the lights down a bit?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “My eyes hurt.”
You moved to the wall, dimmed them until the room was cast in soft amber.
And when you returned to your seat, he glanced over, lips cracked, voice barely above a whisper. “…What’s your name?”
“Y/N.” you replied “I’ll be your nurse for the time you stay here.”
He blinked. “You’re the one who was here last night.”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “You tried to punch me when I held your hand.”
His brows creased. “Did I?”
“You missed.” You shrugged and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth, the first one real enough to settle.
🏁.
When you pushed the door open after your lunch break, it was with the quiet intent of checking Heeseung’s vitals, maybe adjusting his IV line again.
You expected him to still be in pain, perhaps trying to sleep it off. You did not expect what you found.
Three nurses, all hovering around his bed like moths to a dying flame.
One was adjusting his blanket even though it was already neatly draped, another was holding a spoon of soup like it was some kind of sacred ritual, and the last one— oh, she was massaging lotion onto the one patch of unburned skin on his hand with a focus that was frankly excessive.
Heeseung looked… tired. Not just physically, but emotionally drained, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the attention.
His eyes met yours almost instantly as you stepped in, and something like relief washed over his features.
You didn’t smile. “Out,” you just said, sharp but calm.
All three of them froze, as if you’d pulled the fire alarm. One nurse looked like she might argue, but you raised your brow just slightly, and she faltered.
“But we were just—”
“I’m sure you were,” you cut her off smoothly. “He’s under recovery care, not an autograph booth.”
The room grew ten degrees colder.
They scurried out with muttered apologies, not meeting your gaze. One of them left behind the bowl of half-stirred soup and a chocolate pudding cup on the tray.
Heeseung watched you settle the tray on the adjustable table and pull it close to him.
“So,” you said, lifting the spoon from the bowl, “how many fangirls have snuck in while I was gone?”
He grimaced slightly. “Only them, I tjink… one kept calling me ‘hero.’ I tried to play dead but they didn’t leave.”
You smirked faintly, scooping up a small portion of the lukewarm soup “Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to fake injuries for attention?”
He gave a weak chuckle. “Pretty sure I didn’t have to fake anything.”
You lifted the spoon to his lips, watching as he took the soup carefully, his lips parting just slightly, eyes grimacing a little at the taste. His neck muscles twitched, probably from strain, and he exhaled hard after swallowing.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Is that soup or dishwater?”
“Hospital cuisine,” you said solemnly. “Five-star micheline.”
He took another spoonful, slowly, wincing just from the movement of his jaw.
He still looked rough, his color wasn’t good, skin pale and slightly ashy from the burn meds. His arms were stiff at his sides, bandaged still, and you could tell the hunger was there, but the effort… not so much.
You opened the pudding cup next, gave it a little stir with the plastic spoon. He looked at it like it was the most edible thing he’d seen in weeks.
“Oh thank god,” he said. “I’ve never been so excited for fake chocolate in my life.”
“Open up,” you said, and he did, the sweetness seeming to go down easier than the soup. He sighed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
“I thought I’d feel better today,” he murmured. “But I still feel like shit.”
“You’re not even forty-eight hours post the accident yet,” you reminded him. “Your body’s still trying to decide if it wants to forgive you.”
He shifted then, just a little, then a little more. “Careful—”
“I wanna sit up more,” he mumbled, already pressing one arm against the bed, trying to push himself.
You leaned in, firm but calm. “Heeseung, stop.”
“I can’t just lie here—”
“You literally must.”
His eyes flashed with stubbornness, but then he grimaced hard, pain tightening his mouth.
You reached out instinctively, palm flat on his shoulder, not the burned one, holding him still.
“Don’t be stupid,” you said quietly. “Your ribs are still cracked, you won’t win against gravity.”
His jaw clenched. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
He looked away, toward the window. The light outside was gentler now, filtered through the clouds.
His face was drawn, and you could see it in the way he held himself, he wasn’t just sore, he was frustrated
The kind of man who didn’t like stillness. Who probably measured his self-worth by his speed.
“You’re scheduled to remove some of the smoke still in your lungs,” you told him, “It will not be pleasant.”
“Great,” he said sarcastically, “On a scale from one to ten?”
You thought about if for a minute, “I’ve never done it, but I will not lie that I think it will be a solid eight.”
You adjusted the pillow behind his back carefully, angling the bed up a little more for him. He didn’t resist this time, just watched your hands.
“You’re not useless just because you’re healing,” you said, mentioning the previous conversation. “You saved someone. That’s not something your body gets over in a day.”
Heeseung was quiet for a long moment, the sound of the heart monitoring a steady pulse beside you.
“…he’s still not awake, right?” he asked softly.
You nodded. “Still out, but stable.”
He didn’t respond to that. Just stared out at the window again, jaw working.
You finished cleaning up the tray, wiping the corner of his mouth where a little pudding had smeared.
Your fingers brushed along his chin lightly, and for a second, his eyes dropped to your hand.
When you pulled back, he exhaled slowly.
“Thanks,” he said, voice lower now.
You didn’t smile, but your voice was soft. “Stop trying to get up, and I’ll bring you something that actually tastes like food tomorrow.”
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering, then gave a small nod.
“No fangirls,” you added, pointing an accusing finger towards him.
He smiled, just barely. “Only you then?”
You rolled your eyes and stood.
“Don’t push it.”
🏁.
Days blurred together like a long breath you couldn’t quite finish taking.
Outside, the world carried on, traffic, sunrises, clouds rolling over the hospital’s concrete edges, but inside that room, things moved slower.
Jake came every day now, just after lunch, always bringing a different set of sports magazines or articles printed off from the web.
Heeseung barely read them, but he listened when Jake talked about regular things, probably as not to overwhelm him with the fact that races continued wven as he laid on a hospital bed.
A video someone posted of Riki doing stupid tricks in a go-kart. They didn’t say much about the boy himself, not with him still in the ICU, but you could feel the tension crackle in Jake every time he left, like walking out of that room meant abandoning someone else who couldn’t speak for himself yet.
You didn’t press him, and yoou didn’t ask questions.
You were too busy with your own routine.
You came into Heeseung’s room just before the evening shift change.
The light outside had gone pale blue, casting long shadows across the tile floor.
You rolled in a small cart with the supplies, like bandages, ointments, saline and gauze. He was already sitting up a little, watching you.
His face still bore the bruises of the accident, but the swelling had gone down, and his eyes tracked your every movement now, sharp and clear.
“You get a new uniform?” he asked, voice less raspy than before but still colored with something teasing.
You raised an eyebrow. “It’s the same one you bled on two days ago. We just wash them sometimes.”
“Hot,” he murmured, then hissed softly as he tried to adjust his shoulder.
“Don't be cute,” you muttered. “It’s wound cleaning day.”
You started with his head. The bandage there had to be changed slowly, carefully, because the skin underneath was still raw and sensitive.
You gloved up, peeled back the old gauze from his temple, then gently dabbed at the edges of the injury with a saline-soaked pad.
He winced, but didn’t complain. Not like he had the first time. “You’re quieter than usual,” he said.
“You want me to make small talk while I pull the rest of your scabbed flesh off?” You raised a brow at him. He let out a breathy laugh and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the distraction.”
You wrapped the fresh bandage around his head, secure but loose enough not to give him a headache.
Then you moved to his chest. He shifted again, the sheets falling to his lap as you pulled the gown down and exposed the burns that still ran like brutal red streaks from just below his collarbone down to the edge of his ribs, spreading across his right shoulder and part of his upper arm. Some had darkened and some peeled.
But all of it looked painful.
You dipped a gloved finger into the ointment and began carefully applying it over the healing areas.
You didn’t flinch at the way the flesh had hardened in some parts, blistered in others. You’d seen worse.
“You okay?” you asked softly.
“Yeah,” he said through his teeth. “Feels like acid.”
“It’s just medicine.”
“I know, but I like being dramatic.”
You gave a short laugh, smoothing the ointment into the side of his neck, then placed new gauze over it, pressing down gently to secure it.
“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he said after a while “I mean, taking care of people like this…. like me. It can’t be the easiest job.”
You shrugged, taping down the last piece. “I’ve had harder patients.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. There was this guy once who thought flirting through third-degree burns was charming.” you teased.
He chuckled, and you moved to his arms next, slowly peeling back the old dressings.
His skin twitched under the fresh air, his fingers curling instinctively. You worked in silence for a while, glancing up only when you noticed him watching you.
“What?” you asked.
He tilted his head a little. “Nothing, you just never talk about yourself.”
You finished smoothing a patch of ointment along his bicep before answering. “There’s not much to say.”
“Bullshit. You’re in here every day, making sure I don’t die of infection or morphine withdrawal. You clean me, feed me, fight off the occasional fangirl. You’ve gotta have more going on than this.”
You paused. Then looked up at him… you didn’t really have an entertaining life outside the hospital, so you opted for something safe. “I’m also assigned to another patient.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
You nodded, wrapping his arm now. “A kid about nine years old. He came in with a collapsed lung.”
Heeseung stilled slightly. “Accident?”
“No.” you gulped. “His father beat the shit out of him.”
Something in his face twisted then, slow and ugly. You continued softly. “He’s doing better now. Still needs the oxygen support, but he’s laughing again. Oh, and he loves dinosaurs.”
Heeseung’s voice was low. “Do people like that guy, his father, just get to walk around free?”
“It’s… complicated.” You said, your hands working focused. “He’s on the loose, police are searching for him.”
“Fuck.” He exhaled sharply, then looked away. “I thought I had it bad.”
You finished dressing the last of his wounds, peeling off your gloves with a soft snap and tossing them into the bin.
“You did,” you said quietly. “Pain doesn’t need to compete.”
He looked at you again then, for a long time. You weren’t sure what was in his eyes exactly. Respect, maybe sadness. Something softer, too.
“Thanks,” he said.
You gave him a faint smile, then reached for the blanket again, pulling it over his legs gently. “Don’t move too much tonight.”
“No promises.” Heeseung shrugged.
“I’ll sedate you if I have to.” you threatened.
He smirked. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve done to me.”
You rolled your eyes, gathered your supplies, and started toward the door. Before you stepped out, you glanced back.
He was still looking at you. Not like a patient looking at a nurse.
Like a man trying to understand someone he suddenly realized he didn’t know at all.
🏁.
Riki woke up the following week.
The update came in quietly, just after sunrise, passed from the ICU nurse on duty to your floor with that same hushed relief you’d felt pressing at the back of your ribs since the accident.
He was conscious, but weak. He was. fading in and out of sleep, but breathing on his own, and whispering broken sentences when someone leaned in close enough to hear.
You didn’t rush to tell Heeseung.
You waited until you finished your morning rounds, changed his bandages, fed him half of his usual breakfast. He didn’t complain today. Not once, and that alone told you his mind was elsewhere.
It wasn’t until you were refilling his IV fluids that you finally told him.
“Riki’s awake,” you said simply, not looking up as you slid the fresh saline bag onto the pole.
The stillness in the room shifted sharply.
Heeseung’s voice was instant, a little breathless. “When?”
“This morning.” You turned to him. “He’s in the trauma unit now. They transferred him just after stabilizing.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. His hands flexed slightly at his sides. “Can I see him?”
You hesitated. “You’re not exactly in any shape to—”
“I can sit,” he cut in quickly. “If I sit in a wheelchair, I can do it. I swear I won’t move. Just— five minutes. Please.”.
He was still so pale. The bruising around his eye had darkened into a dull ochre. The bandages on his neck peeked out from under his gown. His arm was trembling just from lifting the glass of water earlier.
He wasn’t ready. But you also knew he’d never feel ready, and something told you he wouldn’t rest until he saw Riki for himself.
You sighed, pulling your gloves off. “Alright, but you don’t lift a finger. You move wrong and I’ll have you sedated for real this time.”
He smiled weakly. “God, that’s hot.”
You shot him a flat look. “Try me.”
You brought the chair around slowly. He watched every motion as you locked the brakes, looped the IV pole onto the hooks, and adjusted the footrest to keep his legs steady. Then came the hard part.
“Okay,” you said gently, moving to his side. “You’re gonna need to lean forward on three. I’ll brace your back. Use your left arm if you can. The right’s still healing.”
He nodded once, already concentrating “One… two.. three.”
He grunted as he moved, your arm slipping under his to guide his weight forward. It took everything in him not to scream, you could tell.
His ribs were like cracked glass, one wrong shift and he’d shatter. But he bit it back, his jaw clenched, and let you ease him into the wheelchair slowly.
Once he was seated, you adjusted his gown to keep the bandages covered, re-checked the IV tube to make sure it wasn’t pulled, and only when everything was steady did you release a breath.
“You good?” you asked.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.. fuck. I feel like a grandpa.”
The trauma unit wasn’t far, but you still took it slow. Every bump in the linoleum seemed to jolt through his bones.
You moved carefully, guiding the chair down the hallway, keeping your hand on the bar, and checking on him every few seconds. He didn’t talk, he just stared straight ahead.
When you reached Riki’s room, you paused at the door. “You sure?” you asked.
Heeseung nodded quietly and so you opened the door slowly.
The lights were dimmed inside, soft beeping of monitors the only sound.
Riki was lying still, propped slightly against the incline of the bed. His skin was a mess of bruises, purple and green splotches painting across his arms and cheek. A heavy cast swallowed most of his left leg, raised and elevated on a cushion.
There were faint stitches near his collarbone, and you saw the tremble of his chest with every breath.
But his eyes were open and conscious, staring at the white ceiling.
When he saw Heeseung, something in his expression cracked. His mouth moved first, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “Heeseung…”
Heeseung tried to lean forward but flinched instantly. You stepped in and pressed lightly on his shoulder.
“Careful,” you murmured.
“I thought you were dead,” Riki said, voice hoarse and small.
Heeseung swallowed, eyes shining faintly. “So did I.”
Riki blinked rapidly. “They said you— why the fuck did you stop in front of me like that? That’s not…” He trailed off, voice thick. “That’s not how this is supposed to go.”
Heeseung stared at him for a long moment. “You were headed for the barricade.”
“You should’ve just let me crash.” Riki snapped.
Heeseung’s voice was low, steady. “No, i really shouldn’t have.”
The silence between them settled like a weight. You didn’t speak, nor did you move. You saw how Heeseung’s hands gripped the armrests, how Riki tried to blink away the water in his eyes.
“You look like shit,” Riki finally said, a faint smile twitching at his lips.
Heeseung gave a tired breath of a laugh. “Yeah. So do you.”
You looked between the two of them. “I’ll give you a few minutes… just don’t make him laugh too hard. His ribs won’t survive it.”
🏁.
Two more weeks passed, and the days started blending again, though in a different rhythm now.
Rehab was slower, less frantic than the ER, but harder in other ways.
You watched Heeseung try to curl his fingers around a towel for ten full minutes one morning, sweat beading along his brow while the physical therapist kept encouraging him softly, and he just clenched his jaw and tried again and again, even when the pain clawed up from his shoulder into his teeth.
The nerves in his right arm were slow to wake. Some hadn’t at all.
But he worked through it, every day. There were setbacks and ghost pains and frustration.
A dozen nights when he asked you to help him sleep with medications because the sensation of nothing in his arm felt worse than agony.
You tried your best to support him, to give him the strength he was missing.
He could get a game of cards with you each time he managed to complete an exercise, and though he struggled to hold the cards in hands, he looked forward to it.
He always did, but one day you didn’t arrive at the time you usually did.
You always checked in after the rehab sessions. Always adjusted the pillows, changed his IV port, sometimes brought him sickeningly sweet tea even though it wasn’t officially allowed.
That afternoon, he returned from physical therapy looking exhausted and stiff, arm strapped carefully in the sling again.
You would be waiting for him, and even if he felt tired, he was excited to tell you about his progress.
But when he got in there were no cards and no you.
He was half-dozing when the door finally opened, with but the footsteps weren’t yours. The nurse on duty came in to check his meds, and as she adjusted his meds she told him you were coming but were just running late.
She went away, and when the door opened again some time later, it was you.
You came in fast, too fast and your steps uneven. Your scrubs were wrinkled, your hair pulled back hastily.
You didn’t even glance at him, just went straight to the counter and dropped your bag like your hands didn’t know what to do with anything.
“Hey,” he said, quietly.
“Hey.” You replied hurriedly.
He tried to push himself up further in bed, and that simple movement sent a spasm through his ribs. He hissed but kept watching you.
Your hands were shaking as you reached for the gloves. You put them on hastily and put some morphine drops in his IV line.
Or tried to, because the needle kept missing. You tried again and again.
“Hey.” He murmured, brows furrowing. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” you gulped, voice shaky, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
But he didn’t buy your lie, so he said more firmly, “Y/N.”
You stopped moving and dropped your hands on the medicine counter. “I lost him.”
The words came out too sharp and too sudden. You hadn’t meant to say them like that. You hadn’t even known what you meant to say until they tore out of your mouth.
He blinked slowly. trying to piece the words together. “The kid?”
You turned slowly toward him, your eyes wide and glassy, and you laughed, a short and broken sound. It caught in your throat. You clutched the edge of the t counter like it could hold you up.
“I— I did everything. Everything I was supposed to. He was smiling yesterday… and… and he even asked me to draw dinosaurs on his oxygen mask. I told him I would after he ate his dinner.”
He didn’t speak, he let you rant, because he knew you needed not to be strong for once. You needed a shoulder to cry on.
You stepped forward, then dropped to your knees before you even realized it. The medical equipment fell from your hands.
“He started coughing and he didn’t stop,” you whispered, voice already breaking. “His lung… it filled with blood. He couldn’t breathe and we couldn’t intubate fast enough. He choked in front of us. In front of me.”
Your hands pressed to your face. “I tried… I tried so fucking hard—”
Your sobs ripped out of you, loud and uncontained, ugly sobs that rocked your body. Heeseung reached out before his body could protest. “Come here.”
“No,” you gasped. “I can’t— I’m not supposed to—”
“Come here.” He repeated firmly.
You crawled toward the bed on your knees, hands shaking too much to reach for anything.
He managed to lower his good arm toward you, fingers trembling as they brushed against your shoulder.
You pressed your face to the side of the bed, arms folded awkwardly under you, and sobbed into the blanket.
He winced, but he kept his hand there on your back. His thumb moved in slow, unsteady circles, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “You did everything you could.”
“I didn’t save him.” You snapped.
“Sometimes… sometimes you can’t.” He tried to reason. “I promised I’d come see him tomorrow.” You whispered brokenly.
Heeseung’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes like he could carry the weight of that grief for you.
“I keep seeing his face,” you whispered. “He looked so scared.”
“I know that feeling,” he murmured. “I know, I see the fire every night.”
Your fingers curled into the blanket. He moved his hand and brushed your hair back behind your ear. The gentlest touch he could manage.
“You made him forget the horrors he went through,” he said softly. “You were there. That matters more than anything.”
You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t even pretend to be the composed nurse anymore.
You weren’t her right now. You were just you, kneeling on the floor beside a patient who had become more than just a chart.
You stayed there, head buried into the side of the bed, tears soaking through the sheet, while Heeseung lay still, chest tight, body too raw to offer more than the steady, quiet presence you’d once given him.
Eventually, your sobs softened, worn out. Like the grief had burned through you fast and left only ash behind.
He spoke again, voice slow. “You can sit up here, if you want.”
You shook your head. “I don’t want you to move.” Even in your pain, uou cared more for him.
“I won’t.” He shifted his hand slightly, inviting. “Just stay beside me..”
So you did, because you weren’t really in the right state of mind to list all the reasons why you shouldn’t.
You climbed onto the edge of the bed slowly, not to disturb the tubes or bandages, and leaned gently against the side of his body. His good arm curled around your back.
Just for a moment you let yourself be held.
🏁.
It was quiet between you for a long while. His hand was warm where it rested on your back, too warm for someone who’d spent the last few weeks surrounded by machines and medications and cold gauze.
You were still curled into the side of the bed, your cheek resting just beside the edge of his chest, body limp from the sobbing.
“Hey.” He finally spoke.
You shifted, barely lifting your head. “Mh?.”
He angled his neck enough to glance down at you. “Wheel me downstairs.”
You blinked slowly. “Downstairs where?”
“The cafeteria.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. His face was worn, but his expression was serious.
You stared hard. “You’re not allowed down there yet.”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “Neither was I allowed to have Jake’s candy bars, but I’ve had three Twix and two mini bags of Doritos this week, and I haven’t died.”
Your brows lifted. “You’ve been cheating on your meal plan?” He gave a faint smirk. “Religiously.”
“You sighed, pressing your fingers to your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do right now was escort a stubborn F1 driver out of his room for snacks like he hadn’t nearly burned alive three weeks ago.
But the truth was, your chest still hurt. The grief still sat in your bones, but it was quieter now, and something in his voice had shifted.
“Fine,” you muttered, standing. “But you’re wearing your sling, and your hospital bracelet stays visible. If anyone asks, you’re on a medically supervised movement.”
“Lord,” he murmured. “You make rule-breaking sound so sexy.”
You rolled your eyes, but the ache in your chest had already started to soften.
You helped him into the chair again, slower this time, letting him lean into you more than usual.
His body was getting stronger, but not by much, and even the act of standing made him wince. You adjusted his IV pole and tucked the light blue blanket across his lap before wheeling him carefully out into the corridor.
The hallway was mostly quiet as night shift had already begun. The elevators pinged with soft dings while you descended.
“Did you bring me down here to flirt with the volunteers again?” you asked as the doors opened on the ground floor.
“No,” he said. “They don’t make eye contact anymore. I think you scared them off.”
You snorted. “Good.”
The café was dimly lit, the kind that looked like it was trying very hard to pretend it wasn’t inside a hospital.
You wheeled him to a table tucked in the corner, far from the noise of people or the murmur of the vending machines.
You walked up to the bar and ordered what he’d asked for, a hot chocolate with no whipped cream, and a bottle of water. The cashier rang it up, and just as you reached for your hospital-issued card, a hand beat you to it.
Heeseung had wheeled towards you, alone, and handed over a credit card without a word.
You looked at him sharply. “What the fuck are you—”
“I wanted to.” Ahe said quickly, “And I used the good arm.” He waved it for good measure.
You narrowed your eyes. “I’m on shift. I can’t let patients pay for—”
“I’m a grown man in a wheelchair, who needs your help standing while peeing, I think you deserve this.”
You stared at him for a second longer, but he didn’t waver. So you let it go, you took the tray with the drinks, careful not to spill the hot chocolate, and returned to the table.
When you set it down in front of him, he reached out for the bottle of water. He pushed the hot chocolate toward you.
You blinked, then frowned in confusion. “This is yours.”
“I ordered it for you.” He explained as if it was the most obvious thing.
Your hands hovered for a second. “You asked for it.”
“And then I gave it away.” He met your eyes, gaze soft but unwavering. “You’ve had a shit day, well, week. I figured chocolate was a safer bet than tequila.”
You slowly sat down, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. It steamed against your skin, thick and sweet-smelling.
“You still shouldn’t be paying for me,” you muttered.
“I crashed a million-dollar car. You think I’m worried about six bucks?”
You shook your head, trying to hide the way your lip tugged up just slightly.
He leaned back a little in the chair, the bottle of water resting between his thighs. “You’re allowed to sit here,” he said, voice quiet. “Not just as my nurse but just as you.”
You stared down at the cup. “I don’t think I know how to be just me anymore.”
“You do,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had time to remember.”
You took a slow sip and the warmth bled into your chest. “I think I hate hospitals,” you whispered.
He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “So do I.”
You wheeled him back before the nurse on dinner rounds made it to his floor.
Heeseung didn’t say much on the way up, he just kept his eyes ahead, arm still nestled in the sling, the blanket pooling loosely around his waist.
You stopped the wheelchair in front of his room, and opened the door wide enough for the chair to slip in.
He shifted a little as you rolled him in, wincing when the chair hit a bump in the threshold. “Careful,” he murmured.
“Sorry,” you replied quickly, helping him ease into a comfortable position beside his bed before turning off the wheelchair brakes.
You were efficient again, going through motions you’d done a hundred times, but your fingers still trembled slightly when they brushed his wrist, adjusting the IV.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For taking care of me.”
You turned toward him. “It’s literally my job
“It’s more than that,” he said. “You didn’t have to sit with me. You didn’t have to cry where I could see you.”
You swallowed, eyes briefly dropping to his blanket. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not very professional.”
“You’re too pretty to cry,” he said simply.
You rolled your eyes, stepping toward the cabinet to grab a clean set of saline wipes, trying to cover how your heart stuttered at the way he’d said it— like a fact, not a compliment.
“Don’t start,” you warned. “I’m not starting,” he said. “I’m just saying.”
You turned back to him, arms crossed, and leaned against the cabinet. “Alright, fine. How are you feeling? Really.”
He blinked at you, then tilted his head slightly, making a face. “Sore.”
“Where?” You asked.
He shifted, jaw tightening as he angled his neck. “My neck mostly. Probably the burn. It feels like it’s pulling when I sleep.”
“That’s because you keep turning your head instead of using the pillow support,” you said, walking toward him again.
You reached gently toward his collarbone, pulling back the loose hospital shirt to peek at the gauze that covered the worst of the scarring.
“You should kiss it better,” he said then, voice suddenly low.
You stopped, frozen in place. Your hand froze an inch from his skin, and his eyes flicked to your face, watching you for a reaction, but not pushing.
His lips tugged up, a faint, boyish grin pulling the corner of his mouth.
You stared at him, chest tight, then sighed through your nose and leaned in, fast, before you could think better of it, and pressed a quick kiss to the edge of his cheekbone.
Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin under your lips, to let the tension between you shift into something that made your stomach twist.
His smile widened, the surprise obvious on his face.
“Hey,” he whispered, gaze following you as you straightened and stepped back. “That was nice.”
“Don’t let it get to your head.” You said, holding a threatening finger to his face.
He laughed, low and hoarse. “Too late.”
You grabbed your clipboard, pretending to check his chart so you wouldn’t have to look at him while your face still felt warm.
“I should go,” you muttered, already walking toward the door. “Dinner shift’s starting on the east wing.”
“Wait—”
But you were already pulling the door open, glancing back at him just long enough to catch the way he looked at you now.
You didn’t say anything else. You just stepped out, your heart pounding loud enough you were sure he could hear it, and let the door shut behind you with a soft click.
🏁.
By the third day of your ten-hour shift stretch, you could recognize the tone of the call button chime before the light even blinked above the door.
It was always Lee Heeseung’s, allways at the most inopportune moments— just when you had your gloves snapped on to help with someone else’s chart, or when you were halfway through prepping a new IV bag.
And by now, you didn’t even need to guess what he’d say.
“My pillow fell again.”
“My water’s too warm.”
“I finished the tissue box. I sneezed once and now it’s gone.”
“I think my skin feels itchy, but like, only a little. Is that bad?”
“Do you know where the remote is?”
Six times that day, and it wasn’t even five p.m.
So this time, you walked in before the chime finished echoing down the hall, your hands on your hips, the door swinging shut behind you with a firm thud.
“Okay,” you said, standing just inside the threshold, your brows raised. “I know you’re bored, and I know hospital life isn’t exactly thrilling, but unless you’ve developed a new infection or spontaneously combusted again, I really don’t want to hear another call button chime from this room today.”
Heeseung looked up from the bed, blinking at you with the most unapologetically fake innocent expression you’d ever seen.
“You don’t have to scold me like that,” he said, lifting a hand with mock pain. “It hurts my feelings.”
“It hurts my back,” you snapped, “to walk this hallway six times because you suddenly forgot where your mouth is after wiping it.”
He cracked a smile then, slow and crooked. “That one wasn’t urgent, I just missed you.”
You blinked at him, deadpan.
“I’m serious,” he added quickly. “I’m not trying to be annoying. I mean, I am. But not… only.”
You slowly stepped closer to the bed, your arms crossing over your chest. “Heeseung.”
He lifted both hands in surrender, careful not to stretch his burned arm. “Alright. alright, I’ll stop. I’ll be good.”
You narrowed your eyes. You knew he felt alone, F1 season continued, Jake had meetings with his whole department since both his drivers were out and he was afraid he’d be replaced.
You knew, but it didn’t mean he had to drive you insane too. No pun intended.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, softer this time. “I know I’m being a pain in the ass, that you’re tired, and I know it’s not fair to ask for attention when there are patients who actually need you.”
That startled you a little. His voice was sincere now, not playful.
The kind of honest that didn’t come easy to men like him, the men used to winning races and smiling through sponsors’ press conferences and interviews. But he looked small now, even as he sat upright in the bed, chest tight in the bandages you changed every morning.
“I’m just—” he exhaled, his fingers twitching over the blanket. “I’m scared to leave. That’s the truth.”
You frowned, stepping to his bedside without thinking. “Why would you be scared of leaving a hospital?”
“Because I look like this.” He motioned vaguely to his body, to the sling, the burn that peeked from beneath the hem of his collar. “Because I haven’t seen a mirror in weeks, and I know I’ve looked better. Because my hair’s gross and I’ve lost weight and I smell like antiseptic, and I’ve been stuck in this bed thinking that I’ll never feel like myself again.”
You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t done. “And because I finally got the courage to want something for myself. And that something is you.”
The words landed hard. You felt your arms drop slightly, hands now loose by your sides, the air between you suddenly tighter than before. You blinked your eyes, unsure if you were seeing or hearing his words right.
Heeseung looked up at you again, slower this time, less sure of himself than you’d ever seen him.
“I know you don’t owe me anything. You’ve been taking care of me because it’s your duty, and I’ve probably pushed boundaries I shouldn’t. But…” He swallowed, breath shallow. “I wanted to tell you now. Before I get discharged, because the second I’m out of here, I’m gonna be back in recovery, back in press cycles, and everyone’s going to ask about the crash and Riki and the damn brakes, and I’m not going to get to just sit with you… or make you laugh, ormake you roll your eyes like that.”
You stared at him, speechless, as if your body had finally shut down.
“I just needed you to know,” he said finally. “When I’m back on my feet and when I look like me again… I’m going to ask you out, properly. If you’ll let me.”
Your heart was pounding, because somewhere deep down, maybe you’d known. Known from the moment he reached for the hot chocolate and slid it across the table. Known from the way he watched you like you were the only anchor he had left.
You didn’t know what to say, not yet. Your mouth felt dry and your chest felt tight, but your feet stepped closer anyway, drawn like a magnet.
You didn’t kiss him this time. You didn’t touch him either. You just looked down at him, eyes skimming his face, the new pink of his healing skin, the glint of defiance still in his expression.
“You still can’t press the call button,” you said quietly.
His smile broke again, wider this time. Like sunlight on rained down pavement.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wait for you.”
🏁.
You didn’t see Heeseung for almost three weeks.
He still came to the hospital, that much you knew, rehabilitation was mandatory, even for someone as stubborn as Ferrari’s golden boy.
He was scheduled twice a week for physical therapy, and he visited Riki when he could, sometimes staying an hour or more in the kid’s room.
But your shifts never overlapped. It was strange, how easily someone could vanish into the same building you worked in, the same halls you’d memorized with your eyes closed.
You didn’t try to ask around. You didn’t dig through records or prod the therapists in the staff lounge.
You didn’t let it show on your face that every time the elevator dinged on your floor, your eyes flicked up before you could stop yourself.
He was healing at home now. Taking care of his own burns, which had scabbed and scarred over with that red-purple finish that made your heart twist the last time you saw them.
You imagined him moving stiffly through some fancy condo, with his water always cold, pillows never out of reach, tissues unused because there was no one around to pass them.
However, you saw Riki often. He was in less pain now, and more alert to his surroundings.
Still sour most days, snappy and restless from staying still for so long, but there was a spark there, something sharp behind his eyes when he talked about rehab. He wanted to walk, he wanted to drive again. Even if it was far off for the time being.
“Heeseung comes in all weird,” Riki muttered one afternoon while you adjusted the IV tubing above his bed. “Like, in baseball caps and hoodies. As if people won’t recognize him if he covers half his face and walks with that stupid gait.”
“Maybe he’s trying not to get mobbed,” you murmured, flicking the drip line with your nail. “He had fans even in the hospital.”
“He just doesn’t want people to look at him,” Riki said, a little quieter. “Not until his skin looks normal.”
You didn’t answer that. You just gave him a sip of water and changed the subject, but it stayed with you.
That night, for the first time, you opened Instagram and typed Ferrari into the search bar.
The page was easy to find. It was verified, with the bold logo, all red and gold and glory.
You scrolled past the highlight reels, the merchandise links, the footage of pit crews moving like insects in reverse. You skimmed captions about sponsors, about prep for the next season, about hopeful outlooks. And then you found his name.
Lee Heeseung, back in training. Slowly regaining strength in his right arm, working with team specialists twice a week. Determined to be ready for next season’s opener.
There was a photo. Blurry, and taken from behind. Heeseung bent forward, sweat soaking through a dark training tee, fingers curled over a steering simulator.
His profile was partly visible, bandage still over the side of his neck, his jaw clenched, dark hair longer than it had been in the hospital.
He looked thin and tired. But he looked alive.
You stared at the photo for longer than you should have. Then, against your better judgment, you hit the follow button.
You didn’t expect it to change anything. You didn’t expect him to see it, even, his feed was full of likes and mentions from fans all over the world, probably flooded every minute.
But something about it made you feel closer. Like you’d walked into a corner of his life no one had given you permission to touch.
Like you were choosing to see him now, not as your patient, not as a body in bandages, but as someone aching to be more than that.
You still didn’t see him in ‘real life’, but you started noticing the gap he left in your day.
The way your shift felt a little quieter without his voice drifting out of his VIP room.
How your eyes scanned the hallway out of habit, expecting his lanky frame to come sauntering around the corner with a sarcastic comment ready. How the call button in his old room remained untouched, almost dusty with disuse.
You didn’t let yourself think about it too much. You had other patients. You had other wounds to clean, other charts to fill.
You had boys younger than Riki who didn’t know what comfort felt like, who cried into your sleeves when no one else was looking.
But late at night, when you walked home in silence, something in you still flickered with that unfinished sentence. With that look in his eyes the last time you left his room.
🏁.
Saturdays weren’t yours to work, but the fire from three nights ago had overflowed the ER.
Nurses had been calling out, supplies were low, and patients kept pouring in with second-degree burns and smoke in their lungs, soot in their hair and soot in their blood.
You hadn’t had lunch. You barely remembered what you’d eaten for breakfast.
Your scrubs were wrinkled, your badge strap sticky with someone’s dried medication, your shoes creaked wet from a mop bucket you stepped in by accident. All you wanted was to go home, shower, and sleep for fourteen uninterrupted hours.
So when you stepped out the side exit, your usual escape route to avoid the busier front doors, and found a sleek, glimmering black car parked right in the middle of the access road, you groaned out loud.
“The hell…” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes.
You looked around first, no security in sight and no staff nearby.
The car was expensive, way too shiny to belong to a low waged doctor, but the way it was angled made your jaw clench.
Right in the path of emergency lanes. If an ambulance pulled in, it would have to slow down, stop before it hit it and possibly lose a life.
You stepped toward the driver’s side window without hesitation, rapping your knuckles against the glass firmly.
You didn’t expect it to roll down that fast. And you definitely didn’t expect him.
Heeseung turned toward you slowly, lips twitching up into the smallest smile, his eyes scanning you like you were a familiar song playing again for the first time in weeks.
He had a hat on, but he pulled it off the second he saw your face. His skin had lost the swollen, raw shine, there were still scars on his jawline and neck, but they were faded now, pinked and healing.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
You just blinked, hands mid-air, paused knock on the window. “What— what are you doing here?” you asked.
“I was waiting for you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your shift ended half an hour ago.”
“I stayed behind because the trauma and burning bay was still full.” You explained, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, I heard about the fire.” His brows dipped a little. “I figured you wouldn’t leave on time.”
You glanced at the car again, then back at him “You’re parked in the middle of the road.”
He shrugged, leaning his elbow against the wheel, lazy and composed and so infuriatingly calm. “You always said I was reckless.”
“That’s not— Heeseung, you can’t park here. What if an ambulance came in?” You nagged.
“Then I would’ve moved.” His smile widened slightly. “I saw you coming out. You were holding your bag like it was about to break.”
You looked down at your satchel, at the way it was sagging from your shoulder, the straps barely stitched. You hadn’t realized he was watching.
“You look exhausted,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you or get in the way. I just… I wanted to talk to you.”
You hesitated, swallowing hard. “You could’ve texted.”
“I don’t have your number.” You paused again, jaw tightening. The handsome fucker was right.
He read the hesitation in your expression because his voice softened when he added, “It’s not anything heavy. I just wanted to see you…. talk. If that’s okay.”
“I should go home,” you said, but your voice didn’t sound as sure as it should have.
“I know,” he replied, tone level. “I’m not trying to trap you. I just… thought maybe you’d want to come for a short drive.”
You opened your mouth to protest again, but he must’ve seen it in your face, that flicker, that tiny weakening you always had with him, because he leaned across the passenger seat and pushed the door open.
The smell of his cologne wafted out faintly, clean and unfamiliar. Not the antiseptic you used to associate with him, but something warmer.
“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “And I’ll drive slow.”
You stood there another heartbeat before sighing heavily and slipping in, dropping your bag between your feet. “You can’t park like that again.” you grumbled, pulling your seatbelt on.
“I won’t,” he said, already shifting the gear. “Unless it gets me your attention.”
The car was too smooth, barely a hum beneath your thighs as he pulled onto the road.
He didn’t take the highway. Instead, he drifted toward the north side of the city, where the buildings thinned and the roads turned narrow and winding.
You didn’t say anything for a while, and the radio was off, creating a not so awkward silence.
The windows cracked just enough for the wind to kiss your temples. Heeseung kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. His fingers tapped to a rhythm only he heard.
You finally asked, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” he smirked.
The hill was quiet. Just far enough from town that the lights behind you blurred into a string of distant sparks, like stars upside down.
He pulled up to the edge, beside a lookout you vaguely recognized from photos, some popular spot kids used to park and drink or kiss in late at night.
But now it was just the two of you, and the sun was melting behind the skyline, leaving streaks of orange and dusty violet stretching across the horizon.
He killed the engine as you sat still, unsure. He turned to you. “You’ve been following the Ferrari page.”
You flushed before you could stop it, your eyes darting to the glovebox. “You noticed?”
“You think I wouldn’t?” he asked, tilting his head. “Your username has your badge number and Jake asked me if it was you when he saw the notification. He’s the one who runs the profile.”
You cringed. “I misclicked.”
“I like it that you follow it.” He took a breath, shifting to face you slightly. “I wasn’t lying that day. I know I was half gross with hair oily and calling for tissues every five minutes. But I meant what I said.”
You chewed your bottom lip, hands clasped together on your lap.
“I’ve thought about you every damn day,” he said, voice low. “Every burn I cleaned, every stretch I did to move my arm again… it was all with your voice in my head, lecturing me, cussing under your breath, or humming while you changed my dressings.
He chucked softly, “I’m not trying to romanticize what you did— it was your job, I know that. But you were the only part of that room that didn’t feel like pain.”
Your throat tightened. The silence around you pressed against your chest.
“So,” he said, after a moment. “Now that I’m here, and I don’t look like a half-melted wax figure, I’m going to ask again.”
He leaned in a little, not enough to touch you. Just enough to make the air shiver between your knees.
“Would you go out with me?”
You looked at him, really looked at the scars that would never fully fade, at the honesty stretched across his face. At the way his fingers curled and uncurled on his thigh, nervous.
Not Heeseung-the-racer. Not Heeseung-the-patient. Just the man who held you when you broke down and offered you hot chocolate to cheer you up.
“…You’re still kind of a pain in the ass,” you whispered.
He grinned, soft and warm and so stupidly pretty. “I’m hoping you like that about me.”
You rolled your eyes and looked away. But your voice cracked into something almost smiling as you said, “Okay.”
His inhale was slow, asif he didn’t believe you yet.
“Yeah?” he asked, like he needed to hear it again.
You turned back to him and nodded. “Yeah.”
🏁.
You hadn’t meant for it to happen so naturallyx, but the nights at his place started slipping into your week like a warm spring breeze.
He picked you up after long shifts when you didn’t feel like taking the bus, and you’d slip into his fancy car still in your scrubs, smelling faintly of antiseptic and latex gloves, too tired to talk.
And he never asked you to. He just opened the passenger door, let you rest your head against the window, and drove home in silence, music turned low and hand reaching across the console to hold yours.
His mansion, because there was no way around calling it that, wasn’t what you expected.
You thought it’d be filled with trophies and screaming red logos, but it was just neat and quiet.
His bedroom was painted in soft shades of gray and navy, his kitchen smelled like coffee beans and a hint of vanilla, and the couch was so wide you’d often curl up in the corner with a blanket and not move for hours.
You didn’t have the energy for fancy dates or being out in public. You certainly didn’t want to be photographed, you didn’t ant some journalist writing a two-paragraph caption about how Heeseung’s latest girl was just some tired nurse with eyebags and oversized jackets.
And Heeseung never made you feel small for it. Whatever he chose for his life you didn’t have to force yourself to be a part of.
Most nights were spent curled on the sofa, a Netflix movie you barely registered playing in the background.
You would start the evening upright, knees tucked in, a warm drink in your hands, and end it slouched sideways, your cheek against his shoulder, breath even and shallow as sleep claimed you halfway through the plot.
He’d carry you, sometimes. Tuck you in and kiss your forehead lightly. Other nights, you made it to bed on your own, and he would join you an hour later, warm and silent, pressing himself carefully to your back, still stiff because of his healing skin.
He had noticed your pills early on. The first time, you thought you’d been slick about it, hiding them behind your hand as you opened the bottle near the sink.
But he leaned over and asked, “You okay?”
You nodded, embarrassed, trying to swallow them quickly. “Just for digestion, y’know? My stomach gets weird after long shifts. I don’t always… well, can’t always eat right after I see something.”
His expression softened like you’d pressed a hand over his chest. He didn’t say anything right away, he just took the glass from your hand, poured you another, and passed it back silently.
“You don’t have to explain it,” he said quietly. “I get it.”
You weren’t sure he could get it. He didn’t have to hold broken children or stitch the soft skin of dying women, and he didn’t have to stand still while a monitor flatlined.
But he had burned for someone else. He’d jumped in front of a car going too fast to stop, taken the brunt of it, let himself be crushed and concussed to save a boy who wasn’t ready to die.
So maybe he did understand.
When you came over one Saturday morning, he was more animated than usual.
He was wearing a dark sweater and cargo pants, with hair half-damp from a shower, and his bandage finally gone from his wrist, his body almost healed.
He still couldn’t grip with his right hand properly. He said the nerves were healing slowly, but he’d been trying.
“C’mere,” he grinned, reaching for your bag to drop it by the entrance. “I want to show you something.”
You blinked at him, one eyebrow rising. “Show me what?”
“Just come.” He tugged at your hand and pulled you toward the garage.
You hadn’t really stepped inside the main garage before. The house had two: one for his daily cars, and the other for, well, whatever this was. The second he flipped the lights on, you saw it.
His car. That car.
The one that had been twisted into fire and pain months ago. The one you’d seen on the news, reduced to smoldering steel.
Now it sat before you, with a brand new frame, the same number, and the same paint job, the shine of it almost surreal under the ceiling lights.
“You got it back,” you murmured.
“I got her back, my Scarlet.” he said, voice soft with affection. “It’s not exactly the same frame, and we’ve upgraded a few things. But… yeah. She’s mine again.”
You walked slowly around it, trailing your fingers just barely along the side. “And you’ll drive again.”
“As soon as they let me.”
“And your hand?” He held it up, flexing it in the air. “Still annoying as hell. But I’ve been cooperating with the exercises.”
You smiled, turning to him. “That’s a first.”
He grinned, full of boyish pride. Then he nodded toward the other side of the garage. “There’s someone else I want you to meet officially.”
You followed him without question.
Jake was waiting near the workbench, hands shoved in his pockets, his hair tied back with a cap. He looked better than the last time you’d seen him in a panic outside the hospital room, pacing the hall and begging for updates.
“Jake,” Heeseung said, his voice low but proud, “this is Y/N.”
Jake smiled and extended his hand. “You’re the nurse who yelled at the three others for pampering him with pudding.”
You laughed as you shook it. “They were fangirling and he was still high on morphine. Someone had to keep his ego in check.”
Heeseung groaned behind you. “You’re never going to let that go.”
“Not a chance.”
Jake grinned even wider. “I like her.”
“She’s not just my nurse anymore,” Heeseung said quietly, and when you glanced back at him, he was looking straight at you. “She’s my girl now.”
The words shouldn’t have knocked the air out of your chest the way they did. You weren’t sixteen anymore, you’d had men call you worse and sweeter things in the heat of a moment, but this— this was soft and real.
You didn’t say anything right away. Just smiled, nodded a thank you to Jake, and let Heeseung lead you upstairs again, through the back hallway.
When the door to the garage closed behind you and the silence settled again, you reached for him before he could say anything else.
you pressed your hands to his cheeks gently, careful of the last faint scar that still lingered along the side of his jaw, and kissed him.
He stilled at first, stunned. Then he leaned in, warm and steady, one hand sliding to your hip, the other brushing the back of your neck.
It was the kind of kiss that made time pause. With no rush, no fire behind your teeth. Just slow, deep breaths and the rhythm of his lips against yours, like he’d been waiting too long to ask again.
When you pulled away, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his.
“You are a wonderful person, Lee Heeseung.” You breathed out.
“You make me better.” He murmured.
You smiled, kissed the tip of his nose, and said, “No, that’s all you.”
2O4O 👜 ❪ VELVETROOM ❫ older bf heeseung x fem reader ✶ㅤ𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌ㅤ kissing, skinship, comfortㅤ
older!bf!heeseung who always waits for you outside your university building no matter how late your last class ends, leaning against his car with a soft smile and a warm coat ready to wrap around your shoulders the second you step out into the cold.
older!bf!heeseung who calls you “baby” in that low, gentle voice that makes your knees weak, especially when he’s half-asleep in the morning and pulls you closer under the blankets just to mumble “five more minutes, baby.”
older!bf!heeseung who remembers every tiny detail you mention your favorite coffee order, the exact way you like your eggs, the song that makes you cry and surprises you with them on random days just to see that bright smile light up your face.
older!bf!heeseung who teases you endlessly about being “his little one” but gets fiercely protective the moment anyone else even looks at you the wrong way, stepping in front of you with that calm, quiet authority that makes people back off instantly.
older!bf!heeseung who cooks for you after your long study days, humming softly while chopping vegetables, and always plates everything beautifully because “you work so hard, you deserve to eat pretty too.”
older!bf!heeseung who loves when you wear his hoodies and sweaters because they swallow you whole, and he can’t stop himself from pulling you into his lap just to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in.
older!bf!heeseung who gives the best forehead kisses slow, lingering ones when you’re stressed, quick reassuring ones before you leave for class, and soft goodnight ones that make you fall asleep with a smile.
older!bf!heeseung who never rushes you when you’re talking about your day, even if you ramble for an hour, because listening to your voice is one of his favorite parts of coming home.
older!bf!heeseung who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, thumb gently stroking circles while soft music plays and he glances over every few minutes just to make sure you’re happy.
older!bf!heeseung who secretly plans future dates months in advance. quiet picnics, weekend getaways, even looking at apartments “just to see” because he already knows he wants forever with his sunshine girl.
older!bf!heeseung who gets a little shy when you call him “oppa” teasingly, ears turning pink, but secretly loves the way it sounds coming from your lips.
older!bf!heeseung who holds your hand in public without hesitation, fingers laced tightly, and pulls you close whenever the crowd gets too much because he knows you feel safest right there beside him.
older!bf!heeseung who whispers “I love you” against your hair at night when he thinks you’re already asleep, but smiles when you whisper it back, heart full and warm in the dark.