Thaw-rough the Night ft Jiyeon
word count: 10K words
Tags: Fluff, Smut
Trigger warning: smoking
Jiyeon x Male Reader
Jiyeon watches as the thick, heavy snowfall coats the roads and cars in a pure white. Beyond that, she can’t see much else. The snow is like a fog, limiting her vision to only a few feet ahead of her. The window she watches out of fog at the edges, creeping inwards. One arm wraps itself across her chest holding the other arm. Her hand holds a phone against her ear.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it back. We’re practically snowed in.”
“You’re better off there. Don’t try and make it back to the apartment,” she whispers half-heartedly.
“Is he there?”
As if on cue, the metallic clink of a lighter’s lid being pushed open followed by the clack when it’s swung shut, breaks the small, quiet bubble she found herself in. She hears it again. And again. And her hand grips the sleeve of her grey hoodie tightly. She turns.
You’re already looking at her.
The lighter in your hand opens. Clicks shut. Eyes still on her.
Her jaw sets before turning back to the window.
“Y—yeah…”
“Oh God. I’m so sorry. But can you do me one more favour?”
Jiyeon hums, already knowing what she was going to ask.
“Can you… tidy my room? Make sure he doesn’t find any of it?”
She exhales loudly. Enough for her roommate to hear through the phone. “Sure.”
“Oh. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can you give him the phone? I want to apologise.”
Jiyeon turns from the window, takes two steps until she’s right in front of you, sitting on the arm of the couch. She shoves the phone into your hand before settling into the couch, legs tucked beneath her.
You don’t thank her. Don’t even acknowledge her.
She watches you walk away.
You push the phone against your ear, standing and pacing around the small living room. Her eyes stay on the television, at the flashing, yellow warning sign and how the weather is only going to get worse from here. The time at the bottom reads 8:05PM. She can’t hear what’s being said, the volume too low but she can hear snippets of the conversation between you and her roommate.
“Yeah, no worries. I bought the specific condoms you wanted. Even the lube. Guess we’ll have to use it next time.”
Her eyes close for a second, exhaling loudly through her nose. When she opens her eyes again, she finds you in front of the TV, walking back and forth, blocking the view. She looks up at you, sees the small smirk on your face, and for a moment, her eyes stay on your lips before she catches herself. When she averts her eyes back to the TV, she digs her nails into her palm.
“Fuck… that’s hot. Alright, I’ll see you next week.” You hang up the phone, walking around the coffee table before dropping the phone on the seat beside her. She feels you staring, and she’s doing her best not to give you the satisfaction of her attention.
“Hey,” she turns to look up at you, face expressionless. “Wanna fuck?”
Jiyeon stares at you for a beat. And scoffs, turning back to the TV. She hears you sigh, hears you dig your hands into your pockets for your car keys.
“Worth a shot.”
As you move towards the door, she grabs the remote from the coffee table, turning up the volume.
“…with the snow falling at a record rate, authorities have officially closed all roads. To anyone watching, you are urged to stay where you are. No emergency—”
Jiyeon turns up the volume further.
-
The window becomes yours by default. You sit on the window sill, back pressed against the cold glass, eyes watching the scrolling text underneath the newscaster and the time slowly changing from 9:00PM to 9:01PM. You turn your head to look out the window. White is all you see.
You turn until you’re parallel with the window, your knee resting on the sill in front of you, cracking it open. With the cigarette securely placed in your mouth, you light it without fuss, inhaling before blowing smoke out the window, the cigarette pulled from your mouth and in between your fingers.
You hear a pair of shuffling feet along the floor, and as you turn towards the noise, you watch as she escapes into the hallway, hear her bedroom door shut. You close your eyes, tilting your head up as you rub the back of your neck. Of course you’re stuck here in the apartment. Of course you’re stuck with the roommate rather than the person you’re here for. You flick the embers out the window, sighing before returning the cigarette to your mouth.
Her fingers fly on the keyboard, words spewing out on the word document in front of her. The novel is coming along nicely. The characters are fully fleshed out, the story arc is complete and her lips move as she types, mouthing words she hasn’t written yet. She pushes her glasses further up her nose, and as she moves her hands to adjust the headphones settled on top of her hoodie, the sleeves slide down her forearm.
And that’s when she feels it.
The biting cold seeping through. The goosebumps forming on her arms. She involuntarily shivers, reaching beside her to grab the blanket by the foot of her bed. She wraps it around herself but it’s no use, the shivers intensify, and every inhale feels sharp, like icicles forming in her lungs.
Jiyeon pulls the sleeves over her hands before taking off her headphones, the music still playing as she places it on the monitor. She looks down at the bottom corner—9:30PM—and wonders where the time went. A sudden, whistling sound that can only come from an open window and heavy winds fills the room.
You look up as soon as the door to her bedroom swings open, wobbling as it hits the doorstop. She crosses the room without slowing down, her steps even and measured. The cigarette is gone from your mouth before you can react, sailing out the window. She pushes the window shut with both hands before turning to face you.
You’re staring at her. And she’s staring right back.
She starts saying something but you don’t listen. You’re looking at the way the grey hoodie with the chipped graphic swallows her whole, sleeves past her hands, the hem bunched around her waist. You’ve never seen her in anything besides baggy clothes, as if she’s hiding herself from everyone, her roommate included.
You wonder briefly if she’s aware she’s doing it.
Your hand finds the cigarette packet beside you, pulling one out before bringing it to your lips. She takes it before you can reach for your lighter. This time you let her.
You look back up and she’s still talking, still berating you, probably saying things you’ve heard a thousand times before. Her cheeks have turned pink, from exasperation or from the cold, you can’t be sure. You look at her furrowed brows then to her eyes and find something you weren’t expecting. You don’t look away.
“She’ll get tired of you eventually. And you’ll just find another apartment to crawl into.”
You tense.
Your eyes stay on hers, and you bite the inside of your cheek. You inhale and exhale deeply, watching her as she finally looks away, pulling the sleeve further down her arm as she stares at her feet, barely poking out of her sweatpants.
You stand, and the way she looks up at you defiantly, ready for an argument gives you pause. She sees something in your eyes. Gone before she could name it. You walk away from the window, your shoulder catching hers as you pass her.
Not enough to hurt. Just enough.
-
You fall onto the mattress unceremoniously, your phone high in the air in your outstretched hand. You look at the time. 10:15PM. At the corner of the screen, you watch the battery go red, watch it fall to 20% and asking if you want to go to low power mode before letting it slip through your fingers onto the bed.
You flip over and stare at the neatly made bed that wouldn’t be so neat if the reason you came here actually happened. The crisp bed sheet would be torn from the corners of the mattress, wrinkling underneath her writhing body. The pillows, stacked against the headboard, would be everywhere; under her body as you enter from behind or used to muffle her pleasure from her roommate. You sigh as you fall onto your knees by the bed, your hand gliding over the pristine duvet that would need to be cleaned if she were here.
What could’ve been?
You grab your phone, shuffling on your knees over to the bedside table where the charger is. You plug it in, wait for the charging sound before standing and taking a look at her bedroom. At the body length mirror you pinned her against that one time, at the desk filled with books and papers that you may have ruined two months ago. The bedroom is both familiar and unfamiliar to you at the same time. Every inch of the room has a memory associated with sex.
Not that you’re angry about it.
When you make it to the dresser, hand sliding and appraising all the jewellery laid on top, and pulling the drawers to see the sets of lingerie she’s worn for you and the toys you’ve used on her, you see something glimmer just behind it. You reach and try to pull it out. It’s too heavy. Instead, you slide it out, leaning it against the drawer before flipping it over.
A heavy, glass frame with a photo of her. A radiant smile on her face, hands clutching at a bouquet of flowers, and a veil, settled on top of her head. And next to her? A man with a smile rivalling hers. Your eyes fall to the bottom, to a date that could only be for their upcoming wedding.
You’re still looking at it when Jiyeon passes the doorway. One look inside and she’s frozen in place, her feet squeaking against the laminated floors. Your eyes find hers and whatever she sees in your eyes makes her take a step back.
“Did you know?”
“I—I don’t—” she starts.
“How long, Jiyeon.”
She looks down at the floor. At her feet, covered by the sweatpants.
By the time she looks up again, you’re already crossing the threshold to the hallway. She takes another step back. And another. Until her back hits the opposite wall. Her chin rises as you stop a couple of steps away but her chest continues to heave.
“It’s none of your business.”
“How is it none of my business?” You’re louder now, enough for her eyes to grow wide and for her hands to clench over the sleeves.
“She’s been with him for years. They were practically already—”
A bitter, resentful laugh escapes you.
“And you didn’t tell me? You’ve seen me here, seen what she’s been doing. You knew she was engaged and you let me sleep in that bed!”
You see a flash of anger in her eyes, her cheeks turning red.
“Why does it matter to you? I don’t owe you anything.”
She flinches when your hand rests against the wall beside her head.
“No,” you step closer. “You don’t.”
She has nowhere else but to look at your face. The anger she saw on your face is gone, replaced by something she can’t name. All she knows is that it’s worse.
“She would’ve told you eventually—”
“Would she.”
“You don’t know her like I—”
“It doesn’t matter.” The words are flat. Final. She curls into herself as if she’s taken a physical blow. “Hiding a photo behind her drawers? Tells me exactly what you both think I’m worth.”
“That’s not—” She stops, the words caught in her throat before trying again. “You knew what this was. She didn’t make you any promises that it could—”
“Yeah… I knew what this was.” You take another step closer, surrounding her, trapping her against the wall with nowhere to go. “What I didn’t know was that I was the only one honest about it.”
Her mouth opens to refute.
“You want to know what else?” You’re whispering now, the smell of smoke hitting her before your words do. “You watched her lie to someone’s face every time she walked out that door. You knew and you said nothing. Covered for it.” You pause before scoffing in her face. “And you look at me as if I’m the problem.”
The colour drains from her face.
You push off the wall, walking towards the kitchen. You don’t look back.
-
Jiyeon’s finger bounces on the space bar, her head resting on her arm perched on the desk as she watches the cursor jump forward. She can’t concentrate. Any plan to continue the novel gone after the confrontation with you, her mind reeling at what you said and the way you said it. Like you were resigned.
Your face flashes in her mind. No anger. Just flat. No emotion.
She shakes her head, hitting her head a couple of times with the palm of her hand. It won’t do her any good to dwell on it. She’s not a bad person. You were just angry and people say all sorts of things when they’re angry. She knows this, has written characters that uses the first person they see to vent out their anger. It’s normal. And not telling you? She was protecting her roommate, her friend, who matters more. You don’t hand someone’s secrets to the person they’ve been keeping it from. That’s loyalty. Friendship. And the fact that you couldn’t see the difference says more about you than it does about her.
So why did it bother her?
Her eyes return to the blinking cursor and the clock on her screen that reads 11:00PM before straightening up in her desk chair. This is it. The scene that’s been missing in her novel. The emotional core that she’s been trying to find for an hour—a character who mistakes loyalty for complicity and has to live with that.
Her fingers find the keyboard, and she begins to type.
The power cuts at 11:33PM.
“N—no. No, no, no…”
She didn’t save it. All three pages. Gone.
Her hand slams on the keyboard before furiously pushing the power button on her computer. It’s not working. She stands abruptly, the desk chair pushed back, hitting the bed frame behind her. She walks to the light switch by the door, flicking it up and down, up and down as if doing it enough times would solve the problem. A frustrated sigh escapes her as she stumbles back to the desk to grab her phone before making her way out into the hallway, flashlight on.
The breaker box is down the hallway, just past the bathroom, in a storage room she rarely uses. You’re already there when she walks up to the open door, your phone casting a pale light on the open panel.
“It’s no use.” You didn’t turn around. “The whole building’s out.”
You take a step back, wiping your hands on your jeans before leaving the small room. She closes her eyes as you approach, preparing for a nudge on her shoulder. It didn’t come. You just walk past her, angling yourself in a way to avoid any contact in the small hallway. She hears the door to the kitchen swing open just as she enters the storage room herself.
She lifts her phone torch high, scanning the switches. She doesn’t trust you to know what you’re doing. When she finds the main switch, she flips it. Nothing. She flips it again, then tries the others. Still nothing.
“Dammit.”
She turns her head back down the hallway, to the kitchen door you just entered through. She clicks her fingers with her free hand, remembering the candles she bought months ago. They’re in the kitchen, in a cupboard just above the stove. She bought a lot, enough to temporarily light up the apartment until the power comes back.
Jiyeon makes her way to the kitchen, pushing the door open, ignoring you as she walks past the kitchen table where you’re at. She pulls open the cupboard, letting it swing and hit the cupboard doors beside it.
“Fuck.”
They’re on the top shelf. She reaches for it, fingers barely grazing the bottom of the jar holding the candle inside. She tries again, this time on her tiptoes. She still can’t reach it, pushing it further back instead.
She sighs loudly, enough for you to stop looking at your phone and start looking at her. You watch as she tries again and again, the movement straining the fabric of her oversized hoodie, pulling it upwards, higher and higher with each attempt.
Your eyes fall.
The hem rises, exposing the smooth, pale expanse of her lower back, bathed in the soft, white light entering through the windows. Two shallow dimples rest just above her hips that flare out into a soft curve, made softer with the moonlight. She stretches further again, the waistband of her sweatpants dipping slightly, offering a fleeting look of her black panties, contrasting heavily against her skin.
You stand, taking small, measured steps until you’re right behind her, blocking the light. Your hand reaches for the same candle, fingers brushing carefully against hers before closing around the jar without effort.
She spins around, back pressing against the counter, and she can’t see anything but you. One more step and you’re practically touching. You push the jar into her hands, your other coming down onto the counter behind her, bringing your face that much closer to hers.
Her breathing becomes uneven, and her eyes trying to look into yours but there’s no light. She can’t see your face, can’t see what you’re thinking. She tries pushing against your chest but you don’t budge.
Your hand leaves the candle, digging into your pocket before pulling it out. She hears the familiar sound of your lighter being flicked open before a flame appears.
She sees you now. The flame lights up your face in a way that soften your sharp features. Your eyes are hooded and tired. Not angry. Your face is relaxed, not strained under heavy emotions.
She releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, feels herself relaxing under your quiet gaze. Whatever she was bracing against isn’t here.
Your eyes make contact, never leaving each other even as you bring your lighter closer to her, holding it against the candle wick. It catches slowly. You close your lighter with a heavy clink, the sound echoing in the small space between you before you swap it with the candle in her hands. You place it gently on the counter behind her and the light it gives out makes the kitchen smaller and warmer and nothing like it did an hour ago.
You reach up for another candle.
“You wear a lot of baggy clothes.”
She blinks up at you. Of all the things you could’ve said, that was the last thing she thought of.
“They’re comfortable.”
“Mhm.” You light the second candle, putting it next to the first before reaching for another. “You don’t have anything else?”
She thought she’d be offended by that.
“You’ve only seen me here.”
“I know.” You reach for another. “But you’ve seen me somewhere else huh?”
Jiyeon watches as the fourth candle is lit, illuminating your face. There’s still no malice, just a look that tells her she doesn’t have to answer if she doesn’t want to.
“University.”
Your hand, raised and inside the cupboard, stills. You let go of the candle, and hold the bottom of the shelf instead. She looks up, at your set jaw, and your tensed forearm. She waits. Until the jar in her hand becomes too hot to hold.
“You knew me then? Or did you know of me?”
She doesn’t answer, looking down at her hands, placing the candle onto the counter before returning to fiddle with the hem of her hoodie.
You’ve seen enough of her to know when to change the subject.
“This isn’t your hoodie.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s…” her words peter out. All of a sudden, her roommate’s name is taboo. “No, they’re—”
“It’s mine.”
She looks up.
You’re already stepping away, grabbing the lit candles and strategically placing them around the kitchen—on the dining table, by the refrigerator, the stove.
She still hasn’t moved. And when you return to her, your shoulder pressed against hers as you reach for the remaining candles, you look down at her, commenting on something, like an afterthought.
“They look better on you.”
-
Jiyeon softly pads closer to the living room, stopping just at its entrance in the hallway, clutching at three thick duvets. She peeks round the corner, and sees you huddled by the foot of the couch, the thin, decorative throw embracing your shoulders as you play some mindless game that doesn’t require access to the internet. You look small like this, shivering despite pulling the throw tightly around yourself, your breath visible against the warm, orange candlelight flickering on the coffee table.
Her shoulders drop.
She takes the first step into the living room, muffled by the two layers of socks. As she moves closer, her eyes find the wall clock just above the TV. 12:15AM. Only when she stands just off the rug do you look up. You can’t see her well, her entire body blocked by the mountain of duvets she’s holding.
“I—I brought these,” she stutters, the words catching in her throat. She closes her eyes, mentally cursing herself as she takes a deep breath. Her hands lower until she can see you properly. “You’re going to freeze if you only have that.” She points with her eyes at the sorry excuse for warmth around your shoulders.
You just look at her. Your eyes are soft, not narrowed in scepticism. There’s no smirk on your lips, just a thin line like you’re not sure how to react to what’s happening. Jiyeon. Offering you duvets. To keep you warm. Your eyes fall to her hands, the fabric slipping from her grasp before you quickly move, gathering them in your arms.
“Thanks.”
Your fingers brush against each other. It was small, over before you could register her cold skin against yours, but it made her breath hitch. Made her drop the rest into your arms and pull her sleeves over her hands and into the pockets.
Your hands tighten their hold on the heavy duvets.
She doesn’t move. Just stands there looking at anything but you while you sit there, covered by the thick duvets like they’ve been dumped on you.
After a minute, she breaks the silence.
“Alright. I—I’ll just head—”
“Are you hungry?”
She finally meets your eyes again.
“W—what?”
You don’t repeat yourself, waiting for her brain to catch up.
“There’s n—nothing to really eat—”
“There’s ramyeon. And you have a portable stove. I’ll cook it here and you can warm up by the fire.”
You watch as her eyes swim with thoughts and potential excuses before she slowly nods. You lift the duvets onto the couch before making your way to the kitchen, grabbing the portable stove from a bottom kitchen cabinet and the remaining ramyeon packets. When you return, she’s already made herself comfortable, laying a duvet beneath her while wrapping another around herself. Her legs are hugged tightly against her chest, chin resting on her knees as she watches the flickering candlelight.
Her eyes find you when you gently place the stove down on the coffee table, her head tilting until it’s her cheek resting against her knees. She doesn’t say anything, just watches as you turn it on, pour water into the small, brass pot, and wait for the water to boil.
You sit down on the cold floor opposite her, eyes focused on the stove before chancing a look. Her face is softened by the warm light, cheek squished against her knees, and her eyes, dark and deep and reflecting the candlelight, the fire dancing in her eyes. Her hair falls across her forehead and you suddenly have the urge to push it away.
You don’t know where that came from.
“Why are you over there?”
You blink. She’s looking at you now.
“Uh—”
“I didn’t bring them here for you to sit over there. Come here.” She pats the space beside her. Any excuse you had dies the moment she grabs the last duvet, unfurling it for you.
You look at it for a second. Then you move, to her side of the table, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. She throws the duvet and you catch the end of it, pulling it across your shoulders.
“Thanks.”
She gives you a smile. Not a sarcastic one or a pitiful one that you see daily. It’s small and soft.
You both turn away, both watching, waiting for the water to boil.
“You should be eating healthier than this.”
Your hands tear open the ramyeon packets, dropping them into the boiling water.
“It’s easy.”
“It’s bad for you.” You pour the soup packets into the hot water. “Every time I’m here, you’re eating ramyeon. What, are you allergic to proper food or something?”
She picks at the loose thread on her sleeves. “I’d rather be doing anything else than cook. You take all that time to make something, eat for ten minutes then clean up right after? Not worth it.”
You snort, a ghost of a smile on your face. She sees it, under the soft, orange candlelight, the small flash of teeth that’s gone too quickly.
You don’t say anything after that. Neither does she, content with watching you, the focus in your eyes as you stir the ramyeon, checking if it’s cooked, the way you pucker your lips as you taste the broth, the quiet, satisfied sigh you let out when it’s perfect. The way your forearm tenses when you hold the bowl from underneath as you scoop ramyeon into it.
“I hate the smell of smoke.”
You freeze, ladle halfway to the bowl, the noodles spilling back into the pot. You turn in her direction. Her eyes are wide, like she’s surprised she said that. Random and unprovoked. Despite the limited light in the living room, you can still make out the specks of a blush adorning her cheekbones, even as she pulls her duvet tighter around herself, covering her face.
You turn away, back to the pot, scooping the ramyeon back into the bowl. “Okay.”
You place the bowl in front of her on the coffee table before digging into the rest in the pot in silence.
Your back finds the couch when you finish, hand over your stomach as you settle deeper into the duvets. She’s finished too, gently placing her chopsticks across the bowl before leaning back like you. Your head lolls to the side, resting on the cushion, looking at her.
“I hear you’re writing a book.” You smirk when her head suddenly turns to you. “Can I read it?”
“Wh—where did you hear that from?”
“Your roommate.” You inch closer to her. “Well, can I?”
She shakes her head frantically, hand waving you away.
“N—no.”
“Why not?”
“Because…”
You lean in closer. She looks at anything other than you. “Because what?”
She grabs a cushion from the couch and throws it at you, hitting you square on the face.
You just start laughing, unrestrained and joyful, filling the room and she realises she’s never heard it before.
“Because I said so!” She’s laughing too, pulling another cushion from the couch, resting it on her knees.
“Is it about me?” Your smile grows wider, eyes crinkling at the corner as her eyes grow wide.
“N—no.”
“No?”
“No.”
You let out a soft sigh, leaning on your hands behind you.
“That’s a shame.”
She stares at you. Relaxed. Carefree. Something she didn’t see even when you were with the roommate. But with her, your guard is let down and you’re making jokes that aren’t sexual or self-deprecating. She can’t help the smile creeping on her face, wide and bright, and the warmth she feels in her chest.
When she finishes cleaning up the coffee table, and putting away the portable stove, she heads for the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, the sound of rough scrubbing coming through. She looks through to the mirror and sees you, meticulously cleaning your teeth and scraping your tongue vigorously. Her eyes travel to the waste basket on the floor by the sink.
The only thing inside was your packet of cigarettes.
-
The music plays softly from her phone, drifting towards every nook and cranny of the living room. Jiyeon lays there, on the couch, swaddled in her blanket, passing the time by wiggling her toes and drumming on the back of her phone with her dainty fingers.
It’s comfortable now. Between the two of you. No innuendos from you or sharp comments from her. And no talk of the roommate. It became sort of taboo after the reveal, neither of you had to say it. She’s surprised she wasn’t on the receiving end of your anger, even more surprised that you looked accepting about what happened, as if you expected this to happen right from the start.
A sharp bang echoes through the apartment. Jiyeon sits up straight, eyes pointed towards the hallway, where the sound came from. She waited a few seconds to see if you’d respond or apologise for the noise but nothing. She looks at her phone—1:45AM—and slowly peels the duvet off before pausing the music and padding towards the bathroom.
Jiyeon pushes open the door and finds you there, slouched against the bathtub, arms dangling on your knees as your head falls between them. She stares at the scene, at the long shadow cast against the tiles from the single candle on top of the toilet tank. It makes you look smaller than you really are.
She takes a step forward, accidently kicking the waste basket that’s already on its side. Weird. When she looks back at you, your head is still looking down. It’s not possible you didn’t hear the waste basket sliding around on the floor. Her eyes squint, trying to get a better look at you.
Your hands. Shaking violently. The packet of cigarettes that were in the waste basket is tightly held in one hand, crumpled and squeezed so much, she doubts you’d be able to smoke them anymore. She sees the tremors moving, from your hands all the way to your shoulders, and immediately, she makes her way to you, crouching with one hand on your knee. Her other clasps over yours, pushing the packet of cigarettes to your chest.
You look up at her. Hair stuck to your forehead. Her hand reaches out, wiping them away.
“You’re trembling. Smoke. It’s okay.”
Her eyes are soft on you, face closer to yours than it has ever been before. You could stop the trembling, stop the concern in her face from evolving to worry.
But you don’t. Can’t.
You shake your head vehemently, a wry smile forming on your face as you huff out a laugh. “I’ve always wanted to quit. It’s not healthy for me.”
It’s a lie. Or at least a half truth. You both know it. She doesn’t call you out on it, just wraps both her hands around yours tightly, sitting on her legs in front of you. Your eyes fall to your joined hands. Hers are small, barely encompassing yours, the nail polish chipped at the edges yet you feel warm and secure and safe like this.
You feel her shift until she’s sitting, legs crossed over each other, eyes on your hands.
“I used to do ballet. From when I was five.” Her thumb starts brushing the back of your hand. “I was really good too. Enough to do it as a career.” She swallows thickly. “Then I landed wrong and ruptured my Achilles. Needed surgery. Eighteen months of recovery.” She lets go of your hand, wipes at the corner of her eye with her sleeve. “I was never the same after that.” She finally looks up at you, her eyes wide and teary.
At some point, your hands stopped trembling, loosened enough for the cigarette packet to fall onto the cold tiles with a soft thud. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, turning your hands to hold onto her instead, squeezing her fingers tight.
You pull on her hands gently until she’s sat beside you, back pressed against the bathtub like you. Her head falls onto your shoulder, catching a whiff of her scent, her detergent from her hood. You don’t move, don’t push her away. Instead, you lower your shoulder, let her get comfortable.
You let your head fall back against the edge of the bathtub. “My parents left. Not at the same time. Gradually.” You stare at the lighting fixture above you. “Teachers after that. People I thought would stay.” A pause. “After a while you want to get ahead of it. Leave before they do.” You glance at her sideways. “Hurts less.”
“Does it?” she asks quietly.
You lean your head on hers.
“No. Just shifting it.”
-
At some point, the pair of you both leave the cold, tiled floor of the bathroom, replacing it with the kitchen, with chairs and cushions and warmth from the portable stove, taken out of its cupboard yet again.
You look down at your phone for the time—2:35AM—before returning your gaze to watch as the fire burns low, the duvet wrapped tightly around your frame as you sit there, waiting patiently. Your eyes travel up to Jiyeon, biting her bottom lip, face illuminated with her phone in one hand, stirring the chocolate into the milk with the other. She had the bright idea of making hot chocolate from scratch and when you offered to do it yourself, she sat you down, ordered you not to move and let her do all the work.
“So… you just happen to have a recipe for hot chocolate saved on your phone?”
She hums, eyes darting between the phone and the pot. “Yep. One of my characters in the novel has to make hot chocolate on a cold, rainy night.”
“Like what you’re doing now?”
She pauses, and you can see a small blush on her cheeks.
“This is different.”
“How so?”
The blush spreads down her neck. She finally looks up at you, sees the small smirk on your face and she can’t help but shake her head, a smile creeping on her face, matching yours.
“Shut up and grab the marshmallows and mugs.”
You obey without another word, dropping the duvet onto your chair before walking over and grabbing the items she requested. She takes them without glancing back at you, already ladling some into your mug, sprinkling the marshmallows in and sliding it towards you as you settle back down.
You take it with both hands, lifting the mug up to your lips before pausing at the last moment. Your eyes find hers staring back at you, waiting for the first sip. You take one, immediately wincing, the mug placed back onto the table with a heavy thud.
“Wh—what’s wrong? I knew the recipe was weird.” She’s looking at the recipe again, analysing every line, every step.
“Nothing’s wrong. It was just too hot. Burnt my tongue.” You fan your mouth, appeasing her worry.
“Oh.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, watch how she averts her eyes and tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear all while under the soft glow of the flickering candlelight on the table.
Both of you stay silent, neither of you looking at each other, eyes on your respective mugs. It’s strange. You’ve never been a big fan of long silences yet silences with her sit differently. Like her presence is enough to let you know everything is going to be okay.
You look up and your chest aches at the sight of her.
“I’m sorry.”
You’re brought out of your musing, blinking a couple of times. She’s still not looking at you, eyes trained on her mug. You don’t say anything, waiting for her to continue.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her. About how she was using—”
“Hey.”
She looks up at you, your eyes set and your mouth pressed into a thin line.
“You have nothing to apologise for. You weren’t the one cheating.”
She shakes her head. “I was complicit.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I knew what she had done, she even confided in me about it. And I could’ve told you. There were so many times I could’ve warned you, told you the truth.” Her eyes fall back down to her mug. “But I didn’t.”
You don’t say anything, letting the silence stretch until it becomes unbearable for Jiyeon. She looks up, catching the candlelight dance in your eyes.
“I don’t think I made it any easier for you. Acting the way I did in the apartment.” Your hands grip the mug tightly. “I just confirmed the university rumours about me.” You chuckle, a wry smile on your face.
A beat later.
“What are you going to do now?”
“What I have to: break things off.”
A few moments later and your eyes meet hers again.
“Besides, there’s someone else I’m interested in.”
Her hands still around the mug.
-
You look out the window as you follow Jiyeon back into the living room. The heavy snowfall is gone, replaced by a gently flurry. The howling winds are also gone, no longer rattling the windows, threatening to displace the little heat left in the apartment. You look down at the road, still white as far as you can see. You look back up at the clock. 3:10AM.
You turn back to the room, back to Jiyeon, organising the duvets again. She drapes one across the couch before settling down on it sideways, knees pressed against her chest. You stare at her, at the way the flickering candlelight dances and reflects along her cheeks, how they catch in her eyes, making them even more beautiful.
Your hands tighten around the mugs you’re holding as you walk towards her, handing her the mug. Her fingers graze yours, lingers longer than necessary. She looks at the contact like she’s surprised but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t apologise, just exhales loud enough to hear through the ringing in your ears. She gets a firm grip on the mug, pulling it out of your hands before you could drop it.
You join her on the couch, closer to her than either of you expected, much closer than you were hours ago. Neither of you says anything though, comfortable sharing the blankets and feeling her warmth beside you. The conversations start slowing. Then stops. She spins the mug in her hands while you watch the candle slowly disappear.
You don’t notice how she stares at you over the top of her mug, at the curve of your nose or the way you smack your lips together as you take another sip of hot chocolate. When you turn to face her, Jiyeon takes a quick sip, leaving foam on her lip. She watches your eyes fall from hers, one hand leaving the mug and coming towards her, inching closer and closer. She hiccups, the sound high pitched and squeaky. Her face turns bright red as you drag your hand away from her, finger pointing at your own lip instead. Jiyeon pulls on her sleeve, wiping around her mouth, slightly flustered.
“What happens after? After they make hot chocolate?”
She freezes, hand still over her mouth as she looks at you with a confused expression.
The corner of your lips slightly lift. “Your book.”
Her eyes widen.
“Oh. Uh… after they make the hot chocolate… they talk.”
She turns her head away, eyes scrunching and lips curling inwards in embarrassment.
Your smile grows wider. “Like what we’re doing right now?”
Jiyeon turns her head quickly, hair falling, covering her face.
“I—I haven’t got to that part yet. It’s all just an outline currently.”
Through her hair she sees you, closer than you were a moment ago, hand closer still. Her eyes meet yours and any doubt she thought she could see disappears, your hand pushing forward until it’s tucking the loose strands behind her ears and resting on her cheek. She stills at the contact, eyes still fixed on yours, waiting for you to move away, to remove your hand. When you don’t, and your thumb begins to brush against her cheekbones, she slowly closes her eyes, tilting her face just slightly into your palm, releasing a shaky breath.
You don’t move.
“Your hand’s cold.”
“Sorry,” you whisper.
She gently shakes her head. “It’s okay.”
You don’t know how long you stay like this, how long you’ve been breathing this heavily, chest heaving. But it’s long enough for the candlelight to finally die out, plunging the living room back into darkness. You let go of her cheek. She lets out an imperceptible whine. You slide off the couch, falling onto your knees as your hands sweep over the tabletop, searching for the unused candle you left here hours prior. When you find it, one hand clasps around it while the other digs into your pocket, fishing out the lighter before lighting the candle.
You turn back around to see her standing, your breath hitching. Her hands are interlocked, high above her head as she starts stretching. Your eyes drift lower as her hoodie rides up, to the bottom of her ribs softly peeking out, to her toned, firm stomach that you wonder why she keeps hidden. You look even lower, memorising the swell of her waist, and the way her sweatpants barely clings on.
At some point her eyes open and finds you staring at her. A flush begins to form, spreading all the way down her neck, darkening as she sees the way your grip tightens around your lighter. She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to cover herself. Just watches you stare at her, continuing her stretch a beat longer than necessary.
She finally pulls her hoodie back down and you look back into her eyes. You’ve been caught staring and yet, you don’t think you owe her an apology. That she doesn’t want an apology.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
You can only nod dumbly as you watch her walk away, hips swaying.
You don’t remember deciding to move but you’re there in the hallway when she comes out, breathing heavily, eyes locked onto hers before deliberately moving lower. You take two steps and you’re in her space. Her hand lifts, planting itself onto your chest, right where your heart is and she can feel it, the rapid beating against your ribs. You both look down at the contact, at the way her fingers spread across.
One hand finds her wrist, holding it tight as the other cups her jaw. You push forward, slamming her against the frame of the door as you capture her lips. It’s messy and wanting and desperate and she’s matching you in fervour. The hand on your chest slides up to the back of your neck, the other joining. Your hands slide down her waist, over her ass before gripping the back of her thighs, lifting her off the ground.
She moans into the kiss as you push her further into the door frame, her legs wrapped tightly around your waist. You turn, pushing the door to her bedroom open.
-
You cross the threshold with Jiyeon still wrapped around you, your lips never leaving hers, your grip on her thighs tight enough for her to mewl into your mouth. You move forward tentatively, careful not to trip over anything and drop her. Eventually, your leg smacks against the frame of her bed, both of you falling onto it, your body hovering over hers, hands on either side of her head.
She gasps as soon as her back hits the mattress, mouth separating from yours briefly before you surge forward again with fervour. Her hands travel from the back of your neck, up into your hair, tugging at the strands. You grunt at the pain and as you open your mouth to say something, her tongue pushes in, stunning you with her boldness.
You were not ready for that.
You grin, matching her intensity and the little noises she makes only get you harder.
Eventually, the pair of you separate, foreheads touching, your breathing mixing in the small space between. She’s looking at your face, at the way you’re looking at her in the candlelight and it’s not what she expected, not from the image she had from eight hours ago, slowly dismantled over the course of the night.
And when you look at her, biting at her bottom lip, eyes looking anywhere else but at you. Her lips are parted and bruised, her ears tinged red. You were about to say something before she beat you to it.
“I… I want to see it.”
She’s locking her eyes with yours now. There’s a fire there, a determination that wasn’t there at 8PM. You lean in, lips against the shell of her ear. She shivers, feeling your warm breath against her.
“Then take it out.”
You make contact, your tongue licking the shell of her ear before travelling down, planting kisses until you reach her neck. You suck on a vital point, making her gasp and whisper obscenities even as her hands leave your hair, ghosting along your body until they reach your belt. She unbuckles them with deft hands, undoing your jeans before diving inside, grabbing a hold of your length.
“Fuck… Jiyeon…”
You’ve done this a hundred times before but it's never felt like this. Never felt like you weren’t going to regret it come morning.
She hums at the way you say her name, like you’re already putty in her hands. She tightens her hold around you and she can feel the heat, feel the way it throbs and the micro thrusts you do to get any sort of friction.
Jiyeon starts stroking you now with the little room she’s afforded and you’re louder than you’ve ever been: moaning and grunting into her ear, eyes squeezed shut as you repeat her name time and time again, and she can’t help but wonder if you were like this with everyone else you’ve been with.
She hopes you weren’t. Hopes you trust her enough to act like this.
Her thumb finds your head, swipes at your slit, picking up a drop of precum and all of a sudden, your arms give out, your entire upper body laid on top of her.
“You’re so big…”
In all the time you’ve known her, you never expected yourself to fall like this.
You try and gain some semblance of control, grabbing her by the chin, setting your lips on hers again, enough to make her breathless and slow her stroking. Now’s your chance. Your hand travels down her waist, slipping into her sweatpants. You cup her, and she gasps into your mouth, eyes half lidded, staring back at you. She’s wet, really wet. If you could see, there’s no doubt the front of her clothes will be ruined with her slick.
You lift yourself away from her, eyes only on her as you slowly push your finger inside, watching as her face morphs, eyes widening at the intrusion before fluttering shut, her jaw tensing under the pressure as your thumb presses firmly on her clit. Her lips part, soft sounds escaping like a melody in your ears as you start pushing and pulling, occasionally curling your finger to find that spot.
“F—fuck…”
You smile against the corner of her mouth, pressing kisses along her jaw, grunting when she starts her ministrations again.
You whisper into her ear. “Does it feel good?”
She nods. “Y—yes… yes. Do you feel good?”
For a second, you stop. No one’s ever asked you that before. You kiss the shell of her ear, pushing a second finger inside before answering.
“Better than good.”
She’s getting close, clenching around your fingers rhythmically and frequently. Her hand stuttering in its stroking before leaving you entirely, gripping the sheets underneath her instead. She’s writhing beneath you, legs tensing and shaking, and her breathing is all over the place. Like she can’t keep up.
“Jiyeon…”
She opens her eyes, half lidded, trained on yours. Your breathing is exaggerated yet she’s trying to match it, to not let loose so soon. She’s done this before, many times, especially when you were here and her roommate couldn’t shut up.
It’s so much better now that you’re the one doing it to her.
Her whole body freezes for a couple seconds before she releases all over your hand, back arching off the mattress and you’re stroking hair and kissing her neck and trying to prolong her pleasure for as long as you can, ignoring the painful tightness in your jeans.
Her back eventually falls back onto the mattress, chest heaving. She grabs your head with both hands, pulls you down onto her lips as she kisses you tenderly, eyes squeezed shut.
You separate for a moment. “Good girl.” And she keens at that, pulling you back in, moaning as you still move your fingers inside her.
At some point, the lights come back on, her fairy lights washing the room in a soft pink glow, her computer whirring back to life. Neither of you comment on it, too engrossed in each other to pay attention to the fact you can see each other clearly now.
You slowly pull out, and she cries at the loss of contact. She’s panting, staring at you as you slowly get up onto your knees. Her hands try to reach out to you, to pull you back in because she doesn’t want this to end. Not right now.
“Wh—where are you go…”
You’re suddenly off the bed, pulling the belt free from your jeans, tossing it away before shuffling out of them. Your shirt comes off straight after and just like that, she’s overdressed. You pull her closer to the edge by her ankles before your hands find their way to the waistband of her sweatpants. You pull them both down slowly, her sweatpants and panties, watching as they stick to her from her orgasm, pressing kisses down as you remove them.
She’s sitting up now, transfixed on how you kiss every inch of her skin, skipping the most important part as your lips find her hipbone then her taut stomach, hands pushing her—your hoodie up. But it’s too slow. She’s teetering on the edge, losing control of her composure.
She needs you now.
Jiyeon pulls off her hoodie, along with her t-shirt underneath without fuss before her hands find yours, placing them on her still-covered breasts. She leans down, kissing you with the same, high energy that you’re still not used to.
“Someone’s eager,” you whisper against her lips.
You squeeze, and she gasps into your mouth, whatever she was about to say dying in her throat. You briefly draw your eyes lower. Her sheets are ruined from her mess. Unsalvageable.
“Please…”
She unhooks her bra for you, tossing them away to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your hands find her breasts again, thumb flicking against the stiff peak of her nipples, enjoying the raw, desperate moans coming from her mouth.
“Are you sure?”
She nods profusely. “I’ve never been sure of anything until now.”
You press your lips against hers again, this time more softly, more languid, like all the pent up frustration of this night has dissipated and now you just want to take your time.
You grab a pillow by her headboard. “Lay on your front.”
She obeys.
You place the pillow just under her hips and you’re there, right behind her, hands massaging and spreading her cheeks. She tries to look at you, head craned back and hands tightening their grip on her other pillow, dragging it closer to her.
You drag your cock along her pussy before pushing in, groaning at how tight she is despite her wetness coating all over you. Your hands find the dimples at her lower back, pushing her further into the bed as you push in, inch after inch. Your groans grow louder, her moans too before they’re suddenly muffled.
You look over, and she’s biting down on her pillow. Hard.
You reach out, hand trembling, to push her hair, matted from sweat off the back of her neck. Gently, you lean over, pressing kisses all over until you’re fully inside. Your other hand comes up by her head, prying the hold her hand has on the pillow before interlocking your fingers together.
“Are you okay?” you whisper.
Asking for permission time and time again was something you never did. This time though, her pleasure takes precedent over yours.
“Y—yes, I’m—”
She moans as you pull back before thrusting back in, slow and deep, and you’re pressing kisses everywhere: her neck, her cheek, her lips whenever she turns her head to the side. She tries her best to participate but it’s too much. She can feel everything, feel the way you’re splitting her open despite not rushing.
Jiyeon calls your name, and you respond with a particularly harder thrust that has her gasping for air, fingers folding down on yours, holding onto them tightly. She’ll never tell you this but it’s much better than anything she has ever imagined.
“Fuck yes… keep going…”
For a moment, you slow without meaning to, forehead dropping to her shoulder blade. Just for a few seconds, long enough to feel her breathing underneath you, and for her to start pushing back with small, uneven movements.
Then, you keep going, the sound of your hips crashing against her ass reverberating throughout the room. It’s hot and sticky, the cold from the snowstorm forgotten, replaced by the heat emanating from her. You continue pressing kisses on her face, watching as every push has her breath stuttering, every pull has her eyes rolling back, and she’s no longer biting her pillow, stopped trying to be quiet. And it’s not like you’re not affected. Your breathing is slowly becoming erratic, and you feel yourself getting closer far quicker than you’d hope.
“Is it… fuck… is it good for you?”
You’re caught by surprise at the question, temporarily stopping, fully sheathed inside her before you continue your movements. Your mouth finds the shell of her ear, nibbling at it as you answer.
“Y—you’re amazing Jiyeon. Better than anyone else.”
You never thought you’d say it and actually mean it.
She preens at the compliment, turning her head towards you, capturing your lips in hers before a moan breaks the contact yet again.
“I—I’m close… I don’t think I can—”
You press a kiss against the shell of her ear. “Jiyeon…”
She doesn’t need another invitation, clenching around you as she releases. She’s gushing around you, constantly swearing as you keep moving, prolonging her orgasm. You feel your own release creeping closer, and the way she tightens around you, you’re joining her sooner than expected.
Her walls still quiver around you, her moans quieter but still there. Something shifts in your chest but you don’t acknowledge it, at least not yet. You just keep moving.
Your mouth finds her shoulder, biting into it as you spill inside her. You’ve never let anyone see you like this. Then again, you’ve never felt like this before. Every pulse is met with a moan from her mouth and a shake from her legs. You don’t move, still sheathed inside, your thumb stroking the back of her hand, fingers still interlocked together as the both of you try and get your breathing in check.
You let go of her shoulder, replacing your teeth with soft licks and kisses. She exhales, her fingers loosening around yours but don’t let go.
-
“Your room… it’s really pink.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.
“No… it’s just really pink.”
She laughs, loud and unfiltered, against your chest, and you’re smiling despite yourself. Her hand comes down on your bare chest, her finger tracing small circles. Your thumb does the same on her naked hip, pushing the duvet further down. Neither of you have left this bed, refuse to leave this small cocoon you’ve made for yourself in her bedroom.
Your eyes take in everything from the polaroid photos plastered all over her desk to the shelves, filled to the brim with books. It all looks pristine, like they all have a place in her very pink bedroom. The only out of place thing is the bed, covered in sweat and messy and definitely needs washing when either of you decide to get up.
Your musings are interrupted when her finger moves to your nipple, dragging her nail around it. You stare at her but she’s too busy, too focused on drawing on you and smiling when your breath hitches. She slowly leaves your chest, dragging her finger further down and you’re watching it, skating over your stomach, your hips until it reaches your pubic bone, blocked by the duvet. Your eyes stay trained on it, carefully moving underneath the blanket…
And just like that she drags her hand back up, arm snaking around your waist as she pulls you close.
You groan in annoyance and she laughs—genuine and unguarded. She’s looking up at you, and you’re doing your best to look angry, looking away as she bats her eyes. The corner of your mouth twitches upwards before you could stop it.
Eventually, you look back at her, chin pressed against your chest, a happy smile on her face as the laughter dies down into quiet. She’s still warm pressed up against you and you’re doing your best not to ruin the moment, to go for round two.
You watch as she watches you, her smile dying on her lips as if everything that happened tonight came rushing back—the hoodie, candles, the confessions on the bathroom floor, the interlocked fingers as you hovered above her. You can’t pull your eyes away from hers and for a few seconds, you thought she was going to push you away, to say it was all a mistake.
Something shifts in your expression. She sees it. Doesn’t ask what it was. Just pulls herself up the bed, hand moving to cradle your jaw. She kisses you. Soft and certain. Both your eyes flutter shut, and you finally let go of the breath you were holding against her lips.
You firmly grab her by the hip, and she gasps in your mouth before laughing against it. You spin until she’s underneath you, pinned and you kiss her again, this time rougher, more desperate as your other hand finds the duvet and pulls it over both of you.
