𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ; university! au, fuckbuddies to lovers, slowburn.
𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 ; na jaemin x oc!
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; it wasn’t rare for na jaemin, the smart and sexy med student to sleep around, but it was rare for him to sleep with someone an hour after meeting them, and it was even rarer for him to go back to the same girl for months on end. He was looking for excuses, just like she was— how long until there was no need for excuses anymore.
𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 ; 00’ liners of nct, txt, a few members of le sserafim, aespa and itzy.
𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐁𝐈.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; sex, minors please stay away, suggestive as fuck, mentions of literally anything, threesomes, sleeping around in the same friend group, some of the side characters might date or are dating, swearing, shit ton of it, could have smut, jealousy. MINORS PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS!!
𝐀𝐊𝐈’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; I was actually so gassed for ‘after hours’ but I switched phone and Apple sucks so anyways, I’m writing this instead. I’ve got a bit from free time for summer, so I figured I should get back to my roots HAHAHAHAH. Anyways, I included Mark too cause why would I not. Also, cliche ass story ik 😔. I lowkey couldn’t decide between Jaemin and Yeonjun, so like I watched TikTok edits to inspire myself 😋. All loves.
pairing: collegestudent!jaemin x afab!collegestudent!reader
summary: confessions heard should be acted upon, right?
w.c: 6.3k
warnings: mdni 18+, jaemin is shy, reader is loud, reader is shy and then jaemin becomes bold, unreliable narrator(?), friends to lovers, mutual pining, (i) reader needs help, praising, fluff, some angst, self doubt, love making, jaemin talks reader through it, some inaccuracies, this probably sucks im so sorry, using an idea i wrote for a different fandom years ago btw
talking to strangers has always been something that just came natural. growing up, there is not one person you couldn’t make as a friend, you loved learning about all kinds of different people and hearing their stories. your life changed when you met your best friend, mark, you’d been an exchange student in vancouver. you were transferring into grade 12 and with him being in the same grade, he was paired up with you to show you around. you noticed how mark was initially shy at first, so you did all the talking. he always listened and responded when you asked questions about the school, city, and himself. soon, you both became good friends and by the time graduation came around you both became inseparable.
but of course all good things must come to an end, mark told you he was moving to korea. you swore the earth under you shook as your vision went black and a huge lump formed in your throat. you had friends; practically everyone in the school knew your name, but no one else was like mark. ‘maybe you can apply and we can attend together,’ he added to the news, trying to be hopeful. you laughed through the tears that threatened to fall past your waterline, ‘i’ll try my hardest’
graduation came and went, and mark had left in the middle of summer. You both cried in the airport as you sent him off. you refused to let him go, clutching onto his jacket and grasping him tighter every time he tried to pull away making you both giggle despite the tears running down your faces. ‘please come visit me soon, did you apply to the exchange program?’ he asked.
you nodded, gazing up into his big, brown eyes, ‘you know you’re my best friend right? no one can ever replace you’
‘same to you, never forget that’ you nodded again and hugged him one last time before you actually let him go, mark turned one last time to give you a small smile.
‘im sorry to inform you that your application to study abroad in seoul, south korea was rejected at this time…’ you trailed off, leaning over your desk to get a better look at the email.
‘damn’ your friend eric spoke from your bed, not even looking up from his phone, ‘that sucks’
you whipped your chair around now facing him, face red with anger and frustration, ‘this is the only college i applied to over the summer! what am i going to do!?’ you cried.
he glanced up from his phone, now putting it down realizing how dire the situation was for you, ‘just wait until the next round of applications start and reapply’ he shrugged.
you sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat, ‘yeah, i guess thats the only thing left’
you rolled back over to you desk and grabbed your phone, immediately opening your messages with mark, you knew he was asleep due to the time difference, but you had to tell him now.
‘bad news mark… i got rejected from the study abroad application’
you didn’t expect a texting bubble to pop up from him, ‘just apply to study here full time, as a student’ he responded. you started to text but stopped as another one came through, ‘not as a study abroad student but as like a student student, u know?’
you thought about it, but four years in korea? you haven’t given it much thought, but then again… when have you ever had anything really planned out? you lived on spontaneous mode at all times. ‘i’ll look into it’ you replied. two weeks later, you got accepted as a full time student for the next four years, applying as soon as you stopped your conversation with mark and encouragement from eric. he even paid for the late application fee. you were finally going to be reunited with your best friend and get to experience a whole new world with him, you thought nothing could get better.
‘guys, my best friend is coming to live here’ mark looked up from his phone with a gleaming smile on his face.
his first roommate, haechan was the first to respond, ‘i thought i was your best friend?’
jaemin, his second roommate played along and frowned at the older boy, ‘yeah, i didn’t know you had other friends’
mark rolled his eyes, ‘that's not the point! i can have multiple best friends. we’ve been talking about this since we graduated from secondary school, she’s coming here to attend the same college as us’ he explained.
‘SHE!?’ haechan basically jumped from his place on the worn couch, ‘this is new’
mark gave him a weird look, ‘i swear i’ve talked about her before…’ he sat down on the couch and got out his phone again, scrolling through his camera roll to find a picture of you both.
‘i think i’d remember if you talked about any girls’ jeno, his third roommate, chimed in.
mark clicked a picture of you both from graduation night, turning his phone around, the three other boys gathered around to look. jaemin immediately grabbed his phone, ‘she’s pretty’ he whispered, jeno nodded in agreement.
haechan laughed, ‘i’ve seen this picture before! on your moms facebook, not gonna lie, i thought she was your cousin’ making the other boys laugh.
mark just sighed, ‘please, everyone, be on your best behavior when she gets here’
mark talked about his friends in korea, a lot, knowing all their names and what they looked like already. so when you met them in person for the first time, you took them by surprise at how excited you were when you pointed to each one and recited their name. haechan thought it was cute, grabbing mark by the waist and saying, ‘aww markie talks about us’ in a baby voice while the older one tried to get away.
it was easy to get along with them, some more timid than the others, and you noticed but brushed it off. growing up extroverted had its pros and cons.
pros: lots of friends and always being the life of the party and funny one of the group.
cons: you are really annoying.
you didn’t want to scare any of mark's friends off, so you didn’t push as much as you would in any other situation. you could tell when the more hesitant ones in the group tried to open up, you appreciated it more than you could say. all of you knew how important it was to mark for everyone to get along, so the more you all hung out together, the easier it was to get closer and more comfortable.
by the time the second semester rolled around, everything was falling into place, except one thing that hasn’t seemed to left your mind. jaemin. you had gotten extremely close to everyone but jaemin. he was a tough nut to crack, but you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the younger boy. you had asked mark about it a couple of times, but all he did was shrug and say ‘he’s an introvert, takes a while for him to warm up to certain people, i’m sure you’ll get him soon’ yeah jaemin was nice to you, but you weren’t as close with him as the others were to you, he was perfect, and you wanted him to like you. right when you got close, he was just always out of reach.
he was handsome, respectful, and just someone you always wanted to be around. he was loved on campus by everyone, always having something good to say about him. when you first met him in person your heart skipped a beat, if you asked anyone you’d expect them to say the same. he was always so nice to you in group settings, but you can recall times when you’d be left alone with him, and he’d somehow have the perfect excuse to be anywhere else but with you.
at first, you didn’t take it personally because you were still new to the friend group. now it was your third year of university, and you felt like you’ve made small progress. you’d send him funny cat instagram reels, and he’d send you outfits and ask for your opinion. it slowly progressed to walking to class together, despite it being in total silence. at group parties, you’d be talking to a group of random strangers and your eyes would always find his, always sitting off to the side. your curious eyes would watch as girls would try to talk to him, he’d always rub the back of his neck as he said something to them that would make them walk away a second later. so, at least, you knew it wasn’t just you that made him shy. however, you always come back to the time when you had went over to haechan’s with mark. a party with alcohol of course, first time you went over to his apartment it was hard to noticed his collection in the giant cabinet. you had been about 5 shots in with two beers downed, wandering around the apartment talking to anyone who stopped you. you walked into the living room to find jaemin on the couch talking to renjun, before you could even think your feet made your way to them, sitting directly next to jaemin. he glanced over at you, turned back to renjun, and then finally realized it was you. the brown haired boy smiled wide and threw his arms around your neck, pulling you in tight.
‘ynnnnnn’ he cried, he definitely had had a couple of drinks. you giggled and tried to match his beaming smile. he was hot to the touch, the jacket he had arrived in long discarded, a white tank top that put his defined arms on display for everyone. but they were around you. knowing that if you weren’t influenced by the liquid luck tonight you’d be freaking out. he leaned away but kept one arm draped over you. jaemin’s other hand reached for his drink on the small table in front of you, leaning over and bringing you with him. ‘yn, how is your night going?’
‘pretty well, i’m meeting a lot of new people!’ you said with vigor.
jaemin replied with a playful smile, ‘but no one to replace us right?’
with your clouded vision and fuzzy brain you put your free hand over his chest, leaned in ‘oh jaemin, no one could ever replace you’
him and renjun laughed out loud, and jaemin held on to you tighter, pleased by your answer ‘aigoo, that’s so cute’ he whispered in your ear. your eyes went wide and your face went hot in surprise. you tried to laugh it off, your body buzzing from the alcohol and shyness from jaemin’s comment. jaemin started asking you questions about classes and suggested hidden gems in seoul he could take you to. you sat and listened, nodding along to anything he said while you both nursed your drinks together. lost in thought and of each other, not noticing that renjun had already left, in fact, no one in the room existed right now. the world seemed to move slower with jaemin, he was so attentive and receptive. you were telling him a story about your professor giving you two days to write a 10 page essay but also making sure you do five pages of reading along with a discussion board. he reacted like he was taking the class with you, gasping loudly and getting just as angry as you were. ‘that’s insane, does she not realize that you have other classes too!? that’s literally not fair’ he pouted and you giggled, happy that he ranted with you about it instead of giving you advice on how to finish all of your homework, something most people did.
you both continued talking until mark sauntered over to you, grabbing you by the shoulders, ‘yn, we gotta go home’ he slurred out, shaking your shoulders. you and jaemin glanced up at him, wincing away when you smelled the alcohol on him. ‘jisung is picking us up, he here’s now yn’ your eyes wandered to the door, the tall black haired boy stood there awkwardly staring at his feet, keys in hand obviously waiting for you both.
you nodded and jaemin gripped you closer for a moment, making your breath hitch in your throat, ‘get home safe, princess’ he whispered in your ear. he let go, you got up and made your way to jisung, with mark trailing behind.
you laid bed thinking about jaemin non-stop. tossing and turning, you could still feel him in the air, his warmth, smooth skin, and sweet scent. it encapsulated you, closing your eyes you saw his face. nose perfectly pointed, pink lips glistening and plump, a face with barely any blemishes. he was surely going to haunt your dreams.
it was a hard day at university and all you wanted to do was go back to your apartment and crawl into your bed and watch movies until you crash. during your last class, mark had texted you, saving you from the exhausting math lesson.
‘can u come over later around 5pm?’
under the table you quickly shot him a text back, ‘i guess, can i come earlier and chill on ur couch?’ if you had to go anywhere you might as well head after class and stay there. by the time your classes would end, mark would still be in his, but it wouldn’t be the first time you’d be lying on his couch alone. an hour later and still no text back from mark, surely he wouldn’t mind if you just headed to his place. so that's what you did.
once you got to his door, you got out the key he had given you when you first got to korea and unlocked his door, you put your bag into his room and then immediately made your way to his couch. settling in, you quickly close your eyes and fall into a little comfy nap. the door slammed shut, eyes slightly opening because of the loud noise, you had no clue what time it was, you figured it was mark finally coming back from class, you debated getting up and greeting him or just going back to sleep. your blood ran cold when you heard a different familiar voice that wasn’t mark’s speak. ‘i always get so nervous when i try to talk to her, like just being next to her just makes me sweat’ mark laughed.
her? you were basically wide awake now, your heart stopped. you kept your breathe steady as you could hear them rummaging around the kitchen behind you, thanking god that the couch faced opposite of the door. sinking further into the cushions in order to try and hide yourself better, you continued to listen while your heart sank, jaemin could be talking about anyone at this point.
jaemin continued, ‘the only time we ever talked for more than an hour was at that party or when we are in a group setting’
‘it’s yn we're talking about’ mark started, ‘she’s… i don’t know how to put it, easy to talk to, i don’t know how she makes you so nervous’
the other boy scoffed, ‘of course she is, she’s perfect, i just feel so awkward and i don’t want to fuck anything up and embarrass myself and then she never wants to be seen with me out in public again…’ there was a pregnant pause, ‘i just really like her mark, she’s funny, outgoing, when she walks into a room you can feel the air… shift, its lighter, warmer, everyone turns to her like sunflowers and she’s the sun’
‘okay we get it shakespeare, you’re in love with her, you can’t keep living like this, it’s all you talk about, we literally had to make another group chat without you so we could get away from ‘yn this’ ‘yn that’’ mark exasperated, air quotes and all.
‘you guys have a group chat without me?’ you could basically hear jaemin’s pout as you tried to calm down your racing heart.
‘that’s not the point right now dude! you have to tell her, and soon. once you tell her, i’ll delete the group chat’ mark stated.
‘you know i get fomo’ jaemin whined, you tried not to laugh, that was something you had said all the time when you saw your other friends talk without you.
mark groaned, ‘god you are starting to sound like her now, i gotta go get a package from the mail room, yn’s actually coming over soon if you wanna stay and see her’ you could hear mark nudge jaemin with his elbow adding on a little ‘hm? hm? c’mon’
‘i really gotta finish this paper for econ’ jaemin explained, you could hear them walk towards the door, ‘maybe another time!’ the door opened, you could hear mark laugh.
‘yeah, econ, i’m sure it’s a lengthy essay’ you started to hear jaemin defense, but it quickly was drowned out by the door shutting and the walls now blocking you from listening any longer.
you jumped up from the couch, making sure they were really both gone, ‘what the fuck’ you cried out loud to yourself, rushing to mark’s room and climbing into his bed so it looked like you had been there the entire time, just sleeping and unsuspected of what was discussed.
you closed your eyes and steadied your breathing, ignoring when you could hear the door open through mark’s closed door. he shuffled around his kitchen before he finally opened his bedroom door.
‘what the?’ he wondered out loud, walking up the bed, he pushed away the sheets, ‘yn?’ you didn’t move, he shook you and you opened up your eyes, blinking them as if you just woke up from a deep sleep, ‘have you been here the whole time?’ his eyes were wide, you could tell he was hoping you didn’t hear anything he was talking about with jaemin, getting any answer out of you without stating the fact that his friend had come over.
‘mark?’ you sounded groggy, ‘yeah, i came after my last class finished, i was asleep the whole time though, i texted you… was someone else here?’
mark laughed nervously. ‘oh i guess i didn’t get it… and no it was just me, i went to the mail room to get a package my mom had sent me, snacks from canada, you want some?’ he tried to change the subject, grabbing your arms and forcing you out of bed and into the living room, onto the couch you were just on. you sat with mark, snacking on chips and whatever his mom sent him, listening to his day, but your thoughts set on jaemin.
and ever since that afternoon you had no clue how to function, avoiding jaemin as much as you could. you found it pretty hard as he was in the same friend group, now you found yourself sitting the furthest away from him. you tried to ignore the confused look he’d give you, walking away from him like he had carried every disease in the book. your heart breaking every time he looked like a kicked puppy. one worded answers when he occasionally texted you to start a conversation that ended three texts later. you barely talked in person anymore, and you feared everyone around you could tell. judging you for how rude you were treating your dear friend jaemin. it was war with yourself, you could talk to anyone, be friends with anyone you meet, so why was facing jaemin so hard?
it was another weekend and another party at haechan’s, mark had brought you along with him saying that ‘everyone was going to be there’ and ended his argument with ‘even jaemin’ which made you shrink into yourself. once you arrived at the party, mark immediately went to go get you a drink, saying you looked super stressed out and needed something to help you calm down. you sat down on the couch in the middle of the living room, waiting for him, watching people come and go, say hi and bye and ask how you are. being disinterested in any conversation was not your forte, but tonight you felt absent, everytime the door opened you’d look up, expecting something, trying your best to push out the thoughts screaming ‘jaemin jaemin jaemin’ like a mantra.
you stared down at your phone, pretending to look preoccupied as you ignored the creaking of the door, no staring, no emotions. scrolling through instagram like it was the most interesting thing at this small party. ‘waiting for someone?’ like a deer in headlights you looked up, only to see the one and only jaemin peering down at you.
‘um, no’ too quick of an answer that was way too suspicious. you internally cursed at yourself, stupid fucking idiot. his smile just grew, more playful, a sparkle in his eyes that said he was in control.
‘and i’m the introverted one’ he giggled, and you tried to laugh it off as if avoiding him was no big deal. but sitting under his gaze felt like you were the smallest person on earth. you could capture the attention of everyone in a room, tell a story with gestures and voices that made the room erupt in laughs, you always felt like you could do anything, no fear, no second guessing, but this was different. your heart thundered underneath the shirt that felt too tight and too hot. he had you cornered, when you didn’t answer, jaemin continued, ‘what’s gotten into you lately? you barely talk to me anymore’ you could tell it was a genuine question filled with concern, but playing it off with a pout at the end. his plump lips jutting out as you panicked and tried to collect any thoughts that weren’t about his lips and how the lip gloss shined under the light that hung in the middle of the room.
you had no words, no excuses to give him that were actually believable. jeno always joked about how you were the most chronically online member of the friend group, you couldn’t even argue. being known as an incredibly social person had its downsides. like now, being interrogated as to why you had the audacity to ignore him. when you didn’t answer, mouth opening and closing as if you had thought of anything, he walked away, going towards the kitchen. you watched, his back turned towards you, broad shoulders flexing under his tshirt. it was hard not to stare.
mark eventually brought you another drink, noticed your sinking mood and brought you around the room so you could have ‘human interaction’ and ‘not be on your damn phone the whole time’ as he put it. you reluctantly agreed, following him around, laughing along to conversations you were half listening to. that was until you heard jeno and jaemin speak from behind you. Peeking behind you, he was talking with haechan and renjun. you caught on to the conversation, drowning out the sound of mark telling a story in front of you.
haechan was talking about a girl he saw earlier, talking big ‘i’m going to make a move here soon’ with renjun giving him a ‘yeah i’m sure’ in response as jeno just laughed.
your ears perked as jaemin spoke next, ‘yeah i’ve been eyeing a couple girls myself, haven’t gotten laid in a while. what about you jeno?’ you tensed… other girls? but you were sure that he liked you, he only talked about you. suddenly feeling light headed and parched, you excused yourself in order to get another drink from the kitchen. you turned around after taking a shot of soju and chasing it down with an open white claw, stopping in your tracks, surprised to see jaemin standing there. both of you alone.
you turned back around, facing the island that held various liquor and soda. you still felt jaemins presence in the room, feel him burning holes through the back of your head, he had probably followed you in here after you left. you heard him taking steps towards you, but you tried to pay no attention, standing with your back towards him trying to regulate your heartbeat and clear your mind of any thoughts of him.
‘listening in on my conversations now?’ he whispered, you could feel the heat radiating off of him and your breath hitched.
‘heard nothing of the sorts’ you responded, trying your best to stand your ground.
you felt his breath on your neck as he chuckled, ‘bull shit’ a shiver ran down your spine.
you turned around and pushed past him despite all the room you both had, ‘i need a minute’ he was on your tail in a second, but you continued through the kitchen down the hall and to a random vacant bedroom. you tried closing the door, but his large hand stopped the door midway. you tried to budge it further, but he of course was too strong and just pushed it open, he stepped in and closed the door behind him. you just stood and glared at him with your arms crossed, ‘don’t you have other girls to go and talk to?’
his eyebrows shot up, surprised that you lashed out with such a brash and jealous comment after trying so hard to ignore him. you watched his face change from surprise to pleasure, lips curling up into a mischievous smile, oddly satisfied with your reaction, ‘oh, so you were listening?’ he crossed the room to where you stood, never taking his eyes off of you. the room was small, you were small, like prey waiting to get eaten up by their natural predator.
you instinctively moved backwards, getting out of his reach, but tonight you were not on the top of the food chain, he had you wedged against him and the bed. you refused to look up at him, terrified that your walls would crash and you’d become putty in his hands. ‘wouldn’t be the first time’ you confessed, looking down at his torso that was dangerously close to yours.
‘and what do you mean by that?’ his hands went to grip your shoulders, shaking you slightly, now it was an interrogation. he seemed almost angry, but jaemin never dared to ever raise his voice at you. you finally looked up into his eyes, the view of his big brown eyes searching for any answer, any playfulness that proved you were just messing with his emotions. ‘y/n’ he got your attention back.
‘that day, you got home with mark, i was already there,’ you told, his expression unreadable as his brows furrowed, ‘i heard what you said… about me’
he lets go of you, his arms dropping to his sides, ‘so… you knew this entire time? that i had feelings for you?’ his voice minor, pulling back and not as bold as he was a couple minutes ago, ‘and your reaction was to just ignore me?’
you peeled the skin of your fingers back, nervously darting your eyes around the dimly lit room, ‘jaemin, i’m sorry. i really am… i just didn’t know how to react’ it was a stupid reason and he knew.
jaemin scoffed, his tongue running over his teeth, holding himself back from saying anything else, ‘listen, i don’t have a good track record with my relationships, i have never felt… this way’ god, you couldn’t believe you were confessing all of this right now, in front of jaemin. you had people confess to you, but you had never felt quite the same. dates here and there that would never end up with anything concrete, and it scarred you. loving someone like jaemin terrified you, because what if you never lived up to his expectations? the way he described you to mark, what if you couldn’t be that for him? ‘i do like you back jaemin, but i just, i don’t know how to love’ you said meekly.
‘yn, you love everyday’ jaemin said, now coming back closer to you, his eyes growing softer. ‘you’d do anything for anyone, even strangers, i just think… you don’t know how to accept that love back’ you shook your head, sitting down on the bed in front of him, confused as to how he read you like that, how this became a surprise therapy session for a moment. you laughed, something you tended to do in tense situations. easing the pain instead of actually feeling it.
he sat down with you, encapsulating his big hand into yours. he laughed too, ‘you are not hard to love, i promise’ he whispered, moving closer to you, ‘can i show you?’ he asked. jaemin glanced down to your lips and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. the anticipation making your whole body vibrate as you nodded lightly. he slowly closed the gap between you both, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer to him. everything you imagined about his lips was exact, soft and dewy.
he deepened the kiss, bringing your body flush with his, you felt like you couldn’t keep up. he was fast and determined. his hands reached anywhere they could on your body. jaemin grabbed onto your thighs, rubbing his hands up and down, trying to calm you down. it felt grounding, just having him here with you, knowing that he is there for you and present. you squeezed his bicep, melting into him, shoulders relaxing into the rhythm with the way he was going. he let go, breaking away the kiss, you opened your eyes at the sudden loss of his touch. the silence in the room was replaced with light panting, he was smiling, he cheeks flushed red. your chest rose and fell with every bated breath, trying your best to keep your composure.
‘do you trust me?’ he asked in a hushed tone, staring deeply into your eyes. searching for any confirmation that you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you, all of you. ‘do you trust me to love you? i want to show you just how much’ he leaned in, kissing down your neck, tenderly grazing his hand up your back under your shirt. you closed your eyes, humming at his question, letting his touch comfort your worried mind. you always had no problem making friends, but you always kept that at a distance, never letting them get super close so you could keep up that outgoing facade at times. scared that if they ever really got to know you they could tell how boring you thought you were, see all of your flaws, they could probably see how you could come off as too trusting for others, people didn’t know you at all. but it seems like jaemin did, for a man of always few words he was always watching you, see how much of a face you put on. he wants to tell you how you could always be yourself around him, not afraid to be boring, not afraid to be silent, that you always don’t have to be the most entertaining person in the room.
you looked up at him, eyes glossy in ten different emotions, ‘i trust you jaemin’ you could see it in his eyes, the love and adoration that he felt towards you, he could see the real you, the one that was quiet and loud. he was hoping to love all of it, all he wanted to do was letting you in, and jaemin was eager to finally show you just how much he cared. with your answer he leaned into you, having you lay down on the bed and kissing down your neck to your chest. his hands wandered all throughout your body, properly exploring every inch. you hummed as he gripped your thigh, squeezing it as he reached the band of your shorts, asking for silent confirmation to go further.
you took your hands away from the back of jaemin’s neck, moving them to where his hands were resting on your shorts, you pulled them down for him and took them off. he followed your actions, tugging off the shirt over his head, and kicked off his jeans. your eyes traced over his body, the contours that made up his defined muscles and broad chest that shined with sweat under the soft lamp light. jaemin gazed down at you, a pleasing smile etched onto his face witnessing your reaction to him. moving down towards you again his mouth explored further, kissing your stomach after discarding your shirt. ‘you’re so beautiful’ he purred, you gasped as his hand reached your clit rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. the sensation making you want to close your legs, but jaemin kept them open with his hand. ‘keep your legs open’ he teased, callused hand gripping the whole of your knee, tugging them to the side with ease as you tried to fight the feeling.
he angled his finger at your entrance, the slick that pooled between your legs made it slide in slowly with ease. it wasn’t your first time, but it had been awhile, making you tense up for a moment. jaemin noticed, ‘you’re doing so well for me, just relax’ you let out a breath, trying your best to turn off the anxious part of your brain and enjoy the moment of intimacy. your shoulders relaxed and your body dug more into the satin sheets under you. jaemin added another finger and moved his head down between your legs. he dove in like a madman, dipping his tongue into your pussy immediately. you groaned audibly, reaching down to tangle your hands in his hair, tugging hard on the brown locks. the only thing you could hear was the sloppy sounds of slurping and occasional moans coming from you or jaemin. he went back and forth, sucking on your clit or pumping three fingers inside of you, loving the sounds as his tongue dove in and out.
‘j-jaem’ you cried out, feeling a fire light up in your core. he took notice, prompting him to go faster.
‘c’mon baby, let go, cum on my fingers’ he slurred, not letting his down his pace as you cried out. grabbing onto the sheets below you, as the shockwaves began rippling through your core, vision going white as the pleasure washed over your body, mind going blank and mouth open in a silent scream. your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as you came down from your climax. you lifted your head up and looked down at him, jaemin already looking back at you smiling, ‘do you want to keep going?’ he asked in a small voice, you couldn’t help but giggle from his cuteness and post nut haze.
‘yeah, i want to’ he smiled a pulled himself back up to you, his face now leveled with yours. jaemin cupped your cheek in his hands, closing the space in between with deep, passionate kisses. he placed his knee between your thigh, the sensation making you grind down on his thigh, desperate for any type of pleasure. jaemin discarded his boxers, grasping his dick in his hand he guided it it to your clit, his tip ghosting your entrance. he gathered the slick pooling out and rubbed it over his cock, lubbing it up. he gently pushed it in, while peppering kisses over your face and neck as you gasped at the tight feeling. ‘fuck’ you rasped, taking his biceps in your hands and squeezing. once he was buried deep inside of you he stopped and let you adjust to his size. ‘yo-you can start moving’ you whispered, the sting finally subsiding to bliss.
he pulled out and quickly pushed back in repeatedly, making you whimper out at the feeling of being completely full of jaemin. ‘fuck, you’re taking me so well’ he grunted, now trusting faster, slowly losing himself in you. leaning up on his knees, he grabbed your hips and brought you forward, hips now pounding into yours, making you continue to cry out and grasping onto the sheets again, knuckles almost turning white. jaemin started rubbing circles on your clit as he slide in and out of your gummy walls, encouraging you to cum before he does. ‘you feel so good, fuck, cum on my cock baby’ he growled. tears prickled your eyes, the overstimulation beginning to be too much, the fire in your lower belly threatening to boil over. ‘i can’t-t’ you breathed out through the moans and gasps. the tears threatened to spill as they pooled on your waterline.
‘you can baby, c’mon, let go’ as he talked you through it, you finally let the weight lift off your shoulders, feeling the band in your core snap as you came on jaemin's cock, ‘that’s it baby, keep going, make me cum’ he groaned, his hips snapping into yours, the tip of his penis kissing your cervix. he stilled inside of you, a long whine unleashing from his chest as he spilled his seed inside of you. he slowly pulled out, taking his fingers and scooping up the cum that pooled around your pussy and shoved it back inside, making you moan lowly. ‘can’t waste a drop’ he whispered next to you in bed.
he laid down next to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close, ‘tired baby?’ he quested, his voice heavy. you just nodded, eyes too heavy to look over at him, too silent to actually respond. he hummed in confirmation, kissing the side of your forehead in affection, keeping you close, ‘time for bed, we can talk more in the morning’
‘no eavesdropping?’ you whispered out into darkness, eyes still closed.
‘depends baby’ jaemin joked, shaking you playfully, ‘is it gonna make you jealous again?’
you laid your head into his chest further in defeat as you let out a breathless laugh, ‘whatever’
In which Jaemin’s father, the Ceo of Samsung decides to move the family to a small town and makes him work at a diner. Where he meets the It girl of the town and gets along with her, only for him to get involved in drama with her ex boyfriend. Jaemin just wants to get to know her and how it is to live her life.
Paring: Rich kid Jaemin x Fem reader
Genre: social media au, written parts, summer au, fluff, slight angst, slow burn, strangers to lovers
Extras: vulgar language, smoking/vapes, alcohol consumption, abusive relationships, sexual jokes, lots of use of term baby, babydoll towards y/n, idk if there is more I’m just starting 🥲
Status: completed
Started: June 19th, 2025
Ended: September 3rd, 2025
Authors note: this is my first ever story/au! I’m very excited and nervous to release this but I hope you guys enjoy it 😋 I’ve wanted to make a jaemin story for a while so why not start now.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are welcomed and appreciated (especially comments, I’m not too familiar with tumblr yet)
I don’t view the idols in these ways and I don’t know them personally, this is all fake and just a story
-Pls don’t steal my work as well, everything is my original work and it’s appreciated if you don’t copy-
Na Jaemin—your best friend, the one person who’d always been there for you, comes to help you back to your feet again. But is it too late to finally see him for what he truly is?
Campus Confessions master list
Genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, smut
Pairing: Na Jaemin x afab!reader
Warnings: sloooow burn, explicit sexual content
Notes: 24k words. Part 5/5 of the Campus Confessions series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to long story short by Taylor Swift.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.
playlist: long story short by taylor swift, friends by ed sheeran, clean by taylor swift
The school was packed. Students and visitors crowded the halls, their chatter and laughter echoing off the walls. The international high school science fair had taken over the campus, drawing in visitors and competitors from different schools—and different countries—but you couldn’t care less about any of it.
You checked your phone for the nth time, then sighed, shifting the cold cup of iced coffee in your hands. Your hand had started to numb, and your patience was running thin as you tapped your finger on the cup. The coffee was for Jaemin, something to hold him over until you both could finally leave and get proper food. But he was taking too long.
It was his birthday, and all you wanted was to take him to your favorite pizza place after he finished whatever student council errand had him running around. He had promised he’d be quick, but it had been twenty minutes since.
Just as you were about to text him, a pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind. “BOO.”
You jolted, the coffee slipping from your grip. The lid popped off upon impact, ice and liquid splashing onto your uniform. A sharp gasp left your lips as you turned to find Jaemin grinning, completely unbothered.
“Are you kidding me?” You gawked at him, arms lifted away from your body as the cold sank into your shirt. “Jaemin!”
His hands shot up in mock surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d scare that easily.”
“You jumped me!” You gestured at your now-stained uniform. “And now I’m soaked. Great. Happy birthday to you.”
Jaemin laughed, stepping back just as you raised your hand to smack his arm. “Relax. You can just buy me a new one.”
“Go buy yourself a new one,” you retorted, shoving the half-empty cup into his hand. You huffed, marching past him toward the school gates.
He gulped the remaining contents of the cup and caught up with you, while you tugged at your damp collar, scowling. “You took forever, my hand’s numb, and now I’m freezing.”
“Don’t you have a handkerchief on you, or something?” he asked, unzipping his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.
“I did have one,” you muttered, standing still as he adjusted his jacket on you and zipped it up. “But some guy needed it, so I gave it to him.”
Jaemin scoffed, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t be giving out your stuff to just anyone,” he chided, patting your shoulders. “There. You’re good to go.”
The warmth of his jacket surrounded you, chasing away your irritation. It smelled like detergent and something distinctively Jaemin, something familiar. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. Jaemin was always looking out for you and you didn’t think much of it.
Back then, you never really did.
The ceiling stared back at you, dull and lifeless, as your mind drifted aimlessly. Disconnected and meaningless thoughts swam through your mind—old conversations, half-formed ideas, fleeting memories. Until your eyes caught sight of the strip light clinging stubbornly to the edge of the ceiling, with its adhesive peeling away after years of being up there.
Jaemin had helped you put it up when you were sixteen. He’d almost fallen off the ladder, wobbling dramatically while you stood below looking unimpressed with your arms crossed. You’d given him hell about it, calling him useless for something he was doing as a favor. Your mom had scolded you after, shaking her head at how mean you were to a boy who was nice enough to help you out.
The memory made you smile, though it felt distant now. Back then, everything felt light and easy. Your only worries had been how to perfectly capture the grunge aesthetic you wanted for your bedroom.
A knock at the door cut through your musings, making your head snap in the direction of the door. You barely had time to sit up before Jaemin pushed it open, stepping inside like he owned the place.
He took one look at you and sighed dramatically. “It’s 10 a.m. Why aren’t you ready?”
“I am ready.”
He glanced at your bed, then at you—still in pajamas. “No, you’re not.”
“All my stuff’s packed,” you shot back, rising to your feet. “I just need to change and we’re good to go.”
Jaemin sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed your bags, hauling them out of your room without waiting for you to catch up. After quickly changing, you followed him outside to where his car was parked at the curb.
Your mom and sister stood by the door, sending you off with a chorus of reminders. “Don’t skip meals,” “Call when you get there,” “Behave yourself.” You nodded along to each of them, half-listening, while Jaemin loaded your things into the trunk.
Then, just like always—like second nature—
You slid into the passenger seat without thinking. You pulled the seatbelt over your shoulder, and Jaemin draped a blanket over your lap just as you reached for the console to connect your phone. A lollipop landed in your palm at the same time you tossed his glasses from the dashboard into his waiting hand.
“The silver one,” said Jaemin, nodding at the other pair of glasses on the dashboard. You took the black ones and swapped them with the silver ones.
“Thank you,” he chimed, wearing them carefully and showing them to you. “Looks better, don’t you think?”
You grimaced. “It looks the same to me.”
Jaemin deadpanned, shaking his head as he started the engine. “Why do I even bother asking someone with no taste?”
“Excuse me? How dare you?”
Four hours passed with comfortable conversation and music, your voices occasionally singing along to the songs playing through the speakers.
At some point, Jaemin reached for the volume dial, turning it down a notch. “You’re lucky we’re friends,” he muttered, shaking his head.
You raised a brow. “Oh? What did I do now?”
“You put that song in the playlist,” he said, nodding at the stereo like it had personally offended him. “We’ve been over this. It’s a crime against my ears.”
You gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? This is a masterpiece.”
Jaemin shot you a look of pure judgment. “It sounds like a car alarm.”
“You have no taste.”
“And you have terrible taste,” he retorted. “It’s been in all of your playlists since high school. Don’t you get sick of it?”
Scoffing, you skipped to the next song—one you knew he actually liked, though you made a show of sighing as if it physically pained you to do so. “Better?”
Jaemin grinned. “Thank you so much.”
The rest of the drive was uneventful, filled with more playful arguments about music choices, lazy singing, and the occasional comfortable silence. By the time you reached the city, your playlist had nearly looped itself, and Jaemin was humming along without even realizing it.
“You know,” you mused, unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulled up to your apartment, “for someone who ‘hates’ my music, you sure know all the words.”
Jaemin clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance. “Unfortunately, exposure to bad influences does that.”
You stuck your tongue out at him before stepping out of the car. Jaemin parked in front of your apartment building and helped you carry your bags upstairs, unloading them and complaining about how heavy they were. You only scoffed, knowing he was just being dramatic.
“You have dinner plans?” he asked once everything was inside. You shook your head. “You should text the others. Let’s all have dinner together.”
“Yeah, let’s do that,” you replied, slumping on your couch.
You could tell he was stalling. Dragging things out with small tasks—checking if the appliances are plugged in, rearranging the shoes by the door, checking his phone without really reading anything. But eventually, he ran out of excuses.
Jaemin stepped toward the doorway, pausing with one hand on the knob. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
His expression didn’t change, but you could tell he didn’t buy it. “There’s still a few hours before dinnertime. Don’t you wanna go out and do something?”
“If you’re so worried, why don’t you just hang out with me until later?”
“Oh, I have to take my stuff to the dorms,” he replied, sighing as if he really was considering the idea. “Are you sure you don’t wanna live with the girls? Just so you’re not alone.”
“I’ll be fine, Jaemin.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. With one last glance, he gave a small nod and stepped out.
And then, just as the door was about to shut, his head popped back in. “Text me if you need anything.”
You rolled your eyes. “I know.”
Still, he hesitated. He paused briefly by the doorway, giving your apartment one last sweep. Then finally, finally, he walked away. The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was deafening. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
Alone again.
You tilted your head back, resting on the backrest of the sofa and staring at the ceiling. It had become a habit at this point, staring at the ceiling and letting your mind wander anywhere and everywhere.
Six months had passed since the accident in Mykonos that left you with a few scars and a broken heart. Six whole months of healing and trying to reconnect with the person that you were before that summer. Seeing a therapist helped for the most part. You were able to talk about what happened, address your questions and confusions, and face the consequences of your actions. But it was useless for the emptiness that followed. The odd feeling of having a hole in your heart but not feeling any sadness or hurt about it. It was just… there.
This emptiness tends to be strong when you are alone. You hated it, but after six months of being a burden, of having people walk on eggshells around you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide in anyone and tell them you hated being alone.
You stared at the boxes scattered across your living room, the remnants of your hasty move. The idea of doing something productive was almost laughable, but you pushed the thought aside. You were going to unpack. You would. And that would be something.
The process was slow at first as you sorted through the boxes. Old books, some clothes you hadn’t seen in ages, and trinkets you’d forgotten about began to fill the shelves and hang in the closet. It wasn’t the most exciting task, but it was progress.
Eventually, your mind began to wander as your hands kept working. You hadn’t realized how much bigger this new apartment was compared to your last one. It was the same building but the living room felt more spacious compared to your previous unit.
The layout was unfamiliar, and for a moment, you paused, your eyes drifting down the hallway to a door you hadn’t really noticed before. It led to a second bedroom. You hadn’t asked for it when you’d signed the lease—this new place was supposed to be temporary, just for this semester. You’d taken the break from college to heal, to recalibrate after the wreckage of the past summer. Now you were back and a small part of you felt like an alien in an unfamiliar territory. You hadn’t exactly figured out how to balance all of this—your old life and this new version of yourself.
You moved to the second bedroom, setting up the bed with the same care you’d given the first. The window in here was smaller, but it was cozy and had enough space for a few furniture and for moving around. It could be perfect for when your mom comes. Or, maybe it would just be a place for things you never used.
When you finally made it to the living room, the place was looking less like a chaotic mess and more like an apartment. You flicked on the TV, hoping some background noise would distract you from the heavy silence that seemed to follow you around. Sinking back on the plush couch, you entertained yourself with a show you’d been meaning to watch.
You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until loud, persistent knocks on your door jolted you awake. For a moment, you just stared at the TV, trying to make sense of the time and the situation. Then the knocks came again, this time with such force it sounded like they might break the door down.
Your heart rate quickened. You sat upright, momentarily disoriented, rubbing your eyes. Glancing at the clock, you saw that two hours had passed. You quickly got to your feet, shaking off the grogginess as you reached for the door.
“Who is it?” you asked, turning the knob and swinging the door open.
What greeted you was Jaemin’s panic-stricken face, his phone pressed to his ear, and his eyes wide as if he were on the verge of tears.
“Jaemin? What happened—” Before you could finish, he pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of you.
“What’s going on?” you asked, suddenly nervous.
“Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled, holding you even tighter.
“Jaemin,” you said, trying to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. “Jaemin, I can’t breathe!”
Finally, he pulled back, hands still gripping your shoulders as he demanded, “Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up?”
You blinked, caught off guard for a moment. You glanced at your phone on the coffee table, still buzzing because he was still calling you on his phone.
“Oh…” you trailed off, feeling suddenly guilty. “I fell asleep. I didn’t hear it.
Jaemin sighed, his shoulders sagging as he stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. Before he could say anything else, the door swung open again, revealing the worried faces of your friends. The moment they saw you, relief flooded their expressions, and they practically lunged at you, whining and fake-sobbing as they pulled you into a dramatic group hug.
You caught Jaemin's eye. You gave him a quick, questioning glance, discreetly mouthing, “What's going on? Why are they here?”
Jaemin paused, then mouthed back, “This is all your fault.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before you could protest, your friends were already dragging you back into the apartment, chattering excitedly, leaving Jaemin behind with his amused grin.
Dinner plans had taken an unexpected turn, and now your apartment was filled with the comforting chaos of your friends’ voices, laughter echoing from both the kitchen and living room. Jaemin and Renjun had taken over cooking duties, moving around each other with an ease that suggested they’d done this plenty of times before. You sat curled up on the couch with Karina and Giselle, half-listening to their chatter while keeping an eye on whatever Jaemin was doing near the stove.
“I swear, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Karina huffed, lightly smacking your arm. “Jaemin made it sound like you were unconscious or kidnapped or dead.”
“I was asleep,” you muttered, sinking further into the cushions. “Totally fine. He might’ve overreacted a little.”
“Overreacted?” Giselle scoffed. “You disappeared for hours, didn’t pick up a single call, and this is your first night back. Can you blame us for being a little overprotective?”
You pursed your lips, unsure how to respond to that. You weren’t trying to worry them. It just hadn’t occurred to you that they’d actually be this worried.
“I get it,” Karina said, her tone softer now. “I know it must be exhausting having people hover over you all the time, but you kinda scared us. We’re not trying to be dramatic, we just—” She hesitated. “We don’t want you slipping back into that place.”
You exhaled through your nose. “I was asleep,” you repeated, though your voice lacked conviction this time.
For a while, the conversation drifted to lighter things—Karina complaining about her new professor, Giselle filling you in on a particularly messy situationship she got tangled up in. But in between their stories, your mind wandered. You’d been back for less than a day, and it already felt like there was a spotlight on you. Like everyone was waiting for you to break again.
As Karina started a new story, you took the opportunity to discreetly lean toward her and lower your voice. “Okay, but... why is Renjun here?”
She blinked at you. “Oh. He kinda just... ended up in the group last semester.”
You furrowed your brows. “How?”
“Dunno,” she said, shrugging. “We all started hanging out more, and he just stuck around.”
“Jaemin was the one who pulled him in, I think,” Giselle added. “And then it just happened. You probably didn’t notice ‘cause, well... you weren’t around.”
Right. You hadn’t been around. It was a strange realization—like the world had kept moving while you were frozen in place.
Before you could dwell on it, Giselle suddenly perked up, her voice turning mischievous. “Hey, Renjun,” she called toward the kitchen, loudly enough to grab everyone’s attention. “How’s it feel to make food for the girl you used to like?”
Karina covered a laugh with her hand, while Jaemin snorted under his breath. Renjun, standing by the stove, exhaled slowly and shook his head, giving Giselle a look that was equal parts tired and unimpressed.
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” he muttered, turning to Jaemin instead of dignifying the question with a real response.
Jaemin only smirked, stirring the pot in front of him. “Nope.”
You wanted to sink into the floor. Giselle, clearly entertained, leaned closer to you. “Does it feel weird?” she whispered. “Having your ex-crush make you dinner?”
You shot her a look. “We’re not talking about this.”
“We should talk about this,” Giselle insisted, grinning. “We wouldn’t want things to be awkward. We’re fond of him, you see.”
Karina leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We like him more than Jaemin.”
“I can hear you,” Jaemin interjected, pointing the spatula at Karina.
Thankfully, they didn’t press on the matter. Dinner proceeded smoothly after that, filled with easy conversations, inside jokes, and the occasional teasing at Jaemin’s expense. The warm, comforting energy reminded you of what you had missed—of how much you had needed this.
By the time the meal wound down, everyone was full and content, slumping into their seats as Jaemin and Renjun made a half-hearted attempt to clear the dishes before eventually giving up. With a few reluctant groans, they finally dragged themselves toward the door.
“I expect an actual text back next time,” Jaemin warned, pointing at you as he slipped his shoes on.
You rolled your eyes. “Noted.”
Renjun only gave you a small nod before stepping out, and just like that, the apartment felt quieter. But not for long.
The moment the door clicked shut, Karina and Giselle turned to you with identical grins. “Sleepover,” Giselle announced.
You blinked. “What?”
“We’re staying over,” Karina said, already making herself comfortable on your couch. “You don’t get a say.”
And just like that, the night stretched on, filled with whispered gossip, bursts of laughter, and limbs tangled together as the three of you squeezed into your bed. There was something nostalgic about it—something safe. Maybe it was the way Karina absentmindedly played with your hair, or how Giselle kept making you both laugh until your stomachs hurt.
Either way, by the time sleep finally took over, you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this at peace.
The first day of the new semester felt like walking into an old sitcom set. Same buildings, same people, same scenes playing out with minor variations. Even the air smelled the same, a mix of coffee, freshly printed syllabi, and stress.
Your first lecture was a blur. You spent most of it half-listening, jotting down random notes between doodles, and staring at the clock. Time moved in an odd way—too slow and too fast all at once. Lunch was better, mostly because it required no real thought. You walked through the crowded cafeteria, tray in hand, until you spotted your friends at a corner table. Karina and Giselle were talking, Jaemin was picking at his fries, and Renjun looked relaxed and refreshed.
Jaemin glanced up as you sat down. “Finally. Our esteemed scholar returns from the clutches of education.”
You stabbed a cherry tomato with your fork. “It’s syllabus week. I haven’t done anything.”
“And you still look like you’ve been through war,” Karina teased.
You hummed noncommittally, half-listening as they fell into conversation. Someone mentioned a professor who still hadn’t uploaded the syllabus, then the best study spots on campus, then somehow they were debating the worst seats to get in a lecture hall.
The minutes stretched. The sun outside moved slowly. You took bites of your food at an unhurried pace.
At some point, Jaemin turned to Renjun. “I can’t believe you’re still sitting with us.”
He didn’t even look up from his phone. “I can’t believe I’m still sitting with you either.”
“We adopted him,” Giselle said. “He had no choice.”
Karina leaned back in her chair. “We like him more than you, so he’s not going anywhere.”
Jaemin placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. Right on my face?”
“Renjun doesn’t embarrass us in public,” Giselle pointed out.
“Not yet,” Renjun muttered, glancing at you.
The conversation continued with pointless yet oddly entertaining topics. Someone tried to recall the name of a movie but got it completely wrong. Jaemin made a terrible pun that Karina groaned at but Giselle immediately wrote it down for later use. You laughed a few times without realizing it.
And then, just like that, lunch ended. Trays were cleared, schedules compared, half-hearted complaints about afternoon classes exchanged.
The next few days passed pretty much the same. Classes, meals, occasional hangouts with your friends. Conversations stretched a little too long, and lectures felt like white noise in the background. It wasn’t bad, just monotonous. The world kept moving, even if you weren’t entirely participating.
Your schedule was light by design. Easing back into normal life was the goal, after all. But normal life turned out to be... dull. You sat through your lectures, watching the professors gesture at PowerPoints that no one was paying attention to, doodling in the margins of your notebook just to stay awake.
Somewhere in the middle of it, you befriended your seatmate, Eric. He was easygoing, quick with a joke, and effortlessly charming in the way some people just were. He had a habit of leaning in when he talked, his voice always carrying a hint of amusement.
“Did you get all that?”
“I think so,” you replied, shrugging.
“Great, can I see your notes?”
You glanced down at your page. A series of unrelated scribbles stared back at you. You slid your notebook over anyway.
“Wow,” he muttered, chuckling. “An abstract artist. Impressive.”
You glanced sideways at him, unable to suppress a chuckle at his comment. You tugged your notebook back. “You asked to see it.”
“You know, I think you might be the only person in this class who doesn’t look completely bored and sleepy,” he mused, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers.
You raised an eyebrow. “That’s an assumption.”
“Yeah?” He smirked. “What’s your secret? Other than practicing abstract art in your notebooks.”
“Complete emotional detachment,” you deadpanned.
Eric laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I really really like you.”
You only smiled, assuming he meant it in a general, friendly way.
Meanwhile, Jaemin remained his usual self, looking after you in his own quiet way. He never outright asked if you were okay. He just walked back with you most days, keeping up a steady stream of conversation like he always had.
Today, he was talking about a new café that opened near campus. “They have this matcha croissant that’s supposed to be life-changing,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you walked. “I heard you girls are already planning a whole trip just to try it.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing at him. “What about you?”
“I mean, I like croissants,” he shrugged. “But I feel like I’ll end up there no matter what.”
You hummed in response. Jaemin didn’t push. Instead, he switched topics, asking if you’d seen the latest episode of the drama you both started last year. You hadn’t.
“That’s tragic,” he sighed. “Now I have to pretend I don’t know what happens every time I talk about it.”
“You could just not talk about it.”
“That’s just impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “You know I don’t have that kind of self-control.”
You huffed a quiet laugh. The week passed before you knew it.
One evening, after another regular day of classes, you came home feeling drained. You went about your routine—shower, tea, maybe a TV show since it was Friday night. You had a good grasp of your plans for the night, until a simple misstep turned into a disaster.
You weren’t even sure how it happened. Did you trip over the edge of the rug? Lose your footing while stepping into the shower? Either way, one second you were moving, and the next, you were on the floor, hissing as a sharp sting shot up your ankle.
It’s not that bad, you told yourself. Just a little soreness. You managed to get an ice pack for it, and went to bed thinking it would be fine in the morning.
Except, by morning, it wasn’t. You were feverish, and the dull ache had worsened. Even shifting the wrong way sent a sharp pulse through your foot. You tried to get up and walk, but that proved impossible, so you decided to call the first person who crossed your mind.
Jaemin arrived not ten minutes later, equipped with some stuff from the drugstore and a takeout bag.
“What happened?” he asked as soon as he stepped into your bedroom.
“Just a little accident,” you said too quickly. “I’m fine, but it hurts to move.”
Jaemin’s face tightened as he examined your ankle, pressing on it just enough for pain to shoot through, making you wince.
He exhaled sharply. “Yeah, no. We’re going to the ER.”
“It’s not that bad. I just need rest and some ibuprofen.”
Jaemin gave you a look. “You also have a fever. We need to check if you broke a bone or something. I know you hate it, but you’re gonna have to deal with this because, honestly, you’re way too clumsy for your own good.”
The trip to the ER wasn’t exactly eventful, but it was exhausting. You sat through the usual process—check-in, vitals, waiting. When the doctor finally saw you, they examined your ankle, prodded at it, and sent you off for an X-ray, just to be sure.
“Good news, nothing’s broken,” the doctor announced when they returned with your results. “Just a bad sprain. We’ll wrap it up, and you’ll need to stay off it for a few days. But there’s something else. Your bloodwork shows low iron and glucose levels.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“You need to eat healthier,” they said simply, setting the file down. “Skipping meals, not getting enough nutrients. It’s showing up in your results. We’re giving you an IV now, but you should be more mindful of your diet moving forward.”
You exhaled as the nurse set up the IV, already anticipating what was coming. Jaemin, who had been sitting quietly beside you, didn’t say I told you so, but you felt it in the way he glanced at you.
It was only after the doctor left that he spoke. “I called your mom,” he said, casual like it was nothing.
Your head snapped toward him. “You what?”
Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “I figured you won’t tell her so, I did.”
“I was gonna tell her,” you grumbled. “Eventually.”
He didn’t look convinced. Before you could say anything else, your phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen before handing it over. “That’s her.”
Sighing, you took the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, honey.” Her voice was warm with relief. “Are you okay? Jaemin said you hurt your foot?”
“I’m fine,” you reassured her. “It’s just a sprain. And some iron deficiency, apparently. No big deal.”
Your mom sighed on the other end. “Sweetheart, you have to take care of yourself. Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”
“I’ll be fine,” you said. “It’s just a sprain. And I’ll eat better, I promise. They gave me an IV. I’m allowed to go home after this.”
A pause. Then, carefully, she said, “I was thinking maybe one of your friends could stay with you for a few days. Just until you’re feeling better?”
You opened your mouth to protest, but she added quickly, “It’s just a suggestion. I’d feel better knowing someone’s there with you.”
You blinked. “Mom, I don’t wanna bother them like that.”
“I know, but…” she sighed. “Let me talk to Jaemin, sweetie.”
You glanced at Jaemin before handing the phone back to him. He took it without question, nodding along as your mom talked his ear off. You could only catch bits and pieces—something about making sure you eat, not letting you skip meals, and keeping an eye on your ankle.
Eventually, he hung up and turned to you. “So, good news. You’re not dying. Bad news. Your mom insists someone stay with you for a few days. And—” He paused for dramatic effect. “She volunteered me.”
You gave him a flat look. “You volunteered yourself, didn’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jaemin dismissed. “What’s important is that I am now your temporary live-in nurse. I expect full cooperation.”
You sighed, debating your options, which, realistically, were none. You could protest, but you knew Jaemin. He wasn’t going to leave you alone while you were limping around your apartment. And honestly? Maybe having him around wouldn’t be that bad.
“Fine,” you muttered.
Jaemin nodded. “Okay. I’ll take the couch.”
You shook your head. “No need. I have a spare room you can use.”
“Oh?” he said, pressing his finger to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “That’s even better.”
You exhaled slowly, rolling your eyes as you shifted to get more comfortable in the hospital bed. Jaemin, without missing a beat, adjusted the pillow behind you, leaning in a bit closer than necessary. You could smell his cologne, fresh, woodsy, and all too familiar.
“I have rules,” you said, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.
“Of course,” Jaemin murmured, sounding amused.
You felt his hand brush over your forehead for a second, checking your temperature, but it lingered there longer than usual. You let out a quiet sigh, more content than you'd been all evening. With Jaemin here, maybe things would be okay.
You were only 14 when Jaemin and his family moved in next door. At the time, you weren’t particularly thrilled by the idea of befriending some new kid just because your parents told you to. You were used to being on your own, and you didn’t really feel like spending your weekends babysitting someone. But, as parents do, they insisted, so you reluctantly agreed.
It would be easier if he wanted to be friends with you too. But you could sense that he didn’t. He was curt, somehow a little mean when he talked to you. So, despite your parents’ wishes, you didn’t put in the effort to really get to know him.
That was until one Saturday morning. The sun was a little too bright for your taste, but you went with your family anyway. The hike was supposed to be a fun family outing, the kind where you would all get some fresh air and maybe stop at the lake for some snacks. Jaemin had only just moved in for over a week, and he was quiet, reserved, completely out of place in the familiar group of your family and his own. You didn’t blame him for that, but it didn’t stop you from feeling annoyed when your mom pointed him out and told you to stick by his side.
It didn’t take long for Jaemin to get lost. Not that it was entirely his fault. He was a city kid, and the woods were a different world. He wandered too far ahead, distracted by something, and before long, he was out of sight. That was when you heard him calling out for help.
You should’ve ignored it, honestly. The adults would hear him soon and they’d help. But somehow, you couldn’t just leave him alone. So you went after him, with quick steps as you navigated through the trees, trying to track down the lost kid. You found him standing by a cluster of rocks, looking entirely confused.
“Hey,” you called, catching his attention. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
Jaemin turned to face you, frustration and relief etched in his expression. “I... I guess I took a wrong turn.”
With a sigh, you rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
He followed you without a word, your pace steady as you led him back to the group. It wasn’t long before the others found you, and the hike resumed without much delay. But Jaemin stuck to you for the rest of the day. You didn’t mind because he was quiet most of the time, so you didn’t need to talk to him.
After that day, Jaemin kept showing up. At school, he’d sit next to you in class, not because he had to, but because he didn’t know anyone else to sit with. At lunch, ,he would find his way to your table, and you’d have your usual back-and-forth, making jokes and laughing about things only the two of you found funny. He was a little quieter back then, but there was always something comfortable about having him around. You didn’t have to try to impress him, and he didn’t make things awkward.
In high school, Jaemin was the guy you called when you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the kitchen, or when your phone was broken and you needed help figuring out what was wrong with it. When your family’s car broke down on a trip out of town, he was the one who came over with his toolbox and somehow managed to get the engine running again. And when you told him your food cravings at 11 PM, he’d be the one to show up at your door with your favorite late-night snack, laughing about how you were impossible to please.
“Am I your slave? Why do I have to do this for you?” he’d complain, but you knew he didn’t mean it.
Jaemin was dependable, and you had always known that. He wasn’t just that. He was also the guy who could make you laugh even when you wanted to stay mad at him. He was good at cooking, always surprising you with something new in the kitchen. And when he’d show you his latest photos, you couldn’t help but feel proud. He was talented. He always managed to stay humble, even when people around him began noticing just how good he was at everything.
You never really told him he was your best friend. You didn’t need to. The way you bickered and joked around always downplayed the depth of your connection, but you both knew you were each other’s person. It was the kind of friendship that didn’t need constant reaffirmation. The kind that lasted because it was simply there, no effort required.
Now, as you sat on the couch in your apartment, Jaemin sitting nearby while you fumbled through a book you were reading, you couldn’t help but notice how little had changed. Jaemin had grown up, of course, he had. He was older now, more popular, more confident, a little more polished. But underneath all of that, he was still the same guy you’d met all those years ago.
Still the guy who could cook you a meal without breaking a sweat, making your favorite dish like it was the easiest thing in the world. Still the one who was always convenient to have around, no matter the situation. There was something strangely comforting about how much he hadn’t changed. He had grown, sure, but the essence of who he was—the one who showed up without being asked, who willingly and effortlessly took care of everything—was still the same.
Jaemin was annoyingly good at taking care of you. The first morning in your apartment, you woke up to the smell of something warm and savory, your stomach twisting in hunger before you were even fully conscious. When you managed to make your way to the kitchen in crutches, he was already plating breakfast, acting like he’d lived here all his life.
“You’re up,” he said, not even looking up from the pan. “Sit. Eat.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Isn’t this too much for breakfast?”
Jaemin set a bowl in front of you, a perfectly balanced meal that made your usual instant ramen diet look embarrassing. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I thought you already knew that?”
You huffed but didn’t argue, mostly because he was right. And because the food smelled too good to resist.
For the next few days, Jaemin took over your apartment like a man on a mission. Since you couldn’t walk, he made sure everything you needed was within reach. He left water bottles and snacks at your bedside. He helped you move whenever you needed to get to the bathroom or the couch.
He had an almost annoying dedication to making sure you ate. Every lunchtime, without fail, he showed up at your apartment. You’d hear the front door unlock, and a few minutes later, he’d be standing in front of you, arms crossed.
“Did you eat?”
You’d roll your eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
Jaemin would glance at the table, checking for evidence. If he saw plates in the sink, he’d nod and remind you to take your meds before going back to campus. Sometimes just moving to prepare your own food was tiring, but you knew better than to try and lie to him, so you didn’t.
It was kind of nice. Annoying, but nice. But, of course, there were the embarrassing moments that came with having him around 24/7.
Like the time you walked into the living room, only to find him casually folding your clothes—including your underwear.
“Jaemin!” you shrieked, nearly tripping over your own foot.
He barely blinked, holding up a pair of lace-trimmed bras with a considering look. “Are these new?”
“Oh my god, drop them!”
Jaemin chuckled, but thankfully, he did as you said. “Relax. It’s just laundry. It’s not like I haven’t seen a bra before.”
Then there was the time you walked out of your room in the morning, still half-asleep, only to find Jaemin in nothing but a towel, casually walking out of the bathroom. You froze.
Jaemin, completely unfazed, rubbed his damp hair with another towel. “Morning.”
You closed your eyes shut, looking away dramatically. “What the hell?! Put some clothes on!”
He snorted. “Don’t like it, don’t look.”
“Excuse me? This is my apartment! I don’t need to see—” You cut yourself off before you could make things worse, groaning into your hands. “God, just—just go.”
Jaemin laughed as he padded past you toward the spare room. “Noted.” It was a nightmare.
When you were finally able to attend classes again, Jaemin always walked there with you. He made it look casual, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging whenever you pointed it out. “What? We have almost the same schedule.”
You didn’t. And yet, every day, he was there, waiting for you to get ready, carrying your bag when he thought you looked too tired, making sure you got back home without a hitch.
Around the apartment, he was everywhere. You’d be brushing your teeth in the bathroom, and he’d be leaning against the doorway, scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere better to be. You’d be on the couch, flipping through channels, and he’d plop down beside you, stealing the remote.
When he cooked dinner, he’d make you sit on the counter, keeping you close while he moved around the kitchen like it was his. “I swear, if you don’t start eating better, I’m gonna move in permanently,” he’d threaten, flicking water at you when you teased him about being a housewife.
“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” you told him one evening, watching as he washed the dishes.
Jaemin didn’t look up. “I know.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
He glanced at you over his shoulder with a small, knowing smile on his lips. “Because I want to.”
You stared at him for a second before shaking your head. “Suit yourself. I’m not complaining about a clean house and good food.”
Jaemin just chuckled. “You can admit you like having me around. Don’t be shy.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He was right, but he’d never catch you admitting that out loud. Not to his face at least.
Before you knew it, two weeks had passed. Your ankle had fully healed, and Jaemin—your self-appointed live-in nurse and housewife—was finally packing up his things. You stood by his bedroom door, watching him fold his clothes neatly in place.
“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.
Jaemin hummed, tossing a hoodie into his duffel bag. “Getting my stuff ready. I’m moving back to the dorm by the end of the day.”
You knew this was coming. It wasn’t like he was living with you permanently. But for some reason, you didn’t like hearing it out loud.
The idea of your apartment returning to its usual emptiness made you uncomfortable. No more clinking in the kitchen in the early morning, no more stolen bites from your plate, no more Jaemin casually invading your space like it was his own. Loneliness slowly crept into your chest at the idea.
But you didn’t tell him that.
By the time you stepped out of the apartment, the morning sun was warm against your skin, and Jaemin was walking beside you like he had been doing in the last few days. It had become routine—leaving together, arriving together. For the past two weeks, Jaemin had been around every moment of the day, making sure you ate, getting you to class, sticking around like a permanent fixture in your life. And now, just like that, he was packing up.
You glanced at him, the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. It felt strange, knowing he wouldn’t be there tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that. The thought unsettled you more than it should. Trying not to dwell on it, you cleared your throat. “What’s the college dorm like?”
Jaemin scoffed. “Let’s see… bunk beds that creak every time you move. Paper-thin walls so you hear everything. People talking, snoring, doing… other things.” He grimaced. “Shared bathrooms, too. It’s an experience, to say the least.”
You made a face. “That sounds awful.”
“It is,” Jaemin confirmed, kicking a loose pebble on the sidewalk. “And my roommate? Dude never cleaned up after himself. I swear, I did all the work.”
“That sucks.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Must be nice having your own space for the past two weeks, huh?”
Jaemin shot you a look, catching on just a little. “I guess.”
“You guess?” You raised a brow. “I mean, you had a whole kitchen. A clean bathroom. Nobody snoring in the same room as you.”
Jaemin let out a soft chuckle. “Are you trying to make a point?”
“Nope. Just making conversation.” You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral.
He rolled his eyes, but there was amusement dancing in them. “Right.”
You left it at that, but something about the conversation must have stuck, because at lunch, Jaemin was still talking about it. He was talking when you joined them at the cafeteria, casually sliding into the seat next to him.
“What are you guys talking about?” you asked, although you already heard snippets of their conversation.
“Jaemin’s moving back to the dorms today,” Karina said, sighing. “We’re wishing him luck.”
“Why would you willingly go back?” Giselle added, incredulous. “Dorm life is hell. It’s literally just a shoebox with a bed.”
“And you can hear everything,” Renjun chimed in. “My friend used to hear his neighbor watch porn and masturbate at two in the morning.”
Everyone at your table groaned in unison. Giselle dramatically covered her mouth as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “That word in your mouth, Renjun? I can’t believe it!”
“What? Masturbate?”
You all groaned again. At this point, Giselle was fake-sobbing on Karina’s shoulder. “My sweet innocent Renjun. Jaemin, what have you been teaching my baby?” she pointed an accusatory finger at Jaemin.
“I’m literally half a year older than you,” Renjun deadpanned.
Your table was chaotic as usual, but your mind was elsewhere, focusing on Jaemin and the fact that he won’t be around after today.
And that afternoon after classes were over, you leaned against the doorway of the spare bedroom, watching Jaemin zip up his duffel bag. He moved around the room, gathering the last of his things, a hoodie hanging on the back of the door, his camera resting on the desk, a pair of socks he’d somehow left on the floor.
It was expected, of course. He was always going to leave. That was the deal. But standing there, watching him pack, you felt the reality of it settle in your chest in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
You sighed without meaning to. Jaemin didn’t turn at first, but when he finally did, he smirked. “Why do you look so upset? Gonna miss me when I’m gone?”
“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, arms crossing over your chest. “I was just worried you’d have a hard time when you’re back in the dorms.”
Jaemin huffed out a small laugh. “I’ve lived there since freshman year. I’ll survive.”
You knew that. You weren’t actually worried about him adjusting. He was fine there before. He’d be fine again. But would you? Would you be okay when the small ray of sunshine that had been brightening up your space for the last two weeks disappeared?
You hesitated. The words forming in your head felt too heavy, too exposing. You weren’t even sure you wanted to say them. And yet, before you could think better of it, they slipped out anyway. “You don’t have to leave.”
Jaemin paused, his hands holding the zipper of his bag. “What do you mean?”
You swallowed, shifting on your feet. You could leave it at that. Brush it off, pretend you meant something else. But he was already looking at you, waiting.
“You heard me,” you muttered, looking away.
Jaemin tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I did, but I’m not sure I’m understanding it correctly.”
Heat prickled at your skin. This was exactly why you didn’t want to say it. He was just gonna tease you about it. Annoyed, embarrassed, and already regretting this, you huffed. “I said I want you to stay. Don’t go back to the dorms. Just go get your stuff and stay here.”
Jaemin laughed. “Oh, you want me to stay—” He trailed off as his eyes met yours. His amusement faded slightly when he realized you weren’t laughing. “You’re serious?”
You dropped your gaze, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think you understand what it would mean if I stayed here,” he said softly, searching your face. “That means I have to live here with you, in your space. You’ll have to see me everyday until the semester is over.”
“I know that. It’s not like I’m doing this for free. We can split the rent and other bills. I’ll buy the groceries, you make sure to make food. I’ll lend you my linens and other stuff, you make sure they’re clean.”
“Why are you okay with this?”
You exhaled slowly, staring at the floor like the answer might be there.
Because the apartment would be too quiet without him. Because the past two weeks had been easier, and brighter, less mundane and less dull. Because you’d gotten used to him being there, to the sound of him moving around, to the way he always had something to say.
But admitting that felt like too much. So instead, you shrugged, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “Because I’m anemic and low on sugar. Someone’s gotta make sure I’m well-fed and healthy.”
Jaemin chuckled heartily, sighing as he gave you an affectionate look. He always did that when he found you cute or endearing, and it always annoyed you because it made you feel like a child.
“If you don’t want to then, forget it,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Go back to your bunk bed and dirty roommate, I guess.”
“Fine. I’m staying. But only because you forced me to,” he teased, opening his bag again and emptying it.
You stomped toward him, slapping his shoulder. “I did not!”
“Sure, you didn’t.”
You scoffed, annoyed and wondering if you could still take it back. But your heart is lighter now, more at ease. “You better not say that to the girls when they ask about this.”
“I don’t know,” he said in a sing-song. “I might. I might not.”
Living with Jaemin wasn’t all that different from when he was just temporarily staying over. It still came with the same pros: warm food every day, a perpetually clean kitchen, and the added bonus of a personal bodyguard whenever you had to walk home late. But, of course, the same cons remained—the casual half-nakedness, and the occasional mixing of laundry that resulted in you pulling one of his boxers out of your pile.
He changed the spare bedroom completely, swapping out your plain beddings for something that matched his aesthetic better—earthy tones and soft fabrics, the kind that looked straight out of a home decor catalog. He put up posters on the walls, ones he must’ve had in storage, and his toiletries now sat next to yours in the bathroom cabinet. It was still your apartment, but it was slowly becoming his home too.
For the most part, it was nice.
One evening, as you got ready to head out, Giselle came over, letting herself in as usual. She plopped down on your couch, watching as you moved around the apartment, gathering your things.
“Hey, did Jaemin leave already?” she asked, eyeing the shoes by the door—his shoes.
You glanced at her, then back at the bedroom door that was slightly ajar, revealing the edge of his neatly made bed. “Oh, no. He lives here now.”
Giselle blinked. “Permanently?”
“Yeah.” You pulled on a jacket, smoothing it out in the mirror. “He figured it was better than the dorms, so he just moved in.”
Giselle let out a low whistle. “Damn. I’m kinda jealous. I want a live-in housemaid who cooks for me every day too.”
You laughed. “He’s not a housemaid.”
“But still.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head in thought. “Isn’t it weird, though?”
“What?”
“Living with a guy,” she said. “Like, you’re a girl. He’s a guy. Isn’t that… I don’t know, weird?”
You made a face. “We’ve known each other since we were fourteen, Giselle. I don’t see him like that.”
“Huh.” She tapped a finger against her chin, thinking. “So girls and boys can really be just friends.”
“Of course. Why is that even an argument?” you chuckled, shaking your head.
“I mean, I always figured it was possible,” she mused. “But you guys aren’t just friends. You’re like…” She gestured vaguely, searching for the right words. Then, she snapped her fingers. “You’re soulmates. Platonic soulmates, but still soulmates.”
You snorted. “Soulmates?”
“Yeah. You guys are practically an old married couple without the romance.” She grinned. “It’s honestly kinda cute.”
You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue. Because, well, maybe she had a point.
The party was louder than you remembered parties being. Maybe it had just been a while, or maybe you were out of practice, but for the first hour, you found yourself unable to keep up with the energy around you. People moved in and out of conversations effortlessly, the music pulsed through the space, and the air was thick with the familiar mix of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.
It felt new again, being surrounded like this, caught up in the rhythm of a rowdy crowd. You sipped at your drink, letting yourself ease into it.
As you looked around, the memories of the past summer came registering into your mind’s view. The last time you'd felt this kind of buzz was that summer in Mykonos. You hadn’t thought about it much in a while, but now, under the neon lights and the noise, your memories brought you back to those days. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t sad or upsetting to remember that phase. In fact, you almost laughed at yourself, recalling just how much fun you’d had back then.
You’d been reckless. Maybe a little foolish. Definitely unhinged at times.
Donghyuck crossed your mind, slipping into the memory as easily as he had slipped into your life back then. That summer had been a whirlwind, the two of you burning through it like a fire neither of you had tried to put out. You wondered how he was doing. If he ever thought about that summer. If he ever thought about you.
Before you could dwell on it for too long, a hand grabbed yours. It was Giselle, grinning at you as he tugged you further into the house. “Come on!”
“Where are we—”
Karina appeared on your other side, looping her arm around yours. “Drinking game. Let’s go.”
You barely had a chance to protest before they dragged you into a circle of students, their laughter and cheers carrying over the loud music and chatter. Someone handed you a shot. The game was in full swing—a card game of truth or take a shot.
You participated, not because you wanted to, but because you were already there. It carried on, drinks passing from hand to hand, each question peeling back another layer of someone's carefully curated image. You laughed as someone admitted to sending an embarrassing drunk text the night before, and winced when another revealed they had been caught sneaking a boy into their apartment by their roommate’s mom.
Then, it was your turn, which surprised you a little. You thought the chances of getting picked was low, given the large number of people participating in the game. But here you are.
“Who’s the last person you kissed?” said someone who was reading the card you’d picked, and the circle immediately leaned in, eager for the answer.
You hesitated, warmth creeping up your neck. The answer should have come easily, but instead, your mind drew a complete blank.
“Well?” Giselle pressed.
You shifted in your seat. “No one.”
That didn’t satisfy them. “Come on, be serious.”
“I am being serious,” you insisted. “I haven’t kissed anyone recently.”
The group groaned in disappointment, and someone called out, “Boring!” You only rolled your eyes, but before you could deflect, another question landed in your lap.
“What about your first kiss?”
You laughed, relieved it wasn’t about the present anymore. “That was back in high school,” you said lightly. “You probably wouldn’t even know them.”
But the moment the words left your mouth, your gaze flickered across the room, drawn almost instinctively to Jaemin. He was standing far across the hall, deep in conversation, laughing with his friends.
And then it hit you. Jaemin. Your first kiss had been Jaemin. A sharp gasp left your lips.
The realization knocked into you like a gust of wind, rattling your brain, unearthing a memory you hadn’t even realized you’d buried. The circle of people blurred into static noise as your pulse pounded in your ears. Without thinking, you rose to your feet.
“Hey! Where are you—”
“Bathroom,” you blurted, before turning and walking—no, running—out of the room.
You didn’t stop until you reached the garden area of the house, stepping into the cooler night air. The party still pulsed behind you, but out here, it was less stuffy, easier to breathe.
You held onto the edge of a patio table as you tried to process what had just resurfaced. How could you have forgotten something like that? How had it just slipped from your memory as if it never happened?
Jaemin had been your first kiss. Not some crush, not a random guy at a party. Jaemin.
The thought sent your brain into overdrive. It must have been casual, right? A stupid teenage thing. A dare? A joke? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to summon the exact details, but all you got were flashes—his face close to yours, the stuffy in the air, the way he’d grinned afterward.
You let out a breath, feeling slightly light-headed. And then you heard a familiar voice calling your name behind you.
“Are you okay?” You turned, and there he was. Jaemin, stepping onto the patio, his head tilting slightly in concern.
You straightened immediately, forcing a neutral expression. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”
Jaemin didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he eyed you for a moment before asking, “Have you been drinking?”
You hesitated before nodding. “A little.”
He narrowed his eyes on you. “You know you’re not supposed to drink, right?”
You chuckled lightly, rolling your eyes just a little. “I’m allowed to drink, Jaemin. And besides, I’m all better now. I didn’t even need to go to rehab and I’m off therapy.”
Jaemin shrugged, stuffing his hands in hi pockets. “Yeah, but it won’t hurt to be careful. You don’t seem that well to me.”
You understood what he meant. While it was true that the events of that summer no longer haunted you, you hadn’t reverted back to your old easy-going, and happy self. This was probably just a phase, a transition period because blending back seamlessly wasn’t as easy as people made it out to be. But you knew in your heart that you were all better now, you were simply adjusting.
Silence settled between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… lingering. There was something on the tip of your tongue, something you wanted to ask, but you didn’t.
Instead, you inhaled slowly, pushing the thought away. “I’m heading back in,” you said.
Jaemin nodded, stepping aside to let you pass. As you walked back inside, the memory of your first kiss still sat heavy in your chest. It was back now, no longer buried. And you had no idea what to do with it.
You had hoped that unearthing a memory as important as your first kiss wouldn’t affect your life. But it did, funnily enough. Now, you couldn’t look Jaemin in the eye or act normally around him. It was awkward, and you knew he could feel it too. He was just nice enough not to ask questions. Or maybe he knew he hadn’t done anything to cause this, so he wasn’t bothered at all.
You, however, were very much bothered.
As you sat on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, your gaze kept drifting toward Jaemin. He was vacuuming the apartment like nothing had changed, like you hadn’t just recovered a lost piece of your history together. Did he remember that night? Or had he forgotten, just like you had?
You could still see it so clearly now. Some summer party when you were sixteen. The two of you, shoved into a cramped closet for a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven.
“We’re not gonna do it,” you’d said immediately. “Obviously, we’re not gonna do it.”
Jaemin had shrugged. “Let’s just let the seven minutes pass and we’re out of here.”
“Yeah,” you’d agreed. But you’d been restless, hugging your arms around yourself, picking at the sleeve of your dress.
The closet had been stuffy, filled with the scent of old coats and lingering perfume. You’d had a few bottles of beer and cups of whatever mix of alcohol and softdrinks the jocks had concocted earlier. You’d been hot and light-headed. So when he shifted slightly and his elbow nudged your arm, you had looked up at him ready to snap and say something mean like you always did.
But you couldn’t. The words died in your throat when you were met by his eyes, striking in the glow of your phone’s flashlight, staring back at you. The same eyes that had always been so easy to read—except, for the first time, you weren’t sure what you were seeing.
“Just one?” you blurted before you could even stop yourself.
Jaemin moved to face you fully. “Just one,” he said, already reaching to cup your face and kiss your lips.
It was just one, as agreed. As soon as his mouth touched yours, something in you had caved. The kiss had stolen the air out of your lungs, and erased the rationality in your head. That one kiss had you gripping the back of his neck, fingers curling against his hair as you pulled him closer for more. His hands on your hips were firm, keeping you steady as you felt your knees go weak with the sensation of his lips.
It was just one kiss. But it was one hell of a kiss. And yet, somehow, you’d managed to forget it ever happened—until now.
“Hey.” Jaemin’s voice yanked you back to the present.
You blinked, vision coming back into focus. He was standing in front of you now, the vacuum off, watching you with mild concern. His hand was on your arm.
“Huh?” you said, stupidly.
His brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
Panic flared up in your chest. His touch felt too warm, too familiar, and suddenly, it was all too much. You swatted his hand away, bolted up from the couch, and rushed straight into your room.
You told yourself it was no big deal. Just a long-forgotten memory, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t change anything. It didn’t mean anything.
But no matter how much you tried to push it out of your mind, you couldn’t. It was like Jaemin had been put under a magnifying glass—every little thing about him suddenly too noticeable, too distracting.
Like the way his voice softened when he called your name. Or how his sweater sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. Or the way he laughed, nose scrunching, eyes disappearing. Or, most annoyingly, how effortlessly attractive he was.
That hadn’t been a new observation, obviously. You always knew Jaemin was handsome. It was just a fact. But suddenly, it was something you were aware of in a way you had never been before. Suddenly, you were attracted to this handsomeness and it was infuriating.
The worst moment, by far, had been a few days ago. You had been curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Jaemin had stepped out of the bathroom—fresh from a shower, towel slung around his neck, with his messy damp hair falling over his forehead. And, of course, because the universe was cruel, he had been shirtless.
You hadn’t meant to stare, but you did.
It was impossible not to when his toned muscles were right there, his defined chest and abs on full display as he wiped at his hair. You knew he was ripped. You knew he had been going to gym consistently, putting in the work to maintain his physique. But you hadn’t given it any attention until right now.
He glanced up mid-rub, catching you staring blatantly with wide eyes. “What?” he asked, smirking.
“Nothing,” you blurted, whipping your gaze away so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your ears burned. You buried your face back into your phone, scrolling blindly, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.
Jaemin just laughed, shaking his head as he walked into his room. But you were left with the horrifying realization that you had just ogled your best friend.
And it wasn’t just that. It was everything that used to be so normal, so second-nature.
The way he absentmindedly ruffled your hair, the way he leaned in close when talking, the way he smelled—clean, fresh, woodsy—a mix that smelled distinctly Jaemin. You found yourself noticing things you never paid attention to before. And the more you noticed, the more your brain kept circling back to that memory—of being sixteen, of being in that closet, of his lips on yours.
Jaemin noticed eventually. He noticed how you avoided his gaze, how you stiffened when he casually draped an arm over your shoulders like he always had. He noticed how you started keeping just enough distance between you, subtly leaning away when he got too close.
At first, he didn’t seem to think much of it—maybe just a weird mood, something that would pass. But when it didn’t, when you kept acting like a skittish cat whenever he so much as looked at you for too long, his patience finally ran out.
He caught you by the wrist one afternoon, stopping you just as you were about to escape into your room after he sat too close to you in the couch and you scooted away like you were terrified of him.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” he asked, brows furrowed.
Your heart jumped to your throat. “Nothing.”
His grip was loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted, but his stare pinned you in place. “You’ve been acting weird.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly. Too quickly.
Jaemin scoffed, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying it for a second. “Yeah, okay,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you’re just gonna act like I’m gonna devour you each time I so much as look at you, why did you ask to live together?”
“Live together?” you echoed, his choice of words making your brain short-circuit. “We’re not living together. We’re sharing an apartment.”
“Yeah, that’s what living together means. I— That’s not the point,” he stopped and sighed, letting you go and placing his hands on his waist. “What did I do? Tell me so I can apologize and we can get over it.”
Tell him? Tell him? How were you supposed to tell him that you’d just remembered your first kiss with him and it was making you all giddy and nervous when he was near? You couldn’t possibly say that to your best friend of all people!
You opened your mouth to argue, to deny, to brush it off, but luckily, salvation arrived in the form of your friends ringing the doorbell.
“That’s the girls,” you said, making a break for the door before he could stop you again. “We’re seeing Ningning today. I’ll be home late, so no need to make me dinner.”
Jaemin let out a frustrated sigh behind you. “Call me if you need me to pick you up.”
“I will,” you replied, but you didn’t look back. You definitely will not call him to pick you up.
Café dates with your friends were usually a safe space, a break from the chaos of college life. But today, your mind was still preoccupied, and no matter how hard you tried to be present, you kept zoning out, stirring your iced coffee with the straw until the ice had almost completely melted.
“You’re quiet today,” Karina noted, giving you a curious look.
You blinked, forcing a smile. “Huh? No, I’m fine.”
“You literally just sighed to yourself,” Ningning said flatly.
Giselle narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been acting weird since we got here. Spill it.”
You hesitated. Admitting this out loud made it feel too real. But the three of them were staring at you like interrogators, and you knew they weren’t going to let this go.
You exhaled, deciding to rip the band-aid off. “I’ve been thinking about something weird lately.”
Giselle leaned in, interested. “Weird how?”
You bit your lip, hesitating for just a second before blurting, “I just—” You exhaled sharply. “I just remembered that Jaemin was my first kiss.”
“WHAT?”
Their voices were too loud that it drew attention from the nearby tables. You winced, shushing them in a panic. “Hey, keep it down.”
“You just dropped a bomb on us, what do you expect?” Ningning whisper-yelled, looking personally offended that she was only learning this now.
Karina gaped at you. “Jaemin was your first kiss? How are you best friends with your first kiss?”
“I kinda forgot about it,” you admitted sheepishly. “It happened in high school. And I didn’t remember until recently.”
They exchanged looks, intrigue and disbelief dancing on their faces. Giselle was the first to recover. “Okay, wait. So, was it like, an actual kiss kiss? Or one of those lame pecks?”
You opened your mouth to answer but suddenly remembered just how intense it had actually been. Your face burned. Karina gasped. “Oh my god! It was a real kiss, wasn’t it?”
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Can we not?”
“No, we absolutely can,” Ningning said, practically buzzing. “So? What does this mean? Do you—” she wiggled her brows, “—like him?”
“What? No!” you said immediately, way too defensive. “We were sixteen and dumb, playing seven minutes in heaven. I just— It’s weird, okay? It’s weird that I didn’t remember it, and now that I do, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
They exchanged another round of knowing looks. You hated it. “Guys, stop making me nervous.”
Ningning leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Okay, but think about it. You’ve lived with Jaemin for how long now? Three weeks? And now is when you suddenly remember this? What if your brain suppressed it because it meant something?”
You gave her a deadpan look. “Yeah, I totally repressed my first kiss because I was secretly in love with Jaemin all this time. That makes so much sense.”
Karina tapped her nails against the table. “Actually, she has a point. You said you forgot it happened, right? But then all of a sudden, it just comes back out of nowhere? Why? What triggered it?”
You hesitated. “Remember last week when we were playing a game at the party? And you guys asked me about my first kiss?” They nodded. “Yeah, that’s when it came back to me. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been acting all weird around him and he’s starting to notice.”
Karina’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait. What if the reason you forgot about it was because it would have changed the way you saw him back then? And now that you remembered it, you can’t unsee it because it’s been so long and he’s changed and you’ve changed and now he’s—”
“Hot,” Giselle finished, giving Karina a high-five after.
“Don’t say that,” you groaned.
“What? Hot?” Giselle snickered. “Why not? Jaemin is hot. Have you seen him?”
Karina grinned beside you. “Of course she’s seen him. They see each other 24/7 now.”
Ningning, just to fan the fire, said, “Bet he walks around shirtless after a shower.”
“Or when he gets back from the gym,” Giselle added, making all the girls oooh and fan their faces.
You stared at them, horrified. “You’re all insane.”
“Maybe, but you’re not saying we’re wrong,” Ningning said smugly. “Come on, babe. It’s okay to admit it. You like him. You want to kiss him again.”
“You guys are giving way too much meaning to something that happened years ago,” you insisted.
“Are we, though?” Giselle challenged. “Because we’re not the ones acting weird around our best friend over ‘something that happened years ago’,” she added, mimicking that way you spoke.
Karina tilted her head. "Yeah, why do you think that is?”
You opened your mouth to answer but came up empty. Because, ugh, they did have a point. It was just a kiss—one from years ago—but if it really was that meaningless, why were you spiraling?
“Wait, what about him?” Ningning prompted. “Does he remember that? Did he know that was your first kiss?”
Your stomach flipped at the question. “I’m not sure. I don’t think we ever talked about it.”
“What if,” Karina said, narrowing her eyes, “he remembers, but he never tried anything with you because he knows if you two cross that line, it changes everything.”
That thought sat uneasily in your chest. Giselle leaned back. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”
“Nothing,” you said immediately.
They groaned in unison. “You have to at least ask him,” Ningning urged.
“Why? That’s just gonna make things weirder.”
“What’s weird is that you’re spiraling over this instead of just asking,” Giselle pointed out.
Karina agreed. “Yeah. What if this is your ‘childhood best friends to lovers’ arc?”
You shot her a look. “This is not a K-drama.”
“But it could be.”
You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not just gonna randomly ask him if he remembers a kiss from when we were sixteen.”
“You won’t have to,” Karina chimed. “We’ll help you figure out the perfect way to bring it up.”
You had a feeling you were going to regret this.
Giselle smirked, stirring her drink. “See, this is why I always say men and women can’t be just friends.”
“We totally can,” you countered.
“Sure, whatever,” she said, unimpressed. “But at some point in every guy-girl friendship, there’s gonna be a small phase where one of them saw the other romantically. Or, in your case, had a history of sharing something as special as a first kiss.”
Your friends began teasing you about it. You could only frown and say nothing. Because, for the first time, you weren’t entirely sure if she was wrong.
Mark Lee was the last person you expected to run into.
You had been walking back to your apartment, your mind still agonizing about your conversation with your friends. The moment you spotted him, standing by the trunk of a car and hoisting a duffel bag over his shoulder, you almost gasped.
“Mark?” you called out, making him glance at you.
His face lit up in recognition. “No way. Look who it is.”
You walked towards him, smiling. “Hi.”
He shut the trunk with a firm thud and slung his bag higher onto his shoulder, his eyes scanning you briefly. “It’s been a while. You still live here?”
“Yeah,” you said. “You?”
“Nah, I’m actually moving out,” Mark replied. “I graduated last semester.”
Your brows lifted slightly. “Oh. Congratulations. I almost forgot you were a year ahead of us.”
“Thanks.” He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Feels weird, though. Like, I don’t think it’s hit me yet that I’m actually done with college.
“Four years of studying will probably do that to you,” you replied, chuckling.
“Four and a half for me,” he said, shaking his head.
You just nodded, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. A comfortable silence settled between you. It was nice seeing him, but now that you were talking to him, you realized you really didn’t have anything in common that you could talk about. You weren’t in the same circle of friends, nor were you particularly close. The only connection you had with him was Donghyuck.
“Hey, uh…” You saw hesitation flicker across his face before he offered a small smile. “I heard about Mykonos, Donghyuck and… everything.”
“Oh.” You froze, huffing a small laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine. I’m fine now. I wasn’t but, I am now,” you explained, not wanting to divulge more. You didn’t want to ask. You could’ve just left it at that—just another casual encounter with an old neighbor. But before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.
“How is he? Donghyuck…”
Mark shrugged as if he was expecting you to ask that. “He’s fine, I think. He’s studying there and actually putting in the work to get good grades. We text here and there, and I saw him when I went home after graduation. He looks the same, still insufferable and an idiot, but… he’s okay.”
A strange feeling settled in your chest—something between relief and disappointment. Mark must have sensed something because he tilted his head slightly and showed a ‘calling’ gesture with his hand. “You wanna—?”
“No.” You cut him off before he could even suggest it. “It’s for the best.”
Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Alright. Well, I’ll tell him you said hi.”
You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. Take care, Mark.”
“You too.” And just like that, another piece of Donghyuck slipped through your fingers.
When you stepped into your apartment, the silence was almost jarring. No sounds of Jaemin humming to himself in the kitchen. No sight of him sprawled on the couch watching something ridiculous. The place felt... empty.
For a second, you thought maybe he was out. Then, you spotted his shoes by the door and figured he must be sleeping. Good. You weren’t in the mood to interact.
You went straight to your room, shedding your jacket and tossing your bag onto the chair. The moment you entered the bathroom, you turned the shower on, letting the water heat up as you pulled off your clothes. Under the spray, you closed your eyes, tilting your head back as the warmth soaked into your skin.
Donghyuck.
It hasn’t even been a year, yet somehow, it felt longer than that. You used to be neighbors. It used to annoy you when Donghyuck brought girls over, when the sounds of them having sex echoed faintly through your walls. That was before you knew what it was like to spend an entire summer with him—before you knew what it was like to fall into something messy and thrilling and impossible to forget.
You exhaled sharply and shut off the water. It was enough to know that he was doing well. That he was living his life properly. You weren’t hurt by what happened anymore, surprisingly. But a part of you still wished you were able to talk to him before he left. You deserved a proper goodbye. Especially with the scars left by that fateful event.
“Tragic,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the scar on your elbow.
The bathroom was still warm with steam when you stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around your body. Water dripped from your damp hair, trailing down your shoulders, but you barely noticed. Your thoughts were still in the past. You needed something to calm your nerves. Maybe tea.
You crossed the hallway to the kitchen, moving straight to the overhead cupboard. You stretched up on your toes, fingers barely grazing the box of tea on the top shelf but you couldn’t get it. Annoying. You tried again, straining a little harder but then suddenly, something brushed against your back.
You stiffened, breath catching as you turned only to find yourself face-to-face with Jaemin. Or rather, face-to-chest.
He had stepped up behind you so quietly you hadn’t even noticed, one arm reaching past you to grab the tea. His other hand rested against the counter beside you, blocking you in without even realizing it.
Your gaze flickered up just as he glanced down, and that’s when you realized how close you were. He was close. Really close.
His face was just inches from yours, close enough that you could catch the familiar scent of his detergent mixed with something distinctly him. His chest barely touched yours, but you felt every shift, every breath. The towel around you suddenly felt too thin.
Jaemin held the tea between you, as if just now realizing the way you were staring at him.
But instead of taking it, you asked, “Do you remember the time we played Seven Minutes in Heaven?”
You caught the small shift in his expression. Surely he’d know which specific time you were talking about right? If he remembered that kiss at all, surely he wouldn’t be confused and assume you were talking about all the times you’d played seven minutes in heaven?
But his response came quickly and with certainty. “I do.”
Your eyes traced his features, noting the way his gaze flickered downward to your chest, a split-second slip before he caught himself and turned his head slightly, jaw tensing. Your chest rose with a shallow breath.
“Did you know that was my first kiss?”
Jaemin was still looking away, but you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “I think you mentioned it,” he admitted.
Your fingers twitched before you lifted a hand to his cheek, your palm grazing the sharp line of his jaw before settling at the curve of his neck. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and his pulse was steady but strong.
“Then why did we both forget it ever happened?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on his lips, so close and so inviting.
Jaemin finally met your gaze. His lips parted as if to say something, but then he stopped. His eyes lowered, and when he looked at you again, his expression had changed.
“I didn’t forget.”
The words sent warmth through you. Your heart pounded in your ears as your fingers pressed lightly against his skin. Something about the way he was looking at you made it impossible to breathe, impossible to think. So you did the only thing your body seemed to understand at that moment—you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him.
Jaemin didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist as he pulled you flush against him, his lips molding against yours, deep and persistent. Heat prickled at your skin, your fingers tightening in his hair as you tugged him closer for more. His grip on you was firm and possessive, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way he was kissing you back.
Then a voice in your head screamed at you to stop.
You pushed him away, breathless, panic creeping into your heart as your hands pressed firmly on his chest. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
The words came out fast and desperate, but it sounded more like a statement to yourself than to him. Jaemin backed away, studying your face as he nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he breathed, and you weren’t sure if he meant it because it was impossible to read the expression on his face.
Either way, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You held your towel in place and walked away.
Jaemin didn’t argue. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and hurried away, leaving behind the forgotten tea and the line you’d crossed to the point of no return.
The next morning, you did what any sane person would do—you pretended last night never happened.
You took your time getting out of bed, hoping that by the time you stepped into the kitchen, Jaemin would be gone. No such luck. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking relaxed and unbothered, like he hadn’t kissed you breathless in the kitchen less than twelve hours ago.
You ignored him. Moving around the kitchen, you focused on your routine—heat up leftovers, pour yourself some water, avoid looking in his direction. But you could feel his gaze on you, lazy and knowing, like he was waiting for something.
When you reached for a mug, his voice cut through the quiet. “The tea’s in the drawer. In case you want it.”
Your fingers twitched. You didn’t turn around, didn’t react, but you heard the insinuation in his tone, the meaning hiding between the lines. Still, you said nothing. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction
Later that day, you met up with your friends at the quad, lounging on the grass as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. The conversation was light and fun, and for a moment, you were free from the clutches of Jaemin’s infuriatingly charming grin.
That is until he came strutting in with Renjun, drinks in hand.
Renjun handed the drink one-by-one. He’d asked if you girls wanted something from the cafe while he was there, so you texted him your orders. But now that he was handing you the iced tea you asked for, you hesitated to accept it.
“I’ll have coffee instead,” you said, pushing the drink back toward him.
Renjun frowned. “What? But you asked for iced tea? Honey lemon, right?”
Yes, right. But that was before you knew he’d be coming back with Na Jaemin. “I changed my mind.”
Jaemin, who had been watching the exchange, chuckled under his breath. “You don’t want your tea?” You shot him a warning glare, but he only smiled. He took his coffee and held it out to you instead. “Here, you can have mine. I’ll take the tea.”
You didn’t want to take anything from him, but declining again would make it obvious. So you exhaled sharply and snatched the cup from his hand, ignoring the way he grinned. Then, just as you took a sip, Jaemin said,
“You sure you don’t want your tea? You seemed pretty desperate for it last night.”
You nearly choked. Your grip on the cup tightened as heat flared up your cheeks. Jaemin only sipped his drink, looking perfectly fine while you struggled not to just go ahead and strangle him.
Before you could say anything, Giselle, who had been oblivious to the tension, turned to the group with a casual, “So, what were you guys like in high school?”
Karina, clearly picking up on her intention, hummed in thought. “High school me? Pretty boring, honestly. I was too busy studying to get a proper life.”
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t get kissed in high school?”
“I did, of course. But not as much as I wished,” Karina replied, shaking her head. “My first kiss was because of a dare.”
“So is mine,” Giselle added, glancing sideways at you. “It was with my crush, but I stopped liking him after because he was such a lousy kisser.”
Then she turned to Jaemin. “What about you? Do you remember yours?”
You froze, realizing right then what they were doing. They had promised to help you figure out if Jaemin remembered that kiss all those years ago. And judging by the direction of this conversation, this was the help they meant. Not that it was necessary anymore. You had already asked him yourself.
But you couldn’t exactly tell them that. So you stayed silent, waiting, heart pounding a little too fast as Jaemin leaned back on his hands.
And then, he looked right at you. “I don’t remember my first kiss, exactly,” he said smoothly. “I do remember kissing someone recently, though.”
Your stomach dropped. His words sent a jolt of something hot through your veins—half panic, half something you didn’t know you’d feel for your best friend. You stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, as his lips curved into the slightest smirk.
You were going to kill him.
But not right now. You were gonna take your time and kill him with no witness. So for now, you kept your distance. Even as the day stretched on, even as Jaemin hovered near, you refused to acknowledge him. When it was his turn to talk, you busied yourself with your phone. When he laughed at something, you pretended not to hear. And when it was finally time to head home, you walked ahead, ignoring the way he naturally fell into step beside you.
He didn’t say anything about it. Not once did he call your name or try to slow you down. At the apartment, you swung the door open and stepped inside first, not bothering to hold it for him. You kicked off your shoes, tossed your bag onto the couch, and started toward your bedroom.
But then he called your name and that made your patience snap.
“What is wrong with you?” you huffed, gesturing at him.
Jaemin’s voice was teasing, “What? What did I do?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You keep bringing it up.”
Jaemin didn’t even blink. “Bringing what up?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You know what.”
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I really don’t.”
You scoffed, stepping closer. “The kiss, Jaemin. You keep hinting at it. You were so obvious, you might as well have just announced it to everyone.”
Jaemin simply shrugged, the smirk on his lips irritating you more. “I wasn’t obvious. You’re the only one who noticed.”
“Why were you doing it in the first place?” you demanded, stepping right into his space. “I told you, that kiss didn’t mean anything.”
Jaemin’s gaze flickered. He stayed quiet for half a second too long before he closed the gap between you. You stepped back, suddenly nervous at how close he was being. He kept at it, stepping closer while you stepped back until your back hit your bedroom door.
“If it didn’t mean anything,” he said, voice slow and teasing, “why are you so worked up about it?”
You didn’t have an answer to that, and he knew it. He was watching you too closely, too carefully, catching the way your lips parted, then closed again.
So you did what you always did when backed into a corner. You brushed it off. “Just forget it ever happened,” you muttered, looking away.
Jaemin studied you for a second, then exhaled through his nose. “No.”
“Yes!” you insisted.
There was a long pause. Then, he sighed like he wasn’t happy about it but was willing to let you have this. “Fine.”
“Good.” You turned back toward your door, gripping the handle with a sigh of relief. But just as you started to push it open Jaemin tugged your wrist lightly, just enough to make you turn slightly toward him.
Eyes gleaming mischievously, he asked, “Wanna do it again?”
Heat shot up your cheeks, exasperation and something dangerously close to exhilaration rushing through you despite the fact that you should have been pissed.“Stop,” you said, exasperated, shoving the door closed in his face.
“Oh my god, stop it,” you muttered, slapping your palm on his chest and shoving the door closed in his face.
Only to rip it open a second later.
Jaemin barely had time to react because you quickly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was deep, hot, and feverish. Jaemin responded instantly, hands firm on your waist as he backed you against the doorframe, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
It was intoxicating, dizzying—the way he kissed, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this. But just before the moment took over completely, you pulled away, catching your breath.
Jaemin stared at you, lips parted, chest rising and falling. You stared into his eyes, then at his lips, biting your own as you savored the lingering sensations he’d left behind.
“You liked that?” he teased, catching the way you were looking at him. Flustered, you swallowed and quickly stepped back into your room, locking the door behind you before you could do something reckless again.
You leaned against it, heart racing, lips tingling, your skin still burning from the way he touched you. Then you heard him chuckle softly on the other side before he rapped his fist on the door, the sound startling you.
“You kissed me first, alright?” he called out, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice. “So you better not skip dinner because of this.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, biting back a smile. Then, with a quiet groan, you slid down to the floor, pressing your hands over your face and kicking your legs in the air as you tried your best not to squeal.
You told yourself it wouldn’t happen again. But then it did. It started small, so small that it was easy to pretend it was nothing. Like that morning in the kitchen when you were making coffee, and Jaemin leaned against the counter beside you, too close, as always. He watched as you poured sugar into your mug, his gaze intent and knowing.
“That’s too sweet,” he commented.
You paused, the spoon clinking against the ceramic. “It’s not. You just like yours bitter and sad.”
Jaemin hummed in amusement, then he said, “I like my coffee bitter, but I’ve been told many times that my kisses are very sweet.”
You scoffed, taking the spoon out of your mug and turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “You telling me you’ve kissed lots of people isn’t really convincing me to kiss you again.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to convince you yet,” he replied, grinning playfully. Without warning, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. Then he leaned forward to press a soft peck on your cheek. “This is me convincing you.”
You stared at him, unimpressed, and took a step back with your mug. “Not working.”
Jaemin only smirked. You sighed, turning away to grab some bread from the overhead cupboard. The moment your fingers came up short, he stepped in behind you, reaching for it easily. You exhaled at sudden feeling of a deja vu.
He held it out casually. “Here.”
But when you reached for it, he pulled it back—just far enough to make you glare at him—before swooping in and stealing a kiss from your lips.
You froze, still gripping your coffee. Jaemin, meanwhile, took your other hand, placed the bread in it, and patted your head like nothing had happened. Then he walked away whistling, leaving you standing there, mildly annoyed.
You recovered quickly though, placing the mug and the bread on the countertop and trudging toward him with heavy steps. Jaemin noticed and turned to look at you with that stupid smirk he always had.
“Oh, hi. What are you—”
You grabbed his collar and pulled him down, cutting him off with your lips pressed firmly against his. It was deep and reckless, but only for a few seconds. When you pulled away, Jaemin looked shocked.
And then he smirked. “Oh,” he mused, tilting his head. “So now you’re playing my game?”
You scoffed, tightening your grip on his shirt. “What game?” you asked before kissing him again.
And from then on, it was like a challenge. In your shared apartment, in the moments in between, in the spaces where no one was watching—you both kept crossing that line, over and over again.
A stolen kiss behind the bookshelf at the library. A lazy makeout session in the empty hallway of your apartment when you both got home late. A whispered “You drive me crazy,” before Jaemin kissed you stupid against the fridge door one evening, his hands firm on your waist, your fingers tangling in his hair, neither of you stopping until the timer on the microwave beeped.
And through it all, neither of you ever talked about it. Because if you did—if you admitted how much you wanted it—you wouldn’t be able to stop. If you acknowledged what was really happening, you’d have to stop pretending that it was nothing. That it didn’t mean anything. And that was something you weren’t ready for.
And then there was that night on the couch.
It had started with an old movie playing on the TV, both of you sitting closely and sharing a blanket. Jaemin had his arm on the back of the couch, fingers idly playing with the strands of your hair. It was harmless at first, but then his fingers trailed down the back of your neck, light and slow, and you felt goosebumps all over your body.
You turned your head slightly to look at him, only to find that he was already staring at you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were dark and focused. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Jaemin was faster. His fingers tipped your chin, tilting your face toward his as he leaned in.
The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant. But then you sighed into it, melting just enough for him to take control. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, and before you knew it, you were on your back, Jaemin hovering over you without breaking the kiss.
The movie was forgotten, its noise fading into the background as the sound of your shallow breaths echoed in the room. His kisses trailed lower, grazing your jaw, all the way down to your throat. You gasped when he found a spot just beneath your ear, his teeth nipping at it before soothing the bite with his tongue.
“Jaemin,” you murmured, your fingers slipping into the back collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath.
“Mmh,” he hummed against your skin, not stopping.
His hands were already sliding under your sweater, warm against your bare skin. Your legs parted beneath him, your body arching into his touch before you could stop yourself.
And then when his hand dipped down to your lower abdomen, you tensed. Not because you didn’t want it, but because you did. Too much. Jaemin must have felt it because he paused immediately. His lips hovered over your collarbone, his breathing unsteady, before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you.
His voice was low when he asked, “Should we stop?”
You swallowed hard, nodding against your wishes. “Yeah. We probably should.”
Neither of you moved for a moment. His hands were still on you, your fingers brushing his back, and it would’ve been so easy to pull him back down, to let him keep going. But then he exhaled, forcing himself to sit up, and you followed, scooting to put a little space between you.
The movie was still playing, though neither of you paid it any attention. Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you with a half-smirk, though his voice was rough when he spoke.
“We’re really bad at pretending this is nothing, you know.”
You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head as you folded your legs beneath you. “You’re right. It’s ridiculous.”
And just like that, it was over. For now, at least.
There was a strange feeling in your chest lately, something you couldn’t quite put a name to. Like the rush of something new, conflicting with the pressure of something unresolved.
You had spent the past weeks trying not to think too hard about Jaemin, about the way your lips kept finding his, about how easy it was to pretend nothing had changed when, deep down, you knew everything had.
But pretending only worked for so long. Because no matter how much you tried to move forward, some things still followed behind you. Some things still had a hold on you, however faint. And just as you were starting to believe you had left it all in Mykonos, there he was.
Donghyuck.
Standing just outside the campus gates, hands in his pockets, bouncing lightly on his heels with an impatient look on his face, as if he’d been standing there for a long time now. He was waiting for someone, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his face broke into a wide grin.
And just like that, all the hesitation that had been creeping up inside you disappeared. You ran across the quad toward him. “Hyuck!”
His laughter was warm as you threw your arms around him, his embrace just as familiar as you remembered. He still smelled like summer—bright, musky, and reckless, even in the cool autumn air.
“I was waiting here expecting you’d ignore me,” he teased, pulling back to look at you. “I would’ve chased you down if you did, though.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping back, but there was no denying the way your heart ached a little. Not in the way it used to, but in the way that happens when you reunite with someone who once held every piece of you in their hands.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you at all,” you admitted. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. Why else would I be here if not for you?” Donghyuck said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not here to get back together or anything. Not that you were expecting me to.”
You let out a small chuckle, but he wasn’t wrong. That thought had never crossed your mind. “You wish I want you back, don’t you?” you teased, making him laugh.
“Do you have time? Can we talk?” he asked, motioning outside the gates.
“Absolutely,” you replied without missing a beat, following after him.
You walked from the campus to the nearby cafe where you ordered food and spent the first few minutes laughing and talking about stupid things. Then the conversation turned serious, which was not something that often happened between the two of you, but you listened to what he had to say anyway.
“I really, really wanted to stay and wait for you to wake up,” he began, referring to when you had a coma after being run over by a car. “But it was out of my hands and I haven’t been on my best behavior for the longest time so… that was the last straw. My parents were furious and Hyung had no choice but to send me back.”
You bit your lip, nodding. “I figured you weren’t allowed to contact me after that?”
“Oh, I wish it was only that,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Because then I would have had chances to contact you in secret. But I wasn’t allowed any electronics at all. Not a phone, not even the computers at uni. I could only meet my friends at home and their phones are confiscated before they even step into the house.”
You winced. “That’s awful.”
He sighed. “You have no idea. I was going nuts! They put me in rehab too for my drinking problems.”
“You had drinking problems?”
“I have drinking habits that they didn’t like so they saw it as a problem.” He chuckled, flashing that boyish smirk you used to hate but had grown to love. “What about you? How are you doing? I heard you skipped a semester?”
“Well, moving on from something that major wasn’t exactly a walk in the park,” you replied, laughing at your own expense. You told him what had happened after that summer. How you came home heartbroken and sad. How you had to get therapy because you were showing signs of depression. How you moved on from it all but still didn’t know how to properly live the life you used to have before that summer. It was a six-month battle and it had been ten months since that fateful summer, but looking back on it now, it felt so much longer than that.
“I’m glad I came. I owed you an explanation, so I had to find a way,” he said, his voice softening. “And I wanted to see how you were doing.”
Something in your chest tightened. You had spent the past months wishing that fate would at least grant you this—closure, a proper goodbye. And now that it was here, it felt like a load was being taken off of your shoulders.
“I’m doing okay,” you said honestly. “And thanks… For coming, I mean. And for being safe.”
Donghyuck smiled wistfully. “I have Taeyong Hyung to thank for that. He convinced our parents to let me come. Told them I needed to ‘learn from the field.’” He made air quotes, then dropped his hands with a small shrug. “Truth is, he just wanted to help me see you.”
Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything, Donghyuck grinned. “Guess I’m still the guy who gets what I want, huh?”
You laughed despite yourself. “Looks like it.”
“Yeah. Not all the time now, though. Just sometimes.”
It was strange, this conversation. Maybe time really does heal everything, or maybe you were already healed on your own before today. Either way, as you sat there with Donghyuck laughing, catching up, and looking back on the wildest days of your youth so far, your heart felt lighter and the world seemed to shine brighter with his smile.
“That’s my ride,” he said at one point, looking outside the cafe. You followed his gaze and spotted Taeyong standing by the curb, leaning against the car, waiting.
You turned back to Donghyuck, feeling just a tiny bit sad that this chat was almost over. “Well. I guess this is it.”
He nodded, watching you carefully. “Don’t forget me, okay?”
You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t think I could if I tried. This scar right here spells your name out,” you quipped, pointing to the scar on your elbow which you got from the accident.
Donghyuck reached to feel it, his touch gentle and warm. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” you said, watching his solemn expression. “I got it after you saved me, so, thank you for this.”
Something passed through his eyes, something unreadable that he masked with a smirk. “Yeah. Not really exciting. I’m more used to leaving bruises on your neck than scars that don’t disappear.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Sucks to be you. You won’t be leaving bruises on this neck anymore.”
Donghyuck made a show of clutching his broken heart. “What have I done?” he whined, fake-crying.
That made you laugh, and in the quiet that followed, you reached forward and squeezed his hand, offering him one last comforting smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too,” he murmured, squeezing your hand back.
As you both stepped out of the cafe, you turned to Taeyong, who gave you a small nod, like he knew what this moment meant to you. “Thanks,” you told him sincerely.
He didn’t ask questions, just nodded again and slipped into the car with Donghyuck. You watched them drive away with a comforting sense of fulfillment blooming in your chest. Then you noticed a presence appearing beside you, and you didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.
“You good?” Jaemin asked, peering down at your face.
You chuckled, linking your arm through his as you started walking. “I’m fine. We had our closure. He’s okay, and I’m okay. So I’m fine.”
“Good. I was just asking to make sure you didn’t break down crying,” he teased.
You scoffed, hitting his arm. “That’s right. Make fun of someone’s heart ache. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Jaemin grinned, giving your hand a small squeeze. The moment passed, fading into the rest of your day.
You weren’t sure when it started feeling different. Maybe it was after the first time you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. Or maybe it was in the moments in between, the ones that had nothing to do with kissing.
But the kissing didn’t stop. It was easy to blame it on your body. That was the logical answer, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had any action in a while, and now Jaemin was right there, warm and solid, tempting and willing. The way he kissed you made your skin burn, made your stomach flutter, made you crave more. It had to be that. Just chemistry. Just a reaction to touch and proximity—a biological response, if you please.
And yet, in the late hours of the night, when you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, it was never just the stolen kisses that stayed in your mind.
It was the way he always waited for you after class. The way he pulled you to the inside of the sidewalk when you walked together, his hand pressing lightly against your lower back. The way he noticed when you were exhausted and handed you a water bottle before you even asked. The way he listened intently whenever you spoke, no matter how insignificant the topic was.
Jaemin had always been like this. Thoughtful. Gentle. Attentive in ways no one else was. But now, it made you wonder, was it really just because you were his best friend? Or had he always seen you more than just a friend and you were just too blind, too caught up in your own world, to realize it?
It bothered you more than you wanted to admit. It followed you through every sneaky kiss, every whispered tease against your lips, every smirk before he kissed you breathless against some forgotten corner of your apartment. Until, one day, it became too much.
Jaemin was being especially affectionate that afternoon. Not in the usual teasing way, not in the way that led to secret kisses or knowing glances. He was just doting. Leaning close, brushing your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. Making sure you weren’t too cold, giving you his jacket before you even noticed the cold. He smiled at you like you hung the damn stars, his eyes soft and fond.
And you snapped. “Can you please stop acting like my boyfriend?” you blurted, voice sharper than intended.
Jaemin froze, his hands pausing in the middle of adjusting your sleeve. His brows lifted just slightly, before his expression carefully smoothed over.
“Right,” he said lightly like it was no big deal. But his hands dropped from you, and his gaze grew colder.
You expected him to say something else, maybe throw out a cocky remark, maybe push back. But he just stepped away, nodding like he understood, and left you standing there without another word.
And for some reason, that felt worse than if he had argued with you.
Maybe it was for the best. For the next few days, you and Jaemin kept a comfortable distance from each other. No more stolen moments hidden from other people’s eyes. No more lingering touches. No more knowing glances. You admit it was hard to get used to it, but it was better that way.
One afternoon, when the sun was gentle enough for you to hang out at the quad, and the atmosphere was just like every other day with the usual campus chatter, students huddled in groups, couples hanging out by the benches, laughter echoing from clusters of friends. You were walking with Karina, listening to her rant about an upcoming exam, when something caught your eye.
Jaemin.
He stood a short distance away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, a relaxed smile on his lips. Beside him, a girl laughed at something he said, her head tilting back slightly, short blonde hair falling over her shoulder. She was pretty—undeniably so. And Jaemin was watching her laugh—amused, warm, unbothered.
“Who’s that?” The question left your mouth before you could think twice about it.
Karina followed your gaze and made a noise of recognition. “Oh. That’s Minjeong.”
You blinked. The name was vaguely familiar, but not enough for you to immediately place it. “Minjeong?”
Karina turned to you, looking genuinely surprised. “You know, Winter? Jaemin’s ex. You seriously don’t remember?”
Oh. That Minjeong.
You remember her now. She was the girl he had dated last year, the one he had broken up with after a short while. You hadn’t paid much attention to her then—Jaemin had simply told you they didn’t see eye to eye, and you hadn’t questioned it. He never seemed all that affected by the breakup, so you figured it hadn’t been anything serious. But now, standing there watching them, a strange thought lodged itself in your mind. Jaemin lied.
Because right now, they looked like they were seeing eye to eye just fine.
You swallowed, looking away before you could overthink it any further. Karina, thankfully, moved the conversation along.
“By the way,” she started, narrowing her eyes slightly, “what’s up with you and Jaemin?”
Your head snapped toward her. “Nothing.”
She gave you a skeptical look. “Really? Because you two seem kinda distant lately. Did you fight?”
“No,” you answered quickly. Because technically, you hadn’t. “There’s no reason for us to fight.”
Karina hummed, unconvinced. “Okay. That’s even more suspicious.”
You frowned. “How is that suspicious?”
“Because you and Jaemin always come up with things to fight about,” she said simply. “If you’re not overly clingy, you’re fighting about something minor. It’s always one or the other.”
You exhaled sharply. “We didn’t fight. And we’re not distant. We’re just being… friends. Like usual.”
“Okay, let’s just say I believe that and you’re not very suspicious right now because I have a feeling you’d snap at me if I push your buttons,” said Karina, stepping back a little.
You rolled your eyes, brushing her comments aside. She wasn’t wrong. You and Jaemin were either attached by the hip or fighting, no in between. You bickered, pushed and pulled like it was second nature. But lately...
Lately, he had given you space. After what you’d said to him, after the way his expression had cooled and he had simply left, he had kept his distance. And somehow, that felt worse than all the arguments in the world.
It was cliché at this point. Your life wasn’t some rom-com flick, but it seemed to be thriving on predictable storylines. Like right now—just when you were struggling to figure out what to do about this whole mess with Jaemin, of course, someone had to show up to stir things up.
Admitting you were jealous was the last thing you wanted to do. Because doing so meant admitting that you liked him as more than a friend. And acknowledging that meant defeat. You didn’t like defeat. Love and relationships had defeated you several times before. You weren’t about to let it happen again.
And yet, there she was. Minjeong—Winter—whatever people called her now. She was pretty. Endearing. Adorable, even. The kind of girl that made it impossible to dislike her. And that just made it worse.
She was likable. Genuinely likable. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate her, which would have been easier. But that didn’t change the fact that seeing her next to Jaemin made something twist in your chest
And Jaemin? He looked… happy? That smile, the way his eyes crinkled as he watched her laugh at something he said. It was the kind of look you’d seen a hundred times before, but right now, you hated it. Right now, you wanted to forfeit your pride, march over there, and pull him away from her.
Which was stupid. You were being stupid. You took a deep breath, shaking off the thought just as you passed their table.
“Lunch?” Jaemin offered casually, as if he weren’t sitting there with his ex.
You barely spared him a glance. “No, thanks,” you said curtly, your voice colder than you intended. You walked past him and went straight to your friends’ table.
Karina raised an eyebrow when you plopped down across from her, stabbing your fork into your food a little too aggressively. “So… that’s a ‘no’ to talking things out?” she asked dryly.
You exhaled sharply, refusing to look back at Jaemin’s table. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered.
Karina hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Right. And I’m Beyonce’s daughter.”
You weren’t proud of it, but your mood had been awful all week. You snapped at Renjun over something trivial, ignored Jaemin’s messages, and couldn’t focus in class because every time you blinked, you saw her—Winter, laughing, tilting her head toward Jaemin like he was the most interesting person in the room. And Jaemin? He was eating it up.
You buried yourself in your studies, submitting assignments ahead of deadline, studying for quizzes, and doing advance reading. You used to hate presentations, but you were thankful for having one because you had something to keep your mind off of things.
But at the end of the day, when you were done with everything and fatigue was catching up to you fast, all you wanted was a familiar, comforting presence to keep you sane. Giselle and Karina were unavailable. Renjun might be free but you weren’t close enough to hang out with just the two of you.
Jaemin was your only choice. Not that it was because you were out of options, in fact, he’d always been the first choice. So when you finally caved and texted him, you were completely caught off-guard by his answer.
You: Are you free?
Nana: No.
It was a simple response. Nothing inherently wrong with it. But it didn’t come with an apology, or an I’ll see you later, or even a What’s up?—just No.
And that stung, squeezing painfully at your heart. But what really did it was seeing him a few minutes later, leaving the library with Winter, laughing at something she said.
You were sitting on the steps just outside the entrance, waiting for Giselle, when you spotted them. Jaemin had his hands in his pockets, casual and unbothered, while Winter gestured about something, her voice cute and teasing. They stopped a few feet away, still talking, and you had a front-row seat to the easy, unhurried way Jaemin listened to her, the amused smirk tugging at his lips.
He looked like he had all the time in the world for her. Not even a few minutes ago, he had been too busy for you.
You sat there, gripping your phone, overthinking every possible meaning behind this moment. Had he chosen to spend time with her instead? Was he making some kind of decision without telling you?
And then, as if he could sense someone’s eyes on him, Jaemin turned his head, his eyes landing on you.
Your heart leaped to your throat. This was it. This was the moment where he’d see you, where he’d realize you were right there, waiting. Where he’d excuse himself and come over because that’s just what Jaemin would do.
Except… he didn’t. He looked at you, waved with a smile, then turned back to Winter and kept walking.
The impact was immediate, a slap to the face without ever being touched. You didn’t even realize Giselle had arrived until she waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to you. Are you okay?”
You exhaled through your nose, keeping a neutral expression. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
You stood up, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets, willing yourself not to look back. But Giselle had seen exactly what you had been staring at.
“Huh,” she mused as you both started walking. “Didn’t expect that.”
You sighed. “Expect what?”
Giselle jerked her chin toward Jaemin and Winter. “Them, hanging out again. I thought they ended things on bad terms.”
Your fingers curled inside your pockets. “You knew about them?”
Giselle shot you a confused look. “Of course, I knew. You did too. She used to give Jaemin hell for always hanging out with you.”
Your steps faltered. Right, there was that. If the two of them were together trying to rekindle their old relationship, of course, she wouldn’t want Jaemin hanging out with you. She used to hate it before, and she had no reason to like it now. Especially if she knew you and Jaemin had crossed the line.
But knowing that made you angrier. Why would he try to get back with his ex just days after being rejected by you? Was Jaemin always like this? Fickle and move on to the next girl as soon as he was done with one?
You knew you were overthinking things. You knew Jaemin wasn't that kind of guy. But the thought still made you seethe.
Jaemin was waiting when you got home. You barely glanced at him as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag onto the couch, your exhaustion amplified with irritation. You had spent hours at the café, helping yourself to a single drink, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying (and failing) to distract yourself from the mess in your head.
“Where were you?” Jaemin asked, his voice casual. “Had dinner yet?”
You didn’t look at him as you walked toward the kitchen. “Out. And I’m not hungry.”
Jaemin, of course, didn’t let that slide. “Out where?”
You opened the fridge, staring blankly at its contents. “Why do you care?”
Silence. Then, slowly, carefully, he said, “Are you mad? You sound mad.”
That did it. The way he said it like he genuinely didn’t know, like he couldn’t possibly fathom why you might be upset, snap the tiny thread holding your patience together. You shut the fridge door, finally turning to face him. “Why would I be mad, Jaemin?” you said, voice cool, almost mocking. “It’s not like I expected anything from you.”
Jaemin blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me.” You crossed your arms, your pulse hammering. “I asked if you were free. You said no. And then five minutes later, there you were, walking out of the library with your ex-girlfriend who used to hate my guts. Laughing, smiling, acting like you had all the time in the world.”
Realization dawned in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, so you pushed further, your voice gaining an edge. “So forgive me for assuming I wasn’t worth squeezing into your very busy schedule, and getting mad about it.”
Jaemin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Are you serious?”
You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I promise you, I’m dead serious.”
“You’re mad because I was with Winter?”
“I don’t know, Jaemin, should I be?”
His expression darkened. “Oh, come on. You know what that was.”
“Do I?” You shot back. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked a hell of a lot like you choosing her over me.”
Jaemin stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s not what that was! You’re jumping into conclusion and it’s not fair.”
“Neither is you acting like I’m supposed to be fine with being ditched without so much as an explanation! You’re the one who acted like you’d literally combust if I so much as disappear from your sight, now you pick someone over me like I’m nothing?” The words came out louder than you intended, echoing in the small space between you.
The silence that followed was loud and suffocating. Jaemin took a step closer, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “You’re the one who told me to stop acting like your boyfriend.”
Your breath caught in your throat, but he wasn’t done yet. “And now, what? You’re mad that I did?” He tilted his head, eyes searching yours. “What do you want?”
You wanted to yell at him. To push him away. To tell him he was an idiot for not knowing, for not seeing. But you had to stop yourself. Because to answer that question, to say the words out loud, meant admitting the truth. And you weren’t ready for that.
So you did what you always did when things got too real. You turned away. “Forget it,” you muttered, moving to walk past him.
Jaemin didn’t let you. Before you could take another step, his hand caught your wrist, yanking you back just enough for you to stumble into him. His arms caged you in, backing you against the counter. “Jaemin—”
“Tell me.” His voice was low, his face inches from yours. His grip on your wrist wasn’t tight, but it was firm, keeping you there. “Tell me why you’re mad. Or I’ll make you.”
Your breath hitched at the promise in his tone. Your heart was hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it. And then, before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “I was jealous, okay?”
The second the confession left your lips, you saw the glint of relief in his eyes. His grip loosened, but he didn’t pull away. He just stood there, watching you with a smile threatening to tug at his lips.
Heat crawled up your neck. “You knew,” you blurted out and the smirk he was concealing finally revealed itself.
He knew and he just wanted you to say it out loud. Annoyed, you tried to twist out of his hold, but Jaemin was faster. He caught your face in his hands, tilting it up, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.
“You’re jealous?” he echoed softly, like he needed to hear it again to believe it.
“Na Jaemin, I swear to god—” He didn’t let you finish. His lips crashed against yours, stealing whatever excuse, whatever deflection you were about to throw out. It wasn’t like the other times. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playful. It was urgent, consuming, an answer to every question you refused to ask.
You gasped, and Jaemin took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, pressing you further into the counter. One hand slid down, gripping your waist, the other tangling in your hair. You should have stopped him. Should have shoved him away. But instead, your hands found his shoulders, clinging to him like your life depended on it.
When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless. “You’re jealous,” he said again, softer this time.
You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into his shirt. “Shut up.”
Jaemin chuckled. “Winter and I… we—” He paused, searching for the words. “It’s not what you think.”
Your stomach flipped. “It better not be,” you scoffed, hiding behind the mask of nonchalance. Jaemin chuckled.
“I wasn’t choosing her over you.” His fingers brushed against your cheek. “We got paired for a group project and we’ve been working on it all week. Earlier when you texted me, we were heading out to submit it.”
You stared at him, still breathless, your mind scrambling to process what he just said. A group project. That was it? That was all it was?
The weight in your chest lifted so suddenly that you nearly laughed at yourself. The past week—your overthinking, your jealousy, the way you’d lashed out at him—had all been over something so stupid.
“Oh my god.” You shut your eyes, mortified. “You’re kidding.”
“Wouldn’t joke about this,” said Jaemin laughing. “I’m sorry, I should have explained it at least.”
You groaned, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m actually gonna die of embarrassment.”
He chuckled, his arms wrapping fully around you now. “Yeah? Well, you should know I’d never choose anyone before you. There’s no one above you, silly.”
“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Jaemin,” you chided, pulling back to glare at him. “You can’t just put me first over everything.”
Jaemin only smirked, his fingers tightening at your waist. “I don’t want a girlfriend. You’re all I want.”
“Don’t say that,” you muttered, burying your face in his chest. “What if I can’t reciprocate?”
“Well, you were jealous of me and my ex,” he murmured, his tone teasing, but there was something else underneath it—something smug, satisfied. “That’s a good start.”
“Oh my god, enough!” you huffed, pushing him away and trying to escape his hold but he was quick to lift you by the waist, setting you down on the counter.
Before you could argue, before you could even think of something to say that would salvage your dignity, Jaemin kissed you again, lips moving against yours with a heat that sent your mind spiraling. His hands held you firmly, one on your waist, the other cradling your face like he was afraid you’d pull away.
You weren’t pulling away. That fact alone should have set off alarms in your head, but right now, you didn’t care. Not about pride, not about the mess between you, not about the fact that this was probably the worst way to handle your emotions.
Just as you were starting to get consumed by the heat of his touch, Jaemin pulled away and you scoffed before you could even think twice about it.
“You’re so annoying,” you muttered against his lips.
Jaemin exhaled a breathless laugh, looking up at you with that handsome grin he always had on. “And you’re stubborn.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, his voice lower now, rough with restraint. “I thought you didn’t want me acting like your boyfriend.”
You swallowed, your heart beating wildly as you met his gaze. “I don’t,” you whispered, slipping your hand inside the collar of his shirt to rub his back. “But I still want you.”
Jaemin went still for a split second, his grip tightening. “Say that again,” he said—no, he pleaded, eyes glassy with desperation and desire.
“I want you, Jaemin,” you obliged, swallowing shyly.
His mouth crashed onto yours, all restraints melting away. The kiss was deeper, messier, a collision of breath and want, like he was finally letting himself feel everything he’d been holding back. You barely had time to process before he wrapped your legs around his torso, lifted you from the counter, and carried you across the apartment into his bedroom, his body hot against yours.
His hands skimmed down your waist, sliding under the hem of your sweater, palms warm against your skin. His lips moved down to your jaw, then lower, lingering at the soft spot beneath your ear. Jaemin groaned when you arched your hips against his crotch, his grip on your hips tightening like he was holding himself back—like he was still trying to be careful. But you didn’t want careful. You wanted reckless.
You tugged his shirt off, fingers tracing the smooth lines of his back as he pressed you down into the mattress. His lips were feverish, moving with a desperation that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. When he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he was struggling to catch his breath.
“Let me.” His voice was rough, hand sliding down your thigh. “Let me take care of you.” His fingers found the waistband of your shorts, toying with the fabric like he was waiting for permission, but you just spread your legs wider.
He cursed under his breath before his lips were on your throat again, trailing lower, his hands already working to get rid of the last pieces of clothing you both had. Every touch was hot as he whispered promises against your skin—promises he was more than ready to keep.
He lowered himself, head disappearing between your legs. He took a sniff, nose pressing against your sex before he licked a stripe on it.
“Jaemin,” you breathed, your entire body burning with anticipation and want.
Jaemin responded by sucking at your cunt, making you gasp as the first bout of pleasure washed over you. He kept at it, lapping and licking, fucking you with his tongue while you writhed and moaned. You clutched your fingers at his hair, wanting so much to push him away, but you kept pulling his face closer for more.
He rose to meet your gaze at one point, with a smirk gracing his lips, making you lose your mind further because of how hot he looked.
“If you keep shouting like that…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your lips as his finger slipped into your sex. He kissed you again just when you were about to moan. “...the neighbors will hear and they’ll know.”
You didn’t care, but you covered your mouth anyway, biting your lower lip as well to make sure you weren’t too loud. Jaemin moved his fingers, in and out, curling and pressing, all while watching every shift in your reaction. When he pushed another finger inside, you failed to stifle a gasp, your hand flying to his arm and squeezing it tightly.
“Shh,” he shushed gently, kissing you once before he went down on you again. And he took his time, teasing, tasting, dragging out every moment until you were trembling beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders in a feeble attempt to not lose your mind at the mind-blowing orgasm that washed over you.
Jaemin kissed you again as he positioned himself between your legs, his manhood prodding your entrance. “Tell me you want this.”
Your hands found their way on his chest, feeling the firm muscles, the way his stomach tensed at your touch. You nodded, still dazed, already losing yourself in him.
“Use your words, baby,” Jaemin coaxed, his voice a little uneven now, like he was barely keeping himself together.
You reached to cup his cheek. “I want this. I want you, Jaemin,” you whispered, and his answering curse was swallowed by your lips as he kissed you again.
His lips on yours muffled the gasps you let out when he slid his manhood in—rough despite the wetness of your orgasm, stretching you impossibly wide. “You okay?” he asked, voice strained with concern.
You nodded quickly, overwhelmed, and he kissed you again, swallowing your soft whimper. “Relax for me,” he whispered soothingly. “I’ve got you.”
He moved with a patience that contradicted the way his body trembled against yours, like he wanted to take his time, like he was memorizing every sound and expression you made. His hands traced along your ribs, slow and reverent, before sliding down to your thighs, gripping them with just enough force to make your breath hitch. His movements were steady, his thrusts heavy as he pounded into you.
“You feel so good,” he breathed against your lips, his voice wrecked. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”
You barely had time to respond before he kissed you again, deeper, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands slid higher, exploring every inch of exposed skin, setting your nerves on fire. When he started ramming harder, you let out broken gasps and whimpers, and that sound had him gripping you tighter.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, lips brushing along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
You swallowed, eyes rolling back as you held onto him for dear life. “I don’t know,” you admitted in a ragged voice, but Jaemin just hummed, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
“Yes, you do,” he coaxed, straightening up on his knee and gripping both of you thighs as he tried to plunge in as deep as he could. “You want this.”
“Harder,” you managed to croak out, shutting your eyes as he drove you further into the edge.
Jaemin hummed, and you could picture the smirk on his lips. “Harder, yes?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, desire clouding your judgment. “Please.”
“I’ve got you,” he promised before obliging.
Every touch, every kiss, every reassurance had you melting beneath him. He was everywhere, and you wanted more of him. Needed more of him. He gave you everything. He kissed his way down your body, slow and reverent. Every time you gasped, every time your breath hitched, he murmured against your skin—
“That’s it, baby.” “You’re so beautiful like this.” “Let me make you feel good.”
And you did. More than you ever had before. And when he finally pushed you past the point of no return, you realized—he had always been there to catch you. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as Jaemin exhaled a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours before collapsing above you.
The silence between you was jarring. It was the kind silence that didn’t belong in a space that had only ever been filled with teasing, bickering, and laughter. The sheets were tangled between your legs, your skin still warm from being touched by Jaemin. But the aftermath of the warmth that had consumed you moments ago was heavy.
Regret wasn’t the word—not exactly. But uncertainty sat heavily in your chest, and you hated it. You exhaled, staring at the ceiling, before finally voicing the question that had been gnawing at you since the haze of desire dissipated. “What now?”
Your voice came out quieter than expected. You turned your head to look at him. “Why did we do this? What if we ruined everything?”
Jaemin was propped up on one elbow, watching you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. He didn’t look the least bit conflicted. If anything, he looked like a man who had finally gotten what he wanted.
He smiled. “Baby, we were done the moment you kissed me in front of that fridge a few weeks ago. This friendship? It ended right then and there.”
You swallowed, trying to make sense of his words. “I never wanted to be friends with you anyway,” he added, voice soft but unwavering. “Did you forget that?”
You hummed. “Isn’t that kind of a betrayal, though?” You searched his face, looking for something—an answer, a reassurance, maybe even a reason to argue. “You’ve loved me all these years, and here I was, thinking you were my best friend.”
Jaemin’s eyes darkened, but not in the way they had earlier. This was something more profound. “I do love you,” he admitted. “But not all these years.”
Your heart lurched painfully. “What—”
“I liked you when we were younger,” he clarified, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. “But we became friends, so I let it go. You were happy with other people, and I was happy being the one who stood beside you.” He exhaled, the tension in his grip loosening. “I only realized I loved you now. Not because I was waiting, not because I was hoping, but because tonight, you looked at me the way I used to look at you.”
Your lips parted, but no words came out. The way he said it, so simple yet so profound, left you at a loss. “You’re so cheesy,” you muttered instead, forcing lightness into your tone.
Jaemin only chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s okay. I know you’ll love me anyway.”
It was sweet. He was sweet. And for a split second, you wanted to believe in the warmth of this moment, in the possibility that maybe you could finally have something good.
But then reality sank its claws into you, dragging you back down. You weren’t in the right headspace for this. Not now. Maybe not ever. Your heart still bore the scars of past failures, of love stories that had ended in ruins. You didn’t trust yourself to make this work, to not destroy something before it even had the chance to grow.
You couldn’t risk it. Especially not with Jaemin, your best friend, your emergency contact—the one person you knew would have your back no matter what happened.
The hesitation must have shown on your face because Jaemin’s expression shifted. He didn’t look disappointed. He didn’t even look surprised. If anything, he just looked patient.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, stroking your cheek. “You can take your time.”
Your throat tightened. “And if I never push through with it?”
Jaemin smiled, something achingly fond in his gaze. “Then I’ll still be here. And I won’t hate you for it.”
That was the thing about Jaemin. He never asked for more than you were willing to give. And somehow, that made you want to give him everything.
Jaemin didn’t hesitate when he asked for his right to act on his feelings. He promised he wouldn’t push too far, wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want, but he wanted to be able to touch you, hold you, kiss you when he felt like it. And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Maybe because deep down, you liked it too much. Maybe because it was easier to indulge than to fight it.
So you let it happen. You let him linger closer, let his hands find yours whenever you were within reach. You let yourself fall into his presence, allowing the way he touched you to become something you expected, something you craved, even if you wouldn’t say it out loud.
Mornings changed first. You got used to waking up to the press of his body against yours, to the weight of his arm over your waist. He was always warm, always impossibly comfortable. Jaemin, who once used to be the one dragging you out of bed, now found excuses to keep you there.
If you tried to get up, he’d pull you right back, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. “Five more minutes.”
You’d roll your eyes, and push at his chest, only for him to hug you tighter, murmuring something about how you smelled too nice for him to let go yet. You always huffed at him, but you never actually pulled away.
Jaemin took care of you in the smallest, most effortless ways. Your coffee was already waiting for you before you even asked. On mornings when you slept in, he’d slip into your room just to leave a cup on your nightstand, the smell of roasted beans waking you up before the sunlight even had the chance.
When you cooked together, he always found ways to touch you. Guiding you from behind when you stirred the pot, his hands sliding to your waist like it was second nature. He’d taste whatever you were making and hum in approval, then kiss the side of your head just because.
He always looked at you like that too, like you were something precious, something his. And you let him.
The little touches never stopped. A hand on the small of your back when he passed by. Fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked your hair behind your ear. When you got too focused, too lost in your work, he’d lean in and press a quick kiss to your cheek, just to remind you that he was still there. He did it so casually, so confidently, like touching you was as easy as breathing.
But it wasn’t just at home where things changed. At school, Jaemin was just as affectionate. He sat closer than usual, his knee bumping against yours under the table, his hand resting on your lower back whenever he leaned in to speak. He stole sips from your drinks, stole bites of your food, stole every excuse to touch you in ways that, had anyone been paying closer attention, would have looked like something far more than friendship.
But no one noticed. Because, to them, you and Jaemin had always been this way—close, affectionate, orbiting around each other like you were both integral parts of each other. No one questioned it when he pulled you onto his lap during movie nights at Giselle’s place because it was easier than sharing the small couch. No one batted an eye when he draped an arm over your shoulders at lunch, absentmindedly playing with your hair as he listened to Karina talk about weekend plans. Not even Giselle, who usually had a sharp eye for these things, suspected anything when Jaemin took your bag without a word and slung it over his shoulder, carrying it for you.
You could feel it though. The way Jaemin’s touches lingered just a second longer than they used to. The way he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he whispered your name sometimes, like it was something he was still getting used to saying with affection and love.
You caught yourself looking for him. When he wasn’t home yet, you listened for the sound of the door unlocking, for his familiar voice calling out to you. You never used to notice it before, but now, your shared space felt off without him in it. And when he was home, you never questioned why it felt better.
One night, you slipped up. You were half-asleep, curled up against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you gently. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the warmth, or maybe it was just him, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.
"Don’t go. I'll be lonely without you."
Jaemin stilled. Then his arms tightened around you, his lips pressing on the top of you head. "I’m not going anywhere."
And that was how you lived—entangled in something unlabeled, something neither of you tried to question or define. He didn’t ask for more. You didn’t push him away.
Nana: You’re fine with getting new housemates, right?
You frowned at your phone. You asked him to get groceries, and he’s talking about getting housemates?
You: No.
Nana: Not even gonna ask who they are first?
You: Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no.
Nana: That’s unfair. You should at least meet them before deciding.
You: It’s my apartment. I get the final say.
Nana: you mean, OUR apartment.
You: I still get the final say.
Nana: What if I just bring them over for a quick dinner? No pressure, just introductions.
You: I don’t see how that changes anything.
Nana: You might change your mind.
You: I won’t.
Nana: …
Nana: So that’s a yes to dinner?
You sighed, already regretting your decision.
You: Fine. But it’s still a no.
Nana: Noted.
About an hour later, you heard the front door open and close, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jaemin kicking off his shoes. You looked up, expecting to see him with, what? Two guys? A couple of friends in need of a place to crash? Instead, Jaemin stood in the doorway, grinning like a kid who had just done something he wasn’t supposed to.
In his arms was a fluffy cat with wide, curious eyes. Another poked its head out of the bag slung across his chest. And at his feet, a third cat rubbed against his legs like it had already claimed him as its personal human.
You blinked. “Jaemin.”
“Yeah?” he asked, completely nonchalant as he set the cat in his arms down on the floor.
You gestured at the trio of kitties now sniffing around your apartment. “What the hell is this?”
Jaemin crouched to scratch behind the ears of the one that had been circling his ankles. “This,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “is Luna, Lucy, and Luke. Our new housemates.”
You stared at him. “Excuse me?”
Jaemin finally looked up, smiling at you in that sweet, boyish way that usually meant he had done something ridiculous but wanted you to let it slide. “They needed a home.”
“That’s not an answer.” You pointed accusingly at the one sitting on the couch now, making itself comfortable. “Jaemin, we never talked about getting a cat. Let alone three.”
“I know.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “But a senior from our department is graduating and she couldn't take them home with her. She was looking for someone who could adopt them, and I was only gonna get one but then she told me they’re siblings and have to stay together. And I just can’t leave them, can I?”
“So you thought bringing all three of them home was a good idea?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that soft, coaxing tone he always used when he was trying to win you over. “You love cats.”
“That’s not the point.”
“They love you already,” he continued. “Look.”
You felt something nuzzle against your leg. Looking down, you saw Luna—Luke? Lucy? Whatever—purring up at you, their big round eyes full of innocence. Your heart softened, but you refused to let it show.
Jaemin noticed anyway. His smirk was triumphant. “Oh, they are sooo staying.”
You sighed heavily, pouting with your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I hate you.”
Jaemin laughed, leaning in to kiss your temple. “No, you don’t.” Then he hugged you from behind, squeezing you gently as he watched the cats now making themselves comfortable in their new home. “So, should we get them matching collars, or is that too much?”
Your last semester of college came too soon, slipping through your fingers like the pages of a book you weren’t ready to close. Life moved forward whether you were prepared or not, and with it, your friends were the first to step into their next chapters.
Karina and Giselle walked the stage that spring, struggling to keep their caps in place as they jumped into each other’s arms. Renjun beamed as he shook hands with professors, looking a little smug in his honors sash. Even Jaemin, who always brushed off big moments like these, cracked a self-satisfied smile when his name was called. You cheered for them, clapped until your hands hurt, and posed for pictures, but there was no denying the way it felt watching them leave while you stayed behind.
The halls of NCIT felt emptier without Karina’s complaints about deadlines and Giselle’s dramatic reenactments of campus drama. But Jaemin was still there. He hadn’t packed up and left like the others. While everyone else dove headfirst into their careers, he stayed, taking time off instead of immediately stepping into the expectations waiting for him outside college walls.
His days were spent taking care of you, spending time with you, helping you with homework, and piecing together his photography portfolio, and somehow, you became the centerpiece of it.
“Look at me.” Jaemin’s voice was soft but insistent as he crouched in front of you, camera in his hands.
You huffed, tearing your gaze away from the book you weren’t really reading. “I am looking at you.”
He clicked his tongue. “No, you’re glaring at me.”
“Because you’re being annoying,” you retorted. Jaemin grinned, completely unaffected.
“Let’s try that again,” he said. You sighed but gave in, letting your eyes meet the lens, expression softening just a little. He snapped the photo immediately, and from the way his face lit up, you could tell he got exactly what he wanted.
“Perfect,” he murmured, flipping the camera around to show you.
You tried not to let it get to you, but there was something about the way he saw you, how his lenses captured you as someone important, someone loved.
The cats were an extension of the both of you, curling up on Jaemin’s chest when he sprawled on the couch, purring on your legs when you stood in the kitchen. Jaemin spoiled them rotten—Luna got her favorite sunspot by the window all to herself, Lucy got head pats on demand, and Luke had claimed Jaemin’s lap as his personal throne.
“Traitor,” you had muttered once when Luke chose Jaemin over you.
“They just love me more,” Jaemin had teased, scratching behind Luke’s ears with a smirk.
This was how things had been between you two. Ever since that night, the night you crossed a line you could never uncross, nothing really changed yet somehow, everything had.
Jaemin never held back anymore. He was more affectionate, more attentive, like he wasn’t afraid of pushing too far. He called you baby like it was the most natural thing in the world, pulled you into his arms whenever he felt like it, and pressed kisses to your forehead without hesitation.
He worshipped you in the privacy of your apartment, uttered your name like it would hurt him not to do so, touched your skin like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched, ever kissed, and ever laid his eyes on. He loved you in and out, and you basked in his attention, his affection, and his unwavering loyalty.
Maybe you should have stopped it, maybe you should have told him to slow down, but the truth was, you liked it. You liked how easy it was, how warm it felt. You liked not having to question what you meant to him anymore.
And Jaemin never asked for more than what you could give. He let you take your time, let you figure it out in your own way. So you spent the rest of the semester like that, somewhere between best friends and something more.
When your turn to graduate finally arrived, they were all there—Karina, Giselle, Renjun, Ningning, everyone who had been with you through the years. They cheered for you just as loudly as you had for them, but it was Jaemin who stood out the most. He was impossible to miss, holding your bouquet like it was his accomplishment, snapping pictures as if he were paid to do it.
The ceremony was long, the speeches were boring, but it didn’t matter. You had done it.
It wasn’t until the reception that Karina’s eyes narrowed at Jaemin when he leaned over to fix your cap. “Baby, your tassel’s on the wrong side,” he murmured, adjusting it before you could react.
Karina gawked. “Did you just—? Did he just call you baby?”
Giselle nearly choked on her drink. Renjun gave you a slow, knowing smirk. You felt your stomach drop.
“What?” Jaemin blinked, completely unfazed. “I’ve been calling her that since earlier.”
“You have not,” Karina accused.
“Yes, he has,” Renjun said, crossing his arms. “You guys just don’t listen.”
Giselle let out a scandalized gasp. “Oh my god. Were you guys—? Since when?”
“I’m gonna get more food,” you blurted, grabbing Jaemin’s wrist and dragging him away before anyone could interrogate you further. He let you, chuckling under his breath.
Later that week, when the celebrations died down and you were finally hauled the last box of your stuff outside your apartment complex, you glanced back at NCIT right across the street and thought about the years you had spent in this place, all the moments that had led you here.
The late-night cramming sessions, the spontaneous road trips, the heartbreaks, and the reckless decisions. Every piece of your college life was shaped by the people who walked it with you.
Giselle, Karina, and Ningning, your constants through every breakdown and triumph, who saw you at your worst and never let you stay there for too long. They made the ordinary feel special, turned bad days into bearable ones, and stayed no matter how messy life got,
Renjun taught you friendship and admiration. You haven’t heard from Yangyang for a long time now, but you’d never forget his cheshire cat smile and how he taught you to live in the moment. Jeno taught you patience and the importance of putting yourself first. What you had with Donghyuck ended before it had the chance to properly begin, but the memories of your youth will always have him in it.
Love in the eyes of a college student was everything and anything. It was stupid, it was dumb. It was exhilarating, it was euphoric. It was slow, it was fast. It was damning, but also freeing. Such are the highs and lows of college romances. At the end of it all, you leave it all behind and move on with your life.
“Baby!” Jaemin’s voice cut through your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, smiling at the sight of him waving happily and beckoning you over to his car. “Time to go!”
You took one last look at the campus that had been your whole world for the past few years, exhaling softly. Then you walked toward him, toward the future.
Because some things, you take with you.
You walked toward him, fishing your phone from inside your pocket. Jaemin leaned in to peer at your screen. “What are you doing?”
“Sending one last entry to Campus Confessions.”
“Campus Confessions? NCIT's confessions page?”
“Yes.”
Jaemin gasped. “You send entries to CC?”
“I do, sometimes,” you replied, getting into the car.
“For whom?” he pressed, sitting on the driver's seat looking perplexed and surprised. “Did you just send a last minute confession to a crush or something?”
“Start driving. We're way behind schedule as it is.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but didn't argue. You smiled as you watched him seethe in his seat, driving the car away from the apartment complex.
❝terms & conditions❞
living with someone who has rules around every corner is a little crazy when you tell other people about it, but they will rethink their minds when these rules are in existence for a reason because of her— when the petty fights became into a warm nightly conversation and an act of kindness starting
jeno lee 𖥻 roommates / college x femreader
❝ jeno lee, unfortunately ❞
coming soon
lee haechan 𖥻 roommates x femreader
❝ i hate him, unfortunately ❞
coming soon
na jaemin 𖥻 roommates x femreader
❝ strictly platonic ❞
coming soon
zhong chenle 𖥻 roommates / college x femreader
❝ this apartment isn’t big enough ❞
coming soon
jisung park 𖥻 roommates x femreader
❝ my favourite inconvenience ❞
coming soon
mia’s note, my first ever series 𓎆 taglist coming soon for all of them𓎆 posting series in age order
synopsis — you saw him everywhere. in magazines, social media, billboards, in your own house from the tv of your humble living room, his dazzling looks with that enchanting smile, looking back at you like it’s your own reflection. and you can’t really escape your own reflection, can you? 12 years of confusion, self loathing, pain and suffering and he was still here, making his presence known more than ever, looking back at you like he’s known you’d be back, back with that dark grey cloud suspended over you and his, his melting right with yours because god knows that the shiny smile of his was just a ticking bomb or an hourglass, waiting for your arrival to unleash it all .
pairing: photographer!na jaemin x set director!reader
series warnings: each chapter will have its own cw — death, major character death, substance abuse, verbal abuse, family trauma, self harm, suicide and suicidal thoughts, severe depression and anxiety, low self esteem, aquaphobia, suggestive and mature content, explicit language, explicit scenes, toxic relationships, attachement and abandonment issues, exploitation. everyone is fucked in this series don’t get too attached. the way i invision and write some of the characters is not the way i see them or the way they are in real life, keep that in mind.
status: to be released mid july - august
taglist: reply to be added
series playlist (recommended): reflections — the neighborhood, indigo — sam barber & avery anna, softcore— the neighborhood, doubt (demo) — twenty one pilots, stressed out — twenty one pilots, use me — pvris & 070 shake, bad desire (eng ver) — enhypen, eyelids — pvris, heartbeat — childish gambino, porcelain — faouzia, formula — labrinth, escapism — raye & 070 shake, black mascara — raye, prisoner — yuta, photograph — ed sheeran
REFLECTIONS
— 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 pt1 | pt2
— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: “seoul: year 2024”
tba….
author’s note: this series is very dark… i can’t be normal and write something happy i am SORRY. been thinking about writing this for a while now and i’m finally happy that i gathered all my functioning brain cells and put them to use to write this series. i am LOVING writing the chapters and immersing myself into their world. i think this series is a mix of a bunch of lyrics i read, book lines and real life events that have blossomed into whatever this is and unfortunately (or fortunately) jaemin was just the first person i thought of writing this series for. like i said earlier, this is not reality and this is not how i view any of the people mentioned in this story. y/n is also an oc and you can invision her as anyone you’d like.
i hope you enjoy this series as much as i’m enjoying writing it and i hope it brings you whatever you’re looking for when you’re immersing yourself into a fictional universe. as usual, as this is a complex story, my asks and replies are always here for you to write to me whether it’s a question, a feedback or if you want anything more about this series. happy reading ! (you’re gonna need tissues i’m sorry once again)
fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — FIVE.
SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this.
the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is.
PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader.
GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.”
WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn.
WORD COUNT. 8.3k.
NOTE. landlord identity theft case was adopted from this reddit post that i heard on a podcast HAHHAHAH. anyway, there’s a bit less action in this one and a bit more set-up, but things do get heating in the latter part of this chapter so i hope that satiates you, my fellow freaks. as usual, please please do drop in your thoughts and comments! enjoy! CHAPTER SIX.
EVER SINCE YOU GOT BACK TO WORK ON THURSDAY, THE MURMURS WOULDN’T STOP. You’re not sure how it started or who started it, but you’re pretty sure some kind of information had been circulating while you were on your short leave because when a Yoosun employee came to your office early in the morning to pick up some documents— first thing on your agenda since coming back— his eyes immediately darted to your fucked up, bandaged up hands, and his face paled. He then proceeded to cover the upper half of his face as he warily walked up to the documents on your desk like he’s trying to evade a wild animal.
“I—I’ll be delivering these now, attorney, th—thank you! I wasn’t looking at you at all!”
Then he darted off like a rabbit being hunted down.
What the fuck?
That wasn’t the only instance. Every time you crossed paths with a Nalkeutta member that isn’t Mark or any of the executives, they’d immediately scurry away and avoid your gaze— even when you’re just trying to politely greet them. It started to annoy you, so you cornered Renjun to ask him if there’s something you should know about.
He explained that since you requested Mark to keep your whole stalker situation under wraps because it was personal, people had to fill in the gaps to supply the reason for your few days of absence. However the words “multiple injuries,” and “police station,” and “hospital bills,” managed to slip past the sworn secrecy, and the story somehow got twisted to you getting into a bar fight the night of your welcome party, and your poor victim got beaten half to death.
Apparently your messed up hands and unscathed face served as a confirmation to your alleged brutality. The cause couldn’t be attributed to your stalker, so everyone had to use their imagination. Now, there’s an ongoing rumor that you jumped a bar patron just because he was giving you eyes and it pissed you off.
“Is that how everyone perceives me?” you gawk in wonder and mild offense at their characterization of you.
“You walk around the halls looking like you’re one the way to kill someone, don’t act surprised when people start assuming that you already have.”
“Oh, come on! I did not kill him! He just barely got out of a concussion!”
Your mistake is deciding to corner Renjun in the breakroom— where everyone is free to enter and hear your gradually escalating conversation. You notice his Hyeongshin subordinates hesitating to walk in, looking like a group of deer in headlights and immediately avoiding your gaze the moment you direct your gaze, and they scatter off into the wilderness with murmured sorry’s and excuse me’s.
You realize that you just admitted to the crime they were alleging. Doesn’t matter if the facts got mixed up because at the end of the day, you did assault someone, you did do something out of your own character, and you do recognize the mirrored image that your actions reflected.
Before this, everyone was just mildly intimidated by you, your freshly ironed blazers, and your three-inch heels. Now, they’re all avoiding you and your gaze as if you’re some sort of batshit loose cannon like Na Jaemin.
That’s where most of the offense comes from.
“I just got really pissed off! I didn’t know what came over me!”
To bring yourself back down to normalcy, you decide to take advantage of the contact that had been recently added to your phone that you’ve yet to contact since— which is why you’re currently sitting in an Instagram staple bakery at the university district of Yeongdeungpo, Natty trying her best to nod along with your rapid fire complaints, and the fact that she’s having trouble trying to keep up and catch the questionable shit in your rhetoric might be a silver-lining.
“Don’t feel too bad, the creep deserved it,” she tries to assure, but it doesn’t pull through.
“I don’t feel bad nor do I feel guilty, but I do feel like a fucking barbarian and the way my co-workers look at me certainly isn’t helping my case.” She watches as you sink down with a groan and wallow in your yerba mate, totally clueless on what to say to make you feel better, but your despair is unsalvageable. “Someone even had to see me go apeshit. So fucking humiliating.”
“Were they a co-worker?” she asks. “Did that person yap to the rest of your office?”
“No, he’s the devil, but I’m pretty sure he kept his mouth shut at the very least,” you wail, face in your hands. If he did, then the narrative that you’re volatile and crazy wouldn’t be running around.
She cocks her head. “Isn’t that a good thing…?”
You pull up your face, revealing a grimace. “There’s nothing good about that freak. Natty, he was treating me like shit for weeks then suddenly switched gears when I swore at his face because I had enough of his shit. Who the fuck does that? He watched me beat the shit out of a grown man and thought it was hot. I didn’t even ask about it. He just aired out his kinks unwarranted, like, what the hell?”
She does not need to know that you’re talking about Na Jaemin. And she surely does not need to know about the fact that you’re under the same illegal company as him— your shared high school tormentor.
“If you like someone, don’t you wanna make things easier for them? But this guy seems to enjoy turning my work life into a living hell. Do you know how much overtime I had to take just because of him? God, It’s like he gets off of seeing me suffering and in pain. It just gets more confusing after he helped me with the whole stalker death threat situation.” And considering your history with him. You groan and massage the wrinkles on your forehead. “I have no idea how to deal with him. If I ignore him, he acts up. If I get mad, he eats it up like a psycho and does more shit to piss me off even more. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
You realize you’ve been rambling and flinch up to observe your companion’s reception. Surprisingly, she seems to be thinking deeply about it, a hum rolling off her tongue as she ponders over your situation, and you’re a little nervous that she’s gonna grill you about the identity of this guy, or something.
“Well, first of all—”
There’s a wash of relief when he doesn’t ask about his name.
“—is he hot?”
And that relief is immediately punted out the window to make room for your sheer and visceral discomfort at that single insinuation, of which you try your best to hide from your face. The ghost of Na Jaemin replaces the image of Natty sitting before you— an apparition of the breakfast you shared with him against your will thanks to a brief moment of value-drigen weakness. That blunt, as-a-matter-of-factness in the manner he admitted to his attraction. Completely unabashed like a self-assured asshole. That fucking smirk pisses you off to the depths of hell.
“He’s not ugly,” you grit, waving the parasitic image of him away. Natty’s eyes immediately sparkle. Like she’d only been trying to be interested before but now she’s actually, genuinely interested.
“Good enough,” she chirps. “If that’s the case, then just seduce him!”
What?
“Take advantage of his feelings! Don’t let him take control!” Her pure, unbridled enthusiasm is catching you off guard. “Does he piss you off just to get your attention?”
“Uhh, apparently…?”
“Great, then you gotta exploit that.” Suddenly, she’s tugging you out of your quaint cafe chair and dragging you out of the bakery like a woman on a newfound mission. “First thing’s first— shopping. C’mon, I know just the place.”
“I’m sorry, but what the hell led you to that conclusion?”
Natty stops to look at you like a disappointed mentor. “Honey, flirting is essentially psychological warfare. You gotta arm yourself in order to disarm the other person— which means we gotta update your wardrobe from flat and plain business casual to skirting the line of an office porno if you want him on his knees and doing everything you say. Don’t let him have the upper hand, girl. It’s time to retaliate.”
You really hate that she’s kind of making sense, but you’re not very keen on abandoning your workplace appropriate clothing in a building full of men— even when 80% of them have now been instilled with the fear that you may be a maneater— so you manage to stop Natty halfway from dragging you all the way to the boutique by pulling her attention to a trinket kiosk stationed near Byuksan High School.
“I need a new phone strap. Help me pick one out.”
You’re a professional in your mid-twenties. It’s not very gratifying to voluntarily join a bunch of teenage prep students whose schoolbags are heavily weighted by a despicable amount of keyrings, but you will if you must.
“I never pegged you as an accessory girlie,” Natty muses, jangling a string of pink charms and beads in the air to show off to you.
You snatch it from her, and toss it back onto the display baskets. “That’s because I have an image to maintain and that image has no room for bubblegum pink. Hand me that black chain one.”
“How does this translate to your image?”
“As a miserable reminder of how I’m chained to my job.”
Natty laughs and continues digging around the kiosk’s assortment of displays. You notice the very indiscreet stares of judgement from the highschool girls you and Natty are congregating with as you pay for your new phone strap, as well as a funny looking dog keychain that you think Haechan might appreciate. When the standowner hands you the paperbag of your purchases, however, you notice her looking past you with a disappointed expression on her face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head the moment you finish the transaction.
“Tsk. These hooligans just keep acting out in broad daylight. Someone oughta call the cops on these delinquents.”
Huh. You turn your head to where she’s looking at, and there you notice— from the sliver of an alleyway— a group of seven to eight Byuksan students cackling and surrounding someone or something. Then you direct your gaze to the school gates with the very evident Byuksan High logo decorating the iron bars to confirm. Byuksan has never been part of Nalkeutta’s union. You shouldn’t be in an area with active gang activity. They’re probably just a group of juvenile bullies picking on a classmate.
If that were indeed the case, you would have left right now.
But then you notice that the two people the Byuksan students are ganging up on are wearing the glaring set of red blazers that you’re far too familiar with—
“Whoa aren’t those two kids from Ganghak? What are they doing here?”
—and then your stomach drops. Because those two kids are from Ganghak. Not just students from Ganghak— you’ve seen them at the fucking office building before. Park Jisung and Oh Sion, clearly troubled by the situation because no matter how skilled of a fighter you are, eight people is way too much to handle.
The former is carrying a large duffel bag with him. Oh, for fuck’s sake, are they out on a job? You feel a headache coming. You bring a hand to your head and grit your teeth. This is trouble. This is gonna be so much trouble if they don’t manage to get out of this.
“Hey, are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” you breathe out as an internal debate is going on in your mind. Eight boys. A very enclosed space. What the fuck can you even do in this situation? God damn it all. “Natty, hold onto this for a sec.”
“Wait, where are you— hey!”
She yanks you back the moment she realizes you’re headed straight to the alley. You look back at her face riddled with alarm. “What are you doing?! Don’t tell me you’re actually planning on intervening. High schoolers are terrifying these days! They don’t give a shit if you’re a girl or an adult. Those punks might actually hurt you, you know.”
“Don’t worry, I have a plan.” No you fucking don’t. At least not yet. You’ll figure it out on the way there. “Just— ugh. Can you take a video from here? Make sure to get a clear shot of the Byuksan kids’ faces. And whatever happens, don’t even think about calling the police. Don’t.”
Natty looks baffled yet at the same time in awe. And then lets go of you with a relenting sigh. “Why are you even doing this?”
You blink. “...Alumni spirit?”
Now, you didn’t expect that to elicit any kind of effect, but Natty for some reason appears touched by the bullshit you just pulled out of your ass, and you suddenly feel guilty. “Is that…is that why you helped me out too?” she says with glassy eyes. “Gosh, you’re such a good person, you’re so cool. Go do your thing, attorney. I’ll back you up from here.”
Did she forget that you literally had no idea who she was until she spelled it out for you? However, there is no time to clear up the misunderstanding that you are, in fact, not the good person that she thinks you are because those two Ganghak kids might lose a bunch of inventory at any moment and subsequently lose their lives to either Mark or Na Jaemin— which just translates to more work for you in case it really does happen.
So before you can even iron out a plan, your feet are already racing towards the crevice, open phone in hand, and you dive in head first to whatever mess this is gonna be.
“Whoa. What kind of extracurricular activity is this?”
Catch their attention. Catch them off guard because what could be more bewildering than an adult woman in pumps suddenly sauntering into a clear bullying ring— swiveling her phone camera to catch their nametags and faces.
“Let’s see, who do we have here? Lee Hyunsung, Jeon Sangwoo, Cheong Jitae, and—”
“Hey, lady, what do you think you’re doing?”
One of them smacks your hand away the moment your phone nears his face. The kid looks a little annoyed and confused. Mostly confused. You sigh and pocket your phone. “I should be asking you the same thing.” Your eyes flit over to Jisung and Sion. They are also very confused, but mostly nervous— probably because you showed up. They looked like they were ready to throw hands prior to your interrupt, but that wouldn’t have ended in any way good at all.
This is not in your fucking job description. Whatever.
“You eight are clearly ganging up on these two boys over here. Don’t you know that bullying is a punishable offense? You boys should hurry along if you don’t want to ruin your college applications.”
The one in front of you— who you assume is their leader— just scoffs at your threat, eliciting the same amount of ridicule from the rest of his posse. “Seriously? Lady, these Ganghak bitches are walking around in our territory in broad daylight like they own the place or some shit. We’re just trying to teach them a proper lesson on respect and decorum.”
Your mouth twitches, a slight waver in the expression you’ve been maintaining. “Wow. Territory. Are you kids in some kind of gang or something? That’s an even graver crime. If I were you, I’d just let Ganghak off and protect the future I have in store.”
“Hah.” He juts his face forward, further into yours. You don’t flinch. “Or else what? You gonna report us, old lady?”
The other seven cackle. Your jaw clenches. Alright, that’s it. These kids are gonna fucking get it.
“Go ahead. But you gotta know that my dad’s a police officer— and he patrols this area. You can report us if you want but it ain’t gonna do shit, lady. This is our turf you’re on.”
You look at his nametag. Shin Hyunwoo. A smile curls on your lips. “Really?” Suddenly, all the confidence he’s wearing flinches the moment he’s forced to meet your gaze. You still have your phone out. You let him watch as you dial 119 for all of them to hear. “Wanna test your luck, kid?”
R—iiiiiiing. Ri—
“Yeongdeungpo Police Station. What’s your emergency?”
This is a gamble. A very risky gamble, but you’re pretty confident in your cards after being acquainted with the deck.
“Hey, can you get Officer Jung on the line? It’s important.”
The person from the other end of the line chokes upon recognizing your voice that the entire station is probably sick of at this point. “A—attorney!” And at that moment, your victory is sealed as horror and realization dawns upon the faces of most of the kids— all except their ringleader before you. “Y—yes, of course, one moment, please—”
A moment’s pause.
“Attorney, is there a problem? What do you need?”
Maybe you should have actually taken Officer Jung’s number last time. He’s proving to be very useful.
“Officer Jung,” you make sure to greet with an abundance of familiarity. You make sure to look at this Shin Hyunwoo kid as you do. “I just wanted to ask a question. Is there an Officer Shin in your station?”
All that confident, pubescent bravado slowly melts away. “Well, yes, we have three. Shin Haesu, Shin Junsik, and Shin Byungkwan.” The moment Shin Hyunwoo winces at the exact moment Jaehyun pronounces the last name, you know you have your guy. “Why do you ask?”
“Ah, well,” you exhale with a smile. “Between you and Officer Shin Byungkwan— who’s higher in rank.”
You’re met with one second of silence before Officer Jung finally responds with, “That would be me.” Thank god he’s going along without any question. Is this what Natty was talking about? “Officer Shin is just a patrol officer.”
Fucking jackpot.
“Thank you, that’s all I needed to know! Have a great day, officer!”
The call ends. You drop your hand and look at Shin Hyunwoo who’s red in the face and about to piss himself in embarrassment, and when you look around, the rest of his friends aren’t faring any better. One of them looks more pissed than anything and is about to lunge at you with a punch when you raise a hand to stop him.
“Land that punch and a police report is gonna go through. You think I came here alone?” The kid stumbles, biting down his tongue in anger. You sigh and run your fingers through your hair. “Seriously, you had to pull this stunt in broad fucking daylight with a bunch of people out and about. I have your names and faces. Try anything funny and you can kiss your future goodbye.”
You settle a tap on Shin Hyunwoo’s shoulder, who flinches upon contact.
“Now get lost.”
Somehow, your intervention worked. The eight Byuksan delinquents run off, but not without at least one of them calling you an old lady again and flipping you off. You remind yourself that you are an adult with adult-level maturity. Park Jisung and Oh Sion look at your approaching figure cautiously. “A—attorney,” the former greets with a bow, still clutching the duffel bag close. The latter sees this and mirrors his actions. You settle a few steps in front of them, arms crossed with a hefty release of breath.
“Is it only the two of you?”
“Y—yes. Jaemin hyung-nim sent us to pick up the commission and contracts from K Company.”
“Seriously?” What was that bastard thinking sending these two kids alone to lug around a giant sack of cash? Is he trying to test them, or something? Or maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck and sent the first two people he saw. That seems to match his personality more. Regardless this could have ended really badly. “Anyway, are you two headed back to Nalkeutta now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stop being so stiff,” you huff, pulling out your phone to text Natty that all is good, and that she should go ahead because you offered to drive the Ganghak kids home. She responds almost immediately with puppy dog eye emojis and more gracious compliments about your goodwill and kindness. You shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “Well, let’s go. My car’s parked nearby. It’d be quicker and safer to just drive back to the office.”
The two follow you like a pair of lost ducklings. They settle into the backseat, not budging a single word even when you start the engine and start driving.
It’s only when you pull up in front of the company building that Oh Sion musters up his voice to say, “Attorney,” he starts. “You’re so cool.”
Your fingers twitch against the steering wheel. Your eyes flit up to the mirror to see the two boys looking at you with something akin to admiration in their eyes— respect, perhaps. You’re not quite sure. It’s new. Especially considering how your image has been tanked thus far.
“Wanna be cool like me?”
You settle an elbow over the seatrest, cocking your head to look at the two boys with a smile. Their eyes glimmer expectantly. You huff out a laugh.
“Quit Nalkeutta and get back to fucking school.”
That’s when you unlock the car doors and shoo them off. You don’t want to go back in there after already clocking out for the day. They bow goodbye from outside and you wave them goodbye, driving off.
You thought that’d be the last you’ll be seeing of those kids. Yet the next morning, you catch them loitering in front of your office, occasionally peeking through blinds as if you can’t see them, but you can. You very much can. It’s very hard to focus on drafting your contracts when there are two meerkats popping out intermittently through your office window.
“What do those two idiots want?”
Narrowing your eyes into the top of Park Jisung’s head peeking through the crack in the blinds, you’re just about ready to get up, get out, and just ask them what their deal is, but before your ass even leaves the comfortable cushion of your office chair, the door is sprung open— revealing the two boys being barrelled into your office by one Na Jaemin.
“Move it, move your fucking feet— oh, hey, attorney.”
To say that you’re unimpressed by the sight before you is an understatement. “First of all, learn to knock.” Na Jaemin simply brandishes you with a grin and a shrug. You give up with a sigh. “Second of all, what do you want?”
“Not me,” he answers, referring to the nervous pair that is Oh Sion and Park Jisung, who both swallow down a gulp in sync the moment Na Jaemin throws his arms around their shoulders. “These two have been hesitating to knock for the past thirty fucking minutes to the point that it got annoying. Thought they needed a little push and a shove.”
“How thoughtful,” you flatly say.
“What a good boss should be,” he muses a little too gratifyingly.
You roll your eyes as you switch the gears of your attention. “So, what is it?”
The two engage in a quiet argument for a moment before Jisung shoots Sion a look, and the latter finally grits up the courage to speak, albeit still nervous. “There’s—there’s just something I wanted to ask you, attorney. You know, as a professional…?”
This piques your interest. What kind of legal concerns would a high school gang member be facing?
“Go ahead.”
“Well, uh, hypothetically— if you find out that your landlord has been using your identity to apply for credit card loans…and when you find out and confront him about it, he threatens to file an eviction against you if you choose to press charges—”
Well, okay.
“Can he— can he do that?”
Oh Sion bats his eyes at you expectantly. You are, quite frankly, taken aback.
“Attorney…?”
Man, you were expecting a girl problem or a teacher inflicting corporal punishment. Not a whole fraud and identity theft case. “Sit down,” you grunt, beckoning him closer. Then your tired eyes flit over to Na Jaemin, whose attention seems to be provoked by the issue, so your mouth twitches into a sneer. “Jisung, you can stay. You. Get out.”
“C’mon, let me stay,” he whines, tromping over to land a hand onto your desk, leaning over. “This sounds interesting. I wanna see you attorneying this shit up.”
Natty’s advice wanders into your brain. Does he piss you off just to get your attention? Great, then you gotta exploit that. You gotta use everything within your disposal to make life in hell a bit more bearable.
“Na Jaemin.”
You start your first attempt at testing the waters— which is honestly a little nerve-wracking considering there’s always a chance of this biting you in the ass in the future.
But, fuck it. What more do you have to lose?
“I’ll have lunch with you tomorrow if you fuck off for the entire day. What do you say?”
The way Na Jaemin’s gaze shifts nearly makes you regret it at that very instance.
“Drinks,” he counter-offers.
What a pain in the ass. “Dinner,” you grit.
“Dinner tonight,” he presses. Then something on your desk catches his attention— which he promptly swipes and jangles in the air. “And this ugly dog thing.”
That ugly dog thing was supposed to be for Haechan, but whatever. “Alright,” you accept in defeat. “But you give me two days of peace instead of one. How does that sound?”
He flashes teeth at you, already taking a step back. “Deal.”
“Great. Now fuck off.”
Na Jaemin finally leaves your office, leaving behind two confused kids, staring at you like what the hell just happened. Park Jisung has been working here for a bit— even before Mark officially acquired you— so it must have been a bone-chilling shock to his boss to act like that. However, that is none of your concern, nor do you give a fuck about the image he’s projecting to his subordinates. “Sion-ah,” you turn. “Can you tell me more about your whole landlord situation?”
Park Sion tells you that it’s his father’s identity that their landlord has been using, and they’d only found out last month after receiving a letter in the mail that they owed a credit card company almost a million won— from an account his father never opened. This was followed by another letter from a different company. Sion doesn’t know exactly how it happened from simply overhearing conversations between his parents, but apparently their landlord had been using his dad’s name to open those accounts.
“I’ve only been eavesdropping since. They haven’t exactly brought it up to me so I don’t know the details…” he continues, trailing off hesitantly, looking down to his lap because he seems to be having trouble meeting your gaze. “We—we don’t have the money for a lawyer or anything, so I thought I could come to you for some advice, attorney. I—I understand if you don’t want to, though! Sorry, I—I just wanted to take my chances.”
You inhale sharply. Man. For fuck’s sake.
“Ugh.”
You’re not a charity worker. You’re not a god forsaken saint. You’re not motherfucking Mother Teresa. You have enough shit on your plate as is and playing pro bono for this case won’t do you any favors. You’re already neck deep and paperwork and you certainly have no intention of getting buried further underneath.
But—
“Um…attorney…? Is everything okay…?”
You sigh. You groan. You swing over to a drawer on your desk to fish out a business card sliding the same over your desk. You’re not happy about this, and that fact is definitely showing through your face. “Take this. Tell your parents to give me a call.”
Oh Sion jolts in his seat, blinking in disbelief. “Really?”
You’re really, really not happy about this, but your karma is bad enough already. Denying a kid in desperation would make you less than human at this point. You might be set on going to hell already, so the least you can do is hold onto the barest sliver of your humanity. “Yeah, just take it before I change my mind. If that’s all, then you two— shoo. Go. Leave. I still have work to do.”
Before you can wrack your brain about how in the world you’re gonna organize your planner spreadsheet from this point forward, Park Jisung, who’d been doing but being a silent pillar of support for Sion this entire time, adds another serving of stress to your already full plate.
“Attorney?” he raises, Oh Sion already halfway out the door while he remains inside. “Can I ask you something?”
“What is it this time?” you grunt, not even looking at him in order to preemptively nurse your incoming headache with a pen massaging circles into your temple as you continue your mental laments. Why hasn’t cloning been invented yet? Do you have to convince Mark to add another person to your department? That’s the only possible way you can handle Sion’s case without gumming things up in Nalkeutta. If that’s the case, then—
“Um...did you attend Ganghak in high school?”
The pen makes a hollow clatter against your desk.
“What?”
A million thoughts filter into your head in one, quick flicker.
“Close the door,” you say after a second’s pause. “How do you know that, Jisung-ah?”
“It’s just that…I saw some of the past yearbooks before, and I kinda recognized you when the boss was giving you a tour of the building,” he says before a tight swallow. You drill your eyes into him. He looks away. “And I, uh, also saw that you were in the same graduating class as Jaemin hyung-nim.”
This is great. This is so great for you. Fucking fantastic. You want to quit and die.
“I see,” you answer. You ponder. Every second of silence that passes adds another bead of sweat to Park Jisung’s forehead. Your fingernails clatter against the polished table of your desk. You look at him when you admit, “I did attend Ganghak for my last two years of high school. And I was in Na Jaemin’s class.”
There’s no point in denying it.
“This is a pretty funny coincidence, isn’t it? But I’d appreciate it if you keep this information to yourself, Jisung-ah.”
The only thing you can do now is damage control.
“O—oh! Yes, of course, attorney. I was just curious. I guess that would explain why you and Jaemin hyung-nim seemed so close.”
Close. You mask your sour feelings with a stiff smile. “Don’t mention this to him either. I’m not very fond of talking about my educational background. I’m only humoring you because you seem like a nice kid from my alma mater.” He nods profusely. You press your lips together even more. “Now run along. If Sion asks what’s keeping you, tell him you were just asking me how to apply for a driver’s license without parents’ consent.”
“Yes, ma’am! Thank you!”
The door shuts. At that very moment, you feel your shoulder melt as you sink into your chair.
Everything’s gotten fucked since you took Na Jaemin as a client. There’s no inherent issue about you going to Ganghak for a few years. The problem lies in the fact that during those years, you were Na Jaemin’s fucking alarm clock that he didn’t give enough of a shit to even remember. If he does remember, then he wouldn’t be ever so desperately trying to get in your pants at present. He’d be forcing your dignity down your throat the moment you blew up on him because what kind of alarm clock dares to look him in the eye?
He didn’t respect you enough to treat you like a human being back then. And if someone triggers that sense of recollection in him— you’d be done for.
He’s already a shitty co-worker as is, but at least you have his shitty feelings for you to take advantage of. If that’s overruled by the memory of you being his subservient, walking, talking, inanimate pushover of an alarm clock, then you’d have lost your sole and single leverage over him. Zero. None.
But there’s only one instance in which you’d even consider telling him about his forgotten history with you—
“Ugh.”
Your eyes flit over to your wall clock. Nine forty-three. Seven more hours before your dinner at gun point with him.
“I should pack some digestive pills.”
—and that’s if he ends up falling down, down the line of being far too in love with you to even care about that history. The odds aren’t in your favor. So you just have to continue living as is until your bluff wears out.
*ㅤ
“Your taste in restaurants doesn’t match the trash regularly spewing out of your mouth.”
That doesn’t mean you’d be acting like a doormat, though.
“Just shut the fuck up and eat, you ungrateful shit.”
You stick your tongue out before digging into the steak dinner he’s paying for. He says he thought you were a pushover until you started him like shit— so you might as well continue treating him like shit and sprinkle him the occasional bouts of positive attention, if that’s what gets him off. And what better way to tick off an egotistical freak than by talking about other men in front of him?
“Hey,” you start, wadding off the sauce lingering on your lips. “How receptive would Mark be if I bring in another lawyer into the company?”
Your theory is proven by the way his eyebrows twitch at the mere mention of Mark. “Fuck if I know,” he sneers, pointing an accusatory fork at you. “I take you to a nice, fancy dinner and the first thing you talk about is work. Is that all you plan on talking about?”
“Duh. Take a look at my workload. Do you think I have a life outside of this shitty job?”
Na Jaemin simply stifles a low chuckle at your bitter declaration, continuing to pick apart his meal.
“At least this pays better than the last one,” you sigh, continuing to wake your fork around. Your dinner companion seems to be enjoying your tragic monologue. “I swear. The moment I save up enough money, I’m gonna dip, move countries, change my name and buy a new identity so that Mark Lee won’t be able to chase me down.”
He swallows down a mouthful of food. “Should you be telling me all this?”
You snort, beckoning a waiter to refill your wine. “Why, are you gonna snitch on me to your owner? You’re more obedient than I thought.”
That provocation ticks him ever the slightest— evident in the strain on his jaw despite the apparent grin. You down your drink to mask a flinch of nervousness, but you push forward, setting the glass down as you lift your head up, batting your eyes prettily at him with a sweet smile as if you hadn’t just demeaned him. This catches him off guard, and whatever bite he was about to snark dissipates with a cough from him as he peers to the side and tugs on his collar, waving the same waiter for a glass of water, but in a much less polite manner than you did.
There’s a tug on your lips. Natty was right. You gotta make sure to give him a treat at least once a day so he doesn’t act out as an attempt to get your attention again.
“Na Jaemin,” you hum, eyeing him carefully. “Aren’t you curious about what your subordinates came to me for this morning?”
“Not really,” he answers half-heartedly. “Did they kill someone, or some shit?”
“Wow. Such a great boss,” you drawl. “They were your Ganghak juniors, you know.”
That was a fishing line. Just to get a read on what exactly he feels about his alma mater, which in turn may make your case better or worse in light of the fact that he doesn’t remember his history with you.
“So?” He simply raises a brow. “Am I supposed to give a shit?”
Yeah, you shouldn’t have expected anything more from him. “Whatever. Anyway—”
A phone call interrupts. As in, the default iPhone ringtone blaring from Na Jaemin’s pocket, which triggers his annoyance, but he pulls it out anyway to answer with a pissed off, “What?”
You pick apart your mashed potatoes while observing the way Na Jaemin’s expression twists and shifts from his usual hot-tempered annoyance, to being annoyed-confused, and then annoyed-stressed, based on the way he hisses into the phone while digging a claw into his hair.
“The fuck do you mean Lucy is vomitting?”
Oh. Oh, wow.
“I gave you one fucking job, you useless son of a—” His fit is extinguished by a loud groan, slumping back into his chair. You continue eating your food with heightened interest. This is a new look. This is nice. “Listen,” he continues into the phone, practically spitting venom. “You better be there when I get home. If you run away, I’ll kill you twice over.” Then he angrily sets his phone down on the table with a clatter.
You perk up with a curious gaze. “Trouble at home?”
Na Jaemin lets out a disappointed exhale. “As much as I’d hate to cut our date short, attorney—”
“Not a fucking date.”
“Yeah, whatever, I don’t give a fuck,” he dismissively says, focused on the watch on his wrist as he picks up his coat from the back of the chair. “I gotta go check on my daughter and stomp on the useless fuck I left to babysit her. Fucking son of a bitch.”
Well, that’s news. “You have a kid?”
“Yeah. Three.” He flashes you his phone screen. There are indeed three— three cats, that is. You buffer for a moment. The dots refuse to connect. He retrieves his phone before your brain finishes processing. “I was gonna give you a ride home, but—”
“I brought my car, It’s fine. Just go.” The mutt is a cat dad. Of fucking course. That makes sense. No it fucking doesn't. It’s almost terrifying to see him care for another living being. “And don’t forget about our deal.”
All he does is flash you a smile before dipping. What the fuck does that mean?
Whatever the case, when you finish your meal and attempt to bill out, you’re informed that everything’s been taken care of by the, quote-unquote, gentleman you were dining with. It really doesn’t sit well within your stomach that Na Jaemin now has you in debt— or maybe he’s doing this on purpose to manipulate you into spending more time with him. What a sneaky bastard.
Anyhow, the next morning, you’re deadset on fixing a solution to your excessive workload problem. So the first thing you do after clocking in is traversing the sets of stairs that lead to Mark’s office in order to negotiate the idea of bringing in a second lawyer into the company. You’d already texted your candidate last night and have arranged a friendly meeting later this afternoon. You don’t foresee any reason for Mark to object.
“There’s no issue with having another person onboard your team,” was Mark’s response to your concern. “But the main point of conversation is trust, attorney. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“I know,” you say. “I’ll be sure to vet you a trustworthy candidate.”
He gleams at you. “I look forward to it.”
The moment you leave Mark’s office, your lungs are refilled with a dose of air. “Great. Good. This is great,” you release with a huff, marching towards the staircase to the third floor.
You’ve stopped using the elevator since whenever you end up riding the same flight as anyone other than Mark or the four executives, they end up sweating like buckets as if they’d been trapped in the same room as an axe-murderer. It’s not very self-esteem boosting whenever your elevator companions immediately bolt off the second the doors crack open. You’d much rather take the extra effort than be implicitly insulted to your face.
The problem with this is that you have to pass by the stinky, sweaty gym to get back to your floor. And you’re just unfortunate enough to bump into Na Jaemin just as he’s finished his morning workout session.
“Oh.”
Your eyes meet. You flinch and shoot your gaze down. Big mistake because he’s wearing an almost translucent white tank top, making eye-contact with a whole load of chest instead, and you almost choke on your spit. “Uh.” You lose the timing to nonchalantly brush past him— and the bastard notices. Of course he fucking does with that smug grin on his face. But he honors the deal you made and settles with a simple good morning before taking a swig from his water bottle and walking off.
“Oh, hello again, attorney,” Mark gives a surprised yet pleasant welcome back to his office. “Did you forget something?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s none of your business,” you rapid-fire answer, back pressed against the closed door.
Your boss eyes you curiously, a smile playing on his face. “Well, you better finish your business soon because Renjun is waiting for you in your office. He’s requesting legal assistance for another external meeting over lunch. But you appear to be feverish. We can reschedule the meeting another—”
“No!” Your eyes widen. Mark raises a brow. “I—I mean, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. I can join him. I’m just tired from climbing the stairs.”
“Well, alright,” he hums. “Now, off you go, then.”
This is perhaps the lowest point of your career. All you wanted was to avoid walking in the same direction as him, but your flight and fight kicked in. These in-office gyms are incredibly unprofessional and detrimental to overall company productivity. You’d submit a petition to take it down if only you had the fucking time.
“What are you muttering and swearing about like a lunatic? You’re scaring the grown men around,” is how Renjun greets you, but you look at him like he’s the second coming of Christ. Thank god you’d be spending the entire day out of the building. There’s no risk of bumping into that demon again.
The meeting is at a fancy brunch place, so you and Renjun order enough mimosas to get through this shitty meeting on company time, with company money. The both of you are always on the same page, it’s great. Even when the meeting has ended, you two loiter and talk shit at a nearby cafe instead until he eventually gets called back to the office— while you remain and wait for your fellow lawyer and future co-worker.
“Attorney Kim Jungwoo,” you greet him when he arrives. “How’s JJS treating you?”
Yes. You intend on dragging your old friend into this hell with you— a very well paying hell with a more tolerable boss. Of course, you ease him into it over frappes and cheesecake. He says life at JSS is the same as you’d left it: depressing, deplorable, and Kim Doyoung dumping all the work to his junior associates while taking all the credit. That’s your perfect segue to offering him a position at Nalkeutta.
“Unlike Doyoung, I’m giving you free reign, here,” you say, offering him the draft employment contract you quickly whipped up at 11 p.m. on caffeine last night. “You don’t have to sign or answer now. We can iron out the details later. I just wanted to present you with everything that we can offer.”
Jungwoo skims over the binded papers, interested. “You were pretty devastated when Doyoung sold you off, so this is a bit of a surprise,” he says, gaze flitting up with a hum. “What’s making you happy in Nakeutta, attorney?”
You learn back, mirroring his expression. “Page three.”
“Oh, yeah? Let me ch— holy shit. Are you sure this isn’t a misprint?”
“No, I cleared it with the boss earlier,” you boast confidently. “Also, there’s an in-office gym. That’s gotta be enough to convince you.”
Jungwoo says you’re making it very hard for him to refuse and you say that’s the point. You let him mull over the contract for a while longer while you finish up your frappe and zone out with the ambient cafe tunes.
It’s an afternoon weekday, so it isn’t very crowded. It’s peaceful. Quiet. Meaning the moment the sound atmosphere gets interrupted by the sound of a jingling bell, your attention is immediately strayed away by the noise, and your eyes widen— and you nearly choke on your spit for the second time today.
“Oh, fuck,” you hiss under your breathe, immediately darting around to look for a place to run off to. “Oh, fuck, don’t do this to me. Don’t you fucking dare do this to me, please—”
Jungwoo looks up from the document in concern. “Hey, you good, at—”
“Attorney.”
The sing-song tune of a third voice jumps in. “Fuck,” you repeat, unable to escape so you force your head up to acknowledge the looming and unwelcome presence. “Na Jaemin, I thought we had an agreement. It hasn’t been two days.”
He basks in your attention, pressing a hand against the backseat leather of the booth to lean into you. “Yeah, well our date got cut short last night so I figured my time sitting in the corner would too.”
“Ugh.” Your face falls into your hands. “Please tell me you’re here by accident. Please don’t tell me you deliberately came here to ruin my day.”
“Take a good guess, attorney. Had a nice chat with Renjun in the company lobby.”
You grit your teeth. That fucking snitch, you gotta knock him down a peg from your list of favorite co-workers. But that would mean Haechan would become first, but you don’t want to give that other asshole the gratification. Nothing ever goes right for you.
Before you can further lament the shittiness of your life, Jungwoo reminds you that he’s still here by clearing his throat, causing you to flinch and sit back straight to see the interested quirk on his lips as he sends insinuating glances between you and Na Jaemin. What kind of ideas is this guy getting? You can’t even dread that because you’re too busy thinking of a way to get out of this because if Jungwoo sees your co-worker— who’s already sending Jungwoo dirty glares— acting insane, he won’t take the delicious bait you spent all night preparing.
“Is this a co-worker?” Jungwoo playfully asks. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us, attorney.”
An idea sparks. Wait. Wait, hold on, this could work.
“Indeed. What great timing.”
You stretch your mouth into a smile and yank Na Jaemin down by the belt.
“Jungwoo, this is one of Nalkeutta’s executives— Na Jaemin. Jaemin, this is Kim Jungwoo. A former co-worker from JSS Law Firm.”
He came here with his own two feet. Might as well use the hell out of uselessness.
“Oh, I remember you!” Jungwoo cheerfully remarks, looking at Na Jaemin directly. Your former co-worker obviously doesn’t know better and you immediately gulp.“I saw you in the firm once. We didn’t get the chance to talk, but it’s nice to officially meet you, Na Jaemin-ssi.”
You hope your smile is enough to mask your nervous heartrate and you peer at Na Jaemin, noticing his pissed off annoyance from the way his upper lip twitches as he runs his tongue against bared teeth. “Yeah? You won’t be seeing anything much if you don’t keep your fucking eyes dow—”
Before you can think, you place a firm hand on his thigh.
Then you squeeze.
And he freezes.
Behave, you scratch into the fabric of his jeans. Please.
The three second pause that lapses before Na Jaemin finally returns the greeting felt like a three second dip into ice cold water. “It’s my pleasure, Kim Jungwoo-ssi.” And then you finally resurface from the ice with a relieved sigh because that was a close fucking call.
Still. You’re not allowed to rest just yet because while Jungwoo and Na Jaemin are having an unusually normal conversation, you sit there with the occasional auto-generated responses as you think about the possible consequences of your prior actions— and the fact that you did this. You made Na Jaemin do this. You. He’s currently exchanging his gym routines with Jungwoo who’s making firm eye contact with him when otherwise your poor friend would have been flung to the other end of the cafe by now like everyone else that came before him.
This is fucking insane. You’re not sure how you’re feeling about this.
“Sorry, excuse me for a sec,” Jungwoo says, looking down at his phone. “Doyoung’s calling. Gotta take this.”
He gets up to leave the cafe and you take this opportunity to make a run for it too. “I—I gotta use the rest—eep!”
Na Jaemin yanks you back down into the seat cushions and settles a firm hold around your hips, pressing a firm squeeze to your thigh as he leans closer like some form of revenge for all the crap you pulled on him earlier. “Did I behave well enough for you, attorney?” he muses, hot breath hitting the side of your face. “But this deal is gonna cost you a lot more than just dinner.”
A chill runs down your spine. Yup. You knew there were gonna be consequences. You should have thought things through.
