There’s no place else you’d rather be right now. Ever, even.
Jongho’s hands are warm against the skin of your back, tucked gently underneath your sweatshirt, as the two of you lie quietly together in the afternoon sunshine. His book lies forgotten on the floor next to the settee, as does your mug of tea, now cooling on the side table. You nestle in closer to his chest, nose brushing his collarbone, and you feel his contented sigh as his arms readjust minutely with you.
Despite the tranquility of everything, your heart is going a mile a minute. Now’s the perfect moment, you think. You should finally say it. Who cares if you’re first?
“What’s wrong?” He murmurs against your hair.
Uh oh. You tilt your head up slightly, and he leans back to meet your gaze.
“What do you mean?” You ask softly, stalling.
A wry smile plays in the corner of his mouth. “You’re mini-hyperventilating on me.”
You snap your mouth shut. Whoops.
“‘S the matter?” His voice is still peaceful, but the smile fades from his face.
You swallow hard. “Um. Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow, and you sigh. Ah. You notice the shakiness to your breathing now.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you mumble, hiding against his chest again. “Really. Promise.”
He hums, the sound edged with skepticism, but he lets it pass.
You take another five minutes to build your courage up, consciously matching your breath to his.
“I love you,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it in your own skull.
After the briefest pause, Jongho chuckles once, arms sliding to hold you tighter.
“I know.”
You blink, then raise your head to look at him again. There’s a dreamy look on his face.
“You told me in your sleep,” he whispers.
You’re pretty sure your heart stops beating. “I—what? When?”
He tucks you against him again, lifting a hand to sink his fingers into your hair. “Hm. A week ago, I think.”
“A week?”
He nods once, and you feel the warmth of his breath stirring against the top of your head.
“I didn’t know if it was just you dreaming,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Figures you’d blab on yourself when unconscious. “…Oh.”
You both fall into silence again, listening to the faint chirp of birds through the open window. You watch the shadow of the tree branches dance gently on the floor next to Jongho’s book, leaves trembling with the slight breeze.
“Did I upset you?” He whispers.
“No,” you wheeze. You clear your throat and try again. “Uh, no. I’m kinda annoyed at myself, but it’s not your fault.”
“Don’t be annoyed,” he murmurs, and you feel his lips curve into a smile in your hair. His fingertips massage gingerly at your scalp. “I was glad you were asleep. I cried a little.”
Your head shoots up. “What?”
The tips of his ears tinge scarlet. “It was stupid. I was just…happy.”
You watch him worry his lower lip between his teeth.
“You’re not upset?”
He frowns slightly. “Why would I be upset?”
“I mean, it’s…” You frown, too. “I don’t want you to feel, like…burdened.”
His frown clears immediately, followed by a fond exasperation.
“Jagi,” he murmurs, studying your face with a little smile. “It’s not a burden to be loved back.”
You stop breathing for a second.
He laughs quietly, guides your head up just enough for him to kiss the tip of your nose. “Don’t tell me I wasn’t obvious.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” you insist, your heartbeat racing again for this entirely different reason.
“You’re allowed to assume,” he says, tucking you against him again. “You’re allowed to do anything. You hung every star in the sky.”
“God,” you rasp, and he laughs again when you bury your face against his neck and pepper it with kisses.
“I love you.”
He says it so simply, like the sky is blue and water is wet and nothing else matters in the world. You breathe deeply in and out, hooking your hand underneath his arm and resting it against his shoulder.
Genre: Established relationship, fluffy smut, tiny bit of hurt/comfort(?)
Pairing: idol!Jongho x fembodied!reader (no y/n)
Wordcount: 2.3k
Warnings: Swearing, porn with a smidge of plot, unprotected sex (pull out method), morning sex, no major kinks/power dynamics, small miscommunication but quickly resolved, y'all are sickly sweet in love, my sweet Jjong-bear 💜
Lazy Sundays are the best day of your week. Just being able to spend a whole day, curled up on your sofa, watching tv, drinking tea, and eating snacks – it’s pure bliss.
Jongho, however, rarely gets weekends off. Your sweet boyfriend works at such unsociable hours that even a whole afternoon together is unusual. His busy schedule usually limits you to late night movie dates or early morning coffee runs.
Today is different, however. Jongho had managed to clear his schedule for a couple of days after returning from tour. He was extremely tired; he had barely been able to keep his eyes open through the ‘welcome home’ dinner you made him last night. Waking up this morning, you take a minute to admire Jongho’s soft cheek smooshed into his pillow, his plush lips pushed into a gentle pout. Taking mercy on him, you leave him be to sleep a little longer – he clearly needs it.
Instead, you opt to go about your normal Sunday morning routine; a hot cup of coffee, a delicious pastry, and your favourite tv show. You bundle up under a soft blanket in your usual spot on the sofa, sighing contently. You slowly drift into distraction, lulled by the cosy nest you’ve made for yourself.
Eventually an hour or so later, a tousled Jongho appears in the doorway, eyes barely open and hair sticking out in every direction. He groans as he stretches his arms up, a slither of his tummy poking out from under his t-shirt. Smiling warmly, you pat the sofa beside you, inviting him to partake in your peaceful little ritual. He doesn’t hesitate to walk over and flop down next to you, immediately cuddling into your side.
“Good morning, Jjong.” You lace your fingers into his messy hair, partially brushing it out, partially enjoying his proximity.
“Morning babe.” He mutters drowsily, clearly still half asleep. No more words need to be shared as you fall into a shared serenity – silence falls comfortably over you both, apart from the occasional contented sigh or shuffle of positions.
Eventually you end up lying down, with Jongho nestled in behind you. He breathes your scent in deeply; his nose pressed into your hair and his arms wrapped securely around your waist. His fingertips ghost over your tummy softly, drawing small circles and pulling you deeper into his protective grip.
“Babe?” He mutters, voice still deep from sleep. You look over your shoulder, responding with a short “Hmm?”
“I really missed this. I missed you, a lot.” He presses light kisses along your hair line, pulling his arms even tighter to have you completely pushed against him. “I’m never letting you go again.”
You laugh lightly, letting him enjoy his bearhug. After a while of silence, you think he’s fallen asleep again. Craving another coffee, you shuffle to stand up. Immediately a hand flies to your hip, gripping tightly and pulling you back.
“I said I’m never letting you go.” You can hear the grumpy pout in Jongho’s voice and give in almost immediately. He’s just so damn irresistible. However, the hand on your hip doesn’t loosen. Jongho holds firm, seemingly craving your touch even more than you crave his. You’re back-to-chest, legs tangled together, his arms around you, and it’s still not enough for him.
“Babe, I- I just- Fuck, can I have you? Like right now?” He rambles out, clearly reaching his breaking point. You nod, still struggling to look at him over your shoulder. His hand on your hip begins to shake slightly as he immediately presses his half-hard cock against your ass. A shuddering groan escapes him, encouraged by your hips rolling to meet his movements. His hands instantaneously abandoned their posts to roughly knead your tits through your shirt.
“God, I missed this so much. Never want to leave again.” He moans into your neck. You laugh breathily in response, amused by his sudden candidness but aroused by his intense grip. Jongho’s lips begin to press carelessly onto your nape while his hands endeavour to reach under your shirt. He hums contently when his palms graze against your pert nipples. You struggle to contain your moans, clinging to his arms to ground yourself.
Jongho begins to trail one hand down your body and under the waistband of your shorts. His fingers probe into your underwear; he groans heartily once he feels your arousal. His fingertips rub firmly over your clit, pulling a squeal out of you.
“Jjong-”
“Fuck, babe, I’m sorry. I just- let me stretch you out, yeah? Relax for me.”
Two of his fingers press into you, hastily curling to find your sweet spot. As you begin to thrash at the harsh pleasure, Jongho presses firm kisses to your temple and gently shushes your mewling. His fingers are relentlessly bringing you close to the edge, but his cock still rubbing against your ass lets you know he’s feeling just as desperate.
“That’s it, babe. Are you gonna cum for me?” Jongho gently taunts. Your enthusiastic nodding brings a breathy chuckle out of him, but he graciously continues his ministrations as your abdomen starts to tighten. Your hips begin to jerk on their own as your release washes over you, Jongho continuing to rub over you until you fully relax back into him. His fingers eventually pull out of your shorts, his hand resting gently back onto your hip.
“D’you need a minute?” He asks softly, but his own desire is thinly veiled.
“No, I’m okay. How’d yo- Oh!” He’s pulling down you shorts and panties before you can even finish your sentence. He’s really getting close to his breaking point.
“God, babe. You really soaked these through.” He holds your wet panties out in front of you both, giggling to himself. You instantly whip them out of his grip.
“Shut up, Jongho. I thought you were the one who came in here all hot and bothered.”
“Oh yeah?” You feel him shuffle to lower his pyjamas, his cock springing out and tapping against your bare ass. You attempt to turn to face him yet again, but Jongho’s arms pin you in place once more. “Just like this, babe. Okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” You sigh out. One of Jongho’s hands reattaches to your tits whilst the other begins to stroke himself. His patience doesn’t last long though – swiftly he lifts one of your legs into the air and rubs his cock over your cunt, his tip occasionally catching on your entrance and bumping your over sensitive clit. Beginning to get frustrated yourself, you reach a hand down to guide him properly into your cunt. You moan in unison.
The stretch is overwhelming; Jongho has always been very thick, to the point that you’d struggled to take him when you started dating. Jongho is barely faring any better than you. Whilst he knows it’s safer to finger you open first, having to wait even longer for his release when he was already so highly strung has pushed him to an all-new level of sensitivity.
Jongho tries to hold back, for all of a few seconds before rapidly descending into his own pleasure. His hips begin to hammer into yours rapidly, his hands still holding onto you tightly. You still can’t see his face, but his groans let you imagine his eyebrows knitted and mouth hanging open.
You’re not doing much better; your moans keep tumbling out uncontrollably as you begin to become overstimulated from your earlier orgasm. Your cocked hip is beginning to ache, and you can’t catch your breath. Trying to find purchase against his powerful thrusts, one of your hands manages to reach behind you, missing his bicep and finding his loose t-shirt sleeve instead. Jongho notices and stills immediately.
“Babe?” When you struggle to reply, he pushes up onto his elbow, finally looking down at your face. He gently lowers your leg, stroking your aching thigh gently. “Sorry, fuck- I got carried away.” He attempts to pull out, but you’re quick to lean back and grab his wrist.
“I’m okay, Jjong. Can we maybe just change position? My hip’s gonna give out.” Jongho giggles heartily in response, before pressing another kiss to your temple.
“That’s okay, babe. On your back?” A gentle hum from you is enough to have him slowly pulling out and pushing you onto your back. He briefly kneels above you, languidly stroking his cock while taking in the sight of you. Hair messy, t-shirt pushed over your tits, cunt slick. He takes a moment to lift your hips and pull a cushion under you. He smiles contently at you before ducking down to firmly press his lips to yours. His cockhead finds its way back to nudge at your clit, which leaves you whining into the kiss and your hips twitch slightly. When he finally pulls back, his eyes scan over you once more, checking in on you once more before hesitantly sliding back in.
“Just a little more for me, yeah? You’re making me feel so good, beautiful.” Jongho whispers whilst nuzzling into your jaw. His cock drags agonisingly slow and shallow, drawing another whine out of you. He coos slightly, a short chuckle tickling your neck. His hands slither down to hold your waist steady, rocking his hips smoothly against yours. He tries to disguise his own moans in firm kisses to your neck, which doesn’t escape your notice. Lacing your fingers into his hair, you struggle to hold in a giggle at his coyness.
“Fuck, babe. Don’t laugh, you’re squeezing me too tight.” His whining has the unfortunate effect of making you laugh more, leaving him groaning loudly. His hips remain slow, but he’s painfully precise in his angle, plunging repeated against your sweet spot. The buzzing overstimulation lingering from your earlier orgasm pushes you quickly towards another.
After a few more minutes of mumbled curses and chaste kisses against your neck, Jongho’s thrusts start becoming shaky, his fingers sinking further into your skin. Knowing he’s getting close, you gently pull his face out of your neck. Jongho’s expression confirms your suspicion; his nose scrunched up, mouth hanging open, and eyes glazed over. When he eventually meets your gaze, he cracks into a giddy smile.
“God, I love you.” Jongho breathes out, losing himself even more.
“I love you too, Jjong.” You say back effortlessly. You take the brief moment you can to appreciate his sweetness, before his thrusts begin to speed up deliciously. “Never gonna let me go, yeah?”
“Yeah, babe. Never let you go again.” His eyes stay locked on yours, unable to look away for a second. Your thumbs stroke over his flushed cheeks, as you find yourself shaking with a second orgasm. Jongho’s pace doesn’t slow, but he takes mercy on you by thrusting shallowly instead. As the buzz relaxes, you feel boneless and hazy against the sofa cushions, but still find the energy to tease your desperate boyfriend.
“You gonna cum?” You ask with a smirk, already knowing his answer.
“Yeah, babe. Shit.” He escapes your grasp to plant another firm kiss onto your lips. He takes only a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out and stroking himself frantically against your belly. With one hand you reach down, finding his cock and applying gentle pressure to his sensitive tip. With a final groan into your mouth, he shudders into his orgasm, cumming over your stomach.
For a moment you both stay still, lips still pressed together but open and panting for air. You allow him to take his time to recover, running your hands up his back as he stays hovering over you. Eventually, he lets out a contented sigh and pulls back enough to look at you again. He’s flushed and sweaty, his t-shirt unfortunately stained with his release too. He presses a few scattered kisses over your nose and cheek before sitting back on his knees, tucking his softening cock back into his pyjamas, and pulling off his shirt. He uses it to mop at stomach in silence. Then, finally:
“Thank you.” He says softly, suddenly unable to make eye contact. You hum in response, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, I just missed you so bad and I got a bit lost in my head.”
You can’t help the short chuff that escapes you. He finally looks up coyly to your face, internally relieved at your light-hearted reaction.
“You’re okay, my sweet Jjong-bear. It wasn’t anything we wouldn’t usually do. I guess I just got unaccustomed while you were away. What I’m saying is: I missed you too.” He’s silent and stern-faced for a few seconds. Unreadable. You start to panic a little that he’s taking the little ‘mishap’ to heart before he cracks another grin.
“’My sweet Jjong-bear’? Jeez, I guess you really did miss me.” He hops off of the sofa before you can swat his arm, giggling to himself. He fishes your discarded shorts and panties from the floor, before disappearing into the kitchen. You can vaguely hear the sound of the washing machine turning on before he returns, still shirtless but wearing an annoyingly amused smile.
“Wanna shower?” Jongho stands over you, taking in the messy state you haven’t attempted to move from. You nod quickly before holding your arms up, a silent message that you don’t expect to walk to the bathroom. He rolls his eyes, but still steps forward to lift you into his arms.
“I go away for a month, and you can’t even walk without me.” He sarcastically mutters, but his firm grip gives away his tsundere agenda.
“I think you’ll find, my sweet Jjong-bear, that it’s your fault I can’t walk.”
A/N: Sorry I've been gone, but I have an idea for a series of oneshots, so keep an eye out :3
summary: Jongho was everything you weren’t: ambitious, diligent, promising—all in all the perfect law school student. Naturally, your chaos didn’t fit into his prearranged life. Not for long, anyway. Your silly little relationship was never meant to last. So how come you couldn't seem to move on? Of course, being grouped together for a semester-long assignment didn't exactly help your case.
tags: exes2lovers, law student!au, hurt/comfort, y/n lowkey has an inferiority complex, jongho is slightly possessive, best friends woosan (bc i love making them y/n's besties), some side characters from tbz/skz; warnings: alcohol consumption, throwing up
wc: 9.2k
a/n: this is my fic for the live alive collab hosted by @sungbeam! honestly i'm just so glad to have made it (or, well it's half past midnight in my time zone but i tried my best i swear t-t) i was really hoping my time management would be better for this, but honestly life wasn't really having it. either way, i hope you enjoy this story & pls check out the other fics for this collab!!
and also @ beam - thanks for letting me be part of this sweet collab. i'm glad to have had a good reason to write (and actually finish!!) something. love you lots<3
masterlist | collab masterlist
So maybe you'd overestimated what a two month break could do. You’d thought you'd use all that free time really well, to eat healthy and exercise and read more books. You’d also thought you'd be well ahead of all the assignments due during the break. And most of all you’d thought you'd come back after the break as a changed woman who is definitely not still hung up on her boyfriend that she broke up with right before the semester ended.
Reality however looked quite different: You'd eaten too much pizza, barely left the house, binge watched not only one but two TV shows, barely finished your assignments on time and spent an embarrassing amount of time crying over your boyfriend. Needless to say, you were most definitely still hung up on him.
Consequently, going back to school left you with mixed feelings. It all came down to a simple list of pros and cons, and you weren’t sure which side was weighing heavier.
Pros:
Getting away from your nagging parents.
Seeing your friends again.
Spending a fun last summer with them.
Cons:
Seeing Jongho.
Your friends are his friends too.
Whatever fun activities are planned, he’ll inevitably be there too.
It wasn’t that you suddenly hated him (surely, life would be easier if you could). But just the mere thought of facing him again ripped your heart in two. His words were still ringing in your head like he’d said them just yesterday. ‘Might as well end it now.’ As if it barely even concerned him. And just like that, it’d been over.
While it felt suffocating to be at home, you wanted to prolong your return as much as possible. For one to avoid Jongho for as long as you could. And then also to avoid your friends, most importantly your best friends. Because you hadn’t told them about the break up. You’d just pretended everything was fine right up until you sat in your train home. And then, the moment it had left the station you’d crumbled pathetically, sobbing so hard that a woman sitting in the seat before you handed you some tissues.
Of course you knew you couldn’t keep the break up a secret forever, but somehow talking about it was scary. Talking about it would make it real. Talking about it would maybe prompt your friends to tell you that you’d been stupid and that it was your fault, and you weren’t quite ready to hear that yet. Still, you couldn’t just postpone it all indefinitely and take the semester off, so you arrived back at the dorm one day before the lectures were starting again. Your room looked the way you’d left it. You hadn’t bothered taking any of your personal bits down while you were away, just packed what you needed and left—but when you set foot inside now, you were starting to regret that. You’d never noticed how much space Jongho had taken up in your room. There were pictures of him and you and your friends all over your pin board, along with tickets from when you’d been to the theater together. On your desk was a clover he’d given you before one of your exams (three leaves, not four, despite his best efforts to find one), that you’d pressed and safely displayed in a tiny picture frame. And then of course, on your bed, right next to your pillow was that teddy with its tiny head and broad shoulders that he’d gifted you for your last birthday and that you’d always joked looked exactly like him.
You wanted to throw it all away just so you didn’t have to look at it anymore. Instead, you curled up in bed, jeans and all, and cuddled that teddy close to your chest. You buried your nose in the soft material, pretending you could still smell him on it, when really it only smelled like you.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you woke up in the middle of the night, still in the clothes you’d worn all day, and with a terrible headache that kept you from falling asleep again. Since it seemed you weren’t going to catch much more sleep anyway, you stepped outside. The halls of the dormitory had been noisy and bustling earlier, everyone eagerly greeting each other and catching up after the long break. But now it was eerily quiet. Maybe everyone had suddenly come to respect the curfew, or maybe they’d decided to take it easy tonight since lectures would start tomorrow, and there’d be a huge party to kick off the semester on Friday anyway.
As you wandered the corridor, it took you back to the last day before the break. You’d aimlessly wandered back then too, unable to sleep after your conversation with Jongho, but not able to cry either. Not yet, anyway, because it hadn’t sunken in yet. It’d felt surreal at the time, like you half expected Jongho to show up at your dorm the next day to inform you that the break up was of course not actually happening. You could picture it so well, him standing there first thing in the morning, early enough to still catch the 9 AM train to his family home, making sure to tell you that you’re still dating, so you wouldn’t have stupid thoughts while on break. Jongho was like that, preferring clarity over leaving you guessing. That day though, he hadn’t shown up, and maybe that was a way of making things clear, too. You’d watched the clock ticking away, 9 AM passing you by, but you’d still held onto some hope until the afternoon, when it was time for your own departure. And even then, a delusional part of you was thinking maybe he’d show up at the platform to apologize and he’d hold you so close and you’d hug him right back, and he’d tell you to let go because you’d miss your train, but you wouldn’t even care because all that mattered was that Jongho still loved you.
It was only when the train had started departing and the people at the platform started blurring behind the window as you passed them by, that it finally sunk in. Jongho hadn’t come. He’d let you leave just like that, with a two month break ahead of you to cement the fact that you’d broken up. He was no longer your boyfriend. And with that realization came the tears, and it seemed they hadn’t really stopped since then.
By the time you wandered back to your room, it was already getting light outside, the sunrise dying the sky in shades of pink and purple that were too beautiful to match your mood. You closed the blinds to shut them out and sunk back into your bed.
It seemed sleep had eventually found you again. In fact, you slept so deeply that you didn’t hear any of your three alarms and completely missed your first lecture. Luckily, you had a really good friend, and he wasn’t shy to remind you when you met him at the cafeteria in between classes.
“You’d be so doomed without me,” he said instead of a greeting, “but of course, your best friend in the world made sure to answer roll call for you and even signed you up for the group project.”
“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you set down a cup of coffee in front of him as a means of compensation, “I owe you my life.”
“You really do. That prof is no joke, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, taking a sip of your own cup.
“What’s been up with you anyway? We’ve barely heard of you all break. San was this,” he made a pinching motion with his fingers, “close to borrowing his mom’s car and driving over there to make sure you’re still alive.”
“That’d be a 10 hour ride.”
“That’s how much we love you.” Wooyoung rested his chin on his hand and eyed you intensely, “So, will you tell me what’s up?”
“I’ve been stressed out over the assignments?” You already knew it was a poor excuse before he called you out for it.
“I know that’s not it. Just tell me. I promise it will be okay.”
All his silly jokes and teasing aside, Wooyoung was a good friend and a good listener. But it still felt hard to put the words out there. It made you fell as if you were sitting in that train all over again, watching the people and the platform disappear, and your relationship with them.
“We broke up,” you finally said, immediately taking another sip of your coffee hoping it could wash down the taste of heartbreak lingering on your tongue.
You raised an eyebrow at him, “Who would joke about something like that?”
He shrugged, “You’ve become pretty unpredictable, so who knows?”
“Oh, yes, I’m an enigma.” You rolled your eyes and the little banter helped you shove your actual feelings aside, pretending it all didn’t phase you as much as it really did. Wooyoung looked at you for another moment, clearly seeing right through you, but not commenting on it.
“But, uhm, if it’s true, then I have some sort of bad news for you,” he admitted reluctantly, his expression sheepish.
“Spill.”
“So, uh, remember how I said I signed you up for the group project?”
“No.”
“It’s supposed to be groups of four—”
“No, Wooyoung, please.”
“And San and I didn’t know—remember? You kept this incredibly relevant information from us, your best friends in the world—and we had to make a decision—”
“No, no, no—”
“It just made sense to group up.”
Great. Amazing. Splendid. You were stuck working on an assignment with your ex-boyfriend. all. semester.
“How is this my life?” You dropped your head in your hands, “And how come he didn’t protest either?”
“Ah, right,” Wooyoung seemed to only realize now that you were lacking this information, “Jongho wasn’t present either. Saved his ass during roll call, too, but I guess that’s not really of much interest to you.”
“No, Jung Wooyoung, it is not of much interest to me in the face of this whole group project disaster.” Though, you did have to admit that it was highly unusual for Jongho, ambitious, diligent Jongho, to miss a class unexcused.
“Understandable,” he nodded, “But maybe we can still switch groups?”
“Who would even switch with me? I don’t have other friends.”
He grinned. “But I do. Changbin is in that class too, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking your place. And he’s grouped up with Felix, you know Felix, right?”
You do know Felix. You like him too, though you wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend. Still, being grouped with sweet, kind Felix would be much better than having to spend the whole semester working with Jongho.
“Would you ask him?”
“Anything for my bestie,” Wooyoung looked at you with an encouraging smile, “I’m sure it will work out just fine.”
Maybe switching groups wasn’t all that big of a deal, or maybe Changbin just liked Wooyoung enough to agree easily—either way, just two days later your friend assured you that the groups were changed without any issues, and Felix had even notified the professor of the changes already. He generally seemed to have taken up some kind of leading role, because you received a message from him that same day, informing you that the group had agreed to meet up the next Tuesday to make a plan for the semester, and asked if you could make it as well. Tuesday was fine with you, and honestly, even if it weren’t you would’ve tried your best to adjust your schedule to them out of gratitude for taking you in. According to Wooyoung, aside from Felix it was Eric and Sanha in that group, and because they were close to Jongho, you’d already talked to them quite a few times back when you’d still been dating. You remembered them as being pretty friendly and fun to be around and you just hoped their friendship with your ex-boyfriend didn’t make things awkward. Though, even then, it seemed like a much better choice to work with his friends instead of the man himself.
Maybe it was that silly optimism of yours that jinxed your demise. Because surely enough, when you stepped into the café across campus on Tuesday, the guy sitting next to Eric at the table Felix had reserved looked uncomfortably familiar: It was Jongho. Even from a distance and a slightly awkward angle, you recognized him right away. His dark brown hair, the black frames of his glasses, the neatly ironed collar of his shirt. It didn’t make sense. Why would Jongho bother showing up to the meeting of your project group? Even if he was friends with Eric and Sanha—shouldn’t he have the tactfulness to stay away after you went as far as to switch groups (something you were safe to assume wasn’t only in your interest, but his as well)?
You wanted to turn around and leave, maybe send a message that you’d suddenly started to feel unwell, or at least come back with a little delay in hopes Jongho would’ve left by then, but before you could do any of that, someone called your name.
“Hey there!” Felix greeted you with a bright smile, looking genuinely happy to see you again. He had a tray in his hands, four cups you noted, which meant either they’d already ordered for you as well, or a certain guest was planning to stick around for at least one coffee. You hadn’t seen Sanha around yet either, which filled your stomach with a feeling of unease.
“Hey,” you nodded awkwardly, “do you need help carrying that?”
“Nah, don’t worry. Just follow me, the rest is already there,” he naturally leads the way towards the dreaded table, “I hope you don’t mind we ordered for you,” he added, “Matcha with oat milk.”
“Oh.” Your gaze lingered on the cup you assumed to be yours, “Thank you.” Jongho must’ve told him your usual order. How else would Felix, or Eric for that matter, know? And despite the anger you still felt about Jongho being there in the first place, knowing he cared enough to order for you, knowing he cared enough to remember, awakened something else in the depth of your stomach. You quickly pushed it aside. It was just routine, it didn’t mean anything. Felix must’ve asked him if he knew your order, and he must’ve replied automatically, without giving it much thought or care. (But didn’t that have its own value too? Didn’t it feel inherently meaningful that your habits have become so ingrained in his very being, that he could recite them without thinking?)
“Y/n!” Eric pulled you out of your thoughts as you approached the table, a wide grin on his face, “Man, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you last, how have you been?” He got up and hugged you so naturally and friendly, it made you wonder if he even knew about the break up. You didn’t dare to ask though, didn’t want to bring up that awful topic so you just hugged him back, told him you’d been great and left it at that. You sat down across from him, next to Felix and at the biggest possible distance from Jongho. You’d wanted to glare at him, ask him why the fuck he was here, but now that you were actually close enough to talk to him for the first time since the end of last semester, it suddenly felt hard to even look at him. So, you focused on your matcha instead that Felix had placed in front of you, appreciating the latte art that fittingly almost looked like a clover.
“When’s Sanha joining us?” You asked, trying to come off as casual and relaxed and driving home that air of nonchalance by taking a sip of your drink.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eric sounded surprised. “Him and Jongho switched groups.”
You choked so badly on your matcha you almost spat it in his face, and gratefully accepted the tissue that was handed to you, before even realizing it was Jongho who handed it to you.
“It’s a good thing though,” Eric easily continued, “I love Sanha, but I think with Jongho in our group we have a pretty good chance of getting an A+, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” you were still barely able to breathe, “Right.”
You tried your best to keep it together while Eric and Felix were there, focusing on the project and assigning tasks for everyone until the next meet up. The moment they left though, and it was just you, who’d purposely lingered, and Jongho who, for some reason, had stayed behind as well, you exploded.
“What the fuck?!” You hissed, quiet enough not to make a scene, but not holding back any of the anger seeping into your voice.
“Someone’s angry, huh?”
You wanted to spit in his annoyingly composed face. How could he remain this calm? Did seeing you again not phase him at all?
“Of course I’m angry! Why did you change groups?!”
He shrugged, “I could ask you the same, no?”
“You could’ve at least said something! Then I wouldn’t have bothered switching!”
“You didn’t say anything either,” A grin slipped onto his features, “And considering these are my friends, couldn’t you have anticipated this to happen? Did you maybe want to work with me?”
Maybe you hadn’t thought this through. Why hadn’t this occurred to you? But then why didn’t he tell anyone? If not you, why not at least Wooyoung and San? After all, it concerned them, too! You shoved the last of your notes into your bag, not caring at all about the way the paper crinkled beneath your fingers.
“Whatever, guess I’ll just have to change back.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure the professor will love that. He already seemed mildly annoyed about switching the groups once, I’m sure doing it again will leave a great impression,” he handed you your ballpoint pen that you hadn’t realized was still laying on the table, “We’ve already distributed tasks anyway, just roll with it. Switching now will just make more work for everyone.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. Perfect, smart Jongho tended to be right about everything. Guess you were stuck with Jongho in your project group, again.
“Don’t kill me for saying this, and I do feel so sorry—but this situation is also kind of hilarious,” Wooyoung looked at you with mirth in his eyes, while San next to him was slurping up his ramyeon without much care.
“No, I absolutely will kill you, how is this hilarious?!”
“I mean—both of you switching groups to avoid each other and then ending up in the same group again? That must be some crazy fate.”
“Yeah, right, fate, or maybe a certain someone,” you stared him down extra hard, “isn’t as close to his friends as he thinks he is, or else I’m sure Changbin would’ve told you about this and we could’ve avoided the whole mess.”
“Honestly,” San intervened, mouth still full, “even Changbin seemed surprised when Sanha showed up to the group meet up. Jongho must’ve just given him the time and place and left it at that.”
Huh. “That’s—weird.” Jongho was usually a bit more…organized? Than that? Normally, he would’ve at least given someone in his group a heads up, wouldn’t he?
“Hm,” Wooyoung hummed, a small encouraging smile on his face, “I suppose he’s struggling with the break up just as much as you are.”
That thought honestly made you feel a little better. You weren’t the only one having a hard time. Jongho was struggling too. Why else would he have bothered to switch groups in the first place?
“To be honest though—I’m still confused about the break up. I get if you don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so sudden. Weren’t you still all over each other at the end of the semester? What happened?”
“Yeah,” San echoed as he finished the last of his noodles, “What happened?”
You chewed on your lower lip, unsure what to say, “It’s just…. He’s an ass?”
“Oh, god,” Wooyoung’s jaw tensed, “if he cheated on you I’ll literally kill him.”
“No!” You sighed. “He didn’t cheat.”
“Thank god, I’m not ready to defend someone in court,” San let out a breath of relief, “Especially not for murder. Because, legally, this wouldn’t even be manslaughter.”
“It’d definitely be manslaughter. It’d be all the heat of the moment, a non-malicious crime of passion. Not that I’d be dumb enough to get caught.”
“It would not be manslaughter,” you agreed with San, “but there’s no killing happening anyway. As I said, he didn’t cheat.”
Wooyoung didn’t seem really convinced as he eyed you critically. “Then why? What happened?”
“It just wasn’t meant to be,” you shrugged, unable to meet his gaze, in fear he’d see right through you and the fact that the break up was all your fault. “Why are you so surprised? You didn’t even like him when we first started dating.”
“I didn’t not like him!”
“You called him a stuck up prick.”
“A silver spoon snob, too,” San added.
“Why are y’all ganging up on me?” He huffed in offense, “And that was all just because I thought I needed to protect you! Before I knew how cute he actually is behind that serious face.”
“You date him then.”
“Nah, my bestie’s ex is off limits.”
“Right,” you rolled your eyes at him, “If that’s all that’s stopping you, then you have my blessings.”
Wooyoung grinned, “Don’t regret that later when you’ll inevitably want him back.”
“I won’t.” What a stupid lie, when you’d never wanted to break up in the first place. But what right did you even have to want him back?
“Besides,” Wooyoung added, “until I hear a proper reason for the break up, I doubt the legal validity of it. In my books you’re still married until proven otherwise.”
“Isn’t the fact that we both wanted to avoid each other so bad we switched groups proof enough that we’re over for good?”
“Nice try, mittens. You switched groups precisely because you’re not over at all.”
Working in a group with Jongho was exhausting. Eric had a point—chances of getting an A+ with Jongho wasn’t unlikely, after all he was a perfectionist. Unfortunately though, he made that everyone’s business. As you analyzed the case your group was given for the assignment, he nitpicked every little detail, to make sure you weren’t missing anything. And maybe, under different circumstances, you could’ve appreciated it. Jongho wasn’t usually rude or harsh about his criticism, just honest. But with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt hard not to take every little comment personally. Even when you knew his criticism was valid, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling like he was judging your work more harshly than anyone else’s out of the grudge he held for you. So, you argued back, pathetically defended your stance as if it was a client you knew all too well was guilty and yet pleaded innocent.
“The buildings shared a wall, Neighbour B should’ve informed Neighbour A before tearing it down,” Jongho calmly stated and you knew he had a point. You knew, and yet—
“It was B’s property, why would they have to inform anyone about a decision that only concerns their building?” you shot back, less calm, less collected, less fit to be a good lawyer.
“It does concern the other party, though. They suffered damages,” Jongho frowned, and you could tell by the expression on Felix’ and Eric’s faces that they felt uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to back down.
“It’s not like A would’ve had any right to stop them, so why make a big deal out of it before anything even happened? It wouldn’t have changed anything!”
“Right,” he huffed, “Why bother talking about things, when the decision was already made, huh?” Something flashed through Jongho’s eyes, bitter, hurt, angry.
Felix cleared his throat, “Uhm, guys, are we still talking about the case?”
The mask of indifference returned to Jongho’s face, “Obviously.”
“What else would we be talking about,” you added, but your voice was barely convincing. Truthfully, you didn’t know. It didn’t feel like it.
Once the group session was concluded you hurried to pack up your things, this time not at all interested in staying back with Jongho again, but it seemed you weren’t getting much of a choice. The second you’d stuffed everything into your back, you bid them farewell and rushed out of the café, but Jongho easily caught up to you.
“Let’s talk.”
“I don’t have anything to talk about,” you replied with a dry voice, starting to make your way towards the campus.
“Well, then just listen. Because I have something to talk about.”
You rolled your eyes but still stopped and turned around to look at him. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I know we broke up,” he started and it felt like the worst way to start a conversation, honestly, “But that doesn’t mean you can sabotage the group.”
“I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“You get snippy whenever I criticize anything.”
You want to kill him. For a brief moment you feel like maybe, breaking up was the right choice. “Maybe your criticism isn’t all that great, Jongho, ever considered that? Maybe you are not actually smarter than everyone else.”
You didn’t truly believe what you were saying but he was stunned for a moment and then, to your surprise, shrugged. “Fair enough. Still, I’d prefer not to have arguments in the group that feel so personal.”
“Well, I’m sorry for having feelings. Not surprising that you can’t relate to that though.”
His face hardened ever so slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that just because you can pretend the break up didn’t happen and are completely fine, the same doesn’t have to apply to me.”
“Well, just because I’m not dealing with it the same way as you doesn’t mean I don’t care at all!” His face was gleaming with an anger so intense, it might’ve scared you under different circumstances. But right now you felt smug about finally breaking his mask of calm indifference. It was satisfying. Maybe you couldn’t make him love you, but you at least still mattered enough to make him angry.
“And besides,” he continued, “Y/n, you broke up with me! You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
And he was right. It was you who'd said the words first. But you'd never meant them, not really. You'd just felt so inadequate, like a stain on Jongho's perfect life. He'd always been just a little bit too perfect to be a real person; prestigous family, flawless CV, perfect grades, and despite all that somehow still a loveable personality. You on the other hand were lacking both brains and ambition, only studying law to somehow satisfy your parents despite knowing they would never be satisfied anyway. And then, when Jongho had gotten a job offer at a renown law firm at the end of last semester while you struggled to even get internships, you'd felt you'd lost your place next to him once and for all. So you'd asked him to break up, not because that was what you'd wanted, but because you'd hoped he would stop you and assure you of your right to remain by his side. But instead, when you'd spit your stupid lies about how we'd never last in the real world anyway, he'd just huffed a laugh. Sure, he'd said, Might as well end it now.
You swallowed around the lump clogging your throat. “Maybe I broke up, but you sure had no qualms agreeing to it."
"What?” He let out a sarcastic laugh, “Should I have begged for you to stay?"
"Yes! Yes, you should have!" A timid ‘why didn’t you?’ hung in the air, unspoken.
There was defeat in his voice when he finally spoke up again, "You didn't want me, y/n."
He couldn’t be further from the truth. "I always wanted you." You’d just needed assurance, needed to know he wanted you enough to fight for you. But he didn’t.
In your peripheral vision, you spotted Felix and Eric coming out of the café as well. Felix headed down the street, but Eric was coming your way. Jongho must’ve spotted him too, by the way his demeanor seemed to change at the blink of an eye. It was a subtle shift, maybe not even noticeable to anyone else. But you noticed in the way he let go of the tension in his jaw, in the way the anger disappeared from his eyes.
"Then you shouldn’t have broken up with me," was all he said, calm, definite, the end of a conversation. And of course he was right, as he always was: you shouldn’t have. But why didn’t he call you out on it? Why didn’t he say you don’t mean that, so you could’ve said you’re right, you always are. But maybe the fact you wanted him to take responsibility for your behavior, wanted him to make up for the mistake you made, was one of the reasons he’d decided to go along with it instead.Because who would want to date a person like that?
"All good?" You heard Eric ask as he approached the two of you.
"Yeah, no worries." Jongho’s response barely reached you, like the tears welling up in your eyes were clogging your ears, too.
Right. You trailed behind them, not particularly caring about joining their conversation and rather focusing on keeping yourself from crying. No worries. The words rang in your head like they were mocking you. As if all of this meant nothing, was nothing to worry about. But maybe those were his true feelings. Might as well end it now, right?
When you got out of your last lecture of the day, still sorta out of it, you were suddenly met with a bubbly Eric jogging up next to you.
He grinned, “Did you enjoy the lecture as much as I did?”
“Uh, yeah, totally.”
“I especially loved the part where he talked about penguins.”
Why would your criminal law professor talk about penguins? “To be honest I was only physically there,” you admitted sheepishly and Eric laughed.
“Yeah, I could tell. I was sitting like, right behind you. You didn’t even notice.”
“Sorry,” you scrunched up your face in apology.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he naturally fell into step with you, “Are you headed home?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Got another lecture.”
“I see.”
For a moment it was quiet between the two of you, before Eric picked the conversation back up, “What are you doing Thursday?”
You raised an eyebrow, “Am I supposed to be doing something on Thursday?”
“My roomie and I are hosting a party, you should come.”
“I—uh,” your brain was already coming up with an excuse, but Eric wasn’t done talking yet,
“It seemed like you could use some distraction? And Jongho already said he wouldn’t be there, don’t worry—you know how he isn’t one to go out on a weekday.”
Neither am I, you wanted to argue, but Eric was right, wasn’t he? Maybe you could use some distraction. You yearned for a night of dancing and laughing and partying and not thinking about your ex.
“I’ll think about it?”
“Nice!” He grinned widely, “I’ll text you the address. Oh, and you should bring your friends along too—Wooyoung and San, right?”
“I just said I—” but he suddenly seemed to be in a rush to get to his lecture,
“I’ll see you there!” he said as if it was already a sure fact, and perhaps it was.
“Yeah, sure,” you sighed and watched him disappear, before you fished out your phone and opened the group chat.
Party on thursday @ eric’s you texted and it didn’t even take a minute before the replies came in
woo: noice
san: pregame at our place?
woo: U can come by at 6 y/nnie
The party was nice. The music was good and the people were friendly enough that it felt easy to mingle. Felix was there, too, as well as Changbin who immediately roped Wooyoung into a round of beer pong. They played against some of his friends that you didn’t know at first, before you were convinced to go up against them together with Eric’s roommate, Juyeon, in the next round.
Unfortunately you weren’t gifted at all and Juyeon wasn’t gifted enough to balance it out. You let out a sigh as your ball once again bounced off the rim of a cup before ultimately falling onto the table.
“We’ll get the next one,” Juyeon assured, but you both knew there wouldn’t be a next one, unless Wooyoung missed his shot too. He and Changbin already had you down to the last cup, and you could already feel the slight dizziness of the alcohol in your body.
“Hope you’re still thirsty,” Wooyoung teased with a grin as he lifted his hand to aim. You wanted to say something back, but right then someone walked through the door behind him. Jongho. What was he doing here? It was so unlike him to go out during the week. Why would he suddenly change things up?
His gaze flitted over the people in the room.
Wooyoung made his toss. The ball hit the rim of the cup, circling it once, twice.
Jongho’s eyes landed on you.
The ball dropped into the cup.
Juyeon said something consoling. Wooyoung and Changbin celebrated with a loud cheer and a tight hug. You felt like throwing up.
The winning team slid their remaining cups to your side of the table, while Jongho averted his gaze and made his way over to the kitchen area. You grabbed the first cup and downed it, hoping to swallow the sick feeling along with it, then the next and the next until there wasn’t a single one left. There was cheering and hollering, but you didn’t listen, nor did you care, because all that mattered was that Jongho was here.
“I could’ve emptied some too, you know? You didn’t have to drink by yourself,” Juyeon looked at you with a mixture of surprise and worry.
“I was just so thirsty?” You forced and laugh and wanted to playfully nudge his side, but the movement made you lose your balance that you only regained by grabbing onto the edge of the table, “Oh, oops,” you tried not to slur your speech, but you suddenly realized how drunk you were. It made you feel pathetic and embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” Juyeon’s hand hovered over your back, not quite touching you but ready to steady you if needed.
“I—uhm,” you still felt so sick, probably more so than before, because, unsurprisingly, beer wasn’t the best medicine for an upset stomach. You blinked, slowly. The world was spinning.
“I think you could use some fresh air,” Juyeon concluded and you just nodded stupidly. He led you towards one of the closed doors in the apartment, a bedroom, you realized, and then towards the full height window, that turned out to be a balcony door as you got closer.
You let out a marvelling “Oooh” as he opened the door and maneuvered you onto the bench outside.
“Wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water, alright?”
You nodded and somewhat registered him leaving, but your eyes were fixed onto the blinking lights of the city that laid before you like a carpet of stars. It was really beautiful. There was a flowerpot in the corner. Maybe you had to puke.
Jongho was on his way home when Sanha called him. He already figured it would be about Eric’s party before he even picked up—he’d seen the messages in their 00z group chat. He picked up with a sigh.
“Why are you even bothering? You know I won’t come,” he said instead of a greeting. Jongho didn’t like going out during the week, especially if he had an early lecture the next day like he did tomorrow.
Sanha huffed and Jongho could see his grin before his inner eye.
“What?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to change your mind,” his friend replied. Jongho could hear music and voices in the background, Sanha must’ve already arrived at Eric’s.
“How so?” He doubted there was anything Sanha could say now to make him come running, but he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued, if only ever so slightly.
“Y/n is here.”
Jongho stopped in his tracks. That couldn’t be. Why would you be at Eric’s party? When he asked Sanha that exact question, the other seemed a lot less irritated by the fact.
“I suppose she was invited?”
“But why?! And why would she come?!”
“She probably accurately assumed that you wouldn’t come.”
No, fuck that. Jongho was definitely going. He had to. He turned around on the spot and walked back towards the bus station with quick steps. He wouldn’t make the next bus, but the one after it should work. “I’ll be there in 15, maybe 20 minutes.”
Sanha let out a laugh at the other end of the line, “I knew you’d say that. After all you even made me switch groups just to be on the s—”
“Shut up,” Jongho interrupted him, “Don’t talk about that when you and the whole world are at Eric’s right now. I don’t really need anyone to know.”
“Mhm,” Sanha hummed, “Just remember you still owe me that coffee.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jongho rolled his eyes. He’d reached the main street now and he could see the earlier bus at the intersection. As expected, he wasn’t going to make that one unless he ran.
“By the way, when did y/n get so chummy with Juyeon? Did they know each other?”
Jongho felt the breath being knocked out of his lungs, “What?”
“They’ve been talking for quite a while now, and she’s been laughing a lot. Since when is Juyeon funny?”
“He’s not.” Jongho hastened his steps, eyes fixed on the bus getting closer. Actually, he could probably still make that one.
“Right? Anyway it seems they’ve teamed up at beer pong.”
You sucked at beer pong. You’d probably get drunk. Or Juyeon could play the gentleman and drink for you and make you fall for his stupidly pretty face and tall frame. Yeah, no.
Jongho fell into a jog before he straight up started running while the bus was rolling into the stop. He made it just in time before the doors closed.
“You good?” Sanha asked when he heard his heavy breathing through the line.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Ten suddenly?”
“Caught a bus earlier than expected.”
Sanha laughed. “Someone’s desperate.”
“Just shut up and have a drink ready for me.”
“Of course. See you in ten.” There was still amusement in his voice. Sanha seemed to be having a lot of fun at his expense.
When he arrived he marched right into a game of beer pong—Wooyoung and Changbin against you and Juyeon. Sanha was right, the two of you seemed chummy. Why? Since when? Did you get to know each other during the break? Your eyes met his for a brief moment. You seemed shocked, as if you truly hadn’t expected Jongho to be here, and if he was being truthful that hurt a little. A part of him had entertained this secret fantasy that maybe, possibly, you came tonight hoping to see him. After all, Eric was his friend. It made sense for Jongho to be here, more sense for him than for you. But you looked truly caught off guard with your wide eyes. And also a little drunk; Jongho could tell from the slight redness on your cheeks and forehead. It was cute—
He tore his gaze away. He needed a drink. And so did you it seemed, because he could see you emptying one cup after the other from his peripheral vision. He hadn’t wanted Juyeon to be your shining knight, hadn’t wanted you to have a chance to witness Juyeon’s cool side. But now, seeing you drink them all by yourself made him angry too. You were clearly drunk already, why was no one drinking for you?
Sanha pulled him out of his thoughts as he held a cup under Jongho’s nose.
“Your drink, as promised.”
Jongho took a huge swig of whatever was in there, “Yeah, thanks.” It left a slight burn in his throat.
“You just arrived and you already look ready to go home.”
“Well, I didn’t expect to walk straight into that.” He nodded towards the beer pong table. Juyeon’s hand was at the small of your back. The plastic cup crinkled under Jongho’s tightening grip.
“Easy, cowboy, you know you’re not y/n’s boyfriend anymore, right?”
Jongho shot him a death glare, “You know as well as I do that that whole break-up was bullshit.”
“I don’t think I’m equipped to have an opinion here,” Sanha replied vaguely, taking a sip of his own drink, “but whatever the case, you’re not back together.”
“Yet,” Jongho corrected. His eyes followed you as Juyeon led you away and Jongho had been at this apartment often enough to know the room you were just entering was Juyeon’s bedroom. His cup got crushed further beneath his fingers. That asshole. You were clearly way too drunk to consent.
“Hold this for a second,” he shoved his mangled cup at Sanha and then took big strides through the crowd of the party guests towards the door you just disappeared behind. Before he reached it though, it swung open again and Juyeon came out, almost stumbling into him. “Oh, sorry,” He looked slightly startled but seemed to catch up on Jongho having purposely followed him when the latter didn’t budge.
“Y/n is quite drunk,” Juyeon said as if it was a good explanation.
“I saw that,” His response was unnecessarily harsh, something he was aware of, but didn’t care to change.
“She’s out on the balcony. I was gonna get her some wa—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jongho interrupted.
Juyeon seemed unsure for a moment, probably figuring out in his head if Jongho, the ex-boyfriend, could be trusted to take care of you, but ultimately nodded, perhaps driven by the insight that he himself, an almost stranger to you, was definitely a lesser choice. “Let me know if you need something e—”
“I won’t, thanks.” Jongho was already on his way back to the kitchen area to get a glass of water for you.
“Maybe take a bucket with you as well—”
“I can handle it.” Jongho didn’t know himself to be this snippy. But alas.
A few minutes later, he stepped out onto the balcony, glass of water in one hand and a big mixing bowl in the other (how was he supposed to know where they kept their buckets? And Eric was god-knows where and he definitely wasn’t going to ask Juyeon, because despite having been wrong about him taking advantage of your drunk state, he still felt somewhat upset just looking at the guy).
You were sitting on the bench, hugging one of the seat cushions to your chest as you stared into the night sky. You didn’t immediately turn your head to look at him, and even when you finally did it seemed to take you a moment to register that it was him. You blinked slowly, your gaze dropping to the glass in his hands and then back up to his face.
“Juyeon will bring me water,” you said and even though Jongho knew it was probably just because you were drunk, he was surprised by the softness in your voice. It’d been a while since you spoke to him without any underlying anger. Not that he’d been much better, though.
“I told him I’d do it.”
“Why would you?” Your speech was slightly slurred.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He handed you the glass and took it without letting go of the cushion, which made it look quite cumbersome. Still you managed to take a sip before trying to hand it back to him.
“Have some more,” Jongho suggested and you did so without complaints. He sat down on the bench next to you, on the side without a cushion, and wondered what he was doing here.
“Are you disappointed? That I showed up instead?”
You didn’t look up from the empty glass as you carefully placed it on the ground in front of your feet, only for Jongho to put it on the window sill instead to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break it.
“No,” you finally replied.
Relief washed over him, as well as a sense of reason. If you didn’t mind him being here, if you didn’t prefer someone else taking care of you, then there was nothing wrong with him doing so.
“I puked into the flower pot,” you admitted out of nowhere, in between tiny sips of water, and Jongho was so caught off guard he let out a laugh. In a petty bout of jealousy he thought that Juyeon deserved the vomit in his flower pot.
“I missed that.”
He raised his eyebrow, “Missed what?”
“Your laugh.”
His chest hurt. “You don’t have to miss it.” You can have as much of it as you want. I’ll laugh all the time if that makes you come back.
“No, I do,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the bench, “I can’t help myself.”
He wanted to hug you but he knew he couldn’t, so he just remained silent and looked at you.
Your eyelids fluttered before you opened them again, an odd determination in your eyes. You shoved the pillow aside and it fell to the floor. “Can you take me home?”
“Of course.”
He took your hand and helped you up from the bench and when he realized how wobbly you were on your feet, he wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you. He grabbed his things and your jacket on the way out, and then you were already in the elevator down. You didn’t run into anyone of interest (aside from Sanha who met his gaze with a raised eyebrow) and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was here, why he was taking you home, and what he wanted even less was to hand you over to Wooyoung or San, who would surely think it was better for them to take you home. And maybe it was, but Jongho didn’t want to hand you over to anyone, didn’t want to give up this fragile moment of peace between the two of you.
When you stepped outside the building you took a deep breath, as if you hadn’t breathed fresh air in ages, as if you hadn’t just been on the balcony.
“This is nice.”
“Mhm,” he hummed.
“I’m gonna be sick,” and without warning you hunched over and puked in between the trash cans. He tried his best to keep your hair out of your face and slowly rubbed your back until you were done. It was gross, obviously, but a part of him felt nostalgic. It made him feel like your boyfriend again. Like a few semesters back, when you hadn’t quite figured out your tolerance yet and ended parties like this more often than not. And he would take care of you until you felt stable enough to walk home, and when you didn’t he’d carry you on his back and you’d whisper silly little I love you’s into his ear. As he rubbed your back, he wondered when you’d said it last, and if he’d hear it again.
He wiped your mouth with a tissue and gave you the bottle of water he’d still had in his backpack to let you rinse your mouth.
“Better?”
You nodded, “Better.”
“Can you walk?”
You seemed to consider for a moment, as if you were contemplating the correct answer, before you finally shook your head. He huffed a laugh. “Fine then.”
Jongho crouched down in front of you, the way he’d always done, making it easier for you to get on his back. His chest felt tight when you wrapped your arms around him.
And then he started walking, carrying you home because it wasn’t terribly far from here, and because that was what he’d always done. He felt you snuggle into him, tucking your face into his neck, and it was such a small gesture, something he’d considered so normal that he’d barely even noticed it, but now it felt like the world.
“Why didn’t you beg?” You mumble into the collar of his hoodie.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you say no? You could’ve—you could’ve just said no.”
“Hadn’t you already made up your mind? Weren’t you going to tear down the building either way?”
You shook your head, he assumed, and the movement of your hair felt ticklish against his skin. “I just—I wanted you to want me.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” He looks straight ahead at the streetlights cutting through the darkness. “You know I wanted you.”
“But that’s different. You wanted me in a college way, not in a future wife way.”
It sounded so ridiculous he wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, because this was about you and about his relationship and it was too important to laugh, no matter how ridiculous. “What does that mean?”
“It means you would’ve always left me, so I did it first.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yeah,” you snuggled further into his neck as if your words weren’t even contradicting that display of affection in the slightest. Though, in your drunk and tired eyes it was probably more about being comfortable and less about showing any kind of affection. “You have your whole life ahead of you after all.”
“Y/n, we’re the same age.”
“But your future is worth more than mine.” You said it so matter of factly, like a truth you’d always known and secretly held onto, and maybe that was the most shocking part. Jongho stopped walking. He even almost dropped you, but remembered to hold on just in time.
“That’s bullshit,” he replied, but he already knew you’d disagree. You’d disagree and then explain to him the ways in which you were right, give arguments that had never even occurred to him. He’d never even considered the value of his life or future, nor had he ever thought to weigh it up against yours. And by what measure, anyway? What made a future more valuable? Who decided that?
You, apparently.
“It’s not. You’ll have your fancy,” you were interrupted by a hiccup, “job and drive a fancy,” another hiccup, “car and I will just,” another, “be me.” The last word slipped from your lips like an insult. “You would’ve left me anyway.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he insisted, “There is no just you. There is you. And I like you.”
“You used to love me, though.”
He did let out a small, huffed laugh now. “And I would say that I still do, if I thought you wanted to hear it.”
“I want to hear it.” Your breathing sounded really calm now, as if you were on the brink of falling asleep.
“I love you.”
He heard the sleepy smile in your voice as you replied, “Me too.”
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the excruciating headache that only got worsened by the shrill sound of your alarm. You groaned and aimlessly fumbled with your phone until it finally stopped. This was why you didn’t like going out on weekdays.
After another ten minutes of drifting back to sleep, you tapped your phone screen to check the time. Almost 9. Fuck. You were going to miss the lecture. When you closed your eyes once more, hazy memories came back to you. Playing beer pong. Puking into Juyeon’s flower pot. Someone giving you water. Someone holding your hair. Someone carrying you on his back. Someone saying he loves you.
Jongho? You suddenly felt awake. Did that actually happen? Did you just dream it?
A message popped up on your phone screen.
Jongho: we need to talk
Double fuck.
You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself out of bed and into your shower. There’d been painkillers on the nightstand that you’d swallowed down with a big gulp of water and you thought they were already helping. When you finally got dressed and ready to go, your lecture was already halfway over. But you weren’t driving to campus for that lecture anyway.
You sat down on some stairs and waited for Jongho to come out. You needed this talk, as much as he did, probably. But you dreaded it too, confused by your own patchy memories and scared of that small hope inside of you getting crushed again. Still, you waited.
He didn’t smile when he spotted you, but he didn’t look upset either. It was something else, like insecurity and openness, feelings Jongho didn’t tend to wear on his sleeve.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he plopped down beside you.
“Hungover.”
He chuckled, “I can imagine.”
“Scared, also.”
He frowned, “Of what?”
That you didn’t mean what you said yesterday. Or worse, that it was just a dream. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. Not even now, so you shrugged instead.
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on his own hands. Speaking didn’t seem to come easy to him either, and it made you feel closer to him, reminded you that he wasn’t this perfect entity but rather also just a person.
“Did you mean what you said yesterday?” he finally asked.
You didn’t remember half the things you said. “Which part?”
“All of them. That you wanted me to stop you. That you thought I’d be leaving you anyway,” he took a small breath, “That you love me.”
It felt like a now or never type of situation. If you weren’t going to be honest now, when would you? So you nodded. “Yes.”
“All of them?”
“...Yes.”
Jongho turned to look at you and there was so much hurt and vulnerability and desperation in his eyes, it almost made you feel sick to look at him because you knew this was your fault.
“I wasn’t going to leave,” he said and you think he said something like that yesterday too.
“I’m sorry,” you replied because it was the only thing you could come up with, “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”
“And I won’t leave now, either, if you don’t want me to.”
Your eyes widened, unable to quite grasp the meaning of his words.
“But you can’t break up with me again. Not unless you mean it.”
Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you knew you were still on campus and it wasn’t the best place to get emotional, but you didn’t care. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again with a wobbly voice.
“That’s not an answer.”
You sniffed, “I won’t. I won’t break up with you again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding onto it for a long time.
“Good.” He took your hand and intertwined your fingers and it felt so good, so reassuring, so much like home to be connected to him like that again. He stared at your hands long and hard and it made you think he was probably thinking about the same thing. But then he said “You know your future isn’t actually less valuable than mine, right?”
You almost felt ashamed. Like a child that’d messed up. You knew the answer would be Yes but it would also be a lie, so you stayed silent.
“And to be honest, I’d much prefer to think of it as our future anyway.”
Ours. That sounded pretty nice. It sounded like a shared apartment and getting groceries and taking vacations together. It sounded like building a home. It sounded like being together.
“I’d like that.”
A smile spread on his lips before he connected them with yours. “Good,” he said again.
“Good,” you repeated.
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🥂 Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other’s names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you’re stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho’s tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.
🥂 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), the MC goes by the lastname Jeong, Jongho is a rich kid, the MC not so, Jongho smokes and rides a motorcycle, light alcohol consumption, a lot of teasing, pet names (pretty girl, soulmate, sweetheart & Jjong), probably incorrect portrayal of CEOs and charity events (bare with me, i'm just a girl), some kissing, adult language
🥂 Wordcount: 9.0K
🥂 Author's Note: Click the image for a higher resolution (Tumblr, I hate you). This is my first time ever writing for Jongho and also the fastest I’ve finished a fic — just 4 days, to be exact! It was a lot of fun playing around with the soulmate idea and turning Jongho into a bad-boy-ish character. I hope you all enjoy the second fic of the Cherry Blossom March Event and feel brave enough to share your thoughts with me! I'm really curious to hear what you think and have to say :3
This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains explicit scenes, not sexual content but descriptions of matures themes and adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!
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To go out with people widely. It could mean all sorts of things. A person whose presence spreads widely. Someone who possesses the ability to form broad connections and reach far with their impact, whether it be through influence, relationships or personal qualities. To go out with people widely was the meaning behind the chosen hanja of the name Choi Jongho. The same name that was imprinted on your wrist since birth in black and reminded you daily of your other half. Everyone was born with a name on their wrist that assigned them to a soulmate the moment they entered the world. All you had to go by was the names on your wrists and hope it would be someone sane. Everyone didn’t have to worry about that though as some faced a fate worse than death — their soulmate mark written in white. It symbolized the death of their significant other. One would think the word would change into red, like anger and blood, but no. You liked to think the white represented innocence, cleanliness and new beginnings, almost like an angel.
Your soulmate mark was the same since you were welcomed to the world. Wailing loudly and alerting everyone of your arrival. It hadn’t changed over the course of your twenty-five years long life, for better or for worse. Ever since you could remember, you loved listening to the stories of how people met their soulmates. At family gatherings, you would sit on the knee of your relatives and ask them kindly to retell the moment they met their husbands or wives, but your favorite story was always your parents'.
It was a few days before New Years and both of your parents just recently turned eighteen. The biggest snowfall of the year graced Seoul, like a late Christmas miracle, and the streets were swarmed with people enjoying the freezing weather, young and old alike. Your parents hadn’t known each other by then. They lived in the same neighbourhood, but weren’t aware of just how close they were to their soulmates. Your mother, young and happy, gazed up at the snowflakes being pulled by gravity when something cold and hard struck her, followed by horrified gasps. She crouched down, cradling her head, gently pressing against the side where the snowball had hit. A few seconds later, a young man approached her, apologizing and bowing so deeply that he nearly toppled over. It was your father who had launched the snowball at his friend, misaiming and hitting your mother instead.
Little you hoped to experience a romantic encounter with your soulmate as your parents did. You would stay up way past your bedtime and fantasize of meeting your soulmate, coming up with various scenarios that changed every night, but nothing could prepare you for the surge of emotions when your eyes locked. It was your first day of high school and all of the first year students were gathered in the gymnasium, patiently waiting for the principal to call out their names and their respective classes. You sat in the fifth row on the seventh seat, hands clutching the hem of your blue plaid skirt. It was nerve wracking — starting high school, meeting new people and creating friends. Then there was the possibility of finding the one. The principal cleared his throat, probably getting dried from pronouncing all the names right after each other. You pitied him, but that sentiment flew out the window as he moved onto your class. Out of all the three hundred first years and out of your thirty classmates, one of them was named—
“Choi Jongho!” You burst into his office, letting the door bounce off the wall.
The secretary, frantically chasing after you with desperate pleas not to disturb the designated successor of Choi Clothes, stood in the doorway, her face twisted in a mix of fear and nervousness as she failed at her job. Successor, my ass. That man didn’t know anything beyond smoking a pack of Marlboros a day, dodging his responsibilities, and defying his parents. The man in question was currently sitting behind his desk, one ankle propped on his knee, fully decked out in Valentino — a black suit that was probably bespoke, tailored to his fitting. His hair, a natural shade of dark cocoa, was parted down the middle and showcased his forehead while his hands were decorated with various pieces of jewelry, starting with big fat rings on his fingers, a golden watch and a matching bracelet. Jongho didn’t look the least phased by your appearance nor by the loud entrance. In fact, he looked as monotone as ever, but you saw the brief twitch of his fingers. While he was at the company, he wasn’t allowed to take a smoke until lunch or after work and it sure was getting to him.
“Miss Jeong,” came the annoying voice of his secretary as she began reciting the script drilled into her mind from her first day on the clock. “Mr. Choi’s schedule is fully booked this afternoon and he does not have the time to discuss–”
The rest of her sentence was drowned out as you zeroed in on Jongho and raised a brow, silently challenging him to do something. On cue, the stone cold expression morphed into sunlight seeping through an array of thunderous clouds as he broke out in a charming smile and averted his attention to the woman behind you still going on about rules and policies. Gentle as a breeze and with a faux sweetness to his words, he cut her off.
“It’s alright, Eunij. I called her over to plan our date for the evening. We won’t be long, I promise.”
To really secure the win, Jongho flashed her his significant gummy smile that looked sweeter than sugar itself. Jongho knew he was good looking, you knew he was good looking, everyone knew he was good looking, but what they didn’t know was that he used it to his advantage for years. He would flash them a smile warm enough to melt through ice and cheesing eyes that portrayed the sweetest chocolate in the world, but his mouth wasn’t just good for a handsome distraction. More often than not, Jongho would sweet talk his way out of situations. It worked nine out of ten times. The one time it didn’t work was on you.
As expected, Eunji blushed beneath his attentive gaze and your insides turned on fire. The swirls of his name on your skin burned hotter than a blowtorch and no ice bath would save you from the stinging pain. She threw you one last look before closing the door with a gentle click that could barely be heard in the silent room. Being left alone in the solitude of his office and away from the prying eyes of his father’s employees, Jongho allowed the sugary facade to slip like cotton candy dissolving at a brief contact with water. The round eyes of a teddy didn’t find you, but rather a pair belonging to a hungry bear who’s just had his territory disturbed.
Jongho clasped his fingers together and leaned on the mahogany desk, putting his whole weight on it. “I take it you didn’t come here to give me chocolates for White Day?”
Hadn’t you known Jongho for a decade or so, you’d be confused at the teasing remark coming from a man looking anything but in the mood for playing around. You ignored the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and got straight to the point, hoping it would calm the beautiful creatures pushing you to the brink of puking.
“Why did you agree to attend the charity event on my behalf?”
“Because you’re my girlfriend?”
“Fake-girlfriend,” you corrected him and crossed your arms. “I can’t just change my life to accommodate yours, Jongho, this wasn’t the deal. The contract explicitly said we would be under a fake guise until your name was cleared of rumours and scandals.”
“And how do you think that would happen if we don’t play the part of a happy couple? I can’t go on my own, that tells them I’m more available than ever before, especially when we recently went public with the relationship.”
You yielded under his intense gaze and changed the direction of your attention on the shelf to your left displaying various brands of alcohol ranging from pricey Japanese whiskey to Italian wine. The inside of your cheek was caught between your teeth as you contemplated your answer. He had a point, but you didn’t want to boost his already hugemongous ego. Darting your tongue out to lick at your dry lips, you turned back and found his eyes still staring into the depths of your soul as if searching for the red string that tied you together.
“Just… Just ask me next time before you make a decision on your own, okay? That’s all I want.”
The need to defy everyone and everything danced through his veins, yet the rewarding feeling of succeeding to annoy the other party wasn’t as satisfying when you were on the receiving end this time. He flexed his jaw and the hand that slipped beneath the table to rest on his thigh clenched into a tight fist.
“Fine…”
“Thank you.”
That marked the end of your conversation and you took it as your cue to leave. Jongho’s voice calling out your name brought you to a stop. You didn’t let go of your hold on the doorknob, just turned slightly to show him you were listening.
“We’ll pick you up at six PM on Friday and I’ll have Eunji send you the clothes before then.” As if having the ability to read your mind, he quickly added what felt like the most obvious thing in the world. “And yes, the dress is long sleeved.”
That was probably the sole good thing with the contract, besides the paycheck that sold you in the first place. You weren’t picky with the arrangement and went along with everything stated in the agreement — going on a few dates for publicity, holding hands, kissing, posting each other on social media, attending events and galas. Wearing clothes created by Choi Clothes came with the duty of fake-dating the heir of said agency, however you did make it clear you’d only sign the papers if all the clothes were long sleeved, reaching well over your wrist as not to disclose the soulmate mark. The easy money you once thought you’d earn by fake-dating the successor of Choi Clothes turned into a full-time job with no room for slacking off. Just a few more months, you thought and walked out of Choi Enterprises.
It was still hard to wrap your head around everything. You recalled the day they came knocking on your door. A woman and man dressed in expensive clothes that seemed to cost more than the will your parents set aside for you. They introduced themselves as the managers of Mr. and Mrs. Choi, the owners of Choi Clothes. The ice tea you poured in the prettiest set of china you owned were left untouched as the managers — the names you have long since forgotten — explained their unexpected visit. The Chois selected you as the perfect candidate for their little stunt to ensure their son wouldn’t put the entire family line at shame and burn the whole establishment to the ground before he could even acquire the title as CEO.
Your task was, more or less, to be the candy glued to Jongho’s side and together play the part of a couple head over heels for each other. The pair was patient as you bombarded them with questions, meanwhile they only had three — Do you have a soulmate, have you met your soulmate and how is your criminal record? The quiet voice in the back of your mind pointed out how they probably already had the answers, but didn’t want to seem totally uninterested in you.
At first, you didn’t want to do it. Not only were you going to play pretend for a good few months, but you weren’t even allowed to know who you were going to fake-date as they didn’t want you to decline the offer and run your mouth to a newspaper publisher. The fountain pen with gold swirling engravings on its sides looked scary as it lay abandoned beside the pristine contract. That quickly changed when you saw the never ending zeroes slothed after the word ‘total salary’. Your morning shift at the closest seven-eleven that was about to start in thirty minutes flashed before your eyes and you never signed something as fast as you did that contract.
Perhaps you would’ve said no if you knew the heir was going to be none else than your soulmate. The universe worked in miraculous ways and somehow always made sure to lead you back to him. A magnetic pull that steered you in every direction until you would stand before him again.
The weekend came around and so did the event taking place that Saturday afternoon. It would be marked as your second public outing as a couple feeding into the eager eyes and cameras of South Korea. Mr. Oh, Jongho’s designated driver, pulled up in a squeaky clean limousine that looked more out of place than a kitten raised by a group of squirrel monkeys in the Amazon rainforest. Mr. Oh was a kind older man inching closer and closer to his retirement, always wearing a smile and never speaking without referring to others by their titles. In the few and brief encounters you had with the man, he would always greet you with a ‘Hello, Ms. Jeong’ while opening the rear door for you despite being told to just call you by your name. The backseat was already occupied by Jongho sitting in yet another expensive suit.
The suit jacket was black with white tiger-like stripes erupting from his shoulders and reaching all the way down to his midsection. It had six silver buttons, two for practical use while the rest were there for embellishment. Jongho — never one keen on showing too much — chose to keep the jacket buttoned and you wondered how he could endure it, considering he wore a white turtleneck beneath. The pattern wasn’t what caught the eye of the beholder, rather it was the millions of bedazzles covering the whole piece, making it reflect beneath any form of light, identical to the ones on your dress. His hair was styled in a middle part and unveiled his forehead, a sight you had seen a dozen times before, but were still left breathless. It was already established that Jongho was a handsome man, however the suits created by his parents certainly brought out the best of him — accentuating his confidence, breathtaking features and magnetic presence in a way that left everyone in awe.
Jongho brought you back to reality as he did a rundown of the charity event, what questions to expect and what answers to give, the names of some important people you would definitely speak — or at least greet — with tonight and who would exit the limousine first. You definitely missed the way his eyes ran over your figure, seemingly appreciating you in a beautiful dress from the latest spring collection of his parents. The Chois apparently had a knack for chic attires because your dress wasn’t anything over the top either, but would definitely unscrew some jaws. It was strapless and started from your bosom with a straight neckline allowing your collarbones to be captured by the crazy shuttering cameras. The dress was tight around your torso, giving a perfect picture of your figure beneath, but grew loose from your hips and down. The material didn’t stop until it grazed the ground you walked on, despite wearing a pair of black stiletto heels that were made for your feet and clicked with each step you took, announcing your arrival to everyone in a close vicinity.
Speaking of your lower body — your left leg was exposed as a long slit protruded from your upper thigh. Both of your arms were covered in black detachable sleeves reaching up to your mid bicep and cuffing around the cushion of your hand. You almost threw a fit when you took out the dress from its gigantic box and noticed the lack of sleeves on it. You were one phone call away from canceling the whole agreement hadn’t you seen the remaining parts of the attire. To top it off, the Chois gifted you a set of golden jewelry and a black clutch handbag spacious enough to fit your phone, lipstick and wallet. The matching set of earrings, rings and necklace were nothing too outstanding, but enough to take on the elegance of a model.
“We’ll be there for an hour or two and then Mr. Oh will take you home.”
You ignored the part where it was stated Mr. Oh was taking you home and focused on his subtle slip-in of defying his parents’ rules yet again. Your brows furrowed together and Jongho suppressed the need to even out the skin between them. “No, Mr. and Mrs. Choi explicitly said we had to be there until the very end of the event.”
Jongho leaned into his seat and spread his legs further apart until one of his knees touched your thigh. A chuckle void of amusement filled the passenger compartment and he sighed as if you said the joke of the century.
“I think you should relax a little, sweetheart. My parents should be grateful I’m attending in the first place.”
You pursed your lips to keep yourself from giving your input where it clearly wasn’t wished for. Jongho looked out of the window while you admired his side profile. Jongho was the epitome of a whiplash — you never knew when he’d shake you off like a poisonous insect or help you fly as if you were an injured ladybug. His nonchalance left a bitter tang on your tongue, the similar taste after downing a beer you knew you’d puke back up in a few hours, and the imaginary Jongho was crushed in the world you created in your brain.
The karma of thinking such thoughts was instantaneous as the skin beneath your soulmate mark flared to life. You wondered if Jongho experienced repercussions whenever he was treating you badly. The rest of the drive was done in silence safe for the newest global hits playing through the speakers. Four songs later and the limousine temporarily came to a stop before the entrance of a big building looking like something straight out of a movie. A red carpet was rolled out from the doors to the street where everyone’s ride was instructed to stop and let the guests out. Mr. Oh exited first and walked around the oblong vehicle as Jongho simultaneously fixed his suit although it was free of any imperfections.
“It’s showtime, baby.”
The door opened and Jongho stepped out, an array of flashes went off accompanied by the calls of his name — the photographers begging for a crumb of his attention. Jongho straightened his jacket, offered everyone a smile and quick wave before holding out his hand to face the dark heavens. That was your cue. No one really knew who you were outside of being Jongho’s girlfriend and even after you became public, they could find little to no information about you online. Thus, you didn’t expect the clicking of cameras and flashes to multiply in your presence. You grabbed Jongho’s hand per your agreement and stepped out with your exposed leg first then, when you fully exited the limousine — an upgrade from Jongho’s death trap of a motorcycle — you smoothly looped your arm through his and firecrackers erupted on your skin at the contact. You stood tall and got a couple of inches on him thanks to the heels, but he didn’t seem bothered by it and neither was the company otherwise you doubt they would’ve sent it in the first place.
Standing in the centre of attention wasn’t as nauseating as you originally thought it would be and whether you want to admit it or not, it was partially because of Jongho being there to anchor you. It wasn’t his forthe to whisper sweet words of encouragement, but he portrayed his support in other ways such as leading you through the overwhelming photographers, sneaking his arm around your waist and respectfully resting his palm above the curve of your hip. It helped that you rehearsed the events of the night from start to finish with Jongho and wouldn’t be in for a surprise. Taking advice from your favorite childhood movie, you put on the brightest smile of your career and moved along. The audience didn’t need to know you were finding comfort in the famous line from Madagascar.
The inside of the venue was prettier than any other interior you had ever laid eyes on. To be frank, it wasn’t anything exceptional, but the simplicity made it appear so. The main colors of the theme were creme white and beige, and were integrated into everything. The seats were plush chairs made out of velvet material in an ashy shade of beige while the tables were round with white marble tops. There was a path leading straight down the area and separating the room into two occupied with seats on both sides. On the other end of the pathway was a slightly elevated scene where the hosts of the event and guests would give their speeches, and use the smartboard to their liking. The ceiling was the most alluring sight though. Oblong light bulbs hung from the ceiling as sheer garment circled the light in waves. It gave a sense of elegance as well as coziness.
A waiter dressed in a simple black suit offered you champagne on a platter and while you didn’t wish to become drunk, you still needed some alcohol to get through the night, especially when you were going to meet some of Choi Clothes’ most trusted business partners. You both took a glass each and mingled around with Jongho’s arm still glued to you as if it belonged right above the swell of your hip. Not many words, if any at all, were exchanged as you mainly drank in the design of the place while simultaneously ignoring the stares and whispers of the remaining guests, all eyes glued to your forms fitting perfectly with one another like two lost pieces of a puzzle. They were all curious about the pretty lady beneath Jongho’s arm and how the reckless Choi managed to find a girl that would look past his bad habits and disrespectful personality. If only they knew.
Jongho’s situation wasn’t entirely a secret. Everyone knew he was somewhat of a problematic guy with another style of living that wasn’t fit to his parents’ standard. They didn’t feel all too proud waking up to multiple articles of Dispatch flaunting pictures taken of Jongho leaving clubs early in the morning surrounded by boys and girls of all kinds, certainly not the kind to be invited to exclusive fashion events and charities. Jongho hadn’t changed much over the years, if you recalled correctly. He would rarely be present during lectures. He was physically there, but his mind had transcended off to dreamland long before the lesson started. The one interest he had was soccer and even that ended shortly into his second year as he got with the wrong crowd. If someone needed him, he could be found smoking on the roof or behind the back of the school with a handful of students who also had successful parents.
It was sheer luck Jongho was an only child and that his parents were in need of a successor, otherwise he would’ve been kicked to the curb a long time ago. Apparently, the Chois grew sick of his careless behaviour and gave him an ultimatum — clean up his mess or not be signed as an heir to the company. Jongho defied them like always, until his credit card ran empty and he realized his parents wouldn’t relent. He came crawling back with his tail between his legs and agreed to their proposition. You never understood him or why he acted the way he did. He had everything, practically born with a silver spoon in his mouth and it amazed you that the universe decided to tie your souls to each other. Jongho certainly wasn’t the soulmate you expected and your meeting wasn’t anywhere near the romantic encounter your parents experienced.
“Let’s take a seat before the aunties swammer us,” he whispered in your ear and led you to a table with a gentle nudge to the small of your back.
The touch sent plausible tingles of electricity up your spine and the intensity never wavered even when he withdrew his hand to pull out your chair for you — a great play to showcase his inner gentleman. He took his righteous place on your right side, but immediately regretted it. His ploy of escaping the aunties proved to be futile as Mrs. Kang, a good business partner of Jongho’s paternal grandparents, butted into your table and plopped down on the vacant seat beside you despite her name not being on the list and began shooting invasive questions. The older lady wanted to know everything about you — your age, name, workplace, how you knew Jongho, who your soulmate was, if you and Jongho were soulmates. She pulled on the imaginary rubber band attached to Jongho’s wrist until it snapped and rebounded against his skin.
“Mrs. Kang, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
The chatter around the table quieted down at Jongho’s sharp reply and you acted quickly to ease the tension. You placed your hand over his and gave it a firm squeeze. The motion averted his attention from Mrs. Kang to your stern gaze. A silent conversation ensued between you.
“Stop.”
“She’s the one who started it.”
“I don’t care. It won’t look good for you or your parents.”
Jongho eventually gave in and leaned back in his chair. The sudden cold shoulder on his part was him telling you he wasn’t pleased with the outcome. Not like you cared. Yes, your part of the deal was to be his fake-girlfriend, but you couldn’t just let him do as he wished to the people around him as it would reflect a bad light on you too.
“Welcome everyone to the Fashion For Aid charity event aimed at assisting children in group homes! I want to express my sincere gratitude to everyone for attending on this fine evening…”
The host was a man in his late sixties with a head full of hair and face clean of any. You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying as you weren’t well versed into the fashion world, but you did your best to at least look immersed in his speech. The man to your right wasn’t looking any more interested than you did and actually managed to sit through the first five minutes of the opening ceremony, until he got bored. After that, he played a game of what-could-Jongho-do-to-annoy-his-soulmate-in-the-fastest-way-possible? He did everything to get on your nerves — drumming his fingers against the edge of the table, staring at you then looking away when you met his gaze, loudly cracking his neck and fingers, and frequently checked his phone. The moment the host finished his lengthy speech and encouraged everyone to visit the table full of sweets and drinks placed on both sides of the room, Jongho jumped from his seat, hand already reaching into the inner pocket of his suit.
“If you’ll excuse me, a man’s gotta use the bathroom.”
“Jongho!” You hissed after him, but he either didn’t hear you or blatantly ignored you. As you moved to follow him, an inkling feeling telling you the bathroom was the last place he was headed for, a wrinkly hand landed on your thigh and successfully stopped you from going after him.
“Oh, honey, it is not worth stressing over him. Youngsters like that boy don’t change and he won’t do it even with a beautiful lady by his side.”
A bucket of water spilled over you and froze all forty-three muscles in your face. You somehow managed to force the corners of your mouth up and fake a smile, but the sincerity was not evident in your eyes.
“I, uhm, don’t want him to change. Really.” You added in the end as Mrs. Kang raised a brow in non-belief. “I like Jongho as he is and I don’t think he needs to change to fit in other people's crowded boxes.”
“If you say so, dear, but… if you’re interested, I have a nephew your age who would suit you much better than Mr. Choi.” She turned in her seat and scanned the crowd for said nephew. A fire lit beneath your chair as she began waving him over.
“Oh, Mrs. Kang, that's not necessary.” The reassuring words fell on deaf ears — literally — and although you weren’t too keen on lying, you already had one rich kid to look after. “I think I heard Jongho calling for me, I’ll be right back!”
Jongho was in fact not calling you over. Jongho was gone, disappeared into thin air and abandoned you in a room full of strangers. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t asked Mr. Oh to drive him someplace, leaving you to figure out your own ride home.
“Fucking hell, Jongho,” you muttered and weaved through the crowd of successful people and nepotism babies.
The venue was so packed with people you couldn’t even try searching for the bathrooms and opted to go back out again. The outside wasn’t void of people either, as some foreign faces stood socializing with each other, drinks in one hand and fat cigars squeezed between the pointer- and middle finger of their other hand. Not searching for more aunties or uncles to flag you down, you walked away from the people to a place that seemed vacant. Who would’ve known the universe was pulling on your red string and leading you in the direction of your soulmate. Turning the corner of the building, you stumbled over the view of Jongho crouched down behind a couple of taller bushes. Much like the other gentlemen, he too had a slim cigarette placed between his lips, dragging the poisonous smoke right into his lungs. You understood why out of all the places, he chose to smoke on the other side of the building. It was less prone to attract the paparazzi searching for something juicy to spread on social media.
Jongho didn’t kill the glowing stick as you appeared in his peripheral vision nor did he show a sign of acknowledging your sudden appearance. You didn’t go out of your way to chastise him for smoking in a public setting either, instead you took a stance beside him while he inhaled the last of the cancer-stick and looked straight ahead. It was already stuffy just standing there in silence, you didn’t need to stare at him with questions swimming in your eyes.
The warm sun of March was replaced by the round and bright moon, allowing a certain frost to the early spring breeze. You crossed your arms over your chest and caressed the exposed skin of your bicep with your thumb in a poor attempt at subduing the coldness. The dress was beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t made for such weather and you were questioning their professionalism as they didn’t give you a coat or any other outerwear. On the other hand, Jongho had been admiring you for the last couple of seconds since you took the place beside him and the sharp goosebumps littered on your body didn’t go unnoticed by him. He balanced the cigarette between his lips and slipped the suit jacket off himself. The rustle of clothes caught your attention and before you could realize what was happening, a newfound warmth wrapped around you followed by a mild fragrance of charcoal, pine needles and espresso.
“You don’t have to–”
“I’m not letting my date freeze her ass off.”
You tried ignoring the harsh squeeze of your heart and a pang of heat blossoming from the center of your chest, sprouting out to the rest of your body. This was just Jongho being kind, nothing more, nothing less. Yet your heart and soulmate mark thought otherwise. The stinging smell of his cigarette was a perfect distraction and your nose scrunched at the awful burn. Jongho needed all of three seconds to take one last drag of the stick, blow it away from your face and throw it to the ground, his expensive boot coming down to turn it to speckles of ash.
“I’m going back inside,” you announced after another minute of silence. “It won’t look good if both of us are missing.”
“Who cares what they think? They’ll always have something to say about me in the end so it doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t have to prove them right, you know?”
You didn’t get another answer after that and decided to take your leave. A warm hand circled around your wrist, their thumb grazing the covered soulmate mark and stopping you in your steps. You turned around, Jongho’s hand still on you but his eyes avoiding yours at all cost.
“...Wanna get out of here?” He eventually asked.
Another beat passed and you pressed your lips together. “We really shouldn’t, Jongho, besides it’s against the contract.”
A genuine laugh escaped him and he moved toward the opposite side of the event, rounding the corner you didn't appear from. “Screw the contract.”
You quickly followed his lead, intrigued and worried at where he was headed. Perhaps you got worked up for nothing as a bunch of expensive cars as well as limousines were parked in neat rows, the moonlight reflecting off their polished hoods and trunks.
“Where are you going?” You hissed and bunched one end of your dress to not accidentally step on it and twist your ankle.
“Why don’t you find out?”
How you managed to find yourself in this situation was beyond you. Not once was it stated in the contract that you would need to use Jongho’s death trap as a form of transportation, yet there you were sitting on the back of his motorcycle as he zoomed through the street. It was a miracle he successfully managed to sneak it into the parking lot without having any of the guards or chaperons turning him down. Then again, it was Choi Jongho they were dealing with. What Jongho wanted, Jongho got.
Your arms were tightly wrapped around his midsection and your eyes squeezed shut, almost believing the danger of the situation would disappear if you couldn’t see the blur of scenery whiz past you. Jongho smirked at the feel of you squeezing him to death and he purposefully revved the bike to go faster just to hear your squeaks of fear slip beneath your helmet. He wasn’t even going half the speed he was used to, but he felt just a twinge of remorse for you. The motorcycle slowed down and eventually stopped before a red light.
“You can open your eyes now,” he spoke into the built-in bluetooth in his helmet and placed his hand on your intertwined ones, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles in a soothing motion. The whipping wind was quickly drying your hands and he was cursing himself for the pair of gloves he forgot on the edge of his bed.
You did as told, albeit opening one eye at a time just to make sure he wasn’t sugarcoating the situation. For once, you were happy about being wrong.
“How much more?” You asked, your throat dry and beginning for a sip of water.
“We’re almost there.” The traffic light switched to yellow. “Hold on tight now.”
It took an eternity — twenty minutes — until Jongho put the motorcycle in neutral and turned off the throttle as well as the ignition switch, and allowed the weight of the vehicle to lean on the kickstand. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the gelled strands in the process and placed the helmet on the surface of the fuel tank. You slightly released your grip on him, but were still reluctant to move as you were afraid of somehow falling off the motorcycle or tipping the whole thing over and thus let your fingers hover over his sides. Jongho’s feet were planted on the ground for extra security and comfort, and threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see you sit stiff as a board. He turned away and brought his shoulders up to his ears as he quietly chuckled to himself. The helmet was still on your head and your cheeks mushed by the pillowy cushion inside, making you look like a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts.
“I thought you hated her?” He asked through his giggles.
“Huh?”
“The motorcycle. I thought you hated the motorcycle, besides can you let go off me now? Unless you like touching me–”
You didn’t need to hear more to fling your hands in the air. The abrupt motion almost caused you to fall back, hadn't you grabbed Jongho’s shoulders again. It was sheer luck that he was sturdy enough not to lean back from your harsh grip. He laughed again, a chuckle that brought his gummy smile into the moonlight. It was a sound you came to like and wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your life. The admission caused your ears to burn with embarrassment and you were grateful that the soulmate connection was limited to the scribbled name on your wrist, not giving your other half the ability to feel your emotions or hear your thoughts.
“Okay, go like this. Place this foot,” he patted the side of your left thigh, “on the ground and swing your other leg over the bike, then carefully step off. Hold onto me until you’re completely off so you don’t fall.”
His instructions were easy to follow and you managed to get off without hurting yourself, him, or damaging his prized possession. The sound of water softly washing up against the sand reached your ears and it was only when you dismounted the motorcycle that you took in your surroundings. The view was nothing short of exceptional. You stood on the sidewalk with stairs leading straight down to the riverside area, giving you a perfect view of the river. It was slightly blurry and you couldn't quite figure out why. As your hand subconsciously reached up to rub your eyes, you accidentally brushed against the visor. Unsure how to remove the helmet without discomfort, you decided to simply slide the visor up instead.
The Mapo Bridge was even prettier at night, with its blue and purple lights twinkling beneath the dark sky. At least a hundred cars drove across the bridge in the few minutes since you arrived and the sound of their tires and whirring motors added a sense of tranquility to the setting. The prettiest of it all were the cherry blossoms slipping off the branches of the Prunus serrulata trees. The ground was covered in pink and white petals, and some even landed in your hair. It was magical.
It dawned on you just where Jongho had brought you — Yeouido Hangang Park. While you were busy taking in every little detail of the scenery, Jongho retrieved his keys from the ignition and stopped beside you. He buried them in the pockets of his pants to prevent you from noticing he was fidgeting with the keys, thus keeping his dignity intact. He couldn’t have you going around thinking you were the reason behind the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and whether that was true or not would stay with Jongho, and Jongho only.
“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out.
Jongho hummed in agreement, yet his eyes didn’t budge from your form. It didn’t matter that you wore stiletto heels with a designer dress, a suit jacket multiple sizes too big for you and a sports helmet on your head — you looked as beautiful as the first day he met you, all those years ago in high school. He cleared his throat and stepped in front of you, the pads of his fingers gently grazing the skin beneath your chin as he unclasped the straps of your helmet. The little click snapped your attention to his eyes full of focus that shifted from your chin up to your lips, and lastly your eyes. As if stuck in a trance unable to look away, you drowned in the warmest hue of brown molded out of the richest cacao beans in the world. Jongho slowly took hold of your helmet and began pushing it upwards, but with a gentleness you hadn’t witnessed before. He was so careful and the imagination of having your head ripped off your body didn’t come to life.
“Thank you,” you whispered as he successfully removed the gear.
“No worries… I’m sure my mom would have my head if I let a lady walk around in designer clothes with a cheap helmet on.”
Although his intentions weren’t to tickle your belly, the sound of your laughter spread a fervor through his body and shone light on the darkest parts in him. It was contagious and he found his own lips curling up, eyes cheesing and that angelic voice of his handing out gleeful melodies to the few people taking a late-night stroll in the park.
“Come on, let’s take a walk.” He held out his hand for you to take and you did without a second thought. “I meant your heels, but lucky for you I have two hands.”
You began withdrawing your hand, but Jongho had already laced your fingers together and refused to let go.
“You're unbelievable,” you muttered, pretending the heat of embarrassment wasn't attacking your cheeks.
“I can live with that.”
Jongho pulled you along toward the flight of stairs and patiently walked with you. It didn’t matter that it took five minutes to reach the bottom because he was with you every step of the way and if you said anything otherwise, Jongho would’ve argued the night was still young and that the five minutes were worth it as he got to spend them with you. He was lucky his parents chose a candidate who wasn’t insecure of themselves to the point they apologized for every minor inconvenience, because Jongho wasn’t sure how the sweet words would fit his unruly persona. The first three steps on the sand made you change your mind and you quickly removed the heels, flexing your stiff feet and releasing a breath of relief. The expensive pair of footwear were handed to Jongho who hooked his pointer- and middle finger in the heel counter while his other set of fingers were still braided with yours.
“It’s nice here,” you admitted and looked out on the river. The other side was covered with a bunch of buildings, much like the ones behind you, and looked like a scene straight out of a movie. Where the lights of the apartments, universities and hospitals took on the looks of the stars above.
“Mmmmm, it’s quiet and empty.”
“Do you come here a lot?”
Jongho pondered for a moment. “Sometimes… I can think easier when there aren’t a bunch of people breathing down my neck, plus the ride here helps me clear my head.”
“It’s overwhelming, right? I mean being in the spotlight constantly and having your every move watched from an early age, no?”
He shrugged. “It was at first, but… I stopped caring after a while and people stopped expecting things from me.”
You hummed in understanding and let the gentle waves wash over the conversation. The curiosity you once carried with you concerning Jongho’s defying personality simmered down to nothing and you realized it wasn’t a topic you should venture in on just yet. Instead, you changed it to something less serious.
“You know, I didn’t think we’d see each other after high school, but look at us now. Holding hands beneath the stars… Are you perhaps starting to like me, Jjong?”
One end of Jongho's lips curled into a shit-eating grin and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, and you couldn't tell if it was from the nickname or from bringing up old high school memories. Jongho’s walking slowed down until both feet were planted on the sand, not bugging despite you being half a step ahead of him. You looked over your shoulder to see what was the reason for stopping.
“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered by the fact that you think I’m just now starting to like you.”
He shortened the distance between you, leaving barely any room for air to squeeze past your bodies. His thumb traced a never-ending circle across the back of your hand and your heels had long since dropped onto the sand, giving him the freedom to cradle the side of your face. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart seemed to sprout a pair of angel wings, soaring in your chest at the contact of his skin on yours.
"To answer your question, soulmate, I’ve liked you since the day I saw you in that gymnasium." Jongho's eyes traveled over your face, giving each feature and detail equal attention, as if he wanted to memorize your beauty as though it were a cheat sheet for an exam. "You were dressed in that cute school uniform, your hair braided and kept out of your face, and you looked absolutely sick to your stomach. That’s when I knew our souls were made for each other. I didn’t even need to know your name or look at your wrist. I just knew."
The world went silent around you. The sloshing of water, the chorus of cute laughter and the moving vehicles were muffled sounds that didn’t reach your ears. A furious heat crawled up your back and neck, nipping at your cheeks until you were on the brink of burning up like a firework, but the rest of your body — your fingers, toes, nose and ears — were freezing cold. A massive star nearing the end of its life cycle suddenly exploded and your hearing came back. The air that had caught in your throat was let out as Jongho’s words settled in your mind.
“Jongho,” you lamely whispered in return.
The secret you had carried for years turned out not to be much of a secret after all, and the hundreds, thousands, of people you thought you were fooling day in and day out weren’t deserving of that title. Because the biggest fool out of them all was you.
“You knew all along?”
Jongho shrugged and tore his eyes from your dumbfounded expression down to your wrist. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” His thumb slid up beneath your detachable sleeves, exposing the name you kept hidden for years. “I mean, it isn’t everyday I hear about a pretty girl with my name tattooed on her wrist and hers on mine.”
You didn’t know what to focus on first. The fact that he called you a pretty girl, his thumb caressing your soulmate mark or him knowing you were destined together since high school. Your tongue darted out to lick at your bottom lip and his eyes were quick to follow the brief movement. He swallowed thickly and forced them up again.
“I take it you knew too?”
You nodded in return. “When they called out your name in the assembly and I caught the side of your face.”
“I’m happy you didn’t approach me then,” he suddenly admitted and chuckled as your brows pinched together. “Fate brought us together in the end.”
“But we aren’t together-together.”
“Last time I checked, you pretty much signed a contract to date me.”
“Fake-date you.”
The tongue poking the inside of his cheek looked ten times more attractive beneath the moonlight, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand through his hair and kiss that darned smirk off his face. Perhaps the soulmate bond went further than a name scribbled on the outer layer of your skin, because your wish wasn’t too far from Jongho’s. He, too, wanted to get a taste of your lips. To have some remnants of your lipstick smudge against his and guess the flavor of it — maybe strawberry or cherry, though he always took you for a coconut girl.
He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Okay, fake-date then… Better?”
Not in the least.
“Much better.”
“It’s not for me,” he quickly added.
“Why?”
Jongho inhaled a sharp intake of air and waited, playing the scene out in his mind and weighing out his options before puking his thoughts and feelings out in an almost vacant park. “Because… I want to do stuff with you. To hold your hand, take you out on dates, kiss you, hug you and just be with you like a real couple. I want to know that the look you have when you’re with me is real, that it isn’t just a job for you. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”
“I have always wanted you,” you confessed shakily. “Before I even knew you, Jongho. There was nothing more I wanted than to find my soulmate and that hasn’t changed. Even when I did find you and lost you at the same time, that desire still lived within me. It still does… And when I found out you were the rich kid who needed a fake-girlfriend, it felt like the world was laughing in my face, but I realized it was giving me a second chance. Us a second chance.”
Now it was Jongho’s turn to look dumbfounded. You took his silence as a sign to continue.
“And all you had to do, Jjong, was ask. Even now. Just ask for what you want.”
The man stared at you as if heaven were beneath your fingertips, as if a single touch of your finger would bring him eternal peace and serenity. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and no one else could compete with your beauty — even if they were sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Jongho was never a listener — always defying and doing as he pleased. Yet this one time, the one time, he would be darned if he didn’t.
“May I kiss you?”
“Please.”
The stars aligned as his lips gently pressed against yours. Jongho was right, you tasted like coconut and it had him craving for more, yet the fear of pushing you away was greater than his need. The fingers of your free hand tangled into the side of his shirt to steady your swirling mind, but did little for your erratically beating heart. Jongho wasn’t rough nor eager to ravage your mouth with his tongue, rather on the contrary. It was a soft and lingering kiss that tested the waters. You parted to inhale air before diving in for another kiss, this one a little more urgent and daring than the first, but equally sweet. Jongho’s tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you tilted your head sideways while allowing him access. Even now with his tongue exploring your mouth, the kiss didn’t change from intimate to hungry. A fire was set in your lungs that ached for oxygen and you were left with no choice but to break apart. Jongho rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing and heavy gasps for air fanning your faces.
“You drive me crazy,” he said between breaths.
“I’m not… doing anything.” You had to fight the smile threatening to dance across your lips. This was a whole new side to Jongho, a side you had never seen before but wouldn’t trade for the world.
“Precisely and you still make me lose my mind.”
The stubborn smile eventually broke through and Jongho huffed out a chuckle at the gleeful expression. I’m-not-doing-anything his ass. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek once and twice, but froze in motion as you asked him a question.
“Did you really mean everything you said earlier? About the contract, I mean.”
“Yes,” he answered in a heartbeat. “If I could, I would terminate the contract, but keep this. Keep us.”
A beat passed and then another. Your thoughts were flying wild, narrowly avoiding each other and the explosion that would ensue.
“Let’s do it then,” you eventually said. That was the second bravest thing you had done in your life. The first would be signing the contract while running on four hours of sleep. “Let’s do it for real.”
Jongho gauged your expression, searching for any sign of uncertainty or regret. When he couldn’t find even a hint of either, he pressed his lips against yours. Affection, joy and excitement poured into the kiss, and Jongho hoped you would feel at least half of it.
Unbeknownst to the new couple, two people stood by Jongho’s motorcycle. The man wore a fancy black suit, while the woman’s dress elegantly hugged her curves as she stood effortlessly in her heels. A set of black sunglasses obscured their eyes, despite the fact that the sun had long since exchanged places with the moon. The pair seemed out of place in Yeouido Hangang Park surrounded by people dressed in casual clothing. Passersby noticed it too, shooting them strange looks, but neither of them cared. Their attention was fixed on the couple brought together by destiny.
“I knew she was the one for him,” the man proudly admitted and puffed out his chest.
The woman beside him scoffed. “Please, I was the one who found her Linkedin and recognized her name from Mr. Choi’s wrist.”
The pair gave you one last look before turning around and clambering back into the limousine, which drove them straight to the charity event. They had left the party in a hurry the moment they noticed the absence of the successor of Choi Clothes and his fake girlfriend — or should they say, his real girlfriend?
"I'm gonna dieeee," you wailed, curling up on the couch. Pouting, you glanced over at Jongho, who was busy preparing breakfast—or at least you thought so—in the kitchen of your shared apartment.
He snorted and shook his head. "You say that every month, yet here you are, alive and well time and time again."
"Would it hurt to console me a little? Try being a woman for a month and see how you like it." With a scoff, you reached for a pillow, ready to throw it at him, but a wave of cramps hit your lower half. Wincing, you clutched the soft material close and waited for the pain to pass.
Damn it, being a woman sucked. If you get pregnant, you suffer for nine months. If you don't, you still suffer every month. Why did you have to be a woman? Life would be so much easier if you were a man. Like that bastard standing there, engrossed in whatever he was doing, neglecting his poor girlfriend who was in so much pain—
"Here you go, babe. I got you your heat pad."
Oh.
Suddenly, you felt guilty for thinking of him that way when all he had been trying to do was ensure your comfort. Your lips quivered as you reached out to him with grabby hands. Damn your period mood swings; they were driving you insane.
His eyes widened in panic at your tears as he rushed over, kneeling beside you and gently pressing the pad onto your stomach, knowing exactly where to hold it by now. One hand on your tummy, the other instinctively cupped your face. "What is it, babe? Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."
You shook your head, mumbling, "No, that's too much work."
He hummed thoughtfully. "I can cut you some apples, at least?"
"Break them in half, you mean."
He nodded. "Yeah, or that too."
Just as he moved to stand up, presumably to go break some apples, you whined and tugged on his hand. "No, you idiot. I don't need anything else. I just want you to stay here with me… please."
Your boyfriend finally understood the cause of your morning grumpiness. Though your period cramps were always terrible and tended to affect your mood, today you appeared even more restless than usual. He softened as he realised his mistake in fussing over you when all you really wanted was for him to stay by your side.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here now. I'll stay with you for as long as you need me to," he whispered, settling beside you and pulling your smaller frame close. His heart fluttered when you immediately snuggled up to him as if it were second nature.
"Good, then stay forever," you murmured, leaning up to kiss his jaw. He gave you a comforting squeeze, his heart skipping a beat at your words. Pressing his lips against your head, he nuzzled his face into your hair, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner.
"Maybe I will," he said, savouring the feeling of you in his arms, pressed against him. The soft sensation of your breath on his skin, the warmth radiating from you, the rise and fall of your chest against his side, and the dreamy way you looked up at him—all of it made him think that staying like this forever wouldn't be so bad. "Be careful what you wish for. You'd better not grow tired of me when I do cling to you forever."
You bit your lip. "Never, Choi Jongho. I'll never get tired of you." With that, you sealed the promise with a kiss that seemed to make all the period cramps in the world disappear.
ATEEZ Masterlist
The way I'm tired asf but felt the need to get this out of my system before going to bed. It's that time of the month for me HAHA I'm in pain and honestly, nothing makes me feel better than being delulu🤡
Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3
》 a/n: these soft jongho pics got me feeling a certain way 😣
🎧 mutual butterflies- ryan trey
At a cozy Friendsgiving gathering, you find yourself surrounded by good friends, delicious food, and the comforting buzz of laughter and clinking glasses. It's a nice escape before midterms pick up, a chance to reconnect and let loose. One of your friends brings along Jongho, a classmate from their sociology class who quickly blends into the group. Though you’ve just met him, there's an undeniable spark. Each glance in his direction sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He’s effortlessly charming—cute, with a gentle voice and a warm, gummy smile that makes your cheeks flush.
As the evening unfolds, the group begins to scatter—some retreating to the backyard porch or the living room couch, caught between food comas and drunken revelry. Yet, you remain at the table with Jongho. The drinks in your system make you braver than usual, your words flowing more freely, and to your delight, he leans in, encouraging the playful banter. You felt a swell of pride every time one of your silly jokes landed, earning the sweet reward of his laughter. The way his eyes crinkled and his soft cackle filled the air had your legs turning to putty. Your fingers find his, lightly tracing over them, and the small, electric touch sends a comfortable warmth blooming in your chest.
Time feels like it’s slowing, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Another shot is poured, laughter bubbling between you as you lose yourself in the soft glow of his gaze. In that quiet, stolen moment, you can’t help but wish the night could go on forever. And by the way his hands lingered over yours, you knew the feeling was mutual.
so we've kissed woosan and yungi and seongjoong... and now we get to kiss jongsang !!!
kissing jongho feels safe, like the worst could happen and you'd barely feel it. he's so sure and confident, arms around your waist to pull you to him like it's the only thing he knows how to do. his favorite place to be is in your arms, and his favorite place for you to be is in his -- it just feels right, pressing your lips to his. he's sweet with it and knows when to stop (for both "we're in public" purposes and "i'm making you want it" purposes), but he's not against letting the both of you get lost in each other for a little while. he complains that you embarrass him all the time, but he's quick to tuck you into his chest and kiss you until you're dizzy. jongho is strong and his kisses are no different, a comforting amount of pressure mixed with the love you know is behind them. either of you might initiate it, but he's always the one that really struggles to let you go, pressing a few lingering, chaste kisses on the corner of your mouth, your cheeks, your temples. he'll hold you close even once the two of you seem to have come to a stop exchanging kisses with the excuse that it's cold or he's too comfortable to move. really, he just wants you to kiss him again (and again, and again). and who are you to deny him?
kissing yeosang is sweet. he's always tentative, but never unwilling. the first little while after you guys started dating you had to initiate kissing, but now he does it no problem -- and he always, always asks if he can kiss you before he does it. it doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing (he could have you writhing under him in his bed, whimpering and moaning) -- he'll ask. he might lean away from you if you try to kiss him in public, regardless of how quick you intend to be, but it doesn't offend you; he's still a bit shy with pda. he offers a squeeze of your hand in an apology, and lets you kiss him silly later, once you're home. here he's in his element, assertive and languid, tender to cool down your hunger. he can't ever really help the smile on his face, happy just to be sharing this moment with you -- and it's infectious, both of you grinning until it gets too hard to really kiss. yeosang doesn't mind, though, more than willing to let you put your lips all over his face, chuckling when you kiss his pretty pink birthmark at the top of his cheek. he'll return the favor tenfold, too; asking once more if he can kiss you before he dives back in headfirst, already holding back a grin.
