May 9
キ LIKE ME BETTER
キ⤷ fwb! jake x fwb! f reader .ᐟ ignore timestamps or any errors .ᐟ suggestive language reader is cold
my inactive ahh finally posting.. this is lowkey just a scrap. needed something to remain me active 🙏🏻
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キ LIKE ME BETTER
キ⤷ fwb! jake x fwb! f reader .ᐟ ignore timestamps or any errors .ᐟ suggestive language reader is cold
my inactive ahh finally posting.. this is lowkey just a scrap. needed something to remain me active 🙏🏻
Love, Lies, and Sim Jake
심재윤 x reader - enhypen campus series
You were the quiet girl with the not-so-quiet crush on Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, smooth talker, and everything you should’ve stayed away from. But when a bet turns your name into a game, the rules change fast. He didn’t expect to fall for you… and you didn’t expect to find out. Now it’s your move—and this time, you’re not playing nice.
wc. 16.4k
a/n. This took me so long istg but lwk wanted then to be endgame @sheseung
masterlist | req open
It wasn’t supposed to be obvious. You were careful—or at least you thought you were.
Sure, maybe you stared a little too long when Jake walked into class late, hair still damp from a rushed shower, backpack half-zipped like he couldn’t be bothered. Maybe you laughed a little too loud when he made a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny. Maybe your friends caught you scrolling through his Instagram more times than you could count—but you had never said it out loud.
But somehow… everybody knew.
It started small. You remember the moment it all began to slip. One afternoon in the library, your best friend nudged your arm and whispered, “You’re staring again,” followed by the most annoying smirk you’d ever seen. You blinked, cheeks warming, then looked away quickly as Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching in that way he had to know showed off his arms.
“It’s not like that,” you’d mumbled. Lie. Straight lie. But it was your go-to line.
Then came the whispers. The way people started looking at you just a little differently whenever Jake was around. In the dining hall, one of his teammates nudged him and said something under his breath, both of them turning your way right after. You pretended not to notice. But you felt it—the heat in your face, the tightening in your stomach. You hated it.
It was like high school all over again. Like a crush you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried to play it cool.
And the worst part? Jake noticed.
He started looking at you a little longer in the hallways. Smirking when you’d pass by. Saying “hey” like he hadn’t ignored you for two semesters straight. You weren’t sure if he was just being polite—or playing with you. Still, every time your name left his lips, something fluttered in your chest and you hated that you let it.
Then, one night at a party, it all came out.
You were standing by the kitchen, holding a red solo cup you barely sipped from, when you heard it—your name. Jake’s voice.
“She’s cute,” he said casually, too casually, and the room seemed to go quieter around you. “And I’m pretty sure she’s into me.”
Laughter. Someone said, “Bro, everyone knows she is.”
Another voice chimed in, “You’re the first thing on her mind when she walks into class.”
You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as your stomach flipped.
They were talking about you like you were an object, like your feelings didn’t matter.
You tried to shrink back into the corner of the room, hoping no one noticed your face burning hotter by the second. But Jake didn’t miss a beat.
He didn’t stop them. Didn’t correct them. Didn’t even seem surprised.
You were supposed to be doing your sociology reading. That was the whole plan. Laptop open, textbook to the side, highlighter in hand—every prop perfectly in place. But instead of notes, your screen was filled with him.
Jake Sim’s Instagram page.
His latest post? A blurry mirror selfie at the gym, captioned something dumb like “light work.” His abs were obnoxiously sharp, his hair pushed back by a sweatband, and there was a cocky little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t even like gym pics—and yet there you were, zooming in like a creep and biting your lip like an idiot.
You were halfway through stalking his tagged photos when Yuna burst into your room.
“Oh my god,” she said, before even setting her bag down. “Are you stalking him again?” You jumped, slamming your laptop shut like it was something illegal. “No.” She raised a brow. “You literally jumped like I caught you watching illegal shit.”
“I was doing research,” you muttered, trying to sound convincing.
“Research on what? His jawline?” Yuna flopped onto your bed, grinning. “Girl, you need help.”
You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “I know. It’s so bad. I can’t stop.”
“Yeah, no kidding. This is like… phase five of a full-blown Jake Sim spiral.” You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you think he knows?” Yuna blinked at you. “Girl. Everyone knows.” You groaned again, louder this time, flopping back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so pathetic.”
“Not pathetic,” Yuna said sweetly. “Just tragically whipped.” She laughed and tossed a pillow at you, and you couldn’t help but smile through the embarrassment. Because yeah—you were absolutely whipped.
And the worst part? You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him yet.
Yuna stayed sprawled on your bed, scrolling through her phone while you reopened your laptop—this time pretending you were actually going to study, even though your fingers hovered dangerously close to Jake’s profile again.
“I swear, he’s getting hotter by the day,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to her.
“Don’t do it,” Yuna warned without even looking up. “Don’t go back to his highlights. You already watched his Europe trip twice last night.”
“I just like the aesthetic,” you defended weakly.
“You like his face.”
You sighed, resting your chin in your palm, eyes drifting back to his latest Story. Just a casual boomerang of him walking into a party, surrounded by people, drink in hand, that same effortless confidence radiating off of him. He looked like he belonged there—like the world bent to him just slightly wherever he went.
Meanwhile, you couldn’t even bend your willpower long enough to not stalk him for one damn night.
“He’s at that rooftop bar again,” you murmured. “That one near campus.”
Yuna glanced at your screen. “With the LED lights and overpriced drinks? Ugh. Of course he is. He’s always out. Does he even do homework?”
“He’s passing econ somehow.”
“Probably because he flirts with the TA.”
You snorted. “I wouldn’t even be mad.”
Yuna tossed her phone aside and sat up. “Okay, real question. What are you actually gonna do about this?”
“Do?”
“Yes, do. You’ve been drooling over him for months. Either shoot your shot or block his page and join a monastery. This in-between spiral is destroying you.”
You hesitated. The idea of talking to Jake—really talking to him—made your heart race in a way that was more panic than excitement. He was just so… untouchable. Like a poster boy for bad decisions wrapped in designer cologne and half-smiles. And you were just—you.
“I don’t even think he knows my name,” you said quietly.
Yuna gave you a look. “Oh, he knows.”
You blinked. “What?”
She just smirked, grabbing her bag. “I’m gonna leave that there. You think about it.”
And with that, she disappeared out the door, leaving your heart racing in the quiet. Because if Jake did know your name… what did that mean?
You sat frozen for a solid thirty seconds after Yuna left, her last words echoing in your head like a fire alarm.
“He knows.”
She had to be messing with you, right? Yuna loved a good dramatic exit. She lived for chaos. There was no way Jake Sim—resident heartbreaker, campus lenend, the guy with a rotation of girls longer than your Spotify playlist—actually knew who you were.
…Right?
You glanced back at your laptop. His story was still up.
Tap.
Next slide—him laughing at something, dimples on full display, head tilted back like life was just that easy for him. You paused on it, your stomach twisting in that way it always did when you saw him smile. It was gross. You hated how much you liked it.
You shut the laptop again. This was getting out of hand.
Grabbing your phone, you opened your group chat with Yuna and your other two friends.
You:
i hate you why would u say that
Yuna:
what did i do NOW
You:
“he knows” ??? why would u say that and then LEAVE like some cryptic little drama gremlin
Kazuha:
HELP what’d she do
Minju:
this is about jake isn’t it
Yuna:
ok first of all. i am a drama gremlin. second of all. i didn’t lie.
You:
YUNA.
Yuna:
look he asked about you once okay?? don’t freak out
You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, heart thudding so loud you almost didn’t hear the buzz of another message.
You:
he what.
Yuna:
like two weeks ago. after class. he was talking to beomgyu and i walked up and he was like “hey that girl you always hang with, she’s in my stats class right?”
and i said yeah. and he nodded.
that’s it.
Minju:
girl that’s not nothing
Kazuha:
he definitely knows. also why do i feel like he’s been looking at her lately???
You:
guys stop
i’m sweating wtf
this is too much
You dropped your phone on the bed and covered your face with your hands again, half-screaming into your palms. This couldn’t be real. Jake noticed you? He remembered you existed?
You thought about the times he held your gaze a second too long in class, the lazy way he said “hey” when passing you on campus, the smirk you always thought was meant for someone else.
You didn’t want to get your hopes up. That was dangerous. That was how people got hurt. But still…
Just maybe…
This crush wasn’t as one-sided as you thought.
Jake leaned back against the bench, legs stretched out and sunglasses pushed up into his hair as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. The quad buzzed with weekend energy—students lounging on the grass, music playing from someone’s speaker, that kind of lazy chaos that only ever happened when no one felt like doing real work.
Jay sat beside him, twirling a straw around in his iced coffee, eyes scanning the crowd like he was picking out a movie to watch.
“You know what I was thinking?” Jay said suddenly, eyes still tracking something in the distance.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a terrifying sentence.”
Jay smirked. “We’ve never been in a real relationship. Like ever.”
Jake scoffed. “And your point?”
“My point is,” Jay said, sitting up, “we should see who can actually do it. Lock in. Longest relationship wins.”
Jake blinked, amused. “That’s the dumbest bet you’ve ever made—and you once bet Beomgyu fifty bucks you could throw a slice of pizza on the dorm ceiling and make it stick.”
“It did stick,” Jay pointed out.
“Yeah, and the RA made you clean it off.”
Sunghoon, who’d been quietly watching some random soccer game in the distance, sighed like he was already regretting his life choices. “This is so stupid. Why would you guys want to date someone just for the sake of it?”
“Because we suck at it,” Jay shrugged. “We’re trash at commitment. Might as well make it fun.”
Jake tilted his head, thinking for a second. “So what, we just pick someone and… date them?”
“Exactly,” Jay grinned. “No hookups, no games. Real dating. See who lasts longer.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You guys are hopeless. Seriously.”
Jake was about to respond when Sunghoon suddenly nodded toward a group of girls laughing across the lawn.
“What about her?” he said, jerking his chin in that direction.
Jake followed his gaze—and immediately shook his head, a tight, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Heeseung would kill me.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press it. Sunghoon just shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.
Jake leaned back again, lips pressing into a thin line. His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to you.
He didn’t know why, but your name floated to the surface, soft and unspoken. He pictured your face for a split second—how you always seemed to be laughing with that same small circle of friends, always just there on the edge of his world.
He said nothing.
Instead, Jake pushed himself off the bench, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.
“Where you going?” Jay asked, glancing up.
Jake just smirked and threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.
“Nowhere. Just remembered something.”
Jake shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked off, head down just enough to avoid the glare of the sun but not enough to miss the way people turned to greet him as he passed. He gave the usual half-smile, a couple nods, but didn’t stop.
He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just didn’t feel like sitting there talking about bets and fake relationships when his mind was suddenly, annoyingly, stuck on you.
Not in a romantic way—God, no. Jake Sim didn’t catch feelings like that. Especially not for girls he barely talked to. That wasn’t how he operated. That wasn’t how this worked.
You weren’t the hottest girl on campus or the loudest or the one constantly throwing yourself into his orbit. If anything, you stayed out of it. And yet… you’d started showing up in his peripheral vision more often than he liked to admit.
Every time you passed by him in class, you did that little thing—tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes flicking to him for half a second before you looked away like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You weren’t subtle. And Jake wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.
It was kind of… cute.
He kicked a rock off the sidewalk, watching it bounce onto the grass.
He didn’t know why you popped into his head when Sunghoon pointed out that girl. Maybe it was because you felt like the opposite of a challenge—someone easy to talk to, someone safe. Not messy. Not loud. Not tied up in anyone else’s drama.
And maybe, he thought, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to win a bet.
He stopped walking.
But then again… this was stupid. It was Jay’s idea. It wasn’t that deep. And you? You were just a thought. A maybe. An option.
Nothing more.
Jake smirked to himself and kept walking, brushing the idea off like it was dust on his sleeve.
No feelings. No strings.
Just a game.
Jake didn’t think about it again—at least, that’s what he told himself.
The next day, he walked into stats like he always did: five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, phone in the other, no apology in sight. He dropped into his seat near the back, legs stretched out under the desk, and immediately tuned out the professor’s monotone voice.
But then he saw you.
You were in your usual spot, two rows ahead and just slightly to the right. Laughing at something Kazuha whispered to you, pen twirling between your fingers, that same focused-but-not-really expression on your face.
Jake leaned back, tapping his pen against his lip.
You looked soft. Not in the cheesy romcom way—just… not sharp like most people. You weren’t trying to be noticed. You weren’t dressed to impress. You just were. And Jake had a strange moment of clarity where he realized: that might be why he’d thought of you in the first place.
Predictable. Low drama. Quiet.
Someone he could control the narrative with.
Jay’s dumb idea floated back into his head again: “Real dating. See who lasts longer.”
Jake exhaled slowly, like it would push the hesitation out of his lungs.
This wasn’t about feelings. He didn’t like you. He didn’t want to text you goodnight or hold your hand at parties or any of that romcom garbage. But maybe you were safe enough to play the part. Someone who wouldn’t make things messy. Someone who already had a soft spot for him.
He glanced at you again, just as you looked down to write something in your notebook, your brows furrowed in concentration.
He could do it. Just a few weeks, some dates, a little effort. Easy.
Jake grinned to himself, resting his chin on his hand.
He didn’t realize he was already watching you too closely.
Didn’t realize he was starting to wonder how you’d react if he actually said hi.
He just thought,
Yeah. This’ll be easy.
Jake caught himself watching you again.
It wasn’t even on purpose—at least, that’s what he told himself. You weren’t doing anything special. Just taking notes, occasionally glancing at the board, the corners of your mouth twitching every time Kazuha leaned over and whispered something dumb. But for some reason, he couldn’t look away for long.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of it.
Jay:
pick someone yet or u backing out?
Jake smirked, thumbs tapping quickly.
Jake:
working on it
Jay:
clock’s ticking
Jake rolled his eyes, tossing the phone facedown on the desk.
The truth was, he already knew. He’d made up his mind the second he walked into class and saw you laughing like you didn’t have a single clue how close you were to becoming part of something you didn’t sign up for.
But he wasn’t going to tell Jay yet. He wasn’t even sure why.
Maybe because part of him felt like once he said it out loud, it would make it real. More real than it needed to be. And despite how casual he was pretending to be, this wasn’t like hooking up with some girl from a party. This wasn’t sneaking out of someone’s dorm room at 2 a.m. before things got too serious.
This was… a role. A performance. One he’d have to keep up if he wanted to win.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes drifting toward you again.
You didn’t even know he existed—at least, not really. Sure, you might’ve looked at him a few times, maybe had that little crush people liked to tease about, but you didn’t know him. Not the version he showed at parties, not the bored one in class, not the one who smiled when he needed something.
You were still clean.
Jake wondered how long that would last.
When class ended, he stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder, lingering by the exit just long enough to watch you gather your things. You laughed at something Kazuha said again, then turned to wave goodbye to Minju.
And for half a second, your eyes met his.
He gave you a slow, easy smile—one he’d used a thousand times before—and this time, you didn’t look away so quickly.
Jake walked out of the room, his smirk growing.
You couldn’t focus the rest of the day.
Jake Sim had smiled at you.
Not just a polite, passing one. Not the half-distracted, probably-at-someone-behind-you kind. No. It was at you—slow, smooth, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he meant it.
And stupidly, pathetically, you’d smiled back.
Your stomach was still fluttering from it hours later. Even as you sat at your usual café table with Yuna, Kazuha, and Minju, pretending to listen to their convo, all you could think about was that look. That damn smile. The way his eyes had lingered just long enough to make your brain short-circuit.
Yuna caught you zoning out and kicked your foot under the table. “Earth to lover girl.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“You’ve been checked out since class,” Minju said, sipping her iced latte like she wasn’t stirring chaos.
“Let me guess,” Kazuha added, leaning forward with a smirk. “Jake smiled at you?”
You opened your mouth to deny it, but Yuna cut in with a dramatic gasp. “He did?! Wait—you smiled back?!”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know what it was, okay? He looked at me and—ugh, I probably imagined the whole thing.”
“You didn’t,” Minju said casually. “He looked at you. I saw it.”
You peeked through your fingers. “Was it like… a weird look? Or just, like, a normal thing?”
Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “Does Jake Sim ever look at someone normally?”
Yuna leaned her chin on her palm, suddenly serious. “Okay, but real talk. If he did look at you, like, look at you… be careful.”
Your heart sank a little. “What do you mean?”
“He’s Jake,” Minju said. “He doesn’t date. He flirts, he parties, he makes girls fall for him and then disappears.”
“I’m not falling for him,” you said too quickly.
Three sets of eyebrows went up at once.
“I’m not!” you insisted, but your voice cracked halfway through, completely ruining your case. They all exchanged knowing looks, and Kazuha patted your hand like you were already a lost cause.
You sat back in your seat, sipping your drink in silence, trying to calm the chaos in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Jake smiled at a hundred girls a day.
But still, the way he’d looked at you…
It didn’t feel like nothing.
And somewhere not too far from that café, Jake Sim was leaning back against a wall outside the library, scrolling through his phone.
He hadn’t told Jay yet. He hadn’t told anyone.
But your name sat quietly in the back of his mind.
Like a string he’d just started tugging.
Like a move he hadn’t played yet.
And tomorrow? He planned to say hello.
The next day came quicker than you expected.
You tried not to overthink it. Tried not to pick out your outfit with him in mind. Tried not to rehearse fake scenarios in your head where Jake Sim actually acknowledged you again—maybe said hi, maybe made a joke, maybe even asked you a question. Nothing big. Just something. Anything.
But deep down, under the nervous energy and second-guessing, a small, traitorous part of you hoped.
You walked into stats early, which never happened, your notebook hugged to your chest like it might protect you from your own delusions. Kazuha and Minju were already there, chatting quietly, and you took your usual seat beside them, eyes scanning the door more times than you cared to admit.
You told yourself you weren’t checking for him. Just being aware. Just… existing in the same room.
And then he walked in.
Jake didn’t look at anyone at first. Just strolled in like always—relaxed, unbothered, his usual drink in hand. He scanned the room casually, his eyes drifting past people without really stopping.
Until they landed on you.
And this time, he didn’t look away.
A lazy, lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he met your gaze. Not rushed. Not accidental.
Intentional.
Your throat went dry.
And then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—Jake Sim nodded at you. A simple, subtle gesture.
But it felt like the whole room paused around it.
You blinked. Your lips parted, surprised, and then instinctively—you nodded back. Small. Shy. Like your heart hadn’t just punched through your ribcage.
Jake held your gaze for half a second longer, then turned and walked to his usual seat near the back like nothing had happened.
But something had happened.
Kazuha leaned in immediately. “Okay, no. That wasn’t normal. He totally looked at you.”
Minju blinked. “Did he just nod at you like you guys are friends or something?”
You couldn’t even answer. You were too busy trying to regulate your breathing, too focused on the way your hands suddenly didn’t know what to do.
Across the room, Jake sat down, stretched out, and didn’t say a word.
Jay nudged him. “You good?”
Jake didn’t look away from the front. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Just watching something.”
Jay raised a brow, confused, but let it go.
You felt it the second you walked out of class—like a magnet at your back.
You didn’t have to turn around to know he was behind you. His steps were slower than yours, but just close enough that you could hear the occasional scuff of his sneakers on the pavement. And even in the noise of campus—people laughing, bikes zipping by, someone blasting music from a speaker—you felt him.
Jake Sim. Still walking behind you. Still very much a mystery.
“Okay,” Kazuha whispered beside you, leaning in with the most obvious side-eye imaginable. “Do not freak out. But he’s right there.”
“I know,” you hissed, eyes forward.
“I mean right there, like five steps back.”
Minju, on your other side, kept her voice casual. “What do you think he wants?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Probably just going the same way.”
“Oh, sure,” Kazuha drawled. “Because Jake Sim always just happens to walk behind girls he makes eye contact with for five seconds straight.”
Your face was hot. You hated how your brain had started keeping track of these things—every glance, every nod, every smile like it meant something.
You turned the corner with your friends, and for a second, it felt like maybe that was it. Maybe he was just walking the same direction.
“Hey.”
One word. Smooth. Easy.
Him.
You stopped. Your heart didn’t.
Jake slid into view beside you like he did this all the time, like you weren’t already halfway to spiraling.
He looked straight at you. “You’re in my stats class, right?”
You blinked. Your mouth opened slightly. “Uh… yeah.”
He smiled like he already knew the answer.
“I’ve seen you around,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. “What’s your name?”
You told him. Your voice barely above a whisper.
Jake nodded, like he was tucking it away. “Cool. I’m Jake.”
Like you didn’t already know.
“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself.
His grin widened slightly. Not cocky, not smug. Just… amused.
“Right,” he said, a little laugh in his voice. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
And with that, he was gone.
No flirting. No teasing. No over-the-top pickup line.
Just your name on his lips. Like he planned to use it again.
Your friends were staring at you with open mouths.
Kazuha grabbed your arm. “I am going to pass out.”
Minju fanned herself. “You talked. To Jake Sim.”
You stood there, blinking at the space where he used to be, your heart still racing.
You didn’t know what just happened.
But whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing.
Jake didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to. He knew you were still standing there, probably replaying the conversation in your head, maybe wondering if you’d said something weird or if he’d meant anything by it.
He hadn’t.
Not really.
(Kind of.)
He let his smirk fade the second he turned the corner, jaw tightening slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel Jay’s voice in his head already, mocking him—“So? Who’d you pick?”
He wasn’t going to tell him yet. Not until it was set in motion.
And it was now. Officially.
He’d spoken to you. Broke the fourth wall. You weren’t a background presence anymore—you were the option. The one he was going to test this theory out on.
Not because you were a challenge.
Not because you were hard to get.
But because you were… interested.
He’d seen the look on your face when he asked your name. That flicker of nervous excitement, like you’d been caught in the middle of something you didn’t want to end. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. Dozens of times.
But this time? He wasn’t here to break hearts. He was here to win.
That was the bet.
Longest relationship.
Play the part. Make it believable.
Easy.
Jake walked into the dining hall like nothing had happened, spotting Jay already sitting with a tray of fries and a bored expression.
“Yo,” Jay said. “You look like you just committed a crime.”
Jake slid into the seat across from him, swiping a fry. “Maybe I did.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. “You pick someone?”
Jake chewed slowly, then shrugged. “Thinking about it.”
“‘Thinking about it’ or already made up your mind?”
Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Let’s just say… I’ve got a good feeling.”
Jay laughed. “You’re gonna lose.”
Jake grinned back, calm and sure of himself. “We’ll see.”
Meanwhile, two buildings over, you were still stuck in place—your name echoing in your ears in his voice.
Jake Sim had talked to you. Asked your name. Smiled like he’d meant it.
And you?
You were already in trouble.
You just didn’t know it yet.
You floated through the rest of your day in a haze.
Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, unintentional walking distraction, the guy you’d spent way too long overanalyzing from a distance—had not only spoken to you, but said your name. Like it belonged in his mouth. Like he planned to say it again.
You replayed it on loop.
“What’s your name?”
“I’ve seen you around.”
“Cool. I’m Jake.”
You. Were. Doomed.
Yuna nearly screamed when you told her.
“HE WHAT?” she shrieked in your dorm room, slamming her phone face down on your bed. “Okay, no. Wait. Start from the beginning. Word for word. Breath for breath. Blinking pattern. Everything.”
“I already told you everything!”
Yuna gave you a flat look. “You barely told me anything. You just stood there in a daze and whispered, ‘He talked to me’ like you were in some kind of Jake-induced coma.”
“I was in a Jake-induced coma,” you mumbled, falling back onto your pillow dramatically. “I think I still am.”
“Okay but why now?” she asked, sitting at the foot of your bed and stealing one of your chips. “Like, what changed? You guys have had stats together for weeks and he’s never even looked at you.”
You blinked at the ceiling. “Maybe he just… noticed me.”
Yuna gave you a look. “Guys like Jake don’t ‘just notice’ girls. It’s either because he’s bored, he’s interested, or he’s got some kind of motive.”
You sat up a little. “You think he has a motive? Like… what? What kind of motive?”
Yuna paused, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But Jake doesn’t make small talk unless he’s getting something out of it. Trust me. He’s hot, yeah, but there’s always something else going on in that beautiful, toxic little brain.”
You rolled your eyes, but a tiny part of you held onto her words. You didn’t want to believe that. You wanted to believe maybe he was just… curious. Maybe he thought you were cute. Maybe—by some miracle—he wasn’t playing a game.
But then again, Jake Sim was known for a lot of things.
Genuine interest wasn’t one of them.
Still, your heart refused to care.
He said your name.
He smiled.
He looked at you.
And for now, that was enough to keep you wide awake at 1:42 a.m., staring at your ceiling, whispering his name once just to hear how it sounded in the dark.
You told yourself it wasn’t for him.
You were just in the mood to look nice today—normal girl behavior. Nothing out of the ordinary. So what if you curled your hair instead of your usual half-tied bun? So what if you put on a little gloss and swapped your hoodie for a top that fit just a little better than usual? You weren’t going to see him anyway. Probably.
(But you left five minutes earlier than usual… just in case.)
You blamed Yuna for the way your nerves spiked as soon as you stepped onto campus. Her voice kept looping in your head like a warning bell.
“Guys like Jake don’t just notice girls out of nowhere.”
You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but it stuck. Still, when you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror outside class, a small smile tugged at your lips. You looked good. Confident. Not for Jake—but if he noticed? That wouldn’t be the worst thing.
He did.
You felt his gaze before you even stepped into the classroom. The weight of it. Heavy, warm, lazy like he wasn’t in a rush to look away. You didn’t dare meet his eyes—not right away—but your heart was already beating in your ears.
Kazuha whispered a teasing, “Oooh, someone came dressed to kill today,” as you sat down, and you tried to play it cool, brushing her off with a laugh. But you couldn’t ignore the glance Jake threw over his shoulder.
And the small nod. Again. Just like before. It was subtle. Barely there. But intentional. And that was enough to keep you smiling through half the lecture like an idiot.
Later that day, back at your dorm, you were practically humming as you kicked off your shoes. Yuna looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and said immediately, “Okay. Spill. What happened?”
You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”
“You wore lip gloss,” she deadpanned. “You only do that for confidence or crushes. And knowing you? It’s both.” You flopped onto your bed with a dreamy sigh. “He looked at me again.” Yuna groaned. “Girl. You’re spiraling.”
“I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your stomach.
“No, you’re in the delusional phase,” she said, sitting up. “Where you think he’s texting you with his eyes and secretly planning your wedding. I’m telling you, this is how he gets girls. He makes you feel seen.”
You stayed quiet, fiddling with the edge of your pillowcase.
“I’m not saying he’s evil,” Yuna went on. “I’m saying he’s not… safe. He’s not consistent. And I just don’t want you to be another story where he gets bored and leaves.”
You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when your heart was still soaring.
“I get it,” you mumbled. “But it’s not that serious. It’s just a crush.”
Yuna stared at you for a long moment. “That’s exactly how it starts.”
But you didn’t answer. You just kept smiling to yourself. Because Jake Sim looked at you again. And in your head, that meant everything.
Jake saw you before you saw him.
You were sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, legs crossed at the ankles, earbuds in, flipping through your notes with a furrow between your brows like you actually cared about the quiz tomorrow. The afternoon sun hit your face just right, lighting up the gold in your lashes, and for a moment—just a second—he forgot this was supposed to be a thing.
A game. A bet. A joke between him and Jay.
He shook it off.
“Go say something,” Jay muttered from beside him, nudging Jake with his elbow.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Relax.”
“Relax? Bro, you were just talking about how easy this was gonna be,” Jay said. “You smiled at her, got her name. Step three is conversation.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He just watched you.
You looked like the type who wrote in a journal at night. The type who doodled on worksheets, who had a playlist for every mood and a favorite pen that no one else was allowed to touch. You weren’t like the girls at parties who clung to him for the thrill of it, who liked the idea of Jake Sim more than Jake himself.
That made it interesting.
Or maybe risky. He hadn’t decided yet.
“I’m giving you three seconds,” Jay said. “Then I’m picking someone else for you.”
Jake scoffed and stepped off the path.
He took his time crossing the grass, casual but with purpose. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever study playlist was pulsing through your ears. He tapped the back of the bench once with two fingers, and you startled slightly, pulling one earbud out as your eyes lifted to meet his.
There it was again—recognition. Surprise. That soft little tilt to your lips like you were trying not to smile too much.
“Hey,” he said, leaning slightly against the edge of the wall. “You always study out here?”
You blinked. “Only when it’s nice out.” He nodded, eyes flicking to your open notebook. “What’s the subject?”
“Stats,” you said, grimacing. “Trying to pretend I understand anything from today.” He laughed a little—easy, smooth, practiced. “Yeah, same. I zoned out after the first ten minutes.”
You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You sit in the back. You always zone out. He raised a brow, impressed. “So you’ve been watching me?”
You opened your mouth to respond, then faltered, clearly realizing what you’d just admitted.
Jake grinned. Gotcha.
“I mean—not watching watching,” you rushed to say. “Just, you’re… kind of hard to miss.”
He let the moment hang between you, his smirk lingering before he glanced down at your notes again. “You want help?” he asked suddenly. You blinked. “With stats?”
“Sure. I mean, I don’t guarantee results,” he said, pushing off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “But we could suffer through it together.”
Your eyes searched his face for something—for a sign he was messing with you. But he didn’t look away.
“Okay,” you said quietly. “Yeah. That’d be… cool.”
Jake nodded once, then stepped back. “Tomorrow. After class?”
You nodded.
He turned without another word, heading back toward Jay with that easy gait that made people move out of his way. Jay raised his brows at him like well?
Jake just said, “Locked in.” And didn’t explain further.
Didn’t mention how your voice had sounded a little shy when you said yes. Didn’t mention the part of him that liked that.
He told himself he wasn’t catching feelings. He was just playing the role. That’s all this was. Wasn’t it?
The next day, you didn’t know whether to dread or look forward to stats.
You’d barely slept. You kept rewriting yesterday in your head—Jake walking up to you, Jake talking to you, Jake offering to help you study like it was nothing. Like that wasn’t the most surreal part of your entire week.
You were half convinced it was a fluke. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe it was some joke. Or maybe—maybe—you dreamed it and none of it actually happened.
But then he slid into the seat next to you like it was his usual spot.
Like it had always been his.
You looked up at him in surprise, your voice caught in your throat. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” he said easily, tossing his phone on the desk and leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You still down to study after this?”
You blinked. “Y-Yeah. Of course.”
He gave you a small, satisfied smile, then leaned in a little closer, voice low enough that only you could hear it. “What’s your Instagram?”
You froze.
You knew this moment was coming. Like, eventually. Hopefully. Maybe. But not this fast. Not like it was casual.
“Oh—um,” you fumbled with your phone, screen lighting up as your fingers clumsily opened the app. “It’s just—my username is kind of stupid, don’t laugh.”
Jake chuckled under his breath. “Now I have to see it.”
You turned your screen toward him, and he leaned in slightly, shoulder brushing yours for a second too long. His fingers grazed your phone as he typed it into his own, brows furrowed in concentration.
“There,” he said a moment later. “Followed.”
Your phone buzzed instantly, the notification lighting up like a siren:
simjyn started following you.
You tried to stay calm. Cool. Normal.
But Jake? Jake was already scrolling through your feed like he had nothing better to do. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute in this one.”
You almost choked.
He was pointing to a picture Minju had taken of you a couple weeks ago—your hand resting on your cheek, smiling softly at something off-camera. You’d only posted it after three days of deliberation.
“You—what?” you said, breathless.
Jake didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re cute. You don’t agree?”
Your mouth opened, then closed again.
He laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying the way he’d short-circuited your brain. Then he leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t just sent your pulse into orbit.
“Stats,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook. “Then coffee. That’s our deal, right?”
You nodded slowly, your cheeks on fire.
He didn’t say anything else.
But your phone buzzed again under the desk.
simjyn: looking forward to it
You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. So you did both. Internally.
You didn’t even have to type it in.
The second Jake said, “What’s your Instagram?” you already knew where this was going. You played it off so well—bit your lip like you were thinking, fumbled with your phone a little like you needed to search for his account too.
But you didn’t. You’d known it for months.
@simjyn.
No numbers. No punctuation. Just clean, simple, cool. Like him.
You’d visited it more times than you’d ever admit out loud.
You knew the exact photo he’d posted on New Year’s Eve—black button-up, rings on his fingers, drink in hand, smirk sharper than his jawline. You remembered how his captions were always short, effortless. Sometimes just a song lyric, sometimes a single word. Always just enough to keep people guessing.
You’d watched his stories religiously. Even the ones that weren’t interesting—clips of skateparks, random memes, grainy concert videos. You once spent an entire night reading through the comments on one of his old posts, heart dropping every time a girl left a flirty emoji and he liked it.
And now? That username lit up your phone for real.
@simjyn followed you.
@simjyn ❤️ your story.
@simjyn sent you a DM.
You nearly forgot how to breathe.
What made it worse—or maybe better—was how normal he made it all feel. Like he hadn’t just stepped out of the fantasy you’d kept locked behind your phone screen. Like this wasn’t your real life crashing into the version of Jake you only knew from filtered posts and captions.
You tried to keep your cool, acting like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you hadn’t already scrolled back to his 2019 posts at least once. Like you didn’t already have his account bookmarked under a folder labeled “Just Vibes” (because “Jake Sim” felt too on the nose).
Still, when the class ended and you stepped outside, your fingers twitched with the urge to check your notifications again. And there it was.
@simjyn: looking forward to it.
Like it was just the beginning.
And maybe, terrifyingly, it was.
The days that followed felt like they were moving in slow motion, each one dragging longer than the last as you waited for something to happen.
The moment you’d been hoping for—the one where Jake would finally make it real, where the playful back-and-forth would shift from flirtation to something else—wasn’t happening.
Instead, he kept it casual. Too casual.
Too normal.
He kept up the conversations. Stats class? He would lean over, whispering about the notes, joking about the professor’s monotone voice. He would always walk with you afterward, or grab coffee with you. Nothing over the top. Nothing overtly romantic.
But your heart still raced every time he smiled at you. Every time he leaned a little too close. Every time his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your coffee or his shoulder bumped yours when you were walking together. You could tell he was making it seem easy. Comfortable. Like you were just friends.
But you were barely holding it together.
Your phone buzzed late one night while you were finishing up homework. You glanced at it, heart skipping when you saw his name pop up in your notifications.
@simjyn: Got a minute?
You stared at the message for a solid minute. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation creeping in. Should you play it cool? Or be honest and show just how interested you were?
You took a breath, tapped the screen, and typed back:
You: Of course, what’s up?
It took a few seconds for him to respond, and when he did, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle excitement surge in your chest.
@simjyn: You free tomorrow after class? Thought we could grab lunch or something.
You stared at the message for a long second, rereading it just to be sure it wasn’t some joke. But no—he’d actually asked. He’d really asked.
And you, being entirely unable to contain the flutter in your stomach, replied without hesitation:
You: Sounds good. What time?
It didn’t take long for him to send the reply, casual as ever:
@simjyn: 1 p.m. sharp. See you then.
You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to play it off to yourself. You were going to lunch.
With Jake Sim.
Just lunch.
Still, as you set your phone down, the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. It twisted, deepened, and tightened with something you couldn’t ignore.
This was different.
You weren’t just some girl caught up in the attention of a guy.
This time, it felt real.
The morning of the lunch, you barely made it through your classes. Every few minutes, your mind would wander back to the text. You tried to focus, to pay attention to the lecture, but all you could think about was what you were going to wear. You settled on something comfortable—nothing too dressed up, but something that still made you feel good. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you also didn’t want to look like you didn’t care.
When the bell rang, you gathered your things and tried to move quickly, but not too quickly. There was no way you were going to be that eager.
You got to the café a little early, scanning the tables, heart racing as you waited. And then, just as you began to think he might be late, you saw him walk through the door. Jake Sim, effortlessly cool in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slightly messy in that way that made you want to run your fingers through it.
He glanced around and spotted you almost immediately. The moment your eyes met, he gave you that signature, crooked grin. The one that made your stomach flip.
“Hey,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from you. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
You shook your head, trying not to act too flustered. “No, not at all. I just got here.”
He gave a nonchalant nod, then leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the menu on the wall. “So, how’s the studying been going?”
You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Lots of work, not a lot of results.”
Jake chuckled, glancing over at you. “I can relate. Stats is definitely not my strong suit. I’ve had to rely on the internet a lot.”
You laughed, genuinely this time. “I can’t believe you’re just now admitting that you’re using Google.”
“Hey, it works,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “Why make life harder?”
The conversation flowed easily after that, lighthearted banter about classes, the terrible food at the campus café, and random bits of gossip you both knew. Nothing serious. But somehow, it felt… different. He was relaxed around you. More relaxed than he’d ever seemed before, and it made you wonder if this was just another casual thing to him, or if something else was starting to shift.
Then, after a while, Jake’s tone softened. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’ve been acting a little different lately. More… put together, you know?”
You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged slightly, his eyes still focused on you, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been pretty chill, but you’re, like, shining now. What’s up with that?”
Your heart skipped, a small nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting better at balancing everything.”
Jake leaned in just slightly, his gaze narrowing with interest. “I think it’s more than that. You’re definitely pulling it off.”
You stared at him for a second, not sure what to make of the compliment. He said it so casually, like it was just an observation. But it felt different, like he was actually noticing you—really noticing you.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. “Well, thanks. That’s… sweet.”
There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, to your surprise, Jake broke the tension with a grin. “You know, I’ve got a theory.”
You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “A theory?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking like he was about to say something way too casually. “I think you might just be trying to impress me.”
The words hit you like a bolt of electricity, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to laugh, blush, or run away. “What? No—no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, maybe a little bit, but… I don’t think I need to impress you.”
Jake smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh? I’m not that impressive, huh?”
You bit your lip, not sure how to play this. “No, you are. I just—” You cut yourself off, suddenly realizing how much you’d revealed in a single sentence. But Jake didn’t press. He just chuckled, clearly having fun with this.
“You’re cute when you get nervous,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
Your cheeks burned at the comment, but you quickly composed yourself. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything to impress you with. I’m just… me.”
Jake leaned forward slightly, eyes locking with yours in that way that made your heart race. “That’s all I need to see.”
His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, you thought you might actually fall for the idea that this wasn’t just a game.
But then, just as quickly, he sat back, picked up his coffee, and took a casual sip like nothing had happened.
You blinked, trying to clear the confusion in your head. Was he playing with you? Or was this real?
Before you could ask, Jake grinned, his eyes flicking to your phone. “Hey, I’ll hit you up later. I’ve got to go catch up with Jay about something.”
“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll see you later, then.” He stood up, tossing a few bills onto the table before flashing that same carefree smile. “Yeah. See you around.”
As he walked away, you watched him go, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t figure out if he was just being Jake, or if something else was going on. But one thing was clear. He had your attention, and it felt like you were already in this deeper than you wanted to admit.
The next few days were a blur of moments that felt too good to be true. Every time you saw Jake, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. He was suddenly everywhere, his presence more noticeable, more… intentional.
It started small—an unexpected text, just a random meme or a “How’s your day going?” message. It wasn’t the kind of thing friends usually exchanged, not unless they were really close. But he made it feel effortless. Like it was normal. Like you were supposed to be texting each other.
When you sat together in class, Jake would lean a little closer, whispering jokes in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. He’d brush your arm with his when reaching for a pen or hand you a piece of paper as if your hands weren’t already close enough to touch. And every time his gaze met yours, there was this flicker in his eyes—a hint of something that made you feel like you were both in on some secret that no one else knew.
“You’re wearing that sweater again,” he’d say, a grin pulling at his lips. “I like it.”
You’d laugh nervously, trying to act casual, but inside, your heart would race. Every time he called you out like that—whether it was for something you wore, the way your hair fell across your face, or the way you bit your lip when you were nervous—it felt like a compliment. A tease. And you couldn’t tell if you were supposed to be flattered or embarrassed.
But then, you’d notice the little things—like how his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual, how his smile reached his eyes, and how he seemed to make every conversation feel like an inside joke. You could feel it. The playful flirty energy was unmistakable.
One afternoon, you were walking across campus together when Jake leaned in and said, “You know, you look really cute when you’re thinking.”
Your mind went blank. “What?”
He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “When you get all quiet, just staring at nothing. You’re cute, I can’t help it.”
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stop it.”
But his grin only widened. He didn’t stop. Not this time. His arm brushed yours as you walked, the skin-to-skin contact sending an electric jolt through your entire body. He kept close, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, just close enough that it started to mess with your head.
“Really,” he continued, “You should smile more. Makes everything better.”
You couldn’t think straight. He was being so Jake about it—teasing and flirty, but there was something in the way he said it, something deeper, like he was trying to get closer to you than just casual flirtation. You tried to brush it off, but there was no denying it—he was turning up the charm.
The worst part? You liked it. You liked it too much.
But as much as you were getting drawn into the flirty energy with Jake, your friends noticed. Especially Yuna.
“Hey, you’re pulling away,” Yuna said one day as you walked with her across campus. “You’ve been hanging out with Jake a lot lately. Like… more than usual.”
You tried to brush it off, but the protective tone in her voice was obvious. “What are you talking about? We’re just hanging out.”
She raised an eyebrow, giving you a skeptical look. “I don’t know, YN. I mean, I’ve seen the way he’s been acting with you lately. Don’t let him mess with your head. He’s—”
“Stop,” you snapped, more sharply than you meant to. “I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing.”
Yuna stopped walking, eyes wide as she stared at you. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said quietly. “Jake’s not exactly the type to take things seriously. You don’t want to end up hurt.”
The words hit you like a punch in the gut. But instead of feeling gratitude for her concern, you felt something else—a weird, unexpected irritation.
“I said stop,” you repeated, this time quieter but no less firm. “I don’t need you to remind me every five seconds that Jake’s a bad idea. I’m fine.”
Yuna opened her mouth to argue, but you held up your hand, cutting her off. “Really, Yuna, just drop it. I can handle myself.”
You could see the hurt flash across her face, but you didn’t care in the moment. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear about how Jake was playing you, how he was just a game to him, how everyone saw it coming except you. Because you didn’t want to see it. Not now. Not when things were just starting to feel… good.
You walked away from her then, your mind in a whirl. But even as you pushed away your concern for her words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was off, and it wasn’t just with Jake.
And as you thought about it more, as you thought about his flirty comments, the way he leaned in too close when you were talking, the way he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t, you wondered if maybe Yuna was right after all.
But then again… why would you care?
After all, he was giving you attention. He was talking to you. It felt good. And sometimes, that was all that mattered, right?
Later that week, you found yourself standing in front of Jake’s apartment door, the cold metal of the handle pressing against your palm. You didn’t know exactly how you’d gotten here, but somewhere along the way, you’d ended up accepting his invitation to hang out. It wasn’t even that late. You’d just had a weird day with your friends, and now, you were here.
Jake’s voice came through the door before he even opened it. “Hey, come on in!”
The door swung open, and he flashed you that familiar grin that you still weren’t used to, despite how many times you’d seen it. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.
You didn’t even have it in you to give a smart remark back. Instead, you just walked in, kicking your shoes off as you stepped inside. The apartment was just as you remembered—lived in, a bit messy, but still comfortable. Jake had that careless confidence about him, the kind that made everything feel like it was in its rightful place, even when it wasn’t.
You plopped down on the couch, dropping your bag beside you, feeling suddenly exhausted. Your shoulders slumped, and Jake’s eyes followed the movement with a curious look before he sank onto the couch beside you, casually stretching his arms out along the backrest.
“What’s going on?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but his tone was light, trying to keep things casual, like everything was fine.
You took a deep breath, then sighed heavily, letting it all spill out in a way that surprised even you. “I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” you said, your voice a little softer than you expected. “I mean, Yuna’s being… overprotective. She thinks you’re just playing with me. And I get it. She’s looking out for me. But it’s like, I can’t get her to understand that I’m fine. That I’m not… that stupid.”
You glanced at him for a moment, but he was just listening, his focus on you in a way that made your stomach flip. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you you were overreacting. He just sat there, waiting for you to keep going.
“I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds. Like one side wants to just… enjoy it, you know? You’re fun, you’re everything I thought you were. But then, there’s this other side, where I can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not looking for anything serious, and I’m just… falling for it. But I can’t stop myself,” you vented, your voice starting to tremble slightly.
Jake stayed quiet for a few seconds, his gaze shifting to the floor for a brief moment before looking back at you.
“You’re allowed to feel what you feel,” he said softly, the words coming out slower than usual. “Don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself. Yuna’s just trying to protect you, but you can handle it. If you’re not ready to hear what she has to say, then you don’t have to. That’s your decision.”
There was something in his tone that was different—something almost… comforting. It wasn’t the usual cocky Jake. This was the version of him that actually cared.
You let out a shaky laugh, unsure of whether it was from nerves or relief. “I don’t know if I can handle this… It’s all just so confusing. I don’t even know if I’m reading everything wrong, or if I’m just imagining things.”
His expression softened, and he leaned in just slightly, the casual distance between you both shrinking. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, you know? You don’t have to be perfect. Not with me.”
And before you even realized it, you were leaning toward him. You didn’t even think about it, didn’t even second-guess it. Your body just reacted, your forehead resting against his shoulder, your exhaustion seeping out of you all at once.
Jake didn’t pull away, didn’t even flinch. He just stayed still, his body tense for only a second before relaxing, letting you lean on him, letting you take the weight off for just a little while. His arm slowly reached up, resting gently on your back, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.
For a moment, the world outside disappeared. There was only the sound of your breathing and the steady, comforting presence of Jake beside you. And in that space, you didn’t feel confused or vulnerable. You just felt… safe.
But Jake? Jake felt something he wasn’t prepared for.
His chest tightened as your weight shifted against him, your head resting on his shoulder. Something in the pit of his stomach stirred in a way he wasn’t used to. The easy, flirtatious banter, the teasing touches, the smiles—it had always felt like a game, a light distraction. But now, with you leaning on him like this, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had crossed some invisible line.
Jake wasn’t the type to let his guard down easily, especially not with someone like you—someone who was already too easy to get attached to. He’d always prided himself on being able to keep things light, keep things easy. But now, as you sat there with your breath steady against his chest, he felt something shift in his chest. It was too strong, too real, too unfamiliar.
He knew he shouldn’t be feeling it. He knew he shouldn’t be letting himself get this close, this comfortable. But there was something about the way you were so trusting, so open, that made him rethink everything. Maybe he didn’t have to keep things light forever. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let things get a little deeper.
But Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away, and he didn’t push forward. He just stayed there, letting the moment stretch out, wondering what it would mean if he allowed himself to feel whatever this was.
And for the first time in a long time, Jake Sim wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him.
The next day, you were walking with Minju and Kazuha when the conversation inevitably turned to the topic you were avoiding. Your friends had been whispering behind your back, but now, they were cornering you about it, and you knew exactly what was coming.
“YN,” Minju started, her voice soft but firm. “We know you’re close with Jake now, but Yuna’s just trying to look out for you. She cares about you.”
You tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted inside you, but it was impossible to shake off. You had felt bad about snapping at Yuna, but right now, you just weren’t ready to deal with it. Not when everything with Jake was still so… new, so uncertain.
“I know, okay?” you said, your voice slightly more defensive than you intended. You slowed your pace, unwilling to keep walking any longer. You could feel their concerned gazes on you. “But I don’t need to hear it right now. I don’t want to think about it.”
Kazuha frowned, tilting her head as she studied your face. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, YN,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with worry. “We know you like him, but… Jake doesn’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to relationships.”
You clenched your jaw. Not this again.
“I don’t need anyone else telling me what I already know.” Your words were sharp, but it was hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine. I’m not an idiot. I know the risks.” You paused, your voice quieter now. “I just… I’m not ready to have that conversation with anyone, especially Yuna. So, can we just drop it?”
Minju gave you a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “We’re just looking out for you, YN. It’s not about not trusting you. It’s about the fact that we’ve seen this kind of thing happen before.”
You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, but… I’m not asking for advice right now. I just want to figure things out on my own. I don’t want to hear how this is going to end before it’s even really started.”
Kazuha took a step closer, her tone easing as she tried to lighten the mood. “We’re not trying to ruin the fun, YN. We just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”
“I know you care. But please… not now,” you said, holding up a hand to stop any further discussion. You didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to let your friends down, but you just couldn’t handle it at that moment. You needed time to figure out where you stood with Jake before you could process any of their warnings.
Minju and Kazuha exchanged a glance, and even though they both wanted to say more, they stayed quiet, sensing that you weren’t in the right headspace.
“Okay,” Minju said finally, her voice softening. “But we’re here for you when you’re ready to talk. Just don’t shut us out completely, alright?”
You nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and relief. “I won’t. I promise.”
The conversation ended there, but the lingering tension between you and your friends stayed in the air. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were worried about you, and that made your chest tighten. But as much as you knew they were just trying to protect you, a part of you didn’t want to listen. You just wanted to figure things out on your own.
And for now, that meant staying focused on Jake and whatever this thing was between you two. Even if it meant pushing everything else aside, at least for a little while.
Jake wasn’t one to let his guard down easily, but over the past few days, something about you had begun to chip away at it. The easy flirtation, the playful teasing—it was all still there, but there was something more now. Something deeper. He couldn’t help but notice how the little things seemed to matter more when you were around. The way you laughed at his jokes, even the ones that barely made sense. The way you smiled at him when no one else was watching. It felt too easy, too natural, like he’d always known how to make you smile. But lately, it didn’t feel like a game. It felt… real.
And that, in itself, was dangerous.
Jake found himself thinking about you even when he didn’t want to. His friends, Jay and Sunghoon, had made jokes about him getting “soft” or “whipped,” but it was hard to shake the feeling that they were right. He did feel something for you. Something he didn’t quite know how to name.
It wasn’t that you were different than the others—no, you were different in a way that made him uncomfortable. You made him want things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Stability. Connection. More than just a fleeting encounter.
And it was killing him.
He didn’t know why he let himself get closer to you. Maybe it was the way you always seemed to understand him, like no matter how far he pushed, you’d still stick around. Or maybe it was the way you made him laugh even when he didn’t feel like smiling.
He found himself texting you more, asking if you wanted to hang out, even if he had no real reason to. He’d steal glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, noticing the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, the way you’d tilt your head when you were thinking. He even started texting you just to hear you laugh, just to see your name pop up on his screen. It was stupid. It was complicated. And, most of all, it made his stomach twist in ways that were both unsettling and addicting.
That night, things were different. You’d come over to his apartment again, this time without any of your usual defenses. You were quieter than usual, your eyes slightly more distant. He could tell something had been weighing on your mind, and despite all his usual nonchalance, he couldn’t help but want to comfort you.
You were sitting next to him on the couch, a slight distance between the two of you, but it felt like there was something pulling him toward you. He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was the way you looked tonight, or how vulnerable you seemed, or maybe it was just the growing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, no teasing, no playfulness. Just concern.
You met his gaze, your lips forming a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Nothing. Just… stuff with my friends. You know, the usual drama.”
Jake felt his heart sink at the emptiness in your voice, like something was off. But he didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, he leaned closer to you, watching as you pulled your knees up to your chest, clearly lost in your thoughts. Without thinking, his hand found its way to your shoulder, lightly resting there.
“You can talk to me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter, gentler than before.
You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know if you want to hear it. It’s just… complicated.”
“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing along your shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m listening.”
You met his gaze then, and for a moment, something passed between you. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Jake felt it like a jolt of electricity between you. The weight of the silence was thick now, and the space between you felt too small.
Without thinking, Jake moved closer, his hand shifting from your shoulder to the side of your face, cupping it gently. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. You just stared at him, eyes wide, like you were waiting for him to make the next move.
Jake’s pulse quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been here before—flirtation, attraction, all of it. But this time, something was different. This time, it wasn’t just about the thrill or the chase. It was about you.
You leaned toward him, your lips brushing against his, tentative at first, like neither of you quite knew what was happening. But then, something clicked. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, and Jake’s entire world seemed to narrow down to that single moment.
It was everything. And it was nothing like he expected.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together as if you both were grounding each other.
Jake’s mind was racing, but his body felt weightless, like he was floating. He didn’t know what had just happened. Didn’t know if it was just a moment or if it meant something more. But for the first time in a long while, Jake Sim didn’t want to walk away from something. He didn’t want to pull back.
And he didn’t know how to explain it, but it scared him. More than he cared to admit.
The night of the party, you were already feeling a little on edge. Jake had invited you, and for the first time, it felt different than all the other times. There was a part of you that had been hesitating, unsure of how things were really between the two of you. His texts had been more frequent, his touches lingered a little longer, but you couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of your mind.
You were getting ready when your phone buzzed—Jake had just texted to remind you about the party. He seemed excited about it, but something felt off in the way you were receiving it, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and had no idea what would happen if you jumped.
As you walked into the party later that night, the music thumping in the background, you tried to shake off your nerves. People were scattered around, some dancing, others talking in smaller groups. You spotted Jake almost immediately—his usual confident grin, that cocky air about him, but tonight there was something different. He waved when he saw you, and his eyes lit up as you approached.
But before you could make your way over to him, you overheard Jay and Sunghoon talking in the corner, standing just out of earshot from where you were. You froze, hearing your name mentioned, and despite yourself, you couldn’t resist the urge to listen.
“Yo, Jake is really into this girl, huh?” Jay’s voice was low, but you caught every word.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Sunghoon replied, a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he’s been all over her. This bet’s got him acting like a different person.”
You felt your heart drop, but you didn’t move, too stunned to turn away. You tried to act casual, but everything inside you tensed. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your stomach sinking.
“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Jay asked, his voice skeptical. “I mean, it’s Jake we’re talking about. He doesn’t do ‘serious’—he’s just playing it for the win. He’ll probably drop her after.”
Sunghoon didn’t sound so sure, though. “I don’t know, man. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. It’s not like the other girls he’s been with. He actually seems invested.”
You wanted to walk away then. You wanted to ignore it, pretend you didn’t hear, but their words were like a knife twisting in your gut. The truth was, you weren’t stupid. You knew something was off. You had seen Jake be playful, you had felt the connection, but hearing his friends talk about it like it was a game… it made everything you had been feeling seem so much more meaningless.
“But it’s still a bet, right?” Jay said, the doubt lingering in his voice. “That’s what I don’t get. Is he really getting attached, or is he just playing the part? I’ve never seen him act like this with a girl. Not once.”
There was a long pause before Sunghoon replied, his voice lower now, more serious. “I don’t know. It’s Jake. Who can say for sure? But… I think he might actually care. Just a little bit.”
You didn’t stay to hear more. You didn’t need to. The damage had been done.
You took a breath, steadying yourself. You hadn’t expected this, not like this. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. Jake had been different with you—maybe more than he’d been with anyone else. The thought that this could be a game, a bet, was suddenly so clear. You couldn’t just ignore it anymore.
Your heart was pounding, but you forced your feet to move, walking over to where Jake was standing. You pasted on a smile, trying to keep your voice steady, but it felt harder than ever before.
“Hey,” you greeted him, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. He smiled, his usual confident grin appearing on his face. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something, teetering between what you thought was real and what you had just overheard.
“Hey, you made it!” Jake’s voice was light, happy, as if nothing was wrong. But something in his eyes made you pause.
Maybe it was time to figure out just how deep this bet really ran. And whether you were just part of it—or something more.
You stood there with a smile stretched across your face, but your heart was pounding so hard you swore Jake could hear it. His grin was easy, his eyes soft when they landed on you, like he had no idea you’d just overheard everything. Like you hadn’t just heard your name tossed around like a prize in a bet.
So, you smiled back.
You smiled even though your hands were trembling at your sides. You leaned in closer when he talked, nodded when he joked, even laughed—though it was a little too sharp, a little too forced. Because you weren’t about to fall apart in front of him. Not when everything finally made sense.
If this was a game to him, then fine. You’d play.
You could act too. You could flirt back, make him think he had you wrapped around his finger. You could give him exactly what he wanted—attention, affection, maybe even more—just to turn it around on him later. Just to prove you weren’t some stupid girl who didn’t know what she was getting into.
“I missed you,” Jake said, brushing your hair off your shoulder as he leaned closer to be heard over the music.
Your breath hitched slightly, just for a second. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, eyes wide and soft—just how he liked them. “Yeah?” you replied, your voice light, teasing, even though it shook at the end. “You’re not just saying that because I finally came out tonight?”
He laughed, completely taken with you. “No. I mean it.”
You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe part of you still wanted to. That was the most pathetic part. But you just nodded, playing along like everything was normal. Like your heart wasn’t breaking and piecing itself back together all in the same breath.
Jake kept talking, leaning in like he couldn’t get enough of you, and all you could think about was the sound of Jay’s voice—He’s really into this bet. And then Sunghoon’s, Or maybe it’s real.
You hated how badly you wanted that second part to be true.
But you pushed the thoughts down, deeper than they’d ever gone, and played your part. You looked up at Jake like he was the only person in the room, like your voice hadn’t just betrayed you a few moments ago. Like you didn’t feel like the punchline of some cruel joke.
Because if he thought you were falling for him—then you were already winning.
You’d play along. Smile. Flirt. Fall—just enough to make him think he won.
But neither of you realized that somewhere along the way, Jake had already stopped pretending.
The party had started to blur around the edges—music thumping, people laughing, the usual chaos of a Friday night. But all Jake could focus on was you.
You were standing by the kitchen counter, half-listening to some conversation you clearly didn’t care about, your arms crossed and your head tilted like you were already somewhere else. Like maybe, you didn’t belong in this room full of noise and people pretending.
Jake found himself watching you a little too long. Again.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to snap out of it, but the weight in his chest wouldn’t go away. The bet. The damn bet. It had been fun at first—a dumb challenge between him and Jay to see who could last longer in a relationship. A joke. Something to pass the time. But now, with you standing there looking like everything he didn’t know he needed, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, slipping past the crowd.
“Hey,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently against your arm. You turned, a bit surprised, blinking up at him.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice still a little unsteady. You were trying to keep the act up—Jake could tell—but he didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know that you had already heard the truth.
“You wanna get outta here?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.
You hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
Jake smiled, but something in his chest twisted.
“Cool. Just—go ahead to my car, I’ll be right there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the front door.
You gave him a small nod and slipped away without another word, your steps a little faster than usual.
Jake exhaled, then turned around and made his way through the crowd until he found Jay and Sunghoon standing by the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh.
“Yo,” he called out, stepping up to them.
Jay glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Leaving already?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. With YN.”
Jay smirked. “You’re really committed to this whole long-game thing, huh?”
But Jake didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched as he looked between the two of them.
“I’m ending it,” he said plainly.
Jay blinked. “What?”
“The bet,” Jake said again, firmer this time. “I’m done.”
Sunghoon straightened, exchanging a quick glance with Jay. “Seriously?”
Jake shrugged, but his voice was tight. “Yeah. It’s not fun anymore. I’m not… playing.”
Jay frowned, the smirk fading. “You caught feelings.”
Jake didn’t say anything.
Jay let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Sunghoon just nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. “Good. About time.”
Jake didn’t wait for more. He turned and headed for the door, his heart beating fast for reasons he couldn’t explain—not even to himself. He just knew one thing:
He didn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.
When Jake stepped out into the cool night air, his heart was beating fast—but not with excitement, not with adrenaline. It was something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t used to.
He spotted you leaning against his car, arms crossed, your gaze fixed on the night sky like you were looking for answers. You looked calm, but you weren’t. You were still hearing Jay’s voice in your head—He’s really into this bet—like it was playing on loop.
Jake walked up slowly, unlocking the car with a soft beep.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost cautious.
You didn’t look at him right away. “Took you long enough.”
He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jay wouldn’t shut up.”
You gave him a tight smile and slipped into the passenger seat, still playing your part.
The drive was quiet. The city lights passed in a blur outside the windows, but inside the car, the silence stretched. You were trying to act normal, casual, maybe even a little detached. But Jake felt it. The difference.
And maybe that’s what made him speak.
“Are you okay?” he asked, not looking away from the road.
You shrugged. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
He didn’t believe you. But he didn’t push.
A few more minutes passed before your voice broke the silence again. “Why’d you invite me tonight?”
Jake glanced at you. “Because I wanted to be with you.”
You turned to him, searching his face for any flicker of dishonesty. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I just… like being around you.”
You held his gaze for a second longer than you should have, but your heart ached. Because you didn’t know what was real anymore.
When the car pulled up in front of your place, you unbuckled your seatbelt, hand hovering near the door handle. But you didn’t open it.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said quietly.
Jake didn’t say anything at first. Then, “YN, wait.”
You looked over, and before you could ask what, he leaned in.
His hand gently found your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His touch was warm, careful. And then—he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t cocky or playful like you might’ve expected. It was slow. Almost unsure. Like he was feeling everything for the first time.
And for just that moment, the noise in your head stopped.
When he finally pulled away, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you.
You just stared at each other—confused, shaken, caught somewhere between a lie and a feeling that had started to feel too real.
You opened the door quietly, stepping out. Before you closed it, you leaned in just a little, voice softer than it had been all night.
“Goodnight, Jake.”
He watched you go, the echo of the kiss still warm on his lips.
And for the first time, Jake Sim wasn’t sure who was playing who anymore.
You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with a mix of emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.
Jake had kissed you.
And worse?
You had kissed him back.
You touched your lips absentmindedly, remembering the way he held you like you were fragile. Like you meant something. Like you were real.
But you weren’t falling for it. Not again.
No, you told yourself, turning over in bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You are not doing this.
He played you. He made you feel seen, chosen, like maybe—just maybe—you were special. All the soft smiles, the subtle touches, the “accidental” run-ins, the way he said your name like it was his favorite word. All of it had been leading to this. The kiss. The final act in his perfect little performance.
You gritted your teeth and swallowed the lump rising in your throat.
Never again.
You weren’t going to be that girl—the one who got strung along, who ignored every red flag, who made excuses just because he looked at her like the sun rose in her eyes. No. That girl was gone. You buried her the moment you heard Jay’s voice echo in your head: Jake is really into this bet.
This was all a game to him.
So now? You were going to play too.
You’d play the part of the clueless, lovesick girl. You’d give him exactly what he wanted—until you flipped the whole damn game back on him.
And when the time came, when he was fully convinced he had you wrapped around his finger, when he couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake anymore—you’d confront him. You’d look him dead in the eyes and tear the mask right off his face.
And maybe, just maybe, you’d watch his heart shatter the way yours almost did.
But the worst part—the most frustrating, infuriating, confusing part—was how damn convincing he was. The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he smiled like he meant it. The way he touched you like he cared.
He seemed so in love with you, it made your chest ache. Like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all a lie.
And you hated that part more than anything.
Because for one small, dangerous second… you wanted it to be real.
It was one of those rare moments when everything felt almost normal again. You’d been home alone for a few hours, scrolling through your phone, when the text from Jake popped up.
@simjyn: Hey, I was thinking of coming over. You free?”
You stared at the message for a moment, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You had been trying to keep things light with him—after everything that had happened, after hearing about the bet, you couldn’t let your guard down. But part of you still wanted to see him. Maybe part of you was still pretending things could be okay.
“Sure,” you replied, biting your lip. “I’m alone, so come on over.”
Not long after, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your apartment, and there he was, standing outside with that familiar smile. He wasn’t dressed any differently from the usual, but there was something in his eyes today. Something that made your heart skip in a way you hated.
Jake stepped inside, pulling you into a quick hug before you could even react. His hands lingered at your waist, warm and firm as he squeezed you close.
“You look good,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Thanks,” you muttered, stepping back to break the hold, though you could already feel your heartbeat accelerating.
You led him into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief, like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.
“So, what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.
He grinned up at you. “Just wanted to see you,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
You nodded, though the words felt too heavy in your chest to speak. He wasn’t here just for a visit—he’d been clingier lately, texting you more than usual, wanting to be around you all the time.
It should have felt nice, but it felt suffocating. Every time he smiled at you, kissed your cheek, leaned in close like he couldn’t get enough—it made your stomach churn.
“You’ve been… kind of different lately,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words had more bite than you intended.
Jake furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to something more concerned. “What do you mean?”
You swallowed, frustrated by how easily he could shift his tone. “You’re being… clingy. All the time.”
He tilted his head, eyes widening in confusion. “Clingy? I just like being around you. Is that a bad thing?”
You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter to steady yourself. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, the frustration bubbling over.
“Jake,” you began, voice trembling just slightly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not some… some toy for you to mess with. I’m not a prize, and I’m definitely not some girl to play along with your little bet anymore. If you’re really into me—then fine, but if this is just some fucking joke, then get the hell out.”
His face faltered for a second, just a flash of confusion before his gaze softened, his hands reaching for you. “I—what? No, YN, I’m not playing any game—”
You took a step back, hands trembling at your sides, the anger, the hurt, and the disappointment threatening to spill out.
“I know about the bet, Jake,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know exactly why you started all this. And I’m done pretending I don’t. I’m not going to be the one who falls for this, okay? Not when you don’t even know what you want.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Jake didn’t move, his eyes wide, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in them—something that looked like regret.
But it was too late.
You turned your back on him, pacing toward the window, your heart pounding in your ears. “Just go,” you said, voice cold. “I don’t want you here. Not like this.”
“YN, wait—” he started, his voice softer, like he was trying to make you understand. “I’m not lying. I’m not playing games anymore. I—”
“Just go, Jake,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. “I don’t want to hear it.”
You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty that had never been there before. But you couldn’t bring yourself to soften. Not when he had already crossed the line.
With one last look, Jake slowly stood up, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Then, without a word, he walked toward the door, the weight of the moment sinking in with every step.
And just like that, he was gone.
You sank down onto the couch, your mind racing. You told yourself you wouldn’t trust him again, you reminded yourself. You wouldn’t fall for it.
But deep down, there was a part of you that still wished this wasn’t the end.
Still hoped, somehow, that Jake would come back. But you didn’t trust that part.
The next day at school was chaos.
You barely made it ten steps into the building before you heard your name—sharp, urgent.
“YN!”
You stopped, heart clenching as you turned to see Jake storming down the hall toward you. His eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of desperation and something dangerously close to hurt. You froze in place as he reached you, his voice already rising.
“You knew.” His words sliced through the tension in the air. “You knew this whole time and you were punishing me, weren’t you?”
Your breath caught.
Students slowed around you. Some stopped walking altogether. You could feel the shift—phones slipping out of pockets, eyes glinting with curiosity. You tried to step around him, but Jake moved with you.
“You acted like nothing was wrong,” he went on, voice getting louder. “You smiled, you kissed me, you looked at me like—like I meant something to you.”
You snapped. “Yeah? Well, welcome to my world.”
His expression twisted like you’d hit him.
“You were playing me from the start,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered with the weight of everything. “I heard Jay. I heard everything. And I kept going, Jake. I kept smiling, kept letting you in, because I wanted to see how far you’d go.”
He blinked like he couldn’t process it, like he hadn’t thought you’d actually know.
“You—” He shook his head. “You kissed me back.”
“You made me believe it was real.”
“I didn’t fake any of it!” he fired back, stepping closer. “You think this is just about a bet now? You think I haven’t lost sleep over this—over you?”
The hallway was dead silent except for your voices. Students were openly filming now, whispering like wildfire spreading through the air.
“Jake Sim and YN?”
“She’s actually yelling at him.”
“I heard it was a bet. Is that true?”
You glanced at them, your fists clenching at your sides, your chest rising and falling fast.
“Jake Sim chasing someone like her?” someone murmured nearby. It stung. It always did.
You turned back to Jake. “You had your fun, right? You got what you wanted. Just leave it alone.”
But Jake didn’t move. His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.
“I didn’t fall for you because of a bet,” he said quietly, voice raw. “But I might’ve lost you because of it.”
That did something to your chest. You hated it.
You hated him for saying the one thing you weren’t ready to hear.
Without another word, you turned and walked away—past the stares, past the whispers, past Jake.
And for once, you didn’t look back.
The next day, you didn’t expect to run into Jay—especially not when you were still raw, still reeling, still angry. But there he was, leaning against the lockers near your homeroom, like he’d been waiting.
The second he saw you, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up, his expression unreadable.
“Why did you chew him out like that?” he asked, no greeting, no hesitation. His voice wasn’t angry, just confused—tired, maybe. “In front of everyone?”
You froze, blinking up at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
Jay crossed his arms. “Yeah. Because the guy’s been a mess since yesterday. You acted like he’d—what, humiliated you? Like he was still playing you or something.”
You laughed, sharp and bitter. “The audacity to ask that when this whole thing started as some game between you and him.”
Jay’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “Game?”
“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” you snapped. “I heard you and Sunghoon at the party. You literally said he was invested in the bet. What else was I supposed to think? That everything he said and did was real?”
Jay went quiet for a second, then shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Wait—wait,” he said slowly. “You thought the bet was still on?”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.
Jay exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of it all had just hit him. “YN… Jake called it off. He called it off way before he asked you out. He told us it didn’t feel right anymore. That you weren’t just some challenge or a joke—he wanted something real.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“No, he didn’t,” you muttered, barely audible.
“He did,” Jay said. “I swear on everything. He told us it stopped being about the bet a long time ago. That he wanted to be with you for real, no games. And honestly… we could all tell. He wasn’t faking anything.”
You looked away, suddenly cold all over. Your brain scrambled to make sense of it, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word. Had it all been real? Had he actually cared?
The guilt hit like a truck.
You chewed him out in front of everyone. You looked him in the eye and threw his feelings back at him because you thought he was still playing. Because you were scared.
Jay’s voice was quieter now. “He was falling for you, YN. He still is. But after yesterday… I don’t know if he’ll try again.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You just stood there, heart cracked open, with nothing to say and everything to feel.
You didn’t go to class that morning.
Instead, you found yourself sitting alone behind the school gym, knees pulled to your chest, trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. Everything felt like it was collapsing in slow motion. You were the one who was supposed to have control now. You were the one playing him—so why did it feel like you were the one who lost?
He ended the bet.
He wanted something real.
And you… you’d shoved it all back in his face, right in front of everyone. You humiliated him for something he had already walked away from—because of you.
The worst part? He hadn’t even defended himself.
He just stood there, took it, because maybe he thought he deserved it. Or maybe… because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore.
You remembered the look in his eyes—the way they didn’t hold that smug glint anymore, the way they softened when he looked at you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to break.
And you had shattered it first.
You rested your forehead on your knees, eyes burning. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for him. Promised you’d get even. And maybe you had.
But it didn’t feel like winning.
It felt like you’d pushed away the one person who had tried—really tried—to love you, in the only way he knew how.
Maybe he messed up. Maybe you both did.
But somewhere between the lies, the games, and the dares, something real had bloomed. And now?
Now it was buried under everything unsaid.
But feelings don’t just disappear. Not like that.
So maybe… maybe this wasn’t the end.
Maybe it was the part right before you decided what kind of story this was really going to be.
here to be added to permanent tag list PART TWO OUT NOW
"ᵢ'ₘ ₙ⭐ₜ cᵤₜₑ ₐₙyₘₒᵣₑ"
........_✧.*(¬`‸´¬)hyung line <33
<143 "Pls reblog for a husband like enha"
Reaction to you recording your boyfriend while they are being cute and whiny, the side which is only known by their girlfriend.
Warning ⚠️ : don't like don't read it, but don't hate in my comment section love, idc even if do haha bye enjoy GIRLIEEEES
So basically i saw this video where a girlfriend is recording her boyfriend while he is being clingy and whiny and basically they give this funny reaction as like, their nonchalantly personality is being ruined it was very cute so I thought of making an enha version 💋
Master's list & Maknae Version coming soon
✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.
Heeseung
You were sprawled across the bed, one leg tangled in the blanket, thumb lazily scrolling through your phone while waiting for Heeseung to come home. It hadn’t even been that long—barely twenty minutes—but the quiet felt louder than usual.
The door clicked open, before you could even look up, the mattress dipped and a familiar weight settled against you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his face buried itself into the crook of your neck.
“Babyyy,” he whined, voice instantly softer, needier. “I missed you so much.”
You smiled, instinctively tilting your head to give him better access as he nuzzled closer, rubbing his cheek against your skin like a clingy cat.
“I missed my lobe,” he mumbled, words slurring together. “My baby. I was so tired without you.”
Your heart melted.
Quietly, carefully, you reached for your phone and turned the camera on, angling it just enough to capture the scene.
Heeseung didn’t notice—too busy clinging to you, arms tightening as he sighed dramatically.
“Aw,” you cooed, deliberately sweet. “Is that so, baby boy? You tired, my boy?”
He hummed in response, nodding against your neck. “Mhmm. So tired. Wanna stay like this forever.” You giggled softly, fingers brushing through his hair. “Poor thing.”
That’s when he lifted his head, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips—and froze.
His eyes flicked to your phone, the camera.Recording.
His entire body stiffened. Slowly, very slowly, Heeseung pulled away from you. He cleared his throat, posture straightening like he’d just flipped a switch.
“…Okay,” he said casually, smoothing his hoodie like nothing had happened. “I’m gonna go play some games.”
He turned and walked toward his desk without another word, completely composed, shoulders relaxed, dignity restored.
You stared at his back for exactly two seconds. Then you burst out laughing.
“LEE HEESEUNG,” you called out between giggles. “You were literally baby-talking five seconds ago!”
He didn’t turn around. Just sat down, grabbed his controller, and muttered, “Delete that.”
You grinned at your phone, replaying the clip where he was clinging to you like his life depended on it.
“Never,” you said sweetly.
From across the room, he sighed—long and dramatic.“Ugh…I hate you.”
But the smile on his face said otherwise.
Jongseong
You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you as some random show played in the background. You weren’t really watching it just letting it run while you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone.
The door to Jay’s home office opened. You glanced up just in time to see him step into the living room, tie loosened, shoulders tense, jaw tight. He looked exhausted, the kind of tired that sat heavy in his bones.
Before you could say a word, he crossed the room in a few long strides. And then suddenly you were being lifted by your waist.
“Jay—” you laughed softly as he pulled you onto his lap, settling back into the couch with you tucked securely against his chest. His arms wrapped around you immediately, holding you close like he’d been running on empty without you.
He buried his face into your neck, breathing you in.
Your free hand moved on instinct, rubbing his back slowly, up and down, feeling the tension beneath his shirt.
You quietly opened the camera app on your phone, angling it just enough. In the softest voice, you asked, “Is my Jongie baby stressed?”
Jay hummed in response, low and needy, lips brushing against your skin. “Mm.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, lingering there before murmuring, “Babee.”
The sound made your heart squeeze. You smiled, still stroking his back. “Yeah? Rough day?”
Another hum. His grip tightened just a little. “Don’t wanna think. Just… stay with me sweetheart.”
You leaned into him, smiling to yourself, that’s when he shifted slightly and caught sight of your phone.
His eyes flicked to the screen. Recording. He froze.
Slowly, Jay lifted his head from your neck, expression completely neutral now. Too neutral. He gently took the phone from your hand and turned it off without a word.
Then he looked at you, dead serious.“That never happened.”. You stared at him for a second.
Then you burst out laughing.“JAY,” you giggled, “you were literally whining”
He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “…I’m stressed, and you are trying to expose my cold ceo image.”
You kissed his cheek, still smiling. “Too late, baby.”
He rolled his eyes but pulled you closer anyway.
Jaeyun
You were sitting on the couch, trying to focus on your phone, when Jake flopped down beside you no warning, no space instantly wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his cheek against your shoulder.
“Babe,” he whined. “Why are you so far.” You blinked. “Jake… you’re literally on top of me.”
He only tightened his hold, legs tangling with yours as he sighed dramatically. “Still. Too far.” You laughed, lifting your phone and casually opening the camera, not even bothering to hide it. Jake noticed immediately.
Did he stop? No.
Instead, he burrowed closer, cheek squished against you as he pouted straight into the camera. “Why are you recording,” he complained, voice soft and drawn out. “You always do this.”
“You’re cute,” you teased, angling the phone lower. “People need to see this side of you.”
He scrunched his nose, annoyed but his arms didn’t loosen. If anything, he clung harder. “I’m not cute,” he muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’m your sexy boiii”
You hummed. “You just said ‘babeeee’ like you were about to cry.” “That’s because I miss you, mama !!” he shot back immediately. “And you’re right here but you’re not paying attention to me.”
You laughed, heart warm, thumb brushing his cheek. “Oh yunnie…”
“I don’t care if you record,” he continued, whining openly now. “Just—don’t stop touching me.” You smiled, then casually said, “Okay. I might send this to your members.”
“What?” he whined louder, head lifting instantly. “No no, don’t! Babe!” He shook his head, clinging to you like a koala. “They don’t need to see this, please”
You giggled. “Why? You said you didn’t care.”
“I don’t!” he protested, then softer, “I just don’t send it to themmm.” He hid his face in your neck, voice muffled and extra whiny. “That’s embarrassing.”
You laughed fully now, happiness bubbling in your chest as you kissed his temple. “You’re adorable.” He groaned, still holding you tight. “I hate that you're enjoying this.”
But even then he didn’t move. Not even an inch.
Sunghoon
when he walked into the bedroom and immediately climbed onto the bed beside you, curling into your side without saying a word, you froze.
Then smiled.
He leaned his head against your shoulder, arms slipping around your waist as he sighed softly, almost like he didn’t realize he’d done it. You didn’t say anything. Just carefully reached for your phone and turned the camera on.
Sunghoon stayed exactly where he was, forehead resting against your collarbone, fingers lightly gripping your shirt.... “…You comfy?” you asked gently.
He nodded, voice quiet. “Mm.” Your heart melted.
You tilted the phone just enough. “My baby’s clingy today, huh?” He shifted slightly, hiding his face deeper into you. “Yahh, don't start”
You laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair. “But you’re Cutie patooie, Hoon.”
He made a small sound of protest something between a sigh and a whine and tightened his hold for half a second before realizing himself.
That’s when he glanced up, and saw the phone.
His ears turned red instantly. “…Are you filming?” he asked, already sitting up. You nodded innocently. “You look cute.”
His cheeks flushed even more. Without another word, he stood up, smoothed out his hoodie, and walked toward the door like nothing had happened.
No reaction. No explanation. Just gone.
You stared for a beat. Then burst out laughing.
“HEY,” you called after him, giggling. “Where are you going?."He didn’t turn around. Just muttered, “I wasn’t clingy.”
“You were,” you teased. “So cute, Hoon.” Silence.
Then, from the hallway: “Delete that, Now.”
You grinned at your phone. “Never. My cutie patooie Hoonie pie.”
He paused.“…Don’t call me that.”
You laughed even harder. “Aww, my sweet baby boy.”
The door closed, while glaring at you but behind it his cheeks were still bright red.
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The Price of Perfection
pairing: Academic Rival! Jake x fem! reader
synopsis: You are always first. The one everyone expects to win. Confident, prideful, and untouchable. People admire you, envy you, resent you. But it doesn’t matter because in the end, you always prove them right. Then you go home. And first place isn’t enough. Second is unacceptable. Third is a disgrace. Anything less is failure. But then there’s Jake. Jake, who wins because he loves to. Jake, who has everything you don’t.
And the moment he looked past the perfect image you built, everything began to change.
warnings: This story contains themes of parental neglect, emotional abuse, academic pressure, and self-doubt. It covers on inadequacy, angst, and emotional breakdowns, but also slow-burn romance and comfort. Read at your own risk.
author's note: This story is deeply personal to me. It’s the first time I’ve poured so much emotion into something. If you relate to any part of this, please remember: you are enough. Always. Thank you for reading.
permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20
The cameras flashed. The medal's weight around your neck was heavier than it should’ve been. Gold, cold, undeserved. Applauses were loud.
You smiled. Of course you did. It was the expression expected of a champion. Graceful, composed, proud. You had practiced it enough times in the mirror, so much so that it no longer hesitated. You let the corners of your lips go upward just right, enough to appear humble but not so much that you seemed arrogant. Enough to sell the illusion that this victory was yours to enjoy.
Your parents stood at the front of the crowd. Their hands clapped the loudest, and their smiles stretched the widest. They shook hands, nodded in gratitude, and took every compliment thrown their way as if they were the ones who had spent sleepless nights preparing. As if they were the ones who had earned this. “We’re so proud,” they had said when your name was announced. “You did it.”
Did what, exactly?
You stood there as the flashes went off, the cheers rang in your ears, and your parents continued to receive congratulations on your behalf. You stood there and dared to look down.
Second place was crying.
Not just the silent kind, not the polite, quiet tears of someone accepting defeat, but the kind that came from deep inside, that cracked a person open. Their shoulders trembled as they looked down at their silver medal, fingers curling around it so tightly you thought it might shatter.
And then there were the others. The ones who had fought, who had given everything, who had wanted this much more than you ever did. Some stood stiffly, disappointment carved into their faces, blinking back the loss with forced indifference. Others stared blankly at the floor, avoiding your gaze because looking at you only deepened the wound.
It didn’t feel good.
It never did.
Taking something that wasn’t yours to take, crushing someone’s dreams just because you could. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right.
And maybe it wouldn’t have felt so hollow if this had been your dream. If you had wanted this as badly as they did. If you had fought, struggled, and clawed your way to the top because it was something you couldn’t live without. But that wasn’t the case.
You had never wanted this.
But you won anyway.
And that was the worst part of it all.
🪢
The hallway was full of students moving in clusters. Conversations were overlapping, and lockers were slamming shut. Same faces, same voices, same excitement over things that would be forgotten by next week. You walked through the center of it all, and people noticed you without needing to say anything. Whispers followed you, talking about your latest win and how easily you had secured another first-place title. People admired you, but bitterness and jealousy were hidden behind their forced smiles.
“Look who’s finally back from their throne,” a familiar voice called out, loud enough to turn a few heads. A heavy arm slung over your shoulder before you could react. It was Seojin, one of your so-called friends, though that word had lost its meaning a long time ago. He grinned down at you, his smile wide. There was something in his face that made it clear he wasn’t celebrating you.
You scoffed, shrugging his arm off easily, adjusting your bag strap as his touch had thrown off your balance. “What, miss me already?” Your voice was light enough to remind him where you stood in this hierarchy. “You should get used to it. Winners are always busy.”
Laughter spread through the group gathered around you. A few people exchanged glances, nodding as if they agreed with each other, truly believing you were unstoppable. Seojin laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Busy collecting more trophies, huh? I have to say, it must be tiring being the best at everything.”
You smirked. “Wouldn’t know. It comes naturally.”
Immediately, the group reacted with a chorus of “oohs” and chuckles. Another voice joined in. “You looked like you belonged on that stage. I mean, holding that trophy, you seemed made for it.” Jihoon added.
For just a moment, your smile faded a little.
“Made for it.”
Those words should have felt like a compliment but instead felt like a reminder. A cage.
But you couldn’t let them see that. So, you laughed easily, like every other lie. “Of course I did,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I make everything look good.”
More laughter followed. More voices joined in. More noise.
You kept up this act because it felt natural now. This confident version of yourself, who never had doubts. This group, these people, this constant game of who could seem the most untouchable. It was tiring.
And none of them were even your friends.
They were here because your name meant something. Because standing next to you made them look better. Because being associated with a winner was better than being another nameless face in the crowd.
Some people called you cocky.
Maybe they were right.
Or maybe you just played the part because it was the only thing you knew how to do.
The moment you stepped into the next hallway, the energy shifted. The laughter, the background noise of your so-called friends. It all faded into something heavier. Because there he was.
Sim Jaeyun, or Jake as most would call, was the person who never treated you like a high-status figure. He didn’t feel any pressure from your name. He was a real threat and didn’t even have to try. While you acted like a confident champion, enjoying victories you didn’t care about, Jake was different. He truly wanted this, and that made things more complicated for you.
Unlike you, he was genuinely passionate. He stayed up late studying, not to keep up his image, but because he loved learning. He was brilliant but never showed off. He made people feel comfortable around him. Your presence was sharp and demanding, while he was warm and easygoing. Your so-called friends stuck to you for your status. In contrast, Jake’s friends liked him for who he was, not his achievements. His parents didn’t take credit for his success. They supported him and celebrated his efforts, not just the results.
You had everything. Yet somehow, he had everything you wanted.
And maybe that was why you hated him.
Or maybe you didn’t.
Maybe you didn’t know what to do with him.
Jake looked up as you walked toward him. His face was hard to read. You both seemed very different. You wore an arrogant smirk, surrounded by people who only stuck around when you won. He stood there relaxed, with his friends laughing at a joke you hadn’t heard.
But you needed to keep up your image.
“You seem pretty relaxed for someone who lost yesterday.” You said.
Jake paused his conversation and looked at you, his friends noticing you too. He met your gaze, and his smile was small and genuine momentarily, not bitter or angry. It made you feel like entering a game without knowing the rules. “And you,” he replied, “look a bit worried for someone who won.”
For a moment, your confidence almost falters. Almost. But you quickly kept your expression smooth. “Worried? Not at all. I barely broke a sweat.” You let out a short laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, you put up a good fight. I almost thought you had a shot.”
Jake kept looking at you. He didn’t react the way others usually did. Instead, he took his time before responding. “Almost, huh?” He spoke as he was contemplating your words. He studied you, and for once, you felt like the one being examined. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”
You scoffed and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to show confidence. “Go ahead. We both know how this usually turns out.”
His lips turned into a slight grin, neither a smirk nor a laugh. “We’ll see.”
It wasn’t a challenge or bragging. It was just a simple statement from someone who seemed to believe that the future was unpredictable. For some reason, that feeling shook you more than anything.
People like you were not supposed to hesitate. People like you were not supposed to let doubt creep in.
But Jake Sim had a way of making you feel uncertain.
You weren’t even sure if he noticed.
🪢
The moment you stepped outside the school gates, you were still the person everyone expected.
You smiled, laughed, and stood tall.
Your so-called friends hung around you, stretching out their goodbyes. They gave half-hearted compliments and exaggerated praise about your latest win. You nodded along, pretending their words mattered. You let them talk, enjoying the moment before you walked away, climbed into the waiting car, and left them behind for the day.
As soon as the car door shut, the act ended.
The silence weighed heavily. The outside noise turned into a dull hum and was muffled by the thick glass. Your confident expression finally dropped. There would be no more forced smiles or sharp comments.
Just quiet.
Your older brother, Jay, was already in the backseat, sitting comfortably with his long legs stretched out. He looked calm, as usual. When you settled beside him, he glanced up from his phone and met your eyes. “Hey,” he said, relaxed.
You hummed back, leaning against the seat and feeling your exhaustion set in.
“How was school?” Jay asked. He asked because he always wanted to hear it from you, even if he knew the answer.
“It was alright,” you replied. It was the most straightforward answer.
Jay didn’t respond right away. He studied you momentarily, his fingers tapping his phone, deciding whether to call you out on your lie. In the end, he didn’t press you. He never did.
The car started moving away from the school, and with it, the image you had kept up faded. You watched the students outside continue their laughter and conversations. What felt suffocating just moments ago now seemed far away.
No one at school knew this version of you.
You didn’t speak unless someone spoke to you. You didn’t fill silences with witty remarks or smug comments. You didn’t carry the weight of expectations. You didn’t feel like you were performing.
At school, you were never quiet. You were always loud and talking, making sure everyone noticed you. Being quiet meant giving others space to think and see through you.
But in the car, you didn’t have to fill the silence.
In the car, you could just be you.
So, you let the quiet settle. You relaxed your shoulders. You stared out the window, watching the city blur, knowing you could just be yourself for the next twenty minutes.
Jay didn’t say anything else. He lets you sit in silence and take it in. And that was enough.
🪢
The moment you stepped into the house, you already knew something was wrong. The air was too tense. Too quiet. You barely had time to take off your shoes before your mother called your name. You could tell something was wrong. You always knew when it was.
Your father was already in the living room, which made it clear there would be no discussion. Your mother stood next to him, looking exhausted and grim. “You didn’t sign up,” she said. It wasn't a question or an accusation. Just a fact. They already knew the answer before you walked in.
Your stomach dropped. Of course.
You had tried not to mention the competition and hoped they wouldn't notice when the deadline passed. You thought, maybe for once, they would let it go.
But they didn’t.
“You didn’t even try,” your father said sharply with his piercing gaze. “We had to call them ourselves. We begged them to let you in after registration closed.”
Begged.
That word felt heavy and suffocating. Your well-respected parents had to use their influence and name because you didn't do what was expected. Your mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? Do you even care?”
“I just won a championship,” you replied. You didn't raise it or show your fatigue, but it was hard not to let it show. “Why does it matter if I skip this one?”
Your father shook his head in disbelief. “Why does it matter?” he repeated, astonished that you would even ask. “Do you think success ends with one win? That one victory is enough?”
Your mother stepped forward, her face showing disappointment and frustration. “Do you realize how many doors this could open for you? How many people would do anything for a chance like this?”
You knew because you had seen those students who wanted it badly. They cried when they lost and studied late into the night, chasing something that was handed to you.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re competing,” your father said firmly. “End of discussion.”
There it was. They made the decision for you, as usual.
Your mother sighed and rubbed her temples. “We already submitted your name. The least you can do is show some gratitude.”
Gratitude.
You swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat.
There was nothing left to say.
So, you nodded. You nodded because it was easier than fighting. Because no matter what you wanted, it never really mattered.
Because, at the end of the day, this was the life you had been given.
And no matter how much you wanted to, you could never escape it.
“I’m sorry,” you said with the words barely escaping past the tightness in your throat.
Your father scoffed, turning away because your apology wasn’t worth acknowledging. Your mother sighed before walking past you, her hand lightly brushing against your shoulder, not as a sign of comfort but as if she were dismissing you.
And just like that, the conversation was over.
Because in this house, your choices didn’t matter.
Only the results did.
🪢
Everything in the dining room was arranged perfectly. The food was carefully portioned. It looked beautiful, but it tasted like nothing to you. You sat still, your back straight, moving your fork absently, pushing the food around rather than eating it. The conversation between your parents was casual, even. But you knew where this was going before they even said it.
Then, there it was.
“Jake placed first in the regional math competition,” your father said as he cut into his steak. “I spoke to his father earlier today. Apparently, he not only won, but he beat last year’s champion by a huge margin.”
The muscles in your jaw tightened. You knew better than to look up.
Your mother hummed, sipping her wine before delicately setting the glass down. “I’m not surprised,” she said, dabbing with a napkin at the corner of her lips. “Jake’s always been a hardworking boy. So polite, too. His mother told me he spends extra hours studying every night without being told. He even tutors younger students in his free time.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost wistful.
“You could learn a thing or two from him.”
You knew it was coming.
That didn’t make it any easier to hear.
Your grip on your fork tightened, your fingers pressing into the cool metal. You didn’t lift your head. Didn’t argue. Didn’t say anything at all.
Your father continued, “Jake doesn’t have everything handed to him,” he said, placing his knife down with a soft clink. “And yet, he’s still doing better than you.”
The words sat heavy in the air, heavier than the food sitting untouched on your plate. Jay, who had been quiet up until now, let out a sharp exhale. He placed his utensils down with more force than necessary, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. “You’re acting like she’s not already winning every other competition,” He spoke calmly, but you could hear a tension in his voice that only you noticed. “Maybe, instead of comparing her to someone else, you should acknowledge what she had done. Instead of acting like it’s never enough.”
Your mother shook her head, seeing what he said was unreasonable. “That’s not the point, Jay,” she said sharply.
“Then what is the point?” Jay shot back. He looked directly at them. “That no matter how much she achieves, it’s still not enough for you?”
Your father turned to him. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said as if that was the end of it. As if that was all that needed to be said.
And just like that, the discussion was over.
There was no room for argument. There is no room for anything.
Your parents continued eating, their conversation turning to something lighter, meaningless, as if the weight of their words hadn’t just settled in your chest like a stone. It was as if they hadn’t reminded you once again that you were still not enough. You forced yourself to take a bite, chewing slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat.
Jay glanced at you from across the table, his expression softer now, but he didn’t say anything else.
Because he knew, just as you did, that there was nothing left to say.
🪢
Jake didn’t think about you much. Not in the way others did.
To everyone else, you were a name that carried weight, a student who stood at the top without fail. People whispered about you in the halls. Some with admiration, some with jealousy. You had everything. The grades, the reputation, the influence. And you knew it. You walked through the school like it belonged to you, like everyone else was just a step below, trying to catch up.
Jake never had to catch up.
He had always been fine where he was. He worked hard, he did well, and that was enough. He didn’t need to stand on a podium to prove anything. His parents were proud whether he won or not. His friends didn’t care if he was in first place or fifth. His achievements were his, not something for others to measure their worth against.
That was the difference between you and him.
You acted like everything was a competition. Every test, every ranking, every moment you could use to remind people where you stood. It was almost entertaining sometimes. The way you smirked when your name was called first, the way you barely spared a glance at the people below you.
People always assumed the two of you were enemies. The belief that academic rivals are destined to despise each other. But Jake never really hated you.
He didn’t respect you either.
Because arrogance didn’t impress him.
So, when he passed by you in the hallway, watching as you threw an arm around your so-called friends, laughing too loudly, standing too tall. He didn’t feel envy. He didn’t feel admiration.
He just felt nothing.
And if you ever turned your gaze his way, lips twisting into that confident smirk, daring him to try and take your place at the top. He only ever smiled back, easy, unbothered.
Because, unlike you, he had nothing to prove.
🪢
The room was silent except for the clicking of keyboards and the scratch of pens against paper. The weight of expectation pressing down on your shoulders. Your fingers flew across the page, solving, calculating, writing. Each answer had to be perfect. Each step is precise.
You couldn’t afford to be slow.
You glanced at the timer. Two minutes left.
Your heartbeat pounded fast. Your breathing was shallow. You could hear the clock ticking. It's louder than it should be. Your grip on the pen tightened until your knuckles turned white.
One last question.
Your eyes looked at the numbers on the screen. You ran through the calculations in your head, fingers trembling as you wrote them down on the paper.
Something didn’t feel right.
You double-checked. No, no, no. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be. You rewrote the equation, erasing and correcting. The answer wouldn’t come out right. The numbers blurred together, your mind racing faster than you could keep up.
Your hands were sweating.
One minute.
You swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t-
Your hand slipped. The pen streaked across the page, ink smudging. You cursed under your breath, hastily fixing the mess, but-
Thirty seconds.
Shit
Shit
Shit
Your breath hitched. You were running out of time. You forced yourself to write down the answer, even if you weren’t sure. You couldn’t leave it blank. You couldn’t-
Five seconds.
Your eyes darted to the scoreboard.
Jake’s score was higher.
Your stomach dropped.
No.
The timer beeped.
The competition was over.
Jake had won.
🪢
This is what it feels like.
To be second.
The cameras flashed, but they weren’t for you this time. Your lips twitched, struggling to form the familiar, practiced smile. It was supposed to be easy. You had done it a thousand times before, in every victory and moment you stood at the top.
But this time, you couldn’t.
You stood there, trophy in hand, a step lower than ever. A step below Jake.
Jake, who stood on the podium above you, smiling. Genuine, effortless, like he belonged there. His name was called, his score announced, and the crowd cheered. His parents were among them, their voices the loudest, their pride so clear. His friends clapped, laughing, celebrating with him.
You swallowed hard.
Your eyes looked to where your parents sat.
They weren’t clapping.
They weren’t smiling.
They weren’t doing anything.
Their faces were blank, unreadable, but that only made it worse. It would have been easier if they were angry, if they scolded you, demanded answers, questioned why you weren’t standing where you were supposed to be.
But they didn’t.
They just watched.
And somehow, that silence crushed you more than any words ever could.
You turned back to Jake, forcing yourself to look. He was still smiling, still happy, still surrounded by people who were happy for him.
You had never been jealous of him before.
But now?
Now, you wished you knew what it felt like to win and actually deserve it.
🪢
The medal was cold against his skin. But his heart was warm.
Warm from the embrace of his parents, their arms wrapped tightly around him, their voices with nothing but pride. Warm from his mother’s teary smile as she cupped his face, whispering you did so well. Warm from his father’s hearty laughter, the way he clapped him on the back and said, we knew you could do it, son.
Warm from the cheers of his friends, their voices overlapping, already talking about celebrating, about how Jake had earned this.
It felt good.
Not just winning. But knowing, truly knowing, that he deserved this moment. That the people around him were happy for him, not because of what he had achieved, but because it was him. “Excuse me for a second,” Jake murmured, offering them a smile before stepping away. The main hall was busy with flashing cameras and loud applause. He just needed a breather, a moment to let it all sink in.
But as he walked toward the quieter side of the building, his steps slowed.
He saw you.
And it wasn’t at all how he expected.
Your father stood in front of you, voice low but strict. Your mother was beside him, her arms crossed, her words quieter but no less cruel.
You didn’t look at them.
Your head was bowed, your hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles had turned white.
Jake stopped in his tracks.
For as long as he had known you, you had never looked like this before.
You, who always carried yourself with that arrogant smirk. You, who always made everything a competition, never settling for anything less than first. You, who always acted like winning was your right.
Now, you looked-
No. You didn’t look like anything at all.
Your face was blank. Your shoulders stiff. Like you had frozen in place, unable to move, unable to fight back.
And then-
Your father exhaled. “Embarrassing.” His voice was something worse than anger. More like disgust. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for us?”
“Second place?” Your mother scoffed. “Do you think that’s acceptable? After everything we did for you?”
Jake clenched his jaw.
It was the way they spoke. Like you had failed them. Like coming in second was the same as losing entirely. Like you were nothing more than a disappointment.
And then it happened.
Your father reached forward, fingers gripping the silver medal around your neck. Without hesitation, without a second thought-
He ripped it off.
The thin ribbon snapped. The medal clinked against his wedding ring, slipping from his fingers-
Into the trash.
Jake felt sick to his stomach
You didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Didn’t even look at it.
Like it wasn’t even there.
Like it never mattered.
Your parents didn’t wait for you. They turned, walking away, their faces unreadable, like this was routine. Like they had done this before.
And you-
You followed.
Quiet. Expressionless.
Like you weren’t even there.
Jake couldn’t move.
His hands tightened into fists. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.
Was this… normal for you?
Had this been happening every time you lost?
No. Jake knew you. He knew your pride, your arrogance, the way you carried yourself with confidence.
But was it ever real?
Jake had never questioned what was behind your smirks, your constant need to be first.
Not until now.
🪢
Your bedroom was dark. You sat at the edge of your bed, staring at nothing.
You should be crying.
Shouldn’t you?
But you felt nothing.
Not anger. Not sadness. Not even disappointment.
Just… numbness.
Jay knelt in front of you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. His warmth covered your skin, but it didn’t reach the coldness inside. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, like he always did when things felt too heavy, when you came home and locked yourself away, and when the weight of expectations became too much to carry alone.
His embrace was the only thing tethering you to reality.
And it hurt.
Because Jay was all you had.
The only person who saw you for more than just a name. The only person who didn’t care if you were first or second or last.
The only person who stayed.
“…I’m proud of you,” Jay whispered. His voice was calm, but there was something fragile in the way he held you. He was afraid you’d shatter. “No matter what, I always am.”
Your hands clenched the fabric of his sweater, but you still didn’t speak.
Because what was there to say?
That you never wanted any of this?
That winning had never been your dream?
That you were tired. So, so tired of being the person everyone expected you to be?
That when your father threw your medal away, he wasn’t just throwing away an award. He was throwing away you.
Jay pulled back slightly,
“Get some rest,” he murmured. “Please.”
You knew you wouldn’t.
Because even with your eyes closed, the weight of it all would still be there.
Pressing. Crushing.
Never letting go.
🪢
You had been walking through life on autopilot for as long as you could remember.
Winning, smiling, shaking hands, collecting medals like they meant something. Like they made you something. It was a routine now. Just another thing you did because it was expected. Because that was who you were supposed to be. And yet, standing at the podium while staring at Jake Sim of all people, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
Exposed.
You weren’t sure why you were still here. The hallway was empty. The competition had ended yesterday. The results had already been burned into everyone’s minds.
Jake won. You didn’t.
Simple as that.
But it wasn’t simple. Not when you could still hear the sound of your father’s voice slicing through your ribs, carving up whatever was left of you. Not when you could still see the silver medal at the bottom of that trash can.
Jake’s voice cut through the silence.
“You don’t look happy.”
Oh, he’s here too.
You scoffed. “You sound surprised.”
“I thought winning was everything to you.”
Your fingers twitched at your sides. “Yeah, well. First time for everything.”
“You don’t seem that upset about losing.”
That made you look at him. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t smug. He was just… watching. Like he had been watching all night.
“What are you getting at, Sim?”
Jake looked at you. “I saw what happened.”
The world around you blurred.
You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”
“Outside. After the competition.” He tilted his head. “I saw your father.”
“I saw him throw your medal away.”
You wanted to laugh. To brush it off. To say so what? But the words wouldn’t come.
He continued. “That wasn’t the first time, was it?”
You swallowed, “Mind your own business, Jake.”
He didn’t back down. “I see you now.”
Your nails dug into your palms. “And what exactly do you think you saw?”
“Someone who’s exhausted.”
A slow, bitter smile appeared on your lips. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s been forced to win their whole life. And I know what it looks like when they finally realize they don’t want to anymore.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, before you could stop yourself, before you could shove the words back down. Your voice slipped out, quieter than you intended.
“What would you have done?”
Jake blinked. “What?”
You clenched your jaw. “If you were me. If you had my parents, my life, my expectations. What would you have done?”
His expression changed. Softer. Almost… sad.
“I don’t know.”
You huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
Jake didn’t argue. He just watched you like he was waiting for you to say something real.
But you didn’t.
Because you didn’t know how.
So instead, you did what you always did.
You turned and walked away.
🪢
The sun was beginning to set. Jay had just stepped out of a convenience store, a cold soda in hand, when he heard someone call his name.
“Jay?”
He turned, barely catching a glimpse before an arm wrapped around his shoulder in a quick bro hug. “Jake, man!” Jay grinned, giving him a solid pat on the back before stepping away. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jake smirked. “Yeah, I was just passing by. You headed somewhere?”
“Nah, just grabbing something to drink before going home.”
Jake glanced at the can in Jay’s hand and grinned. “Still hooked on soda, huh?”
“Still better than your overpriced coffee addiction,” Jay shot back.
Jake let out a laugh. “Fair.”
They found a bench nearby and sat down, cracking open their drinks. “Man, feels like forever since we just sat down like this,” Jay said, taking a sip. “Like when we were younger. Back when drinking soda made us feel cool.”
“Still does,” Jake replied, and they both chuckled.
The conversation was easy. They talked about random things. Old friends, stupid childhood memories, how fast time was passing. But then Jake’s playful energy in his eyes dimmed just slightly.
“Jay… can I ask you something?”
Jay raised a brow. “Since when do you ask permission?”
Jake didn’t laugh this time. His fingers tapped against his can. “It’s about your sister.”
Jay’s smile faded.
“What about her?”
Jake hesitated, just for a second, but long enough for Jay to notice.
“I saw…” Jake paused. “Never mind.”
But Jay already knew.
The way Jake wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Jay set his drink down, voice calm but firm.
“What did you see, Jake?”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked like he was deciding whether to speak at all. Jay didn’t rush him. Finally, Jake continued. “After the competition… I saw her with your parents.”
Jay didn’t react, not outwardly. He just kept his gaze on Jake. Jake hesitated, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to listen, but I—I heard what they said. What they did.” He clenched his jaw. “Jay, they threw away her silver medal.”
Jay’s expression didn’t change. He simply took another sip of his drink,
“Is that all?”
Jake frowned. “Jay-”
“No, really,” Jay cut in. “Is that all you saw?”
Jake stared at him confused. “What do you mean?”
Jay scoffed, shaking his head. “If you think that’s bad, then you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Jake felt something cold settle in his stomach. He had always known Jay’s family was strict, but this… this was something else.
“How long has it been like that?” Jake asked quietly.
Jay leaned back against the bench. “Since forever.”
Jake’s grip tightened on his soda can. “Why don’t she say anything?”
“Because it wouldn’t change anything.”
Jake hated how casually Jay said it, like it was just a fact of life. Like it wasn’t something that should make someone furious. “I don’t get it,” Jake admitted. “Why did she still… play along? Why act like everything is fine?”
Jay finally looked at him tiredly. “Because that’s the only choice she have.”
Jake didn’t know what to say to that. For the first time, he regretted knowing. Because now, he couldn’t unsee it. He couldn’t forget the way you had stood there silently and not moving, as your father discarded your achievement like it was nothing. He couldn’t forget how you had walked away, your shoulders heavy, your head bowed. Not out of shame, but out of exhaustion.
He had always thought of you as arrogant, competitive, impossible to break.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
“You know, she’s always been quiet,” Jay said suddenly.
Jake looked at him confused. “Quiet?”
Jay nodded. “Yeah. Like, really quiet. Always has been. Since we were kids.”
Jake frowned, trying to piece that together with the girl he knew. “That doesn’t sound like her.”
Jay chuckled. “Yeah, well, that’s because you don’t know her like I do. People think she’s all confidence and competition, but that’s just what she lets them see. You strip all that away? She barely says a word.”
Jake stayed silent, letting that sink in.
“She was always the quietest one in the room,” Jay continued. “Never talked much, never caused trouble. Just did whatever was expected of her. I think people used to forget she was even there sometimes.”
Jake found that hard to believe. “So why the change?”
Jay shrugged. “Didn’t change. Not really. She still doesn’t talk much when she doesn’t have to. Just learned how to play the part when she needs to.”
Jake tilted his head, thinking back to all the times he had seen you surrounded by people, laughing, teasing, always in control of a conversation. And yet, he couldn’t remember a single time you had actually talked about yourself.
“So all that confidence-“
“Not her,” Jay cut in. “But, she’s still quick-witted, still kinda funny when she wants to be. But when she’s not ‘performing’ for people? She’s quiet. Always has been.”
Jay stretched his legs out. “You know, you should at least try to be friends with her.”
Jake raised a brow. “Friends?” He let out a small laugh. “Pretty sure she’d rather choke than let that happen.”
Jay smirked. “Yeah, she’s dramatic like that. But she’s actually really funny when you get to know her.”
Jake gave him a confused look. “Funny?”
Jay nodded. “Like, in a really deadpan way. She doesn’t even try, but it makes it worse because she says stuff so seriously. And she’s good at keeping a straight face too, so people never know if she’s joking or not.”
Jake thought about it. He had seen glimpses of that before, the way you could make a single remark and have people either dying of laughter or questioning their entire existence. But he had always assumed you did it on purpose, as part of the persona you carried.
“You’re telling me that under all that arrogance, she’s just… quiet and funny?”
Jay grinned. “Yep. Oh, and she also eats weirdly. She cuts everything so neatly.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” Jay chuckled. “It’s weird. She won’t just bite into a burger. She’ll actually cut it first. Like, who does that?”
Jake laughed.
Jay continued. “But seriously. She’s not as impossible as you think. Just… don’t be an idiot about it.”
Jake stayed quiet. He didn’t know why, but the idea of getting to know you, really know you, stuck with him longer than it should have.
🪢
The wind was pushing against you like it wanted to knock you over. You welcomed it. The cold, the force of it, it was the only thing that felt real right now.
Footsteps.
You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“You always come up here when you’re pissed off,” Jake said.
You exhaled through your nose. “And yet you always follow me. Should I start calling you my shadow? ”
“If it gets you actually to talk, sure.”
You huffed a dry laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
Jake didn’t say anything. He just walked forward, stopping beside you, mirroring your posture as he leaned against the railing. For a while, neither of you spoke. “You lost back there,” he said finally. Not taunting, not victorious. Just a fact.
You closed your eyes briefly before reopening them. “Yeah. I did.”
A pause. Then, softly, “And? ”
You swallowed. “And… it’s funny.” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “Because I didn’t even want to win.”
Jake turned his head toward you, but you fixed your gaze on the skyline. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. “Then what do you want? ” His voice was gentle.
You opened your mouth. Then closed it.
What did you want?
The question pressed against you. You’d spent your whole life running, fighting, and competing. Chasing after a finish line someone else had drawn for you. You were always trying to get ahead and be the best. Not because you wanted it but because you were expected to. So then… what was left when all of that was stripped away?
Jake was still watching you, waiting. But you had no answer.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. Almost… sad.
“You know, for all the years I’ve known you… I don’t think I’ve ever really known you at all.”
Your throat tightened. You finally turned to look at him.
“Let me help you figure it out,” he said.
And for the first time in your life, you wanted to let someone try.
The words left your mouth before you could stop them.
“How?”
It wasn’t arrogant. It wasn’t with the usual sharpness you carried. It was… quiet. Uncertain. Real.
Jake was caught off guard. Maybe he had expected you to scoff, to push him away like you always did. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
You were tired.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if thinking. “We start small,” he said finally. “We talk. We stop pretending to know everything about each other when we don’t.”
Your fingers loosened around the railing. “And then? ”
“And then we figure it out.”
You stared down at your hands. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not.” Jake studied you. “But it doesn’t have to be impossible either.”
You swallowed. “Why do you even care? ”
He was silent for a long time, long enough that you almost regretted asking. But when he spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.
“Because I saw you that day,” he said. “With your parents. I saw the way they looked at you. The way they spoke to you. And I realized… you’ve never had someone who listens to what you want, have you? ”
No. You hadn’t.
You didn’t even know what you would say if someone ever asked.
You turned away from him, your grip tightening against the railing again. “I don’t need your pity, Jake,” you murmured, but even you didn’t sound convinced.
“It’s not pity,” he said. “It’s just the truth.”
The truth.
You let out a bitter laugh. “You act like it’s that easy. Like suddenly, because you noticed, something will change. It won’t.” You inhaled sharply. “My parents won’t. I won’t.”
“Then let’s stop talking about them,” Jake said. “Just for a second. Forget them. Forget all of it. Just tell me. What do you want? ”
There it was again. That question.
“I…” Your fingers trembled. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.” His voice was steady. “Then we start there.”
You turned to look at him, and for the first time, you didn’t see Jake as your rival. You didn’t see the boy who beat you, who had everything you didn’t. He was just looking at you.
And for once, that was enough.
🪢
The crisp rustle of paper snapped you out of your thoughts.
“Here you go,” your professor said and slid a registration form onto your desk with a smile. “I assumed you’d be competing again this year. You wouldn’t want to waste your momentum, right? ”
You stared at it. The words are printed at the top. Bold, formal, suffocating. It felt heavier than it should.
“Right,” you muttered and forced a smile as you picked it up.
Of course. Of course, they’d assume. Because that was who you were. The star student, the prodigy, the competitor. Even if you hadn’t breathed a word about joining, people just knew. Your parents must have already whispered it to the right ears. You walked out of the classroom, staring at the form in your hands. It felt like holding a contract with no escape clause.
And then, before you could process it, the paper was gone.
“What’s this? ”
Your head snapped up. Jake. Standing in front of you, turning the paper over in his hands.
“Give it back,” you muttered, reaching for it, but he took a step back.
“Are you actually signing up for this? ” His tone wasn’t mocking, but something about it irritated you.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” you said flatly. “They expect me to.”
Jake’s face didn’t change. “And do you want to? ”
You scoffed. “Why do you always ask me that? ”
“Because you never answer,” he said.
Your fingers twitched at your sides. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“It should.”
He was so sure. So convinced. You almost envied him for it.
“Then tell me, Jake,” you said. “If I say no, if I throw this form away and never look back. Then what? ”
Jake didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”
“What-”
“If you don’t sign up, I won’t either,” he said. “If you want to walk away, then let’s walk away. Together.”
Is he being serious right now?
“Why? ” you whispered.
“Because I told you. I want to know you. The real you. And if that means letting go of some dumb competition, then so be it.”
You had never felt so seen in your entire life.
🪢
The aluminum can was cold in your hands. You stared at it, confused, before glancing at Jake.
“…Why? ” you asked as your brows furrowed.
Jake only shrugged. Popping open his own can with a hiss. “You looked like you needed one,” he said simply and brought the soda to his lips.
You eyed him for a moment longer before taking a small sip. The carbonation fizzed against your tongue. It gave you something to focus on. Something other than the boy sitting beside you. Jake leaned back against the bench, his arm resting casually along the backrest. “Jay was right,” he said. “You really are quiet.”
You paused mid-sip. Lowering it just enough to glance at him.
“Huh? ” You weren’t sure what he meant by that.
Jake didn’t look at you right away. Giving you space to process his words. “I mean… when you’re not performing. When you’re not playing the role everyone expects. When you’re not competing or surrounded by people who only care about your name.” He finally turned to you and smiled. “You don’t say much at all.”
You pressed your thumb against the can’s surface. “And that’s a problem? ” Your tone was neutral.
Jake shook his head. “Not at all,” he said steadily. “Just… different.” He took another sip of his drink before adding, “I think I like this version of you more.”
That was strange. You weren’t used to being seen like this. To someone noticing the parts of you that existed outside of competition, outside of expectations. You didn’t know how to respond. So, you didn’t. Instead, you took another sip of your soda, letting the taste of artificial sweetness and carbonation sit heavily.
“I’m jealous of you.”
The words left your mouth before you had the chance to second-guess them. They weren’t said with bitterness or anger. Just exhaustion. A quiet sort of truth. Jake didn’t react at first. He was processing your words. “Jealous? Of me? ” His voice held genuine surprise.
You let out a breath while your shoulders sagged. “Yeah.” You turned the can in your hands again, staring at the condensation gathering on the surface. “You have everything I don’t. A supportive family. Friends who actually care. You don’t have to prove yourself every second just to be worth something.”
Jake stayed quiet, listening. He always listened.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be me,” you continued, voice quieter now, but no less raw. “To have people around you, but still feel alone. To have a name everyone respects but never be sure if anyone actually likes you. To constantly win, but never feel like you’re allowed to lose.” You let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “And the worst part? I don’t even want to win.”
Jake’s face was showing understanding. Or pity. You weren’t sure which one was worse.
“Then why do you? ” His voice was gentle.
You opened your mouth. Then closed it.
Because you didn’t have an answer. Or maybe you did, but you weren’t ready to say it out loud.
Jake leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know how you feel,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I do. But… you don’t have to be alone in it.”
You scoffed. “And what? You’re going to save me? ”
“No,” Jake said simply. “But I can listen. If you let me.”
You had spent so long keeping these thoughts buried. Locked behind walls built too high for anyone to climb. But somehow, he had found his way through.
“Jay is the only thing I have,” you admitted.
Jake stilled beside you. “What do you mean? ” he asked, though you could tell he already had an idea.
“He’s the only one who really knows me. Who doesn’t care about the name, the rankings, the medals. If he wasn’t there…” Your throat tightened, but you forced the words out. “I think I’d have nothing.”
Jake didn’t speak right away. His eyes on you. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You know that’s not true, right? ”
You laughed bitterly. “It is.” You gestured vaguely. The proof was all around you. “Everyone else only sticks around because of the reputation. Because it benefits them. I see it. I know it. And my parents-” You stopped yourself. “They only care about the success, not the person behind it.”
Jake was quiet for a moment. “That’s not how it should be.”
“Yeah, well.” You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not all of us get to have what you have, Jake.”
Jake frowned. “And what do you think I have? ”
“Everything.” The word was heavier than you expected. “You have people who support you. People who love you. Who don’t just see you as a title or an achievement. You don’t have to fight for their approval, because you already have it.”
Jake held your gaze. Then, slowly, he set his can down beside him and leaned back on his hands. “I don’t think that means I have everything,” he murmured. “Not if it means you have nothing.” Then, he stretched beside you. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day where you admitted you were jealous of me.”
You shoved his arm lightly. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’ll just make sure to remind you every chance I get.” He grinned. “‘Jake, you have everything,’” he mimicked in a terrible impression of your voice. “‘Jake, you’re so humble, so talented, so-’”
You shoved him harder this time. “I take it back. I’m not jealous of you. I pity you.”
Jake only laughed, catching himself before he could tip over. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips turned upwards despite yourself.
“So,” Jake finally said while tapping his fingers against his knee. “Since we’re being honest today. What do you actually like? You know, aside from crushing your opponents in competitions.”
You raised a brow. “Who says I like that? ”
“You sure act like it.”
“I don’t know.” You hesitated. “I guess… I never really thought about it. I’ve just been doing what’s expected of me.”
Jake hummed thoughtfully. “Well, maybe it’s time you start.”
You glanced at him. It was unsettling how easily he could be both annoying and unexpectedly kind in the same breath. “And how exactly do I do that? ” you asked.
Jake shrugged. “Figure it out. Try something new. Do something for yourself instead of everyone else.” He paused, then smirked. “Like, I don’t know. Maybe getting ice cream with your ‘rival’ after school?”
You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”
“Call it what you want.” He stood up and stretched. “But I’m getting ice cream either way, and I won’t stop bragging about it if I go alone.”
🪢
After classes, you two went to a nearby ice cream shop. The ice cream was cold against your tongue. You sat across from Jake at a small outdoor table, absentmindedly tapping your spoon against the cup. “You know,” you started with your voice flat, “this is the first time I’ve eaten ice cream without the crushing weight of expectations looming over me.”
Jake snorted. “Wow, what a tragic backstory.”
“It is,” you deadpanned. “Every bite before this was accompanied by the echo of my parents’ disappointment.”
He stared at you for a second before bursting into laughter. “God, you’re so dramatic.”
“Am I? ” you asked, still completely serious. “I think it adds depth to my character.”
Jake shook his head, taking another bite of his own ice cream. “Jay was right. You really are funny in the weirdest way possible.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, still expressionless.
“It wasn’t meant to be one.”
“Too late.”
Jake just chuckled, shaking his head. The conversation carried on like that. Quick exchanges, half-serious jokes, and you, testing the waters of what it felt like to simply be. No competitions, no expectations, just sitting here, eating ice cream with the one person you never expected to share something so normal with. And when you looked at Jake, mid-bite, you realized something else…
Maybe this was what it felt like to have a friend.
🪢
For the next few months, something unexpected happened.
At first, it was a small change. Jake started waiting for you after class. The two of you walking together, sometimes in silence, sometimes bickering over the smallest things. He would flick your forehead whenever you made a dry joke, and you would roll your eyes when he got too philosophical about life. Then, there were the study sessions, the shared lunches, and the exchanged texts that started out about assignments but eventually turned into things that had nothing to do with school.
Somewhere along the way, “rival” wasn’t the right word.
You still competed, of course. Old habits were hard to break. But there was a difference now. When you turned in your test papers, you didn’t feel like you had to prove something to him. When you saw his name next to yours on the scoreboard, it didn’t feel like an attack on your worth. Jake had a way of existing so effortlessly, like he belonged wherever he stood, like he had nothing to prove. And for some reason, being around him made you feel like you didn’t have to prove anything either. One afternoon, as the two of you sat on the school rooftop. “I think I’m forgetting how to be competitive.”
Jake looked at you. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. ‘’It’s not.”
🪢
The moment the results were announced, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.
Third place.
For a second, the world seemed to slow. The crowd cheered, cameras flashed, and the weight of all the past competitions pressed against your chest. But instead of disappointment. There was…
Relief.
You turned your head and saw Jake standing on the highest podium. He was smiling, beaming, and when his eyes met yours, his expression softened. He wasn’t just happy for himself. He was proud of you. And strangely, you felt proud too. The old you would’ve hated this. Would’ve obsessed over the what-ifs, convinced yourself that third place meant failure. But now, standing there, you just smiled. Genuinely smiled.
Jake stepped down from his podium before the ceremony was even over, ignoring the announcer’s call. In a second, he was in front of you, eyes searching, until you opened your arms. And then, he pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t brief or hesitant. It wasn’t a victory embrace, not in the way you used to think about winning. It was steady, warm, something unspoken but understood.
“You did amazing,” he murmured.
You let out a small laugh. “You did better.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
You swallowed. For once, you didn’t brush it off. You didn’t argue.
You let yourself believe it.
🪢
The moment you stepped out, the harsh light from the parking lot made the situation feel colder than it already was. Your parents were already waiting for you by the car. Their faces were tense. They didn’t even look at each other before they started in on you.
Your father’s voice was low. “You’ve failed again.” His words hung in the air. “How many times do we have to do this? We put you in the best position possible. I thought you’d learned something after last time, but all you’ve proven is that you can’t handle the pressure.”
You stayed quiet, your hands at your sides, unwilling to look up. There was nothing you could say that would make them understand. Not now. Not ever.
Your mother spoke, her voice a little softer but still sharp. “We give you everything, every advantage, and you still can’t manage to bring home the result we expect. You got third place. Third. Why? Because you didn’t care enough. Because you were distracted. Because you-” She stopped herself.
You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t matter. Your words would fall on deaf ears. No matter what you said, it would never be enough.
“I thought you’d work harder. But it’s clear now. You don’t care about winning. You never have,” your father added with his voice cold now. Then, there was silence, and it was unbearable. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes. You fought them back. You had to. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. And just as you thought you might snap, you heard a voice from behind you. Calm. Steady. Unshakable.
“That’s enough.”
Jake.
You didn’t turn to look at him, but his presence was like a wall between you and your parents now. He stepped forward, his shoulders straight, eyes hard as he looked at your father. “With all due respect, sir, that’s not fair.” Jake’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. “She tried. You can’t pretend that she didn’t. I’ve seen her work. I’ve seen how much she puts into this. You can’t just tear her down like that because she didn’t win. That’s not how this works.”
Your father’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Not by anyone. Certainly not by someone like Jake. Your mother, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes. “You’re out of line. This is a family matter, Jake. You don’t know what we’ve sacrificed to give her everything she needs to succeed.”
Jake’s eyes softened, but there was still a firmness to it. “I’m not saying you didn’t sacrifice. But you’re hurting her. You’re not giving her a chance to breathe. To be more than just the next win on your list of expectations. She’s not a machine.”
You could feel your heart racing now. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want Jake to defend you like this, not like this. You didn’t want to be the center of their conflict. But you also couldn’t help the way his words felt so protective and heartwarming. Your father’s voice cracked this time. “You have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for someone like her. You think this is easy for us? ”
Jake didn’t flinch. “I’m sure it’s not easy. But that doesn’t mean you can break her every time she doesn’t meet your expectations. She’s already carrying a burden you don’t understand.”
There was a long silence. Your parents, caught in their own frustrations, didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw your father this quiet. This is uncertain. And yet, it didn’t make you feel better. It made the pain worse, somehow.
“Go to the car.” Your father looked at you.
You didn’t move. Not immediately. You couldn’t. Your feet felt rooted to the ground. Your mother’s voice broke through the fog. “Come on, let’s go.” There was no warmth in her voice. No understanding. Just a demand, as though you were nothing more than a tool they could use to achieve their own goals.
Still, you didn’t move. But then, your father’s gaze hardened, and with a final glance at you, he turned away and started toward the car. Your mother followed without a word. They got into the car and drove off, leaving you standing there, frozen, isolated. Abandoned in the worst way possible.
The car was long gone, and the sounds of your parents’ angry voices were still in your mind. You were left in the cold, standing at the edge of the competition venue, a place that was supposed to celebrate achievement, yet all you felt was an unbearable emptiness. You didn’t know how long you stood there, paralyzed by the weight of it all, until you felt a presence behind you.
Without saying a word, Jake came up behind you and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that was protective and almost desperate. For a moment, you stayed completely still, not knowing how to react. You tried to suppress the tears that threatened to break through, but the more you tried to stop them, the more they came. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fall apart like this, but the pain, the frustration. It was all too much.
Jake didn’t say anything at first. He just held you. Your body shaking against him. His hand ran through your hair gently. After a long silence, his voice broke through the quiet.
“I love you.”
You froze. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t expect it, not like this, not in this moment of raw vulnerability. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was cry harder, the pain in your chest intensifying with every breath you took. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t need to explain. His arms around you were all the explanation you needed.
And then, in the most fragile, broken voice, you managed to choke out, “I love you too, Jake.”
Your voice cracked as the words left your mouth, the reality of it all hitting you harder than anything else. It wasn’t just the weight of your parents’ disappointment. It wasn’t just the competition. It was everything. The years of trying to prove yourself, the years of hiding your pain, of pretending you were okay. But in that moment, with Jake holding you, all the walls you’d built around yourself crumbled.
You didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t even know what it all meant. But you knew that in this moment, you weren’t alone.
🪢
It was late in the evening. The sun had long since set. You and Jake were at the same spot, the one you’d found yourselves in countless times before. It had become a place of understanding, where the noise of the world couldn’t reach you, where nothing else mattered except the moment you were sharing. Jake leaned against the railing, one arm crossed. You sat next to him, just a little distance apart, but the space felt non-existent.
It had been a few weeks since everything had changed between you two. Since the “I love you’s.”
“You know,” Jake said, breaking the silence, “I never really thought about how much I’d come to care about you. I think I spent so much time trying to figure you out that I missed how much I wanted to just… be with you.”
You didn’t say anything at first. The honesty in his voice hit you harder than you expected, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed. “I never really let anyone get close,” you admitted quietly. “But… with you, I don’t know. It just feels like it’s easier.”
Jake’s gaze softened. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything with me,” he continued. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be anything you’re not. I only want to be here for you.”
You finally turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. Without thinking, you leaned in, the distance between you two shrinking with every heartbeat. And then, without a word, Jake mirrored your movement, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he closed the space.
When his lips met yours, it was like everything had clicked into place. It wasn’t forceful, nor was it with frantic energy. It was gentle, careful. You pulled back slowly. Jake’s smile was soft, and when he opened his eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said quietly.
And when you smiled back at him, it was different. It wasn’t the kind of smile you gave anyone else. It was for him. For everything you were beginning to understand about him, and about yourself, too.
🪢
You don’t know why you agreed to meet them. Maybe some part of you still wants to believe they’ll listen this time. That they’ll understand. You sit across from them at the dining table in your family’s home. Your father is the first to speak. “Are you done being distracted? ” His voice is calm but sharp. “We gave you time to sulk after your loss. Now it’s time to get serious again.”
Your mother looked at you with disappointment. “Do you know how humiliating it was for us to see you standing there in third place? After everything we’ve done for you? ”
You don’t flinch. Not this time. “I was proud.” Your voice is steady. “For the first time, I was actually proud of myself.”
Your father scoffs. “Proud of what? Settling for less? ”
“Proud that I didn’t hate myself.” The words come out before you can stop them. And for the first time, silence fills the room.
Your mother’s expression tightens. “Where is all of this coming from? Since when did you start talking like this? ”
You grip your hands under the table. “Since I realized I could breathe without trying to be perfect. Since I stopped believing that my worth was tied to a trophy. Since Jake.” But you don’t say any of that out loud. Instead, you swallow and meet their gaze. “I’m not going to keep chasing something that makes me miserable just because it makes you proud.”
Your father’s hand slams against the table, making the dishes rattle. “You think you know better than us? You think you can just throw away everything we built for you? ”
“You built it for yourselves. Not for me.”
Your mother shook her head. “Ungrateful. We gave you everything. And this is how you repay us? ”
Then your father delivers the final blow.
“You’re making a mistake.” His voice, ice. “And when you fail, don’t expect us to be there.”
Something inside you cracks. Maybe it had already been breaking for years. You stand up. Your chair scrapes against the floor.
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
And with that, you turn and walk away.
🪢
The months pass, and so do the expectations that once weighed you down. You’re still you. Still sharp, still competitive when it matters, but you’re no longer fighting a battle just to prove something. There’s no more need to mask everything behind arrogance. No more need to win just to feel like you deserve to exist. People notice the change. You’re quieter now, but not in the way that feels like suffocation. You’re reserved, but not closed off. And most importantly, you’re kinder. Not just to others, but to yourself. Jay is the first to point it out one day, laughing as he nudges you. “You used to act like you had to be the smartest person in every room. Now you actually let people speak.”
You roll your eyes. “I never did that.”
“Oh, you definitely did.” He grins. “But look at you now. I’m proud of you, you know? ”
You pause at that. It’s not something you hear often. But from Jay, it’s real.
You shrug. “Took me long enough.”
And then there’s Jake.
He’s always there, not in a way that feels like an obligation, but in a way that feels natural. Like you were always meant to meet him at the finish line, no matter where it was. You sit beside him on the rooftop as always. After a moment, he glances at you, eyes warm. “So, do you regret it? ”
You tilt your head. “Regret what? ”
“Letting go.”
You don’t answer right away. You think about everything you lost. The approval you once desperately sought. The expectations you’ll never meet. The people you had to walk away from.
But then you think about everything you gained.
You think about Jay’s laughter, about the way he never left your side. You think about Jake, about the way he looks at you as someone he chose to stay with.
For the first time, your answer is certain.
“No,” you say. “Not even for a second.”
Jake smiles. And when he reaches for your hand, you don’t hesitate before taking it.
Because for the first time in your life, you don’t need to win. You don’t need to be the best.
You just need to be here.
Extra Scene:
You and Jake sat on his bed, legs stretched out, backs resting against the headboard. “No, seriously,” Jake said, chuckling as he shook his head. “You were the most terrifying person I’d ever competed against.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You make it sound like I was some villain.”
Jake laughed and looked at you for a moment. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. You knew what he was thinking. A comfortable silence passed between you before he suddenly reached over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then his fingers brushing over something inside before carefully pulling it out. Your breath caught in your throat.
It was the silver medal.
The same one your father had ripped from your neck that night after the competition, thrown carelessly into the trash.
But here it was, resting in Jake’s hands.
The thin ribbon that had once been torn off had been stitched back on. Messily, but carefully. The fabric wasn’t perfect, the stitches uneven, but it was there.
Whole again.
“You…” You swallowed as your eyes looked up to his. “You took it?”
Jake exhaled a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I saw it in the trash that night. Just sitting there, like it didn’t mean anything.” He paused, turning the medal between his fingers. “But it did mean something. Maybe not to them, but to you. So, I took it.”
You reached out, your fingers brushed over the uneven stitches.
“You fixed it,” you whispered.
Jake smiled. “It was never broken,” he murmured. “It was just… waiting for the right person to hold onto it.”
You looked at him then, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
Being around him felt like peace.
JAKE WHEN HES JEALOUS AND HE LEAVES A BUNCH OF MARKS ON YOU PUHLEASEEE 🙏🙏
let me in (20cm deeper) - sjy
pairing: jake x reader
synopsis: He wasn’t supposed to care—but one jealous glance, one reckless FaceTime call mid-thrust, and now he’s fucking you like he needs the whole world to know you’re his. ✉️ 2144wc - tw ‼️ jealousy, possessiveness, oral (f receiving), rough sex, marking, face sitting, name kink, phone sex, humiliation, choking (light), degradation, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, dom!jake
💌 mark me up and I’ll show up to uni the next day without a doubt 😵 pookie I love ur reqs sm send more 😘
He wasn’t supposed to care. That was the rule—his own rule. The one he made the first night he kissed you with too much tongue and not enough thought, when the two of you stumbled into your bedroom half-laughing, half-buzzed, and fully aware that this couldn’t mean anything. You were friends. Good friends. He liked your company, liked your voice when you read texts aloud with dumb impressions, liked how you made taking vitamins feel like a shared inside joke instead of a self-imposed regimen. But that was all it was supposed to be.
Until it wasn’t.
It started with something stupid—an Instagram story, of all things. Jake had opened his phone during a water break at the gym, wiping sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt when he saw it. A boomerang. You. Smiling. Head tilted toward someone else. A guy. The caption was harmless—he’s so funny lol—but Jake felt his throat tighten.
He made it through the rest of his workout on autopilot, pushing harder than usual, muscles screaming for rest while his thoughts spiraled. You weren’t even doing anything wrong. You weren’t his. He wasn’t yours. But the image played over and over again in his head: you laughing like that at someone else’s jokes, leaning into their shoulder, letting them have the version of you Jake thought was just his for a little while.
And then you texted.
come over later?
i got wine and that ice cream u like 😋
Jake stared at your message for a full five minutes, heart thudding hard against his chest. His first instinct was to say no, to pull back and cool off, to remind himself of his stupid rules about boundaries and keeping things clean. But then he remembered your smile in that photo, how open and easy it looked.
He texted back.
be there in 15
He didn’t take his usual post-gym ginseng shot. Didn’t do his skincare. Didn’t even double-check his weekly checklist of personal goals.
Because suddenly, all Jake could think about was making sure you remembered exactly who you belonged to tonight.
You open the door barefoot and braless, wearing one of those oversized shirts that barely covers your thighs—probably on purpose. Jake knows you. You’re not oblivious. You know exactly what you do to him when you act like this: all casual and sweet and soft, like you’re not the same person who had their head on someone else’s shoulder earlier.
“Hey,” you say like nothing happened, already turning back toward the kitchen. “I opened the red. Wanna pour?”
He follows silently, eyes on the curve of your legs as you walk. There’s music playing—something soft and lazy—and he realizes it’s the kind of song people play on dates. Candlelight flickers on the counter. You always keep it cozy when he comes over, but tonight it feels too intentional. Too romantic.
He wonders if the other guy saw you like this.
Jake doesn’t say much as you hand him a glass of wine. He doesn’t joke around like he usually does. He just leans against the counter, swirling the drink, pretending not to watch the way you sip yours with a slight smirk.
“So,” you start, licking a drop of wine from your lip, “what’s with the face? You look like you benched your personal best and didn’t get praised for it.”
His jaw ticks. “Saw your story.”
Your brows lift. “What, the one with Yena’s party?”
Jake hums, gaze dropping to your bare thighs. “Yeah. That one.”
You lean a little closer, head tilting. “He’s just a friend, Jake. You jealous or something?”
There it is. The spark. The dangerous one.
Jake sets his wine down with a quiet clink. “No,” he lies, voice low and clipped. “Just curious why he’s got you laughing like that. I don’t remember you looking that happy the last time I made you come.”
The air thickens. Your smile falters for half a second, like you weren’t expecting him to be that blunt. Then it returns—slow, calculated. You set your wine down too, stepping between his legs where he leans against the counter.
“You could fix that,” you whisper. “If you want.”
Jake stares at you for a long, long moment. Every disciplined bone in his body screams at him to slow down, to play it cool, to not let you see how tightly he’s wound. But you’re close now. Too close. And your skin smells like warm sugar and sin.
And in this moment, with your mouth inches from his and your thigh brushing his jeans—Jake doesn’t want to be responsible. He just wants you wrecked and shaking, begging for the man you almost forgot was yours.
Jake doesn’t kiss you gently. He crashes into you like a dam finally bursting, months of restraint swept away in one hard press of his mouth. His hands find your waist, then your hips, then the backs of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter like you weigh nothing. The wine glasses clink behind you, forgotten. Your shirt rides up, and Jake’s lips never leave yours—just grow hungrier, messier, more desperate.
“You drive me insane,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, biting harder with each inch. “Walking around like this… smiling like that… for someone else.”
Your breath catches when his teeth graze the base of your neck. “He didn’t even—”
“Don’t care,” Jake growls, already sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat. “You’re mine when I’m here. You get that?”
You nod, already breathless, already aching. His hands slip beneath your shirt—warm, rough, and intent—and you gasp when he pulls it over your head in one smooth motion. He doesn’t give you time to feel shy. Doesn’t even pause.
Instead, his mouth is everywhere at once—on your collarbone, between your breasts, down your stomach. Each kiss is matched with a mark. Sharp nips that bloom into bruises. His tongue soothes them after, but it’s all part of the same rhythm: claim, soothe, repeat.
“Jake,” you whimper, squirming as he pulls your thighs apart with an easy grip. “You’re being—”
“Thorough,” he finishes, looking up at you from between your legs, eyes dark with jealousy and heat. “You let someone else make you laugh. I’m gonna remind you who makes you scream.”
And then his mouth is on you. Hot, focused, relentless. You grab at his hair, already trembling from how fast he has you unraveling—but he doesn’t stop. His grip tightens on your hips when you try to close your thighs. He growls against you when you arch your back. And when your voice cracks on his name, he moans like he’s starving for the sound.
By the time he pulls away, your thighs are shaking, your breath ragged. His chin glistens and his shirt is wrinkled from how hard you clung to him. And you’re already marked—neck, chest, thighs. Painted in him.
Your legs are still shaking when he stands back up, hands splayed on your thighs, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as they rake over your flushed skin. You expect him to kiss you again, but he doesn’t—not right away. Instead, he just looks at you for a second. Really looks. Like he’s memorizing the sight of you—lips parted, chest rising, already marked all over with proof of him. Then he breathes out hard and reaches down to undo his belt.
The sound of it slipping through the loops is enough to make your stomach flutter.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he mutters, tugging his jeans and boxers down just enough, his cock already hard and leaking. “Not until I’m done.”
You barely have time to nod before he’s pulling you to the edge of the counter, lining himself up between your thighs. One hand grabs your waist—firm, possessive—the other wraps around the back of your neck, keeping your face close to his.
“Look at me,” he whispers, pushing in slow. “Every second of this.”
You cry out, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you. You’ve done this before—more than once—but it still knocks the air from your lungs. He’s thick, and he knows it, knows exactly how to make it burn just a little, how to pause halfway in so you feel every inch. Your walls flutter around him, body struggling to take it.
“Too much?” Jake’s voice is low but strained, jaw clenched as he waits. You nod and whimper, biting your lip, and he dips forward to kiss your temple, whispering, “You’ve got it. I’ve got you. You can take it.”
He pushes the rest of the way in and holds himself there, buried deep, letting you cling to him while your body adjusts. When you moan into his neck, hips twitching, Jake groans low in his throat.
“You feel so good like this,” he growls, voice roughened by restraint. “Tight… soft… mine.”
Then he starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that make the counter creak beneath you. His grip stays locked on your waist as he sets a pace that has your head falling back, cries tumbling from your lips with each push. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the kitchen, messy and raw, and Jake just keeps going—driving into you like he’s making a point.
“You don’t need anyone else,” he breathes into your ear. “I give you everything you need, don’t I?”
“Y-Yeah,” you gasp.
“Say it.”
“You do, Jake—fuck—only you.”
That pulls a growl from his chest. His mouth is back on your neck, tongue and teeth working over fresh skin, leaving new bruises over the ones that haven’t faded yet.
And when he comes—deep inside you, buried to the hilt—he doesn’t stop whispering your name like it’s a promise.
You’re already wrecked. Your cheek sticks to the counter, lips swollen from biting down on them, and your thighs shake every time Jake thrusts back into you. He hasn’t let up—not even a little—his cock buried deep, stretching you over and over with a punishing rhythm that’s more about proving something than just pleasure. And it’s working. You’re dripping. Whimpering. Ruined.
Then you feel the shift. Jake leans forward, still fucking into you, and you hear the soft beep of your phone unlocking.
“What are you doing?” you manage to whisper, voice broken, barely hanging on.
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to. Because a second later, the FaceTime ring starts, loud and clear, vibrating right on the counter next to your face.
Your eyes snap open. “Jake, no—”
“Too late,” he grits, one hand curling around your hip, the other holding the phone up high enough to show everything. “He wanted your attention, didn’t he? Let’s give it to him.”
The screen flashes—connected.
And there he is. The guy from the night before. Confused, then wide-eyed, horrified.
Jake doesn’t stop thrusting. In fact, he slows down just a little, dragging each movement out, your slickness obscene in the quiet between the heavy sound of skin and your shaky moans.
“She’s a little busy right now,” Jake says, voice low and smug. “Thought you’d want to see what that laugh of hers really sounds like when it’s real.”
The guy stammers. “What the fuck—“
“Say hi, baby,” Jake murmurs, grabbing your jaw and angling your face toward the screen.
You don’t speak, but the moan that spills from your lips as he hits your spot again—that says enough.
Jake tilts the phone lower, angling it to show your trembling legs, the marks he’s left all over your skin, the way your body clings to him with every thrust. “You watching? You get it now?”
You swear you see him end the call out of panic—or maybe disgust. Either way, Jake tosses the phone aside the second the screen goes dark. His hand is back on your hip in a flash, grip brutal now as he fucks into you harder.
“Mine,” he growls. “All fucking mine.”
And this time when you cum, it’s not from his hands or his mouth or even his words.
It’s the thrill of being seen.
You wake up slow, your limbs heavy and sore, skin warm under the covers. The sunlight leaking in through the blinds feels too bright, too real, like it has no business touching a body that still belongs to the night before.
Your throat’s dry, your thighs ache, and every small movement reminds you of exactly where his hands were—how many times he pulled you apart and put you back together. You shift with a soft whimper, the soreness between your legs blooming deeper, and instinctively tug the blanket tighter around your chest.
That’s when you see it.
The marks.
Everywhere.
Faint bruises along your hips, scattered bites on your thighs, faded red fingerprints at your waist. There’s one on your collarbone, dark and angry, shaped like his mouth. And on your inner thigh, dangerously close to somewhere far more sensitive, his name. Sloppily written in deep purple hickeys.
You press your legs together and bite your lip, heart stuttering as the memory floods in—Jake’s voice, low and angry; his pace, rough and punishing; the look on his face when he hung up that FaceTime call like he had won something.
Because he had.
You hear him before you see him—soft footsteps, the clink of something ceramic. And then the door creaks open.
Jake steps in with messy hair, sleepy eyes, and a mug in each hand. He’s wearing only sweats, slung low on his hips, and his chest still has faint scratch marks from your nails. When he sees you awake, he grins—sleepy, soft, like he didn’t completely ruin you just a few hours ago.
“Mornin’,” he says, offering a mug. “You’re gonna need water too. You passed out right after…”
You take the drink without answering, eyes still locked on the hickeys.
He notices.
Jake sets his mug down, comes to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing over your thigh. “Sorry,” he murmurs, sounding not sorry at all. “Got a little carried away.”
You glare at him half-heartedly. “You FaceTimed him.”
His smirk is immediate. “And he answered.”
You groan, covering your face. “Jake.”
“Hey,” he says gently, prying your hands away. His thumb grazes your cheek. “He needed to see it. I needed him to see it.”
You don’t respond. You don’t need to. Because when Jake leans down and kisses the mark on your neck like it’s sacred—when his lips brush over bruised skin like he’s trying to apologize without saying the words—you realize something else:
It’s not just about jealousy.
It’s about you.
You, and how he’s terrified of losing what you are—even if it means making the whole damn world watch him prove it.
wanna read my longer ffs? Check out @shy9-29 || prompt list request
crossing boundaries
pairing. enhypen hyung line x fem!reader synopsis. the fine line between friends and something more always seems to be crossed whenever u text them genre. smau, friends to ???, fluff warnings. cursing, drunk jake main masterlist
reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
maknae line ver.
© i2ycat 2025 just wanted to post a short little smau because why not <//3 i’ll be making the maknae line ver soon!!
just because… — SJY
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.☘︎ ݁˖ IN WHICH… jake comes home to you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers for no particular reason.
.☘︎ ݁˖ PAIRINGS… boyfriend!jake x f!reader — fluff, established-relationship, domestic-fluff, slice-of-life
.☘︎ ݁˖ WARNINGS… none, just pure fluff (˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
.☘︎ ݁˖ wc (893)
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you stood in the warmly lit corner of the kitchen with ingredients sprawled out in front of you waiting to be prepared. a rainbow array of vegetables, messy bowls sitting stationary and flour dashed across the counter.
you were preparing dinner like you normally did. you never made anything super fancy, but tonight you decided to make something nicer than usual.
as you were moving from place to place in the kitchen to tend to everything, you heard a familiar shuffling at the front door.
a shuffling that you heard everyday at around the same time that notified to you that jake, your boyfriend, was home.
you could hear his car keys jingle onto the hook at the front entrance as his footsteps became clearer.
you turned from what you were doing at the moment to look over at him.
he had just gotten off work— his hair slightly fluffed up in contrast to the pristine slickback from this morning, expression reading tired, and his necktie already untightened on his collar.
you could sense him making his way into the kitchen— you felt a pair of arms slither over your waist from behind as he laid his head against your neck.
he didn’t waste a second before pressing a light kiss against your jawline.
“hi baby.” he said as his head turned toward your face to look at you. you could smell the faint scent of cologne lingering on him.
“hi jake.” you return his greeting by pressing a kiss onto the top of his head.
“what are you making?” he asked, curious eyes darting toward the cutting board that you were working at.
“just something new, i found a recipe online and wanted to try it out.” you say, receiving a concerned expression from jake.
it takes a second before you catch onto his response.
“why do you look so worried?” you question his strange face.
“nothing… it’s just, last time you set off all the fire alarms babe.” he jokingly answered.
and to be fair… you did almost burn down the house when you tried to branch out to other dishes besides the usual dishes that you always made.
“come on, that was once jake! trust me i know what i’m doing.” you sulked at his assumption.
a smile formed on jake’s lip as a result of you being so determined to make a perfect meal this time.
“okay, i trust you. but you can prove it later.” he said as his hands met yours, taking the cutting utensil out of your possession and gently pulling you back from the counter.
with his arms still attached to your waist, he guided you from the kitchen to the dim living room.
“what’s going on?” you suspiciously questioned jake’s actions with a smirk on your face, trying to figure him out.
before you could come up with an explanation, a huge bouquet of beautiful blooms appeared in front of jake and his huge smile.
the bouquet was adorned with all different kinds of flowers, ranging a variety of all your favorite colors.
“i got these for you.” a huge grin spaned across jake’s face as he eagerly waited for your reaction like a golden retriever waiting for its owner.
“oh my gosh, jake.” you gasped as he moved the fragrant flowers closer to you.
“these are so so pretty.” you said holding onto the heavy arrangement, admiring all of its beauty.
“do you like them?” he asked as if he was unsure about his flower choices.
“yes jake, i love them so much.” you said holding onto the flowers, brushing the soft petals of the florals, just to make sure that they were really real.
“why did you get me these though?” you ask confused as to why he suddenly got you them.
“was there a special occasion? like a birthday? an anniversary? oh my gosh, don’t tell me i forgot our anniversary-“ you frantically tried to put a reason as to why you were presented with the sweetest gift ever.
“baby, relax. it was just because i wanted to get you something nice. you really deserve it.” he responded, coming closer to wrap you in the warmth of his arms.
you looked up to his meet his eyes— and you swore that you were going to start bawling at the sweet gesture.
“you even got my favorites.” you said referring to the bouquet that was filled with your favorite flowers that you mentioned once a very long time ago.
it wasn’t anything grand, but the fact that he was thinking of you and he remembered your favorite flowers in a passing conversation made your heart feel like it was going to jump out your chest.
“of course i did! how could i not for my girl?” he said proudly.
even though you’ve been jake’s girlfriend for years and even though you knew that he belonged to you and you only, it was as if you still had the biggest crush on him like he was a stranger. you were constantly falling in love with jake over and over again.
“thank you so much jake. i love them so much.”
“even more than me?” he teased you before peppering small kisses across your face.
“yes, even more than you.” you entertained his joke, although you knew deep down you would love jake more than anything forever.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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@kristynaaah @laylasbunbunny
☾ SLEEP TIGHT
Pairing: non-idol!Jake x f!Reader (est. relationship)
Baby, come and lay with me tonight
Genre: slice of life • domestic intimacy • comfort • fluff • soft romance
WC: 2.7k ✦ Requests: OPEN ✦
— from the operator. Listening to Sleep Tight honestly reminded me of a night a few months ago when Jake went live. Because of the time difference (1 hour), it was right as I was going to bed, and when he was wrapping up he said some really sweet, comforting things — especially for anyone it was already night for. I ended up crying for hours after, not even knowing why at first, just realising later that I really needed to hear that. This fic came from that same feeling — that quiet comfort, like someone’s watching over you and telling you it’s okay to rest.
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Night doesn’t scare you the way it used to.
It just feels… heavy.
Not loud. Not sharp. Just weighty, like the world settles into itself once the sun disappears, and everything you’ve been holding in all day finally realises it’s allowed to exist.
You don’t turn on the big light when you get home.
You never do anymore.
The apartment stays dim, lit only by the faint amber glow from the kitchen hood light you forgot to turn off that morning. It casts long shadows across the floor, stretching toward you as you slip your shoes off by the door, careful not to let them thud.
You don’t know why you’re being quiet.
You live alone.
Well. You used to.
Your phone buzzes in your hand before you can overthink it.
[Jake]: Home yet?
You stare at the message for a second longer than necessary.
Your thumb hovers. Drops. Types.
[You]: Just got in.
The reply comes almost immediately.
[Jake]: Good. [Jake]: Don’t move.
You huff a quiet laugh through your nose, shaking your head as you toe your shoes neatly against the wall like you’ve been trained to do it. He says things like that all the time—soft commands disguised as concern. It’s never controlling. Never heavy.
Just… Jake.
You drop your bag onto the chair, shrug out of your coat, and pad barefoot toward the living room. The couch still smells faintly like him—clean laundry and that subtle warmth that clings to skin after someone’s been there long enough to matter.
You sit.
Exhale.
And feel it again.
That ache behind your ribs. The one you’ve been pretending not to notice all day.
You don’t cry. You don’t spiral. You just sit there, hands folded loosely in your lap, staring at the dark TV screen like it might offer answers if you look long enough.
Your phone buzzes again.
[Jake]: I’m outside.
Your head lifts.
Too fast.
Your heart does that stupid little thing it does now—skipping, then stuttering, then settling into something calmer just knowing he’s close.
You don’t respond. You don’t need to.
There’s a soft knock at the door not even thirty seconds later. Not loud. Not tentative either. Just enough to say I’m here without asking permission to exist.
You stand, smoothing your hands down your sweater before you even realize you’re doing it, and open the door.
Jake’s hair is damp, like he rushed. Hoodie zipped only halfway, collar slightly crooked. His eyes soften the moment they find you, like the whole day rearranges itself around that single fact.
“There you are,” he says quietly.
Something in your chest loosens.
“Hi,” you reply, voice smaller than you mean it to be.
He doesn’t comment on it.
He never does.
Jake steps inside, toes his shoes off without looking, and closes the door behind him with care. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t touch you right away. Just stands there for half a second too long, reading you like he always does.
Your shoulders. Your breathing. The way your eyes don’t quite meet his.
“Long day?” he asks.
You shrug. It’s instinctive. Defensive. Automatic.
“M’fine.”
He hums softly, unconvinced, and reaches out—not to pull you in, not to cage you—but to rest two fingers against your wrist, light as a question.
You let him.
His thumb presses once, right over your pulse.
It’s grounding.
“C’mon,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to tell me anything yet.”
Yet.
That word matters.
He guides you toward the couch, sits first so you don’t feel cornered, then opens his arms in that familiar way that never demands—only offers.
You hesitate for half a breath.
Then you go.
You curl into him, cheek against his chest, knees tucked in as he wraps himself around you like it’s second nature. His hand settles at the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, slow and steady.
Your breathing starts to match his before you even notice.
“There,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
Your eyes sting.
You don’t cry.
But your lashes tremble.
Jake notices anyway.
He always does.
He presses a soft kiss to your temple—not rushed, not dramatic—just a quiet promise sealed in warmth.
“You can sleep if you want,” he says. “I’ll stay up.”
You shake your head faintly.
“Don’t have to,” you murmur.
“I want to.”
The conviction in his voice is gentle, unwavering.
You close your eyes.
Outside, the city hums faintly. Somewhere far away, a car passes. The moonlight slips in through the window, pale and soft, brushing over the curve of Jake’s shoulder and catching in his hair.
His hand keeps moving.
Slow. Rhythmic.
Like a lullaby without sound.
You don’t remember when your breathing evens out.
Just that at some point, the tightness behind your ribs loosens enough for air to reach places it hasn’t all day.
Jake notices the change immediately.
He always does.
Your shoulders drop first. The rigid line of them softening beneath his arm. Then your fingers—curled loosely into the fabric of his hoodie—relax, grip easing until your hand lies open against his chest, palm warm and trusting.
He adjusts without waking you.
Just shifts slightly, slow enough that your body doesn’t startle, angling himself so your head rests more comfortably against him. His arm tightens around your waist by a fraction, not to hold you in place—just to remind you he’s there.
The moonlight has crept further into the room now, silvering the edges of everything. It paints soft shadows along your face, catches on your lashes, the faint crease between your brows that never fully disappears, even in sleep.
Jake exhales through his nose.
“You don’t know how tired you look,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.
His thumb brushes once, gently, beneath your eye—careful not to wake you. As if smoothing away something invisible. As if it might help.
He doesn’t move when your body shifts.
You sigh softly, cheek pressing closer into his chest, nose brushing the cotton of his hoodie. He stills completely, breath shallow for a second, like he’s afraid even breathing might pull you away from him.
Then he relaxes again.
You stay.
Minutes pass. Maybe longer. Time gets strange at night—stretching, slowing, folding into itself. Jake doesn’t check the clock. He doesn’t need to.
He listens.
To the steady rhythm of your breathing. To the faint hum of the city outside. To the quiet inside his own chest that only ever seems to exist when you’re like this—safe, close, real.
His fingers resume their slow path through your hair.
Not absentminded. Intentional.
Like he’s memorising you.
When your brow tightens again, just a little, he notices. When your lips part, breath hitching for half a second, he notices that too.
Jake lowers his head, resting his chin lightly against the top of yours.
“You don’t have to be strong here,” he whispers.
Your body reacts before your mind does.
A small sound leaves you—barely more than a breath—but it’s enough. Jake feels it vibrate through his chest. Feels the way your fingers curl again, searching.
He adjusts his grip, one hand sliding up your back, warm and solid, anchoring you in place.
“You don’t,” he repeats softly. “I promise.”
Your lashes flutter.
You don’t fully wake, but you drift closer to the surface, hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Enough to register the warmth. The safety. The fact that you’re not alone.
“Jake…” you murmur, voice fragile with half-dream.
He responds instantly.
“Hey,” he whispers back, lips brushing your hair. “I’m here.”
Your brow furrows again.
“Tired,” you breathe.
“I know,” he says.
The simplicity of the answer almost undoes you.
You shift, trying to get more comfortable, and Jake helps without being asked—guiding you gently so you’re lying more fully against him, your legs tangled with his, your head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder.
His hoodie rides up slightly at your waist. Cool air brushes your skin before his hand follows, warm, steady, resting there like it belongs.
You relax into it.
“You can sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got the night.”
Something in his voice cracks just enough to be real.
You swallow.
“Promise?” you whisper.
Jake doesn’t hesitate.
“Always.”
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie again, tighter this time, as if anchoring that promise to something tangible.
“Okay,” you breathe.
And then—finally—you break.
It’s quiet at first. A tiny hitch in your breathing. Then another. Your shoulders tremble once, involuntarily, like your body’s betraying you before your mind can catch up.
Jake freezes for exactly half a second.
Then he pulls you closer.
It’s instinctive. Protective. He shifts so you’re shielded by his body, one arm firm around your back, the other cradling your head, holding you like you might shatter if he doesn’t.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice low and steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, beautiful.”
Your breath stutters.
“I didn’t mean to—” you start, voice breaking.
“I know,” he says immediately. “You don’t have to mean anything.”
The tears come anyway.
Silent at first. Then messy. They soak into his hoodie, warm and real, and Jake doesn’t flinch—not even when your fingers twist into the fabric like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.
He doesn’t try to stop it.
He lets you cry.
His hand moves slowly up and down your back, grounding, patient. He presses his lips to your hair again, over and over, like punctuation. Like reassurance.
“I know,” he murmurs softly. “I know it’s heavy.”
Your shoulders shake harder now, the restraint finally gone. All the things you didn’t say today—didn’t say all week—spill out through tears instead.
“I don’t know why I’m like this,” you whisper, voice muffled against his chest. “I should be fine. Nothing even happened. I just—”
“Hey,” Jake interrupts gently. He pulls back just enough to look at you, one hand still steady at your back, the other lifting your chin so you can’t hide completely.
His eyes are soft. No judgment. No confusion.
“Being tired isn’t a failure,” he says quietly. “And feeling things doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
Your lashes are wet. Your eyes shine in the dim light, vulnerable and unsure.
“I hate needing help,” you admit.
Jake’s thumb brushes beneath your eye, wiping away a tear with care.
“I don’t,” he says.
You blink.
“I like being someone you can lean on,” he continues. “Not because you can’t stand on your own—but because you don’t have to do it alone.”
Your breath catches.
He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, noses almost touching.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispers. “Just tonight, please.”
You nod.
A tiny movement. Barely there.
But it’s enough.
Jake exhales, something easing in his chest, and pulls you back into him, this time more securely, more certainly. Like he knows you’re not going anywhere.
Your crying slows.
Then stops.
You’re exhausted now. Completely. The kind of tired that settles into your bones, deep and heavy.
Jake feels it when your weight sinks fully into him.
“There you go,” he murmurs. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”
His hand resumes its gentle rhythm. His breathing stays slow, steady, intentionally calm.
Outside, the moon hangs low and bright.
Inside, wrapped in his arms, you finally drift under—safe, held, watched over.
And Jake stays awake.
Just like he promised.
You wake up slowly.
Not all at once—just enough to realise you’re warm.
Too warm to be alone.
Your cheek is pressed against something solid, steady, rising and falling beneath you. The faint, familiar scent of Jake’s laundry detergent and skin wraps around you before your eyes even open, and for a split second, your body tenses on instinct.
Then memory settles in.
The couch. The moonlight. His arms around you.
Jake.
Your fingers twitch first.
They’re still curled into his hoodie, knuckles relaxed now, no longer desperate. Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh solid beneath yours, holding you in place. One of his arms is wrapped securely around your back, the other bent beneath your head, hand resting lightly in your hair like he never moved it.
You blink.
The room is darker now. The moon has shifted, light slicing through the window at a different angle. The city outside has quieted, the hum lower, slower.
Late.
You lift your head just slightly, careful not to wake him.
Jake’s eyes are open.
They soften the moment they meet yours.
“Hey,” he whispers.
You freeze.
“Oh,” you breathe, embarrassed suddenly, like you’ve been caught doing something intimate—which, you suppose, you have. “I—sorry. Did I wake you?”
He shakes his head immediately.
“No. I was already awake.”
Of course he was.
You swallow, easing back down against his chest, your cheek fitting perfectly where it was before, like your body remembers this position better than your mind does.
“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask quietly.
Jake’s chest rises beneath your ear. Falls.
“I didn’t want to,” he admits.
Your brow furrows faintly.
“Why?”
His hand moves in your hair again, slow, almost hesitant this time. Like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“Because you finally looked peaceful,” he says. “Didn’t want to miss it.”
Something warm twists in your chest.
You shift slightly, turning your face toward him so you can see him properly. His features are soft in the dim light—eyes a little tired, lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. He looks… real. Not the easy smile he wears so effortlessly during the day. Not the joking warmth.
Just Jake.
“Have you been up the whole time?” you ask.
He nods once.
“You don’t have to do that,” you say automatically, guilt creeping in. “I didn’t mean to keep you—”
Jake’s thumb presses gently against your jaw, stopping you mid-spiral.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t do that.”
Your lips part.
“Do what?”
“Turn this into something you feel bad about,” he says quietly. “I stayed because I wanted to.”
You search his face, looking for hesitation. Obligation. Anything that might tell you he’s saying this just to be kind.
You find none.
“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask softly. “Always… being there for people?”
Jake exhales.
“Sometimes,” he admits. “But not like this.”
You tense slightly, unsure where he’s going.
“Not with you,” he clarifies. “With you, it feels… right.”
The word lands gently but firmly.
Right.
You swallow again.
“Jake…”
He lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.
“Truth is,” he says, voice low, “sometimes I’m scared I won’t be enough. That I’ll say the wrong thing. That I won’t know how to help when it really matters.”
Your hand lifts on its own, resting against his chest, right over his heart.
“You already help,” you whisper. “Just by being here.”
His breath catches.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
You nod.
“I don’t feel alone when you’re with me,” you say. “Even when I don’t know how to explain what’s wrong.”
Jake leans in slowly, forehead pressing to yours, noses brushing.
“That’s all I ever want to be,” he whispers. “Someone you can breathe around.”
The quiet between you stretches—not awkward, not heavy. Just full.
You shift closer, legs tangling more securely with his, your body fitting into his like it was designed for this exact moment.
Jake adjusts instinctively, pulling you closer, one arm tightening around you as if to shield you from the rest of the world.
“Try to sleep again,” he murmurs. “I’ll stay.”
You hesitate.
“What if I wake up again?”
“I’ll still be here.”
“And if you fall asleep?”
He smiles softly, finally.
“Then we fall asleep together.”
That thought settles something deep inside you.
You nod, eyes already growing heavy again, exhaustion reclaiming its space.
Jake presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another, softer, lingering.
“Sleep tight,” he whispers.
Your breathing slows.
This time, when you drift under, it’s deeper. Heavier. Safer.
Jake stays awake a little longer, watching the way your face smooths in sleep, the way your hand remains curled into his hoodie like a promise you don’t know you’re making.
Eventually, even he can’t fight it.
His eyes close.
And for the first time in a long while, he lets himself rest too—holding you as the night finally saves you both.
© taetebebe 2026
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